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German Whip: Audi RS3 Sportback 8V Goodwood Green

Seen on Framstraße, Neukölln. Entirely for the green. Truth I am not much into German autos post the boxy tight era, buuuut … that green. In the pushing-30° of a warm and grotty Berlin summer … ok if it was mine, I’d swap out those rims, but that green? I’d have the brake rotors painted the same colour. “Guys better show respect if they see man pullin up in a TT”

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German Whip: Volkswagen Golf Mk7 R

Seen off Sonnenallee, repping late–’90s / early–‘00s JDM import culture with those decals on the C-pillar and that very German tuner hoonage paint job. Especially love the Autobahn + Sound System sticker on the window and the acid green disc brakes behind the TEC GT6 Evo rims. “See man driving a German Whip.”

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Morgen ist die Frage

I feel like one of the very few queers in Berlin who’s never been for a night, let alone a weekend at Berghain. Charlene said, “I got a ticket to the exhibition at Berghain, wanna go?” Obviously yah, ’cos when else am I ever going to see inside that luscious body.

The group exhibition was that mix of terrible, uninteresting, kinda interesting, not bad actually, that’s rather good, and, like most group shows, a single one I would want for my hypothetical, ‘I’m mad rich, me’ collection. That kind of good. Monira Al Qadiri’s Holy Quarter, irregular vitreous globes of slippery iridescent black on the floor of the Lab.Oratory dark room.

And Berghain. The concrete and metal waxy soft with generations of physical contact and heavy drug fucking energy. No mirrors, no cameras, and that sound system. I’m not at all one for clubbing these days, but a night there — if I got past the door — I wouldn’t leave that space surrounded by that sound.

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Berlin Sunset

Out for a wander and long-overdue catchup with Charlene the other day. Treptower Park along the Spree, the Fernsehturm caught in the sunset between Insel der Jugend and Stralau. Berlin dressed up in its proper pretty summer outfit.

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Last Blowjob

I went to see the Gemäldegalerie’s Spätgotik exhibition yesterday. First time going to an exhib in over a year, first time voluntarily inside a venue with other people in a over a year, first blah etc. First hanging out with someone new in physical space in a heap of time also.

And it’s medieval art and we were checking out Master of the Housebook’s Last Supper and I was all “Northern Germanic Gothic is the shit.” And she was all “lol blowjob.”

Pretty sure that’s not what Staatliche Museen zu Berlin gave me a press pass to come up with.

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Yallah Klassenkampf

I love a good Yallah. This year, like last, 1. Mai, May Day falls in Ramadan 🌙 like last year in an atrociously managed and politicised pandemic. This year with a special 10pm till 5am curfew. Which is good, I suppose, for the str8wyts and their hairdressers and their jogging alone. But legit the govts across Europe from city level to EU are trying everything except taking responsibility and science. Anyway, this tired and over it Muslim-ish trans femme saw this poster on the way to the Supermarkt yesterday. “Fear the prayer of the oppressed, there is no barrier between it and Allah.”

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Served

An hour of prep, a couple of hours on the stove. All that garlic, ginger, shallots and green chillies, all those spices, vinegar and lemon and mustard oil, all the deer meat and tomatoes, basmati rice, coriander, yoghourt and flatbread. Dasniya and I eating the sunny afternoon away.