Didivanfritsamazonwriter

- my latest title on https://www.meinbestseller.de/site/?r=userwebsite/index&id=didivanfrits/bookdetails/281972

- the latest version of my (101 chapters) with improved
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09MYRGJ8Q/

photo: my friend Klaus, discussing with me - became famous with his essay "About the gradual fabrication of thoughts while talking" (Über die allmähliche Verfertigung der Gedanken beim Reden, 1805).
He wrote that it was even good when his sister tried to interrupt him while he was talking. Through a wave of swelling anger at not having quite finished the thought, some additions then bubbled up from the depths of the soul, which (though unexpectedly) seemed quite helpfully.
Kleist also comes to speak of 's "thunderbolt" as the trigger of the French Revolution: "Yes, we have heard the king's command. But what entitles you to hint at orders to us here? The nation gives orders and receives none!"
Just unpleasant conditions are often a perfect breeding ground for the creation of lasting texts.
It sometimes seems that the worst prisons in the U.S. have produced the best blues lyrics. For example, I often sang "Joliet Bound," written in 1932 by Kansas Joe McCoy for Memphis Minnie. Anger seems to be good food for creativity.
Frustration gives us the duty and motivation to talk.
I was born in 1945 and immediately put into a children's home. It took 40 years until I found my biological parents. My mother lived in East Germany, my father in the West. I grew up for a particular time with adoptive parents. My foster father served in the children's concentration camps in Litzmannstadt and Kaufering during World War II. His brutal attitude did not make it easy for me to create a different level for my own family.
(1903-1969) wrote: “If once the last emotional trace has been erased, the only thing left will be an absolute tautology.”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09MJLM6LB/

Thoughts Like Rain: A to Z Thoughts Like Rain: A to Z

Photo: "One no longer dances today; one marches, writhes, etc." - "DARWIN? is descended from the ape." It is peppered with such laconic statements, the "Dictionary Of Commonplaces," published in 1881, after the death of Flaubert (1821-1880), as a subchapter of the unfinished work "Bouvard and Pecuchet."
On the same (Darwinian) topic, his forerunner, the ironist Lichtenberg (1742-1799), had remarked:
"After man, in the system of zoology, comes the monkey, after an immeasurable gulf. But if one were to order animals according to their happiness, the comfort of mind, etc., it would seem that some men would come below the miller's donkeys and hunting dogs." - Lichtenberg was thus a bit more long-winded, needed more words, and still meant well with his readers. While Lichtenberg still wrote benignly: "Health prefers it when the body dances than when it writes," Flaubert stated: "One no longer dances today;
one marches, writhes, etc." - Flaubert probably died of syphilis, which he contracted during his orient travels. "Syphilis? More or less, everyone is afflicted with it," said Flaubert. That's not entirely correct, but soothing for Flaubert, for sure. Maybe soon I'm going to say: "Covid-19? More or less, everyone is afflicted with it!"
Music for this topic? I like to play on my Tricone resonator guitar with bottleneck style, the “Feelin’ Bad Blues” by Ry Cooder

eBook version: Descriptions III https://www.meinbestseller.de/site/?r=userwebsite/index&id=didivanfrits/bookdetails/279783

Descriptions III. Didi van Frits has written essays in magazines. In the last decade, he has posted on social media too. Now, aged 76, he takes a final look back, 1945-2021, combining his magazine writing, his photo archive, his discussions on social media, and his guitar

NARRATIVES - eBook - Paperback - Hardcover https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09MKK9CLB

Narratives: A to Z Narratives: A to Z

- Photo: When I saw the grand piano in the rotten "Clärchens Ballhaus" in Berlin, I thought: "Wow! This is the room where the existentialist Bozzetti would like to wake up his grand piano!" - The best music teacher I've ever had was Dr. Elmar Bozzetti. Perhaps each of us has had a teacher whom we like to keep in our minds?
Elmar Bozzetti played Mozart & Bach, Beethoven & Vivaldi perfectly on his grand piano. But he also played blues & ragtime, country & folk.
He started a gospel choir and made me the lead singer in front of a 300 people background choir. We made a tour performing on cinema stages, for example the “Residenz”-theatre in Arnsberg. He started a Dixieland band. I played the banjo there. Music: I got a robe
But he also taught literature at my high school. He encouraged me to give a long speech on Albert Camus. About his manifesto of existential philosophy, "The Myth of Sisyphus." And about his novels “The Stranger” and "The Plague." The Plague, LA PESTE, was the perfect preparation for our current coronavirus epidemic.
I wrote a song with the title "The Pestilence."
1 - The pestilence had 50 million deaths in the 14th century (2x) Oh Coronavirus, tell me, how will things be in 14 months?
2 - Albert Camus, he wrote the novel “La Peste” (2x) about fighting doctors who never had a rest
3 - Covid-19 was brought to us by bats and pangolins (2x) - an example like AIDS or Ebola for Zoonoses
"Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears. (Albert Camus 1913-1960)

- photo: When I floated past the walls of factories and apartment buildings on the monorail in with our friends from Brussels, they said they had never seen such an ugly city. - In 1949 Ewan MacColl wrote the song "Dirty old town," which was then made famous by or . Inimitably good. But it's not that I wouldn't like to sing something about my Wuppertal (Germany). Like a Homer or Thukydides, like a Xenophon or Tacitus, like an Ovid or Walter Kempowski, I would like to tell some stories of MY hometown.
About the screaming of lambs and pigs, for example, in the nearby slaughterhouse, when my first girlfriend, we were six years old, pulled me into a shed and kissed me. A ray of sunlight wandered through the dusty air. It had squeezed in through the cracks between the boards of the shed, this shed on the Viehhofstraße (Cattleyard Street), directly behind the tracks, where the railroad cars with the screaming animals collided metallically when shunting.
The narratives that the people of Wuppertal like to hear are sweeter. The one about the elephant Tuffi, for example. The heavy animal fell out of the suspension railroad down into the waters of the river Wupper. A vain circus director had wanted to make a spectacular publicity trip. Fortunately, the whole thing turned out well. The baby elephant was stable enough to survive the fall from a great height into the river's water unharmed.
Nevertheless, the elephant died, albeit years later, because it snatched the old lady’s handbag at the zoo in Paris and ate it. Unfortunately, there was a perfume bottle in it, the shards of which caused him to bleed to death internally.
But this ending was not mentioned by the publicity department of the Wuppertal city council.
Nor was there any mention of people’s miserable deaths from phosphorus bombs in the burning asphalt in May 1943.
For decades, the Wuppertal city council arrogantly refused to disclose any data about who had put me in a children's home when I was a baby.
And 60 years later, I had to endure how they tried to close my favorite music pub, the Esperanza in Luisenstraße, again and again - with measurements of the sound level. We only played with acoustic guitars. The many booming discotheques around were not bothered with sound measurements. They didn't play "Dirty old town" either.

- photo: I am playing a typical Gypsy swing instrument, a Maccaferri style guitar with a D-hole - in the style of - Heinz “Coco” Schumann (1924-2018) played for or , but the Hitler-Regime brought him into the concentration camp. Heinz survived, and 50 years later he gave an interview, back in Berlin (after an Australian exile):

"Our camp elder had just lost his gypsy swing band. He took us to the hall where the instruments were stored, among other things, and said: Pick something, it's all there. I chose a Selmer from a French company that also built the guitars for Django Reinhardt."

Heinz "Coco" Schumann, Jewish jazz-guitarist, describes his survival and wandering through three concentration centers: , -Birkenau, finally Dachau- .

On the gratuitous journey between gassing and survival through forced music-making, staying alive seemed like a tour through hell, despite all the self-protective techniques of forgetting.
Coco Schumann was also not comfortable with the grueling reporting of what he had long held blocked inside.
Despite being transferred to increasingly miserable concentration camps, Coco did not abandon his music:

"A prisoner of the external command discovered in a barn an old rotten guitar. Unfortunately, the strings were absent. But after the external command got some pieces of cable, I isolated them, strung the wires, and built them up. I was able to bring the instrument back to life. It didn't even sound bad."

Like a miracle, Coco Schumann survived - and it's also like a miracle that he recorded another CD in 1999 with such successful songs as "Autumn Leaves," "Take the a-Train," "Georgia on my mind" or his trademark, the "Stripper Blues."
In the Theresienstadt concentration camp, he had to provide upbeat music for the propaganda film "Der Führer schenkt den Juden eine Stadt" ("The Führer gives the Jews a city"). German killing officials and artistic energy for survival met.
One has to be grateful that Coco Schumann had the courage to return from Australian exile to Berlin, to be interviewed about everything, and to record a CD in the studio again.

[Translation of my book review for amazon.de: “Der Ghetto Swinger” 1997]

Music: Autumn Leaves - Leury Pereyra from New York made a duo performance with me / also in this mood: Stand by me - Otis Redding - When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon, is the only, who can see

, Ernst - (1885-1977) was a professor of at the University of Leipzig from 1949-1956. But on September 20, 1961, Associated Press reported: “The internationally admitted philosopher professor Ernst Bloch did not return from a visit in the Federal Republic (BRD, West-Germany) to the Soviet Zone (GDR, East-Germany).”
One of his reasons for leaving East Germany was that they built a wall between the two German states on August 13, 1961. In his suitcase, Bloch did have no more possession than a crime book of Agatha Christie. A typical nonchalant gesture of the philosopher of hope and progress. He wrote to the GDR administration: “I am no longer determined to offer my work and myself to unworthy conditions.”

His peerless opus magnum, “The Principle of Hope,” he wrote in the years 1938-1947 in the “Public Library” in Manhattan at the 42nd street – after being driven out of Germany by the N***s. They burned books and terrorized Jews and socialists. His wife Karola earned money, working as an architect in New York.
Back in East Germany (1949), he at first helped to evolve Marxian thinking. But it did not last long, and then he wrote: “Nowadays, one can select between dull or wrong. With the wrong shoe, however, no one can walk far. A cloudy glass also makes anything unclean, which is poured in.” “Now chess must be finally played – instead of Bingo.”

With such aphorisms, Ernst Bloch (after leaving communism, now a professor in Tuebingen, a famous university in West Germany) very soon became a mentor in the epicenter of the 1968 student movement (leader, later murdered on the open street in Berlin: Rudi Dutschke).
Like the art of engineering, philosophy should never forget that to proceed is a vital component. This still has been the reasonable message of Bloch’s philosophy – though, in the meantime, some states (i.e., hammers and sickles) have had to change their fundamental doctrines.

Music: When I sing “You Gotta Move,” I remember Ernst Bloch and his friend Rudi Dutschke.

Since the attack against the World Trade Center in New York, the understanding grows that living in bo***ge with a false philosophy or a fundamentalist religion or an impudence nation nearly inevitably leads to a catastrophe.
It is a confusing but easily remembered coincidence that Adorno’s birthday is on a “September Eleven” (9/11/1903), duplicating the hint at the warning that ideological instigation gives rise to an escalation of terrible disasters.
At first, growing up upper-class-protected but as a Jew in N**i Germany, Adorno became acquainted with horror only outside the family (his mother was a classical musician). Outside: on the schoolyards, pursued and pushed by his peer group because he always was the teacher’s darling. Outside: being a Jew walking on N**i streets of a pre-Hitler Germany with subtle racial discrimination. They soon would build Auschwitz.
Bye and bye, Adorno reached more painful intensity in the shape of the ideological constructions and daily realities of National Socialism. Though no one had a presentiment of the coming Holocaust, Adorno told, that the exploding of inhumanity did not astound him, after all, that he had to suffer in the years before on the school yards.
For political reasons, Adorno fled to the United States. His father had Jewish roots. Adorno worked for several years in New York as a member of the “Institute for Social Research.”
After exile (in the 1950s), Adorno returned to Frankfurt. He soon became a hero of the student revolts of 1968. Unfortunately, students preferred a style of discussion and acting (bare breast girls disrupted Adorno’s lectures), which the (latent conservative) upper-class child Theodor Wiesengrund Adorno (called “Teddy” by the students) robbed him of emotional balance.
However, his literary and philosophical masterpiece “minima moralia” is a testament to a razor-sharp intellectual mind, using an élitist, brilliantly aphoristic language.
He continually followed the principle that the best writing method is an essayistic, non-systematic strategy. Because big mega- philosophies (fascism, marxism) always tumble down after a while. So he wrote little essays about Marcel Proust or Sigmund Freud, about “Tough Babies” or the “Golden Gate”, about cats or mammoths, marriage as well as divorce.
“If once the last emotional trace has been erased, the only thing left will be an absolute tautology.”
Music: Remembering Adorno in New York, I often liked to sing Paul Simon’s “A Heart in New York”.

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