Matze, who forgot to raise an objection against the military draft, and I, who asked to be part of a paratrooper division, are waiting for the train to the barracks. In 12 hours we will be roommates and property of the Federal Armed Forces for ten months, sharing the room with 4 other guys which probably snore and stink.
In his backpack he carries a bunch of pencil drawings - Matze seems to think that the army is interested in his creative advancement. A few steps away I am carrying the first load of a Commodore 64 home computer system around to finish my latest computer game in leisure-time, in the barracks. ?

This car is catching fire any second. The pipe fell off a long time ago and the carbone monoxide is pouring through the floor of this monster. Matze became silent already and Gerald seems kind of dizzy in the fond. The Cadillac is dragging itself through the desert but it became clear now, even to us, that we won't get much further in this wreck. A dog is barking at the backfiring V8 as we pass a Ghost Town, after that, the road turns gravel and a few miles later the motor dies.
Desert everywhere. No car seen for hours, no Internet, no nothing.
Matze stays at the car. Gerald and I walk into the desert.

We kind of blogged about this road trip live in the net. Back in Germany I'm starting to turn our live report into a book, having Matze help me. Tom is stumbling over it and invites us to his sound studio to experiment with the video footage we shot during the trip. A week later Matze has to leave for his bread&butter-job. I'm staying at Tom's studio and we create a 100 minute movie.

2003, America, too - but this time far down south, on the Peruvian territory, 15,000 feet above sea level:
This time I'm traveling as a backpacker. Matze and Martin joined me after two month. The video cameras are up and running again.

A bloodcurdling scream from outside. It's 11pm - wrap on the set, quitting time. Matze is doing pretty much gaffer work, besides playing himself in our new movie and picking up the directing when I can't. Our studio is a huge unheated storehouse somewhere in Eastern Germany. It's been 40 degrees Fahrenheit for two months now and we lost the first crew member to a pneumonia.
Matze was going to turn off the generator when it began to spark. "I got about 15 seconds until the shit hits the fan here!" he is thinking to himself, putting his camera on the side of the road, running to his car to bring some light to the place. He speeds towards the sparks spitting machine, hits the brake in the last second and stops with his right wheel on his camera. "AAAAAAAAAAAAA" - that's the voice of someone at his personal limit and all of us could have joined right in.

Matze is helping to get a few pick up shots done, and starts the compositing of "The Last Drug" creating animations, assembling virtual into real shots and doing the color correction.