Hey there! I’m writing this column from my vacation home, from my finca, I’m dictating it to my assistant on the beach, a mojito in one hand, a sex lover in the other. Joke, I’m at the coffee shop around the corner and I’m so happy because the lovely woman who works here still had ice cubes. Iced coffee used to be with actual ice (vanilla) but let’s not argue about that here, I’ll get by. What I don’t get along with is in my attic apartment and I’m glad WE are seen, we attic sufferers. That’s why I thought it was reasonably good when #Attic trended on Twitter recently, because yes, we exist! Still.

    The feeling about this weather is very equivalent, I think last summer I wrote something here about how joy about summer tends to decrease because it promises more and more danger and this year the mood seems to have changed completely and it nobody is really happy about heat, dryness and brightness anymore, because we all know how it will end. This summer feeling of eternity, the day that never ends, the summer that never ends, in which we are all stupid and are allowed to be and move very slowly and only vulture towards the next drink, ice cream, after work, cocktail, kiss – it tastes good now everything is very bitter. It’s like when a boy tells you you’ll be together forever haha. Forever just isn’t anymore. Appropriately, this very moral but important update to the meme above.

    Maybe that’s why we pay more and more homage to the past, life is just a single retro madness, and that spans decades. Whether it’s the 80s, thanks to “Stranger Things” (Kate Bush also thinks it’s “crazy”), the 90s, thanks to the dance revival (Beyoncé’s latest song “Break My Soul”, for example, contains a sample from Robin S.’ “Show Me Love”), or the ever-worsening y2k hype.

    Stars and I at the No Angels concert

    Since I’m also a normal victim of all this, I went to the No Angels concert last weekend. And everything I babbled about “normal people” at the doctors two weeks ago was missing on June 18th in Berlin’s Wuhlheide. It started with my girlfriend handing in her bag, which was smaller than mine, and hey, I never complain about the staff, but about this, sorry, stupid policy of event organizers lately with this “a bag can’t be bigger than an A4 sheet of paper” and that kind of never makes sense and the poor employees never know what to do and inevitably have to act haphazardly. You had to pay 5 euros when you handed it in. Five euros. Not one, not two, not three, not four, no, five euros. So almost a semblance.

    Then I went on to discover loads of STARS and I curse my face memory a bit sometimes. How do I know that this one that passed us played in Cologne 50667? How do I know Stefanie Giesinger? Why am I taunting Evil Jared from the Bloodhound Gang two hundred yards away even though he was wearing pants? When I was recognized as well, I didn’t even know where up and down was anymore, but the people who recognized me were super nice, that was nice. I just always think, oh god, if they see me banging or if they see me behaving like a drunk and yelling nonsense, IT’S OVER. Now I’m starting to know how Stefanie Giesinger feels, haha. Oh well …

    Otherwise it was a nice concert! Everything on stage was perfect and beautiful, just as you wished. Finally the No Angels! They looked like 2001 because we women never age! I had to hold myself back a bit so as not to unconsciously automatically fire off my rehearsed dances that I had worked on when I was 12 years old, otherwise I almost cried at the latest by “Rivers Of Joy¶”, the finale and anyway one of the best songs of all time . And I was also reconciled with the audience. One asked oneself openly “who is your favorite Angel?”, when one got into small talk situations (of course Nadja), in front of us a couple was so drunk at the beginning of the concert that they stumbled around the whole time, then there was this child who was super bored, probably the mother had dragged it with her. Otherwise there was a bunch of young adorable queers, so all good.

    It was something like this:

    Kliemann, Cosby & Ken

    I’d like to write something else about the guys of the week, namely Fynn Kliemann, a perfect symptom of a well-intentioned capitalism that simply doesn’t exist and of a hurt male ego who is now trying to make a new group of buyers clear among liberals and conservatives, about Bill Cosby , who was finally found guilty of sexual abuse, but this time I limit myself to capturing my and your favorite male picture from the past week here again, simply because it’s already 29 degrees and we all need to cool down. You know it: It’s Ryan Gosling as Ken.

    A few more summer hits

    So, and now it’s over, I can never. By the way, my summer hits for this year so far are as follows!

    This one actually came out last year, but it’s also a bit melancholic, which fits with the mood for summer and then again heartache because “it” ends again and yet you still have hope for something new (yet).

    And the next song is also from 2021, it urgently needs to be delivered here (and no, Harry Styles has nothing for me in that regard, sorry). Latto’s “Big Energy” is strongly reminiscent of Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy”. Good.

    Well, and then of course Doja Cat should not be missing. Nothing actually comes close to “Kiss Me More” (2021 was really an amazing music year), but this awesome sex song feat. Tyga is another one of those delicacies that will easily accompany me until September when I escape from my attic apartment.

    What is your summer hit 2022? Need tips!

    What happened until now? Here is an overview of all pop column texts.