I keep hitting my head on this when I stand up, so I had to move the chair. mmm… comfortable chair, big and sinky, says, don’t leave, stay, forget your bed…
I am rather tired, caused mostly from doing technique class, profitraining that is, after some weeks of slobbery and, well ballet causes pain. I seem to sweat an awful lot here too. Oh also the bike I have a mobile, two-wheeled wobbling death-trap-machine with a seat like someone trying to insert a dildo sideways, oh yes, the bike also is responsible for soreness.
Which led me to some hours on the internet trying to find a bike workshop co-op like the Nunnery in Sydney or at CERES in Melbourne. Finally, and coincidently I found Schwarzer Kanal. Which led me to Les Lanterns Rouge, and much queerness, wherein earlier I’d been following Daniel’s rumour of a queer squat in Kastanienallee and so upon finding that stumbled into bikes and queerness.
Today was the afternoon for bikes and nervousness. And sleepy I wandered to the Bauwagenplatz near the canal on Michelkirchstr, finding a sign… “Queers and Rebel”, so you know, I guessed I was in the right place, but there was no doorbell, so I figured just to wander in, past an empty lot towards the brick kiln chimney bearing some holes and dents in one side, and through the wagens and trucks, carriages, painted and yes certainly looking like a squat. And so many bikes.
“Are you a tourist or do you live here?” “Umm… well, I just moved here…” Lots of women greasy hands working on bikes, and so I find a nice frame, metallic green and with some help get my own hands greasy, building a bike. It will take another half day, I think. First stripping stuff off the frame, then finding a wheel and… the bottom bracket needs some love (grease), girls and boys and… queers with bikes, smiles too.
Sleepy on the U-bahn coming home. Home is Schwelle7 in Wedding, central north from Prinzlauerberg, which I think will become in memory where I began to discover Berlin. a vast four-storey Fabrik mostly converted it seems to artists spaces, living in studios, here one whole floor is a performance, rehearsal, other, place for Felix Ruckert, whom in some way is responsible for me being in this city, after a chance conversation led to me spending a day reading his website early last year.
Tanz im August begins tomorrow night, perhaps I will be writing on what I see, or maybe stalk some dancers and choreographers at the sommer.bar.
Time now for essen.