Yesterday I went to see Das kunstseidene Mädchen (The Girl made of Artificial-Silk) in the Aufbau Theatre. This is one of Berlin's many small private theatre companies, and it just so happens that it lies about one block from my apartment.
Which, I'm sad to say, totally proves that they need a better PR-responsible, because I pass the building where the theatre is every morning on my way to school, and we're currently studying the book (written 1932 by Irmgard Keun, quite worth a read) and I knew neither of the theatre nor this play. Luckily enough, one of my fellow students has stronger Google-fu and informed the class about the play last week.
( The play: Girls shouldn't be made of fake silk, because it wrinkles so easily )
The day before Das Kunstseidene Mädchen I also did things, I barely know how to keep my head straight with all this sudden social life ^_^;;;
Anyway, two other exchange students had, inspired by the fact that it was Australia Day called together an event called Australia , which turned out to be a very nice gathering of Australians, Germans and exchange students from other countries to learn about post/colonilism from an Australian perspective.
We gathered in the cellar of a pub and there followed an evening with poetry readings (Oodgeroo Noonuccal, some others and new poems by one of the organisers), historical information (the dictation test and the ethnic cleansing of the Tasmanian peninsula, both completely new things to me) and looked at the works of a photographer whom is involved in the struggle for indigineous rights and whose name I have utterly forgotten. There was supposed to be a film showing too, but considering we discussed until a bit after midnight, that didn't really work out. Still, a lively discussion is both something less solid and more engaging than even a really good movie, so I think it all worked out quite well.
Otherwise, I've spent most of the week thinking of a poem by the East German poet Karl Mickel, which I'm supposed to present on Monday. With a few clear and well-formulated interpretation theses. orz
...and apparantly while I'm sitting in a library writing this post, there's a load of police cars and whatnot outside of work in Stockholm, in the aftermath of a robbery on a nearby goldsmith o.0
Which, I'm sad to say, totally proves that they need a better PR-responsible, because I pass the building where the theatre is every morning on my way to school, and we're currently studying the book (written 1932 by Irmgard Keun, quite worth a read) and I knew neither of the theatre nor this play. Luckily enough, one of my fellow students has stronger Google-fu and informed the class about the play last week.
( The play: Girls shouldn't be made of fake silk, because it wrinkles so easily )
The day before Das Kunstseidene Mädchen I also did things, I barely know how to keep my head straight with all this sudden social life ^_^;;;
Anyway, two other exchange students had, inspired by the fact that it was Australia Day called together an event called Austr
We gathered in the cellar of a pub and there followed an evening with poetry readings (Oodgeroo Noonuccal, some others and new poems by one of the organisers), historical information (the dictation test and the ethnic cleansing of the Tasmanian peninsula, both completely new things to me) and looked at the works of a photographer whom is involved in the struggle for indigineous rights and whose name I have utterly forgotten. There was supposed to be a film showing too, but considering we discussed until a bit after midnight, that didn't really work out. Still, a lively discussion is both something less solid and more engaging than even a really good movie, so I think it all worked out quite well.
Otherwise, I've spent most of the week thinking of a poem by the East German poet Karl Mickel, which I'm supposed to present on Monday. With a few clear and well-formulated interpretation theses. orz
...and apparantly while I'm sitting in a library writing this post, there's a load of police cars and whatnot outside of work in Stockholm, in the aftermath of a robbery on a nearby goldsmith o.0