Media career – a friend wants to go up

These are just four stories from Andi Pflaumenmus.

One day the intern with the egg head came into my fatz editor’s office. I was and that, said the intern, he wanted to get to know me. We could eat.

Eating with Andi Pflaumenmus was always a bit unappetizing. His brain rotated at full speed, he was able to parry every topic, hyper -trained, clever and funny – even football. He had thrown his superior spirit over the world like a large fishing net, he saw and understood everything that was going on in it. Only what happened directly below his brain was not visible to him. Often there were leftovers from his fingers or on his lush lips. He never saw it. I pointed out to him, Ah, oh, and with his puppet movements – or what are called dolls where the limbs are moved from below, handllas? – he wagged and wiped the slonz away, while his brain continued to rot and he was crazy again. We had fun. We became friends. I thought we had become friends.

Andi plum jam had a whistle in her ear. Since his collapse, the collapse that many talented people have when they are 18 or 19. People who then kill themselves or shoot them down or be half killed and being admitted. And then they sometimes come out and conquer the world. I asked him if he always had it, and Andi plum jam briefly listened into his head. Yes, he nodded, that would always be there, so in the background.

We ran through Lisbon, Andi Pflaumenmus and I. We had a room together in a guest house, Andi Pflaumenmus naturally also spoke Portuguese. We trudged through the Alfama, we streamed through the center with his cafes, we climbed up to such a fortress or something, we looked over the Tejo. I always had a little worry that we could be thought to be a gay couple.

In Lisbon there was a beggar who no longer had a face. Under his main hair was only a pans -sized, shape, bulging growth. In my memory he played flute, however. When his sight hit me, I was stunned. Andi Pflaumenmus had not noticed him at all, he continued to enter the next café towards Place de Pombal, and I avoided to point him out the faceless.

Andi Pflaumenmus’ head nodded jagged in conversation like that of a pigeon looking for crumbs, the crumbs that stuck to his lips unnoticed, his eyes slightly tossed, as with Özil. It was pleasant to be viewed by him because he listened while the clever, funny voices continued in his head. He often interrupted you when you had held half of a reasonably successful thoughts, he had already undergone and he saddled on top of it in no time.

One day the crisis came. The newspaper crisis. Just as when an aircraft over the clouds is looking through a sudden thundering blow when people’s eyes are looking for a terrorist, when the whistling noise suddenly gets louder, the aircraft nose is noticeably and irreversible, so the high-ranks came from one second to the other in the other Sink flight. People jumped off, people screamed, people were sucked out of the windows, big plans were incised overnight. Our editor made himself a nationwide mockery because he wanted to move his whole Fatz-Föhjetong from F. to Berlin quickly with Grandzza.

I didn’t mind that much. Have I ever wanted to be a journalist? Would I have to clap and roar now? The controllers wanted me to the collar, but the publisher had an idea: I had to go to Munich in the Fatz order, where a position survived the entire dismantling, namely the one that was intended for Andi Pflaumenmel: from here he should have conquered the whole fatty kingdom.

Nothing came of it now. I grew down to Munich, Andi Pflaumenmen stayed as a freelancer in his city, we stayed weighed. We visited ourselves, talked on the phone, swelling, swelling, lively, romantic emails, and of our loneliness, our lifting, our perceived skills, we were in love. I had the job, I let myself go, Andi Pflaumenmus meanwhile made a new, updated career. When she finally spotted me out due to the company, he was long at the front of Ulf Stulle’s margin. Ulf Stulle, on the other hand, plowed up to the top in another newspaper publisher, and you really don’t want to know how it succeeded, as he was like.

Hej, he said, that’s a thing! How do I feel like that? We absolutely have to see each other! He Maile at me.

–

I saw him again on a summer evening, Andi Pflaumenmen. We were both in Berlin, as I had heard, he as a right hand, I as a shadow of the past. With Susanne I was sitting on a parking bench in Schwedter Strasse, Susanne had also lost her job in the newspaper crisis, the smartest journalist who has ever seen Germany has ever seen, the most clever author you can imagine. Susanne had come from Munich to Berlin, because how should you live in Munich without a job? Our child in her stomach had also come along. We were sitting on the bench in Schwedter Strasse, with a view of the outside tables of a restaurant that we could no longer afford. Mushroom pans. Fish dishes. Then Andi Pflaumenmus came by. Half after him there was a young blonde who hardly said hello. “Hej !!!” said Andi Pflaumenmus. It is a thing that we do! Yes, you hit yourself that way.

I also have to write something for him, said Andi Pflaumenmen. And this is the and that, and they would now move to a new, larger apartment in the next few weeks, then it was a party, we would have to come there too, he will send me an email.

Of course, the mail never came.

Another time he was sitting with his parents in front of a small café at the Zionskirche. “Hej !!!” said Andi Pflaumenmus. That is a thing as I do! His parents looked at me with mild disinterest, they were fully focused on Andi Pflaumenmen’s baby, and he also didn’t tell them that I was the and that, this fatz author, whom his parents had always found so well. We absolutely have to see each other! He Maile at me.

Of course, the mail never came.

Once I saw him at such a idiot event on the Volksbühne. Andi Pflaumenmus with the egg head had now moved to the Föhjetong board of his newspaper, after the current fashion he was wearing a red bomber jacket, and he now had an adjutant with him. The adjutant ran bent, a bit like Gollum, he followed him at every turn, held the fire, repeated with no reason, ironic undertone, what Andi had said plum jam. Started between us when I threatened to get Andi Pflaumenmus too close.

Hallo is up. ?

The other day I saw it at a traffic light, Andi Eierkopp, on the bike, with a helmet to protect his valuable red -glowing brain. Next to him was a colleague with whom he spoke, attentive, present, he looked nice, as before. I was right behind the two, I hoped very much that Andi Pflaumenmen would not look around, and of course he didn’t.