Ghosting on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
東京港区新橋 - Tokyo Shinbashi, in 2013/5

渋谷タバコ休み on Flickr.

Via Flickr:
a break for smoking at 渋谷/shibuya close to 東横線 / Toyoku-line, 2008/03

I’m a 外国人(foreigner). Ergo, I am stared at.

In Berlin, I was just a Goth. Ergo I was stared at.

In Narita, I am a potential security risk. Ergo, I am stared at.

Many people get worked up on being looked at or stared at. I will not draw up excuses for anyone. But no days goes by, at which we are seen, with delight, wonder, disgust or boredom.

We live in a society full of Eyeballs, not only for Google.

Today I was looking at the woman standing in front of me, dressed up as cowgirl, dressed up, so it seemed, to follow some fashion ideal, with all body parts made very visible, except she wore jeans under a miniskirt. And that’s an epic fail to me, fashion wise, anyway.

The lady beside me stared at me with a disgusted face. As in: you look like you stare at meat on a bazaar. Hence, this mail.

Well, I get looked at, stared at, every 5 meter after leaving the house. I am a stranger. Even these who have seen me times and times before, stare before they say hello and then stare again. Man, I must be good looking today, this week, year and life. In the train, the stranger, look at him.

I never minded, it’s been so long, since 1995, when my hair started to grow. Since then, and even before, in east Germany, I was looked at.

Today, I will walk in Shibuya, 50 Cameras capture my every step. Even in the Shonan–Shinjuku–Line, I am sure, some camera is looking down on me.

And not only me.

But I stare back. I enjoy waving at cameras, as much as I did enjoy waving at the Stasi.

And today, I am sure you stared at someone with lust, hoping, before she/he vanished, to be a dream becoming real.

Ah, I stare back, that’s my answer. I cannot speak.

If you don’t like a look, please wear a box:

And if you see me, please smile and wave, I will smile back; we will both feel better being a part of humanity.

PS: When ever a baby or child smiles at me, which happens more often, I smile and wave and sometimes even speak!

2011年10月25日～10時23分～湘南新宿ライン

This is the end,

my indifferent friend.

Standing in Shinuya I think back over 2 years at my School.

I am very happy and thankful I could work there and teach people, bringing some knowledge on language and country in was born in to the people, as well as simply keeping my head over water, feeding my family. Of cause being laid off means to find a new job. And I hate the fucking job hunt. I never liked it, but this time i am impressively calm, because in know

my heart will go on

And now I beat a shovel in my face, I hate that song. Anyway, I feel confident. I know I will find a job that will pay more, I know, I might again break the hearts of students, whom might hope to come closer. But lovely is unbeatable.

And sadly I might even know the reason for being laid off and I will come back to it in a future piece.

Over the cause of the last weeks I said goodbye to 40 students I liked.

I received presents of unspeakable value. Price but especially emotional wise.

3 students presented me with handkerchiefs, how I love them. Since 2005 I actually kinda collect them and never leave the house without.  I sound ironic to myself, but I mean it.

I received wine from my home town, food and a lot of comfort and well wishes tonight.

Tonight was my farewell party, a 3 hour voice,  with wine and bread and ham and cheese and snacks, given and presented by my brilliant students. We ate and drank in amounts higher then I earned in a month there. My common joke over the past 3 weeks has become:

I should be laid off more often!

My students. Tonight we have a family and as Tocotronic once sang:

So jung komm’ wir nicht mehr zusammen. (this young we won’t come together again.)

The party was stormed by my co-workers and went into a babylonian speech confusion.

Even a student who just had her first lesson yesterday attended. So I tried to entertain her in English.

Two years as a shadow worker ended tonight. Now it’s maybe time to get work in the broad daylight again.

I have arrived in Ofuna. I through every form over board. I dance to Nine Inch Nails “The Slip”. [I actually always come back to them, when I look for a job.]

In this job I have lived through a small taste of what the big bang will be, when Tokyo’s wooden house will burn down and will have to walk the fucking post apocalyptic ashes to get home. Not that night though. That day in the 6th floor I had 2 students, one of whom called me back, stating

Komm zurück, wir haben noch Unterricht (come back, we are still in a lesson)!

Yesterday she and her fellow student presented me with a beautiful dark blue Burberry handkerchief, which i will wear at my interviews in suits. The shouting student ended up staying over at a co-workers place, Rさん, together with another co-worker and me.

Todays blue and brown handkerchiefs I will wear at non suit interviews and on my first work day at the new job.

These 100 people that met me on a regular pace over the last years have been burned into my heart, have shaped my personality and paid my rent. They will not forget me. They will over time forget my face, my voice. But not my knowledge, my humor and my iconic yearning.

One last word on the company: we where not allowed to drink before the last lesson for silly reasons. But we had hella lot good wine (even Saale-Unstrut, from my home). I told then that and gave them the bottle opener. I was still bound by company rules, so had to show them the way, but they had to go through them self. They did.

My dearest friends. This movie has ended. The curtain has closed and we all went home. We have never been light and easy on one another. But we have discussed the things important to us, studied and learned so much.

The next movie festival will begin in five weeks. Take seat and enjoy the show.

PS: And everything I didn’t say has not been forgotten or apprichitaed!

2010年10月22日～22時12分—23時59分～渋谷—港南台

Her lips have the appearance of a skin cut, poplar in horror movies, then remodeled to be thick and juicy. In the us (&a) they use Botox to reach this effect, but I can tell its natural. Glasses are far too big. 2 rings where the wedding ring should sit. Android phone, red cover. Not my type, nothing to look at, but matching common man’s interest…

Louis Vitton cover over iPhone 4. Expensive watch. He has a tattoo on his right hand ring finger, a designer wedding ring on the left, platinum or silver. Auburn company batch [or is it a university, google is not revealing], if I read it correctly. Like a salesman, grey needle stripes suit, simple, expansive looking shoes. Muscular in appearance. Small, short beard. Hear styled, standing up in front. He looks resemble a japanese version of Robert Downy Junior and a young DJ Krush, at least asleep. He won’t be older then 33. If he is a salesman, can he swear like a sailor? I bet he plays it very hard, uses also his attractiveness. I imagine he would scare the shit out of his subordinates, even though being a nice guy over beer. We both work in Shibuya today, but aboves image makes me wish he would be my boss. I smile when I hurry pass him, he does not notice. A good image is more expansive then the truth. お疲れ様でした。

perfect new mail footer: sometimes misinterpreted as creepy

and an unrelated, but fitting image:

2011年10月19日～10時10～湘南新宿ライン

Lunchtime. Again I work in Shibuya testing a silly video game. Well, this time I translated it.

Lunchtime. My co-tester is from Hamburg, even though Asia born. A model. Like him.

Lunchtime. Where do we eat. Yesterday we ate at a small park. Was ok, but today I have a lovely bentō lovely made for me. I love that.

Lunchtime. He wants to eat in a restaurant. A treat. We mix German, English and Japanese all together. We must really sound like stupid. Maybe not. Cannot view myself from outside at the moment. Sorry!

Lunchtime. We arrive at a curry shop. It promises indian curry, but in a manner of fact, its Japanese curry, in indian style, made by a single japanese woman, belonging to a company.

Lunchtime. He says he would be nice today and eat with me at a bench. To which I answer, I wouldn’t mind, I would simply listen to Merlin and Dan, possibly chatting about Steve Jobs death.

Lunchtime. He ask’s the lady in the shop if I might eat my bentō inside. She is not troubled by this idea. She seems at ease.

Lunchtime. I eat my bentō on a small restaurant. I image that William Gibson would call this a stall. Anyway. Sitting beside the guy, chatting, which is fun, I feel at ease. More then I should, anyway.

We leave the place. I miss smoking. Week 5.

Lunchtime is over.

PS: I guess you can call above writing bad in style. If you do, stop reading, I am not writing for you. 2011年10月14日～川崎駅京浜東北線

2011年10月13日～渋谷

way home - getting creepy on Flickr.

my most successful image yet ^-^ and on of the most interesting!

Via Flickr:
東京 新宿区 新宿駅 tokyo shinjuku station
in 2011/3
[as seen on the flickrblog]

rainflowers on Flickr.

memory of a taifun day long ago

Via Flickr:
横浜港南台駅/Yokohama Konandai Station
in 2009/9