Patrick Pierazzoli: Don’t be afraid
Helge Timmerberg was on the road again. This time in Nepal to look for Yogi Kashinat, who gave him the mantra against fear 15 years ago in the Annapurna massif. He has to figure out whether he can write about the mantra and share it with his readers, or whether it will lose its impact if he does. As always, when the rock star poet goes on tour, it’s fun. At least for the reader, because age has left its mark on Timmerberg, and the traveling is obviously more of a strain on him than it already is. Of course, you still want to follow him on the spot – no one puts beauty into words anymore – but the eternally young enthusiasm is increasingly mixed with a pinch of cynicism, which is wonderful to read. I won’t reveal here whether he finds the yogi, but I can reveal that he is allowed to reveal the mantra, and that he does. “Das Mantra gegen die Angst oder Ready for everything” (Malik) will be published in mid-October and is the best book you can read or give as a gift at the moment.
Marina Warth: Gunpowder
I don’t believe in hocus-pocus. Zodiac signs, chakras, voodoo, esotericism… Quackery! I blame the fact that I stumbled into a tarot aunt’s cave on my trip through Ireland on the Celtic music, the droning of which left my brain at least as dead as the ravers on the streets of Zurich at the Street Parade. The lady with the kohl-smeared eyes wanted to know if I had a question before she told me that fire would play a big role in my future. 15 minutes and 35 euros later, I stepped out of the incense-filled room into the fresh air – and laughed so heartily at the experience that Irish people passing by joined in. Tarot, check, one less item on my bucket list. Another was a visit to an Irish pub, which followed in the evening. Before I could put the cross on my list, however, my eyes wandered over the bar’s display and got stuck on a blue bottle of gin (Drumshanbo, “Gunpowder Irish Gin”, 700 ml, approx. 50.-). “It’s gonna set your palate on fire,” laughed the bartender, sealing the prophecy that has stuck to my mind like the taste of high proof on my palate ever since.
Marco Rüegg: On the 10
Feet of gold, the hand of God, the banging head full of infantile boozy ideas. So Diego Maradona goes to Naples in 1984, becomes champion, world champion – but not happy. The impulse-driven super-figure falls from its pedestal, plummeting like the currency of its mother country. However, even more so in times of an ailing economy, Argentina is mourning its lost (footballing) glory. The popular bird of paradise symbolizes this like no other – sorry, Señor Messi. So it’s perfect timing that documentary filmmaker Asif Kapadia is now bringing the myth of “Diego Maradona” (DCM) to the big screen, shedding light on his sporting highlights as well as the psychological traumas in the life of a schizophrenic genius from the port district of La Boca.
