Of course we got lost on our way to our first town of Murzzuschlag. On the autoban i kept marveling at the engineering wonder of miles long tunnels right through the mountain rotundra. I hate long car rides, i thought the little villages would be closer to Graz, like going from Hollywood to Glendale. Me and fearless leader Suzi of Cheap both get car sick really easily. Brother Marcu Matayasu is a safe driver, but he´s an artist and film theorist, not a transporter, it would have been better if we had a crew, and driver, so that our focus would be solely on the performance action, and not technical set-up.
Murzzuschlag is gorgeous, so south of sound of musicland. The townsfolk are very helpful and friendly despite a depressed economy. Bros. Marcu and Bros Timothy Testes came to Graz a few days ahead of the rest of the gang and did some research on the villages. Graz local Edith, one of the festival programmers, was essential in providing them with a plethora of information.
My theocratic ministry school education was the perfect training ground for our pitch tent revival and for preaching on the highways and byways.
Frau Grunder, the lovely and gracious hippy rock chick propreitress of the Guest House Panorama Blick where we stayed two nights, loved what we did, and said it reminded her of the actions she took part in the 1960s. She even brought her grandchildren.
The fireman boss Brandat Rudolf Schober of Murzzuschlag was rugged and manly, and i wanted to service him with zeal, zest and abandon. He was concerned with our safety, and didn´t think our ark was constructed properly with the correct stabilizers.
Saint Salicia and her rhubarb colored matron hair really has an effect on everyone she meets. A big toothy smile, charm and sincere friendliness goes a long way. All the Cheapies are equally disarming. Bros Tim with his beautiful chrytaline azul eyes, Sister Suzi and her melodious voice, Bros Daniel and his square jawwed masculinity ,and Bros Marcu with that professorial manner, jewish wit and unique pronunciation of German words that the Austrians find so delightful.
We decided to get an early start for the second town, the holy city of Mariazell, where the Pope will be visiting soon. On our pilgrams path we pass a house designed by the Austrian Goudy, Hundert Wasser. Entering the hallowed city limits nutbush we are stopped by two policemen who won´t allow us to continue with the metal ark which they deem as much too large for our small compact car. This is something that the firemen of Murzzuschlagg also warned us about. My initial instincts were correct, and i should have said something earlier. We spend a few hours in the mountain rain waiting for someone from the festival to rescue us. Of course our visit to Mariazell is cancelled and we return to Graz. I make it clear that we won´t return back to the field unless the ark is given a full inspection from the Graz police and fire departments.
Steiermark campshow senior assistant, the voluptouos Anna, was wonderful in taking care of my demands in ensuring our safety with the road trips. Anna deserves a big fat raise in salary for putting up with my diva moodyness and fits of negro rage.
On our day off we hang out with rambunctious Polish curator, Adama Budak of the Graz Kunsthause. This museum is in the shape of the Mrs. AIDS virus. Adam loads us with a gaggle of Situationist giftbags, and introduces us to a young humpy Macedonian artist, and attractive British lady musicologist, and her collaborator, plus making sure that we are toasty and drunk off our guords. Its also nice to hang with Hanna Hurtzig of Black Market fame and Amelia of Hamburg´s Kognagle.
The Cheap boys make a brilliantine presentation at the campshow using slides, and a bidding war ensued upon auctioning off some holy water from the ark. It was granada to escape the art world for awhile and go to some tired Graz Gay bars like Gangbang in the Neu Kölln of Graz, the red light district tiny gay lounge Bareback Dirty Rainbow Flag, the twinky dance palace Starpussygrazer, and the cruisebar ManCunt where i was appropriately manhandled in the mazelike darkroom by a large peniled Austrian warhorse. Its so strange in Austria how Heidi Klum is used on almost every advert. Don´t they have any other spokesmodels?
Cheap´s DJ Nancy, and I spinned music for the Festivalzentrum, one evening. We mixed the audience up so that it wouldn´t be just tired kunstlers, who don´t know how to have fun. For once in the Festivalzentrum people danced, flirted and had a good time without acting like icky Mitte queens. Cute Anja brought her young college student boo Patrik, who is adorable and filled with hot bubbly spunk, and an infectious laugh. Met Sony, the wealthy wife of famous Austrian writer Wolfgang Bauer, known for his famous Anti 1968 text from the far left. Miss Sony reminded me of Rachel "DBD" Rosenthal, except she doesn´t carry around with her a pet rat. I loved Sony´s anti-authoritarian spirit. She was breaking glasses, bleeding, throwing shoes, dancing wildly like in her own private mosh pit, and just having a great time in a world that is uniquely her own.
Was introduced to a leggy Austrian calendar model named Tanja Dickbauer who asked me about the Gogol Bordello song i spinned. Flirted with this boy named Julian Khol, who i latter found out is a male model. I wanted him to sit down on my raw face. Re-connected with juicy Miss Sabine of Geliten who i hadn´t seen since Bregenz back in March-April. Enjoyed gossiping with the statuesque beauty of Berlin´s HAU, lady Katherine.
The political climate in Austria is a bit volatile with their right wing parties promelgating quite openly, which is a bit of a shock. Austria seems to breed extremist who range from fascist to wayout artists like Herman Nietz and the Vienna Akshunists. O madame Austria. Somehow you are my kind of ill country.