Berlin Burner
I fucking love Berlin. Each time I go there the leaving gets harder. Like falling in love with a fuck-buddy, knowing the briefest of meetings are all the better for lack of the relationship, but questioning the scenario each time. This stint was 3 weeks. Long enough to complete a project sprint and short enough to dodge some trouble I was feeling my way into before meandering my way to Vienna for a booty call.
I stayed with Kristof at his shabby shabby-chic apartment, unavoidable as he was the main reason for my visit. I went to live and breathe his dream and part with some investment cashish. He’d acquired a building around Ibiza time last year, a derelict industrial laundry plant of some such and is planning on rebranding it as a club. It’s a testament to German engineering that it is still viable as a structure, I thought for sure it would be raized. The building and space within grew on me over several visits, like a tendon injury one learns to live with because giving up is not an option.
The sun blazed into the 30s most days so hanging out in the damp, glass shattered building where shade was abundant was preferable to toughing it out at my friend’s city apartment where air-con was ‘not the done thing’. I revelled in exploring the run-down space, checking out every little room and walkway. The decades worth of graffiti, slogans, names, who was with whom and when, who gives a good blowie, poor Lin, named and shamed for the longevity of Sharpie ink. I had my ideas on the place, which we discussed almost continually while together. On whisky and weed, the ideas came flooding out and I’m now painstakingly piecing together the photos, sketches, notes blah blah blah I need to create the brand.
The heat at Gasthof Kristof was worth it to see the comings and goings of a cute girl named Genevieve, the girlfriend of his flatmate Jerome. Looking is fine. Although I did a little more than look in the end, I couldn’t help it. That’s what I tell myself. If she hadn’t have made the first move I woulda been OK. This is something I also tell myself.
She made rather a dramatic entrance into the fray one evening while we sat drinking in the kitchen, shouting at Jerome about neglecting her or something. I didn’t catch it all, my German is shite. She joined us and slunk into the background, balled up on her chair listening to our conversation. She mellowed and joined in as we all smoked a bowl, her conversation eventually turning to questions towards me. I humoured her with my answers to her somewhat forward questions. She scoffed when I told her my involvement with Kristof and thought me foolish. Asked me how well I know my friend to be giving him money. I told her of my total belief in him, he would never fail me, to which she slowly pulled a long face with big wide eyes and laughed it away, saying ‘your quick glance at him tells me there’s doubt’. She was perceptive, I had to give her that and I told her so, but there is no cause for concern. She verbally left me alone after that, retreating into the background of the conversation again, continuing her visual assault from the wings. She looked like a kid playing dress-up, her ratty matty long hair in various shades of rainbow with the heavy dark eye make-up, allowing her eyes to glow. I was just looking.
The next morning she was transformed, hair tied up in a ponytail exposing a fresh, grungy, make-up free face. She looked pretty in her baggy tanks and tight white tee. I didn’t say that though. She asked how I was. Good. I reciprocated. She was good too. We orbited around each other making breakfast without another word said, but I couldn’t help my lazy eyes wandering to her petite figure at every opportunity, I found her so alluring. I bid her farewell and as I left the kitchen, glimpsed her in a mirror checking me out. I had a few days away catching up with a mate, Kalle, an old agency friend from London who’s recently relocated to Berlin.
The morning of my return I was on the phone to New York Nic listening to her recent exploits and professing affection for a new boyfriend. It’s the happiest I’ve heard her in months, and for once she didn’t rag on at me for staying away from Greene Street. It was comforting listening to her drowsy and husky post-night out voice and I wished I was there with her having the conversation IRL. I realise now that I miss her immensely, and need to go see her and Lucy, it’s been almost 2 years… Back to the kitchen, I on zoom and Genevieve returned from a run all glistening from exertion in her shorts and sports bra. She jumped as she entered the kitchen and unexpectedly saw me, pulling the buds from her ears to say hello. I explained how Gen fit into the picture to Nic, trying not to watch Gen fix a drink but focus on the screen. She made a slow circuit of the room then left before Nic was able to embarrass me by saying ‘are you gonna do the dirty on your mate’s mate then?’. Of course not. ‘I saw her checking out who you were talking to. She’s keen on ya.’ Not what I needed to hear really as it added fuel to the fire. I professed no, it would fuck things up, I’m not stupid, there was a part of me rubbing his little hands together with optimism.
I walked to my bedroom through the lounge where Gen was folded in half gripping her calves, it looked painful plus a little erotic. I showered and thought of New York and how I will go back for a few weeks. When I came out she was standing in the hallway wrapped in a towel, barely covering her ass. ‘You have good music,’ she said and pushed past me to the bathroom. From my bedroom next door I heard the water running for over half an hour, maybe longer. With the occasional interruption of some singing, it was just splashing and gurgling. I thought long and hard of her soapiness. Kris came back to pick me up. I asked him about her in the car. He rolled his eyes slowly and told me to stay away, which I agreed I would, I just wanted to know more about her. He knew little, she’d been going out with Jerome for a couple of months and that week was the most he’d seen of her. My friend is such a wealth of information.
The last of my visits to the factory was a Saturday and was a bit of an impromptu party, a soirée of sorts for my birthday which was a couple of days after. Nothing big, just a group of dedicated participants with a few randoms that came and went. We got fucked up sweaty, dancing our heads off until sunrise, playing stupid games. The party was an event of 2 halves, interspersed at halftime by the arrival of a giant cuddly toy. This was cosplay Gen, decked in a Pikachu onesie with acid green lipstick and pig-tailed hair, who’d come from another party with a friend. Intros were given and received and we sat down for some bangers and bosh. It was very comedy. Halftime was soon over. We were restless, needing to dance or do something. Alain fixed up a playlist as we prepped. This is where comedy turned to slight discomfort as Gen removed her onesie to reveal a cherry red PVC hot pants, bra and gloves combo and with the knee-high army boots, she looked pretty kick ass! That image is in my wank bank forever. There was the ever so briefest of moments where everyone kinda paused, stunned, then collected themselves and tried to ignore the barely clad girl in the vicinity. It was well awks and our host did a sterling job of rousing us to the dance floor, leaving Jerome chastising Gen for his embarrassment. I stayed well away, knowing that my level of substance abuse wasn’t conducive to rational thought or actions. When Katrina mentioned playing manhunt I was so eager that I exited the scene with Alain and Jules before they’d chosen the killer.n Jerome looked seriously pissed.
We were wandering aimlessly rather than hiding and it wasn’t long before we heard the first chase coming our way. We found a hide and kept it low until they’d passed. We conferred over who was the hunter with no agreement which meant we could trust no one. We’d left with no roadies so I was elected to go back and get some, fucking couples ganging up on me. I made my way back like a ninja, easily bypassing Katrina & Gille heading the other way as I made our den. I grabbed 3 beers and the last of a bottle of Havana club when I spied half a banger in an ashtray. Not one to pass on the opportunity I sparked it up and slouched on the couch. The music was ear-bleedingly loud so I was lucky I saw someone coming at the far end of the hall. I panicked and instead of escaping out the opposite side of the hall I jumped the sofa opposite mine and ducked into a long dark alcove behind it. From the shadows I saw Jerome, who I guessed was the killer, walk through the hall and leave the way I’d entered. I breathed a sigh of relief and waited a while before making a break for it. It was while I did that I got a faint scent of flowers, it made me feel warm and I was just snapping into the realisation that someone must be close when I was grabbed from behind by the arms. I totally shat myself! I turned and couldn’t see shit, but I could hear sniggering, then she came closer and didn’t stop until her body and lips were pressed right up against me. I wrapped my arms around her and my hands found her ass, confirming it was Gen by the feel of the PVC. I was just getting into it when she broke away and backed towards the sofas saying ‘Das ist genug, für jetzt.’ Then she straddled the sofa, blew me a kiss and ran off. I watched her run the length of the hall and into shadow, she looked well trained in her style. I wanted her even more than before.
I no longer had an interest in the game so sat, rolled another banger and teed up some banging tunes. Slowly the party congregated back at our den. We danced, we talked, we danced. And then we got tired and wrapped it up. Everything went into a shipping container, leaving nothing to the myriad of randoms that flow through the place. The sun was well up as we mooched our way to the cars. It was chilly but warming, the midnight blue fading to azure blue. It would be a good day. I squeezed between Gen and her friend Yasmin in the Trawler, with Jerome on the end. My drug-induced paranoia was high and I was sure he knew something was afoot when I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and saw smudges of green lipstick. Careless. The drive to the apartment was excruciatingly slow, owing to the driver’s inebriated concentration, but it gave ample opportunity to fondle with Gen’s fingers. And then we were home and it was over, her parting shot was to pinch me and flash me her phone as we climbed out each side of the car. The message read ‘I want you’. I glanced up and saw the mischief in her mascara shrouded eyes, the asking raise of eyebrows. I of course wanted her. Nothing would’ve seen me happier than peeling her outfit off and sampling the delights within, but it was never gonna happen, well, not immediately anyway enjoy if it did. I just nodded and she happily blew me a kiss. There was a group heading inside to start the final come down and it felt tense. I weighed up the immediate options while I skinned up chatting with Alain and then Jules. Go to bed and forget about her or wait everyone out and see if I could get her alone. I gave up on the second option after an hour. I felt my guilt exuding from me and obvious. The gear came out so it was plain Jame no one was going anywhere soon and Jerome had Gen on a tight leash on the sofa.
I wished I’d grabbed her number and had the ease of messaging her, but I didn’t so I stared at my pod willing it to offer me the route to contact. It gave me shite all except a message from Bunloaf - Was I at Kris’ and he would be over in an hour to pick me up. Time had jumped and I’d forgotten our brunch plans, but it was a route away from my jam so I was happy that I no longer had to think about anything except getting ready.
I made some coffee, showered and pieced together an outfit from my remaining clean clothes. Bunloaf’s unmistakably loud brash voice from the hallway announced his arrival. Cool. It meant I didn’t have to hang around. I grabbed my bag and forced myself to wake up on route to the lounge where he was standing at the corner of the coffee table, strewn with glasses, cups, booze and dope, pontificating the decline of society and the low morals of the youth. He’s such a twat sometimes. His wasted and intimidated audience were easy targets providing no retort. ‘Like you have any morals’ I said, crossing the room to accept his opening arms. ‘Always the gobby cunt, boy’ he joked as he cracked some of my ribs with his embrace, so unnecessary. Miri was there too and gave a more gentle cuddle of greeting followed by a little kiss to the cheek with a ‘hello darling, you look tired.’ I was certain I did and agreed with her. ‘Let’s go, I’m hungry,’ she ordered to Bunloaf. He concurred, then licked his finger, wiped a load of gear off the table and sucked it clean. ‘I’m ready’ he affirmed and pulled me away to the door. I flashed what I hoped was an apologetic look to Gen, actually apologised to Kris and told him I didn’t know when I’d be back.
Later Gators