Tuesday, September 20, 2011
In Heidelberg on the night of Michael Jackson’s death, heading to Antonio’s place with DB and others after a poetry reading and a tour of the local bars. We pass a bookshop near the Theodor-Heuss-Brücke, where we are presented with an entire window display devoted to the newest offering from Richard David Precht: Liebe – ein unordentliches Gefühl. From our position on the other side of the glass, outside in the dark summer night, we marvel at the brightly lit pile of hardcover books and the large cardboard profile of Precht’s smiling image. Before any of us has a chance to comment, Antonio leans backwards before swinging his torso swiftly forwards, discharging a large glob of mucus which crashes messily against the large window, directly in front of Precht’s visage, beginning to slowly trickle downwards toward the pile of books. DB jokes about the impending start to my graduate school career: “When you get there you should meet with the Brecht specialist and be like, ‘Oh wait, you work on Brecht? I came here to study Precht!’” When we walk past the bookstore the next morning, the dried spittle is caked onto the window, blocking the passerby’s view of Precht’s facial features.