uferhallen at night

Apparently the fire department will come and take me down if I attempt to climb the chimney in Uferhallen. Well, it has a ladder, and with a harness and a couple of ‘biners on slings I should be safe within the relative context of the word. Photos from the pinnacle at dawn would be beautiful.

The last days it was surrounded by a silverish bulbous alien abode (or maybe Zaha Hadid was visiting); a ring around its base that last night glowed from within, even resembling the much-reduced Beijing bird’s nest stadium. Uferhallen was opening. After many long months of drilling, hammering, digging, moving piles of earth from one place to another, various loud noises associated with engineering, the studios are finished.

Berlin’s Wedding now is home to something of the size and feel of Vienna’s Arsenal; 14 studios on the south side of the street alone, for Tanzfabrik, Hochschulübergreifendes Zentrum Tanz Berlin and others, and even more vast space on the north-side.

I finally got to go into the old generator hall beneath the chimney last night and my photos really don’t do any justice. It is cavernous … and the stairwell leading to the underground labrynth … mmm I would like to venture down there for exploring and camera-ing.

Stumbled home around 1am, not too late but the week has included Osada Steve (who has beautiful red fingernails at the moment) and much Shibari, Kinbaku and other rope adventures with Dasniya, so tiredness was in order.

this is my space and it’s highly embarrassing

Back in Vevey for a couple of days. Zurich was getting boring without anyone to cause trouble with. They all pissed off like rats ditching a sinking ship. Traitors. Anyway, today’s my birthday, and China revaluated the yuan by 2.7% or something equally phenomenal in celebration. World finance markets and amateur speculators all missed the boat and are scrabbling around in an idiotic frenzy to make a buck out of it. Bought Harry Potter along with the rest of the illiterate world and read it on the train. Glad the next book’s the last. Off to celebrate and annihilate a few more neurons. A bit like torching ants with a magnifying glass.