Pathetic

Somehow the rumor that things are so unbelievably slow over here cannot be confirmed. Neither the assumption that in a town like Munich glamour and cosmopolitan life are foreign concepts. Just last weekend the opening of the big retrospective of large format photographer Andreas Gursky turned out to be a massive bash with friends and aquaintances from all over Germany flying in to party. Plus an impressive array of art luminaries from all over the world. Met the artistic director of the art biennal in Dubai. There's something brewing, which will reinforce the new cultural loops between the Arab money world, Asia and Africa, loops the traditional cultural centers aren't part of anymore. The great Gursky show for example will not go to London, Paris or New York after this, but to Istanbul and Abu Dhabi. Point made.



Still not over the homesickness phase of relocating. Went to a Starbucks the other day and got all maudlin. How pathetic am I? Eight weeks ago I would've kicked my ass, if I'd told the Brooklyn me that the faint smell of a double skim dry latte, the light wooden color scheme of a fauxhemian franchise and the mellow sounds of prefab coffee house jazz could get me nostalgic.

Time to get a grip.