| madcc psukb geht mit floridsdorfern für 50€ essen |
| madcc psukb diaries 16.05.02 – 24.05.02 / excerpts crossing the zone at 9.30 p.m. sunset. franz-jonas-platz. youth. astonishment and aggression when they notice me. one is asking for a light and laughs his head of. walking around. admiral, pizza hut, mc donalds, two wurstelboxes. to the spitz. along schlosshoferstrasse. a woman is frightened, darkness. search for people to be invited. two men, wearing turbans, “may i invite you for dinner”. they understand german. no, no, or yes, if yes, what will happen afterwards. do you join us? fuck?” - “no, thank you very much”. further attempts along schlosshoferstrasse. similar progress. a woman is smiling - no, it would be to weird. effort to invite floridsdorfer. hossplatz. on the square children and women. a bar. i see a woman in a silver, tight latex dress behind the bar. they are surprised. a birthday company. the manager and the manageress celebrate. may i invite them. the company giggles. yes, of course. he hides at the toilet. who i am. “madcc psukb.” “pardon?” 18 double schnaps. karli. günther, insurance agent, moustache. herbert, came by bike, that’s why he wears trainers. i have to dance with him four times. tomorrow he’s going to his mother. a solo-entertainer not running the show tonight. he is singing and playing the guitar. „viennese songs and rocky stuff.” bearded. „yes, it’s great to invite floridsdorfer. what’s the idea behind it?“ „the one in alu is the manageress. haha, but don’t tell her. she became 29 one week ago. the manager becomes 37 at midnight.“ i should stay till we touch glasses. the offspring is hers, but not his. they’ve been together for two years. the son is seven, eight. michael is waiter at figlmüller in bäckerstrasse. all his life living in floridsdorf. the middlefinger is bandaged. working-accident. „if i’m not on duty, i’ll come to the salon on saturday. tanzquartier? what’s that? – if it’s not to formal, i’d like to come, but the service schedule.” michael, investment counselor. lived in the 18. district before, until two years ago. on the schafberg, in a 40 square meter flat, there he lived together with his first wife. divorce. „how old are you” – then he became acquainted with a yugoslawian, she had a son whom she wanted to pick up, three people in the flat. didn’t work. he has married her because she hasn´t got the right of residence. and rent the 80m2 in the 21th district. because of the wife. so he came to the 21th district. two years ago. now she is in czechia with her brother and her son and he´s in the 21th district in the 3-room flat. he asks if he could have my number. after 5 dances and 5 glasses of coke, on which i was invited, i say good-bye. it´s before midnight. i shall come again on sunday, or tomorrow to the restaurant waldner, leopoldaustraße, because there´s again a birthday party, and there should be really crazy people. i go to my flat. on the terrace, view at the trainstation, on the tracks and the despaired busdriver, who isn´t able to get his bus running, he shouts at it, walks around it, kicks it, smashes the wheel and leaves the bus completely despaired. sleep - view into the moon. slept well. i leave the flat to find a person which joins me for breakfast. (...) a woman with sunglasses, laughing hysterically - no, no, she´s on diet. but if i`ll find nobody, i´m not allowed to leave floridsdorf. she´s shattered - again she laughs hysterically. o.k. mohnaprikosenkuchen and melange. her boyfriend is also out there. that makes two breakfasts, 5 euro. i wanted to have breakfast too, but i say nothing, she´s returning, saying her boyfriend is angry now because they were too late anyway, but nevertheless, he will take a breakfast. the boyfriend comes, she pushes up her sunglasses, eyes red from crying - the boyfriend takes her in his arms obsequiously, „no, i’m so sorry“, rocks her softly to the music, „come on, hit me, i’m such an idiot, hit me, i’m worth it.“ marriage drama – i feel disturbing. i leave while she is laughing hysterically. U6, i leave the zone. i enter the zone short before 8 p.m. meeting a lady from radio Ö1. her first sentence: my tooth-brace is real. questions - about my name, my person, my work in the 21. quarter, my experiences. could i describe some highlights, shortly, and, is their already taking shape something like the typical floridsdorfer. i invite her to have a round together. we remove ourselves more and more from the centre, entering a quiet avenue, youngsters are sitting on the benches, dusk is arriving. some young men close to us burst out in groans, loud, as if fucking. we arrive at the schlingermarkt, emptiness. cool wind drives us along, towards toni’s bar, here is party. this could be a safety-variant: should there be no one to find for dinner, just order a round. further along brünner hauptstrasse. traffic noise. sudden singing, a male voice is blaring out an aria, this voice i could invite. we are looking for it’s person, a young man is turning round the corner, not knowing, in which direction he should go, he looks around, seemingly aimless, as if he’s just been leaving an overcrowded room, trying to grasp some fresh air, i approach him, the editor doesn’t think this is the singer we’ve been hearing, i ask him wether i could invite him to dinner, his denial, a short, decisive reply, seems to emerge from a speech-chant by alban berg, no, and as if suddenly he is remembering where to go, he walks along his way up the main road, straightforwardly. an old woman with a bicycle approaching us, i introduce myself as usual, good evening, my name is madcc psukb, may i invite you for dinner, thanks, but no thanks, i will be glad to be at home, we go further along away from the centre, the five people we meet turn down my invitations, they have already eaten or they have to go somewhere, urgently. the city seems to end, the wind is rising, darkness arrives, the editor is getting tired, i propose to take the tram returning to the centre, i ask a passenger. the only passenger, a sixteen year old girl sitting in the tram has an appointment with her friends. the editor is asking her questions about the 21. quarter – it is boring here, one should not be out after 10 p.m., as a girl, but otherwise everything’s alright. we are back at the franz-jonas platz. one hour has been passing, it has been getting dark. the editor would like to find someone approving to being invited, on behalf of her programme, the happy ending. we raise the beat. by now, i ask almost everyone waiting at the bus stops. older people don’t even listen any more, they turn away, shake their heads even before i start to approach them. the younger ones have to go to school tomorrow or they should have been home since hours. three old ladies regret heartily not having been meeting me two hours earlier: of course we would have been enjoying your company, but now, our husbands are waiting for us, mine also wears a moustache, since thirty years. she is running her hand along my back: “this is a working class district, still”. they are waving at me from out of their bus. a huge, imposing man with a beard and two backpacks tries, again and again, to pronounce my name, he fails, having dinner, where is the trick, what is the catch in it, i am stressing, again and again, no catch, just dinner, no more, no less, the editor interjects, this is an art project, ah, this is the catch. he cries after me, anyway, i wouldn’t have been going with you, one hour later i still see him sitting at the bus stop. we enter the gate, everybody is waiting for the train: “we eat at home”. the editor wants and has to leave, i bid her good bye. a quarter to ten, slight rain starting, i carry on asking around at the franz-jonas platz on my own. i leave out the drunken ten-year-olds, also the teenage girls, showing me their tongues out of their open mouths. the more people i ask, the longer i stay here at this place, visible for everybody, the more disapproval meets me. some begin to flee from me, others turn away, i ask a passenger, he raises his speed, until we both start to run. fear. four men draw up, move towards me, i leave the square across the spitz, enter the minor roads unknown to me. a woman on a bicycle is driving by, i call her, would she like to have dinner with me, she stresses her pedals. i carry on, meeting nobody. a man is looking out from the second floor of a building, i stop, i call him, good evening, my name is madcc psukb, may i invite you to dinner. he shouts at me: piss off, and shuts the window. ten minutes later i stop in front of a hot-dog stall, a man with a beer-can in his hand is standing at the bar, smoking. some young man crosses my way, i ask him too, he stops and says: sure, i’d like to. we have japanese food, he has the rest of the food wrapped in, taking it home. next morning, i open the door of holzmeistergasse, a very old lady is standing in front of me on the pavement, i ask her, wether she wants to have breakfast with me, she doesn’t understand, i shout at her, “breakfast”. two workers, tattooed all over, having their morning beer, examine my movements. i enter a café, a woman is sitting at a table, a glass of red wine in front of her, i ask her wether i could invite her for breakfast, she watches me, silently, i repeat my question, she shakes her head, barely noticeable, i leave. i ask a mother with her five year old son, she turns the question over to him, he wants a toy-car, i counter with ice cream, he rejects. i leave the street, enter the next café, a single man is sitting at a table, i ask him, wether i may invite him for breakfast, he asks me, wether i come from the life-ball, he signs the waiter, two coffees, and do i want to sit down and explain what this is all about. another guest is coming, sitting down next to us, shaking hands, a short remark: seeing me he’s had the impression of living in former times, but, more politely, one could give me a different name: “chaplin, coming from yesterday’s life-ball, tell us, how was it there, spending our taxes.” the waiter gives him a newspaper-article, if he could read it over while talking with me, “am i cesar, paper is patient, but we don’t want talk politics here, otherwise we would show you, the youth, you are the ones to change things, but you are deceived”. my coffee is finished. i leave the zone by the tram. evening crossing the zone at 9.40 p.m. business at the franz-jonas-platz, slowly decreasing after 9 p.m. today i try to invite young people. different attempts, no success. i ask a young man sitting on the edge of the pavement. he declares that he has just left his girl friend, two minutes ago, and that he’s going to meet a friend now, to talk about serious affaires. after about one hour of searching, a 20 year old boy and a 19 year old girl who had learned to know each other just five minutes ago, come along with me to the chinese restaurant “liu & xu”. the choice is theirs. simon, the young man, talks a lot about his life: since two years he is clean, he had stopped seeing most of his former mates, who moreover would owe him a lot of money. his dream: he wants to move to tokio. build himself a wooden house. he talks to me about his favourite movie, where politicians are ruled by aliens. he sais, that this would be true also in reality, politicians being only puppets of just some enterprise (or the military). during daytime, he sleeps, during the night he watches tv. the girl, her name is petra, she is student of economics, talks about her weekend-escapades. she shows us the bruises which she has got by hitting the floor being pissed over the weekend. for the rest of the money, simon takes a meal home for his mother. we say goodbye at 20 minutes past midnight. bad sleep. nobody has time to have breakfast with me. after a 40-minutes-search one 21 years old young man decides to eat with me. consumption in a bakery on schlosshoferstraße: 2 zimtschnecken, 1 topfengolatsche and 2 rolls. he is an employee for a telecommunications-group and he will consume the topfengolatsche and the zimtschnecke during his business hours, which should be, as he remarks, alright. leaving the zone at 10.30 a.m. i´ve rent a car. it´s night. i enter the zone driving over floridsdorfer brücke. floridsdorfer strasse, prager strasse, it´s muggy, there are barely any people on the streets. nobody is willing to talk. nervous rejection. i go into pubs. i´m asking there. everybody has already eaten or doesn´t want to. in the second pub, the floridsdorfer stubn, one elderly couple is sitting at a table, the man with a smashed face. one man is single and one man is sitting at the bar. i invite him for dinner. he accepts - out of boredom and curiosity. we go into the empty garden. it´s warm. beautiful trees. complete silence. my guest is technician. he comes from his work in a museum. rare talks. eating, drinking, two beers, pfeffersteak, schweinsmedallions, chips, eispalatschinken, melange. the food is very good. i go to the toilet. meanwhile three men are sitting at the bar. the first shouts at me, very friendly: the theater is across the street - the second: that´s a man? - the third: don´t you see his titts! with the waitress i calculate, how many drinks i could get for the rest of my 45 euros. four. and one coffee. after some sweet persuasion the big tattooed one takes a wodka. one grappa for me. one coffee for the technician. one seidl for the theater-carpenter. one achtel for the waitress. the one with the titts doesn´t want anything. just a story. we have had real fun. flat – deep sleep. awake in the sun. i drive to the old danube. look into the restaurant gardens. there are just a few men, only men, sitting in the gardens in the morning. one lonely couple. refusion. i go from table to table. my name is madcc psukb - would you like to share a coffee with me ? in the third garden i meet two men, they look urban in this surrounding. they accept my invitation, amused. they tell me, that they also are on an excursion. they meet every ten days and take breakfast throughout all quarters of vienna - one has to choose places of the straight, the other of the odd districts. usually they take breakfast at the sperl. very agreeable quite posh conversation. two small coffees, one malakow-cake, sweet and sticky, five euros. i leave the zone along the old danube. it looks like in the east or in the po-planes. |
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