yesterday, i enjoyed the lecture of dimitré dinev reading from his book "engelszungen". very smart and witty guy. just as his spouse who can laugh contagiously.

i have rarely seen an author so suffering during the obligatory musical performance between two chapters. well, it was not the band's fault, a really exquisite liaison of the best bulgarian musicians in viennese exile.

but the female singer was slightly too pretentious in presence, too far out with her movements on stage and often off-key in her tune. with her participation the music became an incredibly elegiac and epic piece of ethnic art-rock, ten to fifteen minutes of frightening mystery of one single bulgarian voice.

we had fun, though, because we imagined she might have a big "weltmeister" tattoo on her back just like the accordion player (we called him "elviš the pelviš") had it branded on his instrument.

the guy on the trumpet ("miloš daviš") was able to play two kinds of brass at the same time just like i can drink from two bottles of beer. and the djembe player impersonated robert de niro with a baseball cap – which led us to imagining a hip hop remake of "the godfather": yo, you ain't got no respect, man!...

what we did not see was f.'s soccer dress of red star belgrade she bought just right there at the official shop and sure will make her look like the commie revision of the black mamba bride.