I'll be getting Israeli citizenship.

One week in Mykonos, three sexual encounters, all of them with jewish lads. Isn't that amazing? I have just received the great news: because of my great performance in bed I will be receiving an Israeli passport. That means I will now be beaten up upon entering any Arab country in the world. I'm so goddamn excited.

An other good thing happened while I was in Greece. There was this absolutely gorgeous guy at the beach, American, as it appeared. I've never seen anything like that. Olive skin, short dark hair, bright green eyes and eyelashes that reached as far as Santorini. The only trouble was: he didn't notice me. So this jerk Frank, a pig-like German from Munich puts his chair right next to Mr. Gorgeous. And after a while starts talking to him. I was furious. Even more so when the kid sat down on Frank's chair. I screamed. Then Frank started to touch the guy. I had to leave.

So I told everybody I was going to kill Frank. Which I did. I strangled him with cord and placed his feet in a container with with liquid concrete. After letting it dry I chucked him into the bay. The next day Frank was gone. Everybody asked me what had happened to him. "Oh I killed the bugger", was my reply with a huge smile on my face. They thought it was so funny.

Isn't it strange? If you commit a crime, just tell everyone and make fun of it. Nobody will be suspicious. Besides: no-one can blame an Israeli for ending the life of a German, right?

Kill the bear.

I think it's official now: the thing with the guy in Berlin... well... didn't happen. I know you're all very disappointed. But it's not nearly as bad as I would have thought. We didn't really have time to bond that much. I mean in bed. Nice guy, though. We'll keep in touch. As usual.

But I got a new one up my sleeve. Do you people thing 19 y/o is too young for me to hang around with? He's a lovely fellow. And bright.

Got me own Meez now.

Here he is. And he's not alone.

Help me, I'm falling in love.

This is scary. Two posts within a two days. Someone call an ambulance, please?

You might say that I'm probably bored in this city. Fact is that I'm quite enjoying Berlin, as I expected. Other fact is that on my first night I ran into a guy worth fancying. So rather than channelling all my negative energy into the brillant work I need so much at the moment, I'm bloody wasting it on some dude with beautiful soft light brown hair and bright blue eyes... Aaaw...

And what's pissing me off most is that fact that I'm getting all freaking robloodymantic about it. TACKY. The one thing I do criticise my beloved Bettina for ever so often. Okay, bitch, you got me. 0:1 for you. I'm only human, aren't I? At least partly.

Berlin, organic.

Since I got back from New York in October I had been stuck in Zurich. January to March I was so goddamn busy I didn't get one bloody weekend. But things are better now, I have less work. So I decided to get the fuck out of Switzerland and occupy my friend Daniel's apartment in Berlin Kreuzberg while he's away doing some sort of research in Japan.

What a great feeling. To come home to a city I don't know. Not that I haven't been here before. The first two times I actually hated it. The third one I was busy writing concepts for some stupid tv series that never made it into production. The fourth time, a few weeks ago I heard about this place, so here I am.

I'm actually supposed to work. Which won't be that difficult, considering I hardly know a soul in this city. And there's no tv, so I can stick to those songs I have to finish.

The nicest thing is that I will be eating all-organic. There's actually such a thing as an organic supermarket in my Turkish-dinky neighbourhood. Althought the costumers are rather ugly and complain about fruit from Israel (we very pro Palestine here lah) stuff is quite nice. I found a gorgeous goat cheese.

So let's hope I'll be inspired to write some shit about Berlin. So far I'm not a Berliner yet. But gimmie a few days.

Meet the Minister of Justice and Interior

According to Andy Warhol (wasn't it him?) everyone on earth gets 15 minutes of fame during the time of their life. I have just used up another 20 seconds. On tv last night. It so happened that the Minister of Justice and Interior of my state asked me to come up with a concept for his website. We've got elections coming up soon. So I did do something. And they all love it.

Feel free to take a look. (I have sent the link to my lovely friend Bettina down in Brisvegas as well but the bitch hasn't found it necessary to reply). Unfortunately it's in Swiss German. But better than Suaheli, I reckon. Tata.

http://www.markusnotter.ch

I am very proud of myself.

Today I figured out a way to smoke in my apartment. This has been bothering me for a while. When they built this stupid house a hundred years ago they forgot to put in a balcony for me. So either I make my way down to the street and look like a junkie, or I just don't light one.

But the Lord has shown me a way. Swiss kitchens tend to have built-in extractor hoods that lead outside. So I can now place my head over my stove and gently blow out the smoke of my cigarette without worrying about the smell of my Afghani silk cushions (the fabric is too delicate to be febrèzed) on the living room couch.

It does look ridiculous and it's far from fun. But it serves the purpose. And after 13 months of living in this depressing shitwhole I deserve to see a light every now and then.

I kinda like hate my life.

My good looks are fading away. Even the few cute 19 y/o's who have been running after me lately cannot deceive me. This is just fate's way of letting me feel great one last time before giving me the shit of my life.

I used to be quite successful at what I did. People would say stuff like "Wow, you're only 25 and you're already (this and that)". This goes back to being a theatre director and playwright, part-time. I remember being in the car with my lighting guy while he was telling me about a production he wanted to do himself. He said something that bothered me: "And you know, I'd like to work with a young playwright". I was 27 at that time.

My daily work bores the hell out of me. Only the large sums of money some of those companies I'm working for transfer onto my account can sometimes make up for the shit I have to take. Unfortunately those money transfers don't happen that regularly, otherwise I woule have bought myself a cute little house in the South of France or Italy at some point.

I'm not even sure why I'm writing all of this. Probably just to avoid having to think about a campaign for organic farmers (note: not their produce, but actually the farmers themselves).

Help.