Weekend in May

On Friday a group of us biked to a street festival where I guess they were celebrating long drink-lines, meat sandwiches, and outdated American pop music. Lorena, Kenzi, Quentin and I walked a few blocks to an uncrowded bar.

I ran into Lorenzo, the cute stranger who I had met after my set at Django. He’s from Treviso but did all his education in London (something about being a sommelier), the resulting accent is very smooth. Along with his radio-voice he has piercing green eyes.

Not my type at all (too fancy = not critical enough). But he is sharp, gets my jokes and whenever we were near one another we performed a mix of rapid-fire banter and enduring eye-contact. After thousands of kisses on the cheeks I left with an “I owe you a gin and tonic.”

Saturday brunch at Jenny/Bianca’s. Alexis and I brought the prosecco and tofu-scramble. It was about to rain and we were all about to bike to Fabrica. Product design team for an approaching deadline and me for a durational test of my vapor screen. Jenny with vegan pancakes in her backpack. 

1.5.17

Xtian: I followed your crush on gram so i can keep tracks on the whereabouts of the crush
INTEL NEEDS TO BE SHARP HERE
M: Ha ha ha! Where is my crush? 
This weekend I applied for a 10k grant (a low brow one) for which I had to make a video. I am one dorky looking dweeb. Good thing I’m adorable or I’d get nowhere.
I also deep cleaned the house
And got pizza/fries/gelato with Nicolas.
What’d you get up to?
Xtian: Dense and sick! Sounds like some shredder vibes mixed with some daydreamer vibes
What kind of pizza?
I stayed up until 4 Friday and Saturday 
It snowed in April as you know is a thing
Lots of walking this weekend too
M: Walking like the hometown hero who’s still there. White snow in April up the nose. But what party? And to answer your question, Marinara con verdure miste – melanzane, pomodoro, pepperoni, zucchini, olio picante – they should call it the “M.” Pistachio gelato senza latte! That’s my favorite, AND ciocolatto senza latte. Two scoops as a prize for 2+ decades on planet earth.
Xtian: WOW!
Wait
you don’t eat pepperonis em
DO YOU PICK THEM OFF AND FEED THEM TO NICOLAS?
M: It means bell pepper in this crazy backwards Italy!
And LET ME TELL YOU, I had never tried bell pepper before now they are the best thing that there is in Italy. SO FLAVORFUL.
Whenever there is pepperoni at mensa I say “it’s a mensa miracle!” And faint.

1.4.17

The gig at Django had the exact amount of hyper-energetic fun that I crave to express whenever possible. I’m glad there is a cross-cultural language for the intensity I hold in both my body and music curation ;) ;) ;) Also it was on April Fool’s so my set reflected this, not that it wouldn’t have otherwise. EVERY DAY IS FOR FOOLS!

All the DJs played pretty smart and noisy. I would have danced way more but had to endure many free drinks and kind words.

Like for instance Gabi brought me a beer as we all talked around a table. She went back inside for moment and Cecilia wondered out loud if she might be interested in  me. I got excited about it. Then Gabi and Fillip left and everyone else talked about crushes and stuff.

I was locking up The Sabatager (who broke again on the ride over) when a blue-eyed black-haired boy came up to me complimented my set and gave his condolences about my bike. He was offering me help and I was saying I didn’t need it but then I realized what he was doing was flirting. I was getting his contact when we were interrupted by going to a party in the middle of the city, in a loft apartment with marble floors, a beautiful, minimal record player, and a hammock. Also some cats were around. I later heard it was Luciano Benetton’s grandson’s flat? Don’t know which one he was though.

Everyone was languorous and weed-infused, I was talking with a pretty girl. When she left I lay in the hammock with Cecilia. When we left the blue-eyed boy left with us. Then we had a threesome. Ha ha, just kidding.

23.3.17

Put dead skin cells on.

Walking through rusty water, abandoned lake-pool, big library.

Kids riding their bikes on the path partially submerged in water. I was enchanted by their image, skin matching rust tones. I thought about making a movie here.

Missing trains because of floods. Dark compartments.

 

Chores take half the day on a Saturday, no matter what. Got computer from Daniel/Kendra’s. Said hi to Elise. They invited me for a spritz later. I said I might come if there was time before going to Venice.

But I didn’t go for a Spritz or to Venice. I cancelled my date even though my outfit was great and I wanted to go to the Arte Laguna opening. I just felt like working at home. Also I didn’t want to be trapped in parties because I would miss the last train, and then to share a bed is to be uncomfortable and to put up boundaries against sex. If it’s not a hell-yeah it’s a no, as they say.

23.3.17

Christian giving presentation to us in a roof area standing on some kind of structure, wearing a yellow hat. Yellow Light through glass. Someone’s mom. “Well, that’s all” he said bashfully, before swinging down on a rope.

Dragon head, elevator, dry pool with leaves, hot jacket made of plastic. Fixing something on jacket. Red. Waiting for the others. Cantilevered platforms.

Woke up early, made a big breakfast and did duolingo. Took Alexis’ bike back to Fabrica.

Re-edited my prototype video and added music. Much better now.

I walked in the sun, Jenny’s bike repair was only €6. I rode it back to Treviso in record time, not wanting to get off and write a message saying I’d be late. I was only 5 minutes late.

I wrote to Shunsuke asking to hang out, after we had matched on Tinder over a year ago, when I was on trial for Fabrica. We had a short conversation then, about shoegaze and art projects. I liked his tattoo that says: “Born to lose.” I was on the bus home from Venice, after my adventure with C, and I was like “I should do more things.”

He happened to be coming through Treviso, back from Barcelona. He had a red jacket and a gold chain. Dense silver hoops. Black skinny jeans. I carried his luggage up our four flights of stairs. He asked how much I thought it might weigh “40 pounds?” I have no idea what that means, it’s 21 kilos.” “I have no idea what that means.”

We had a walking-beer and a pizza and a getting-to-know-you-chat that outlived the pizza’s heat. He’s from Japan, spent time there and in the US, was in IT, living a double life writing grafiti at night. Moved to Venice to study glass blowing. Got a girl pregnant in Europe sometime before that, which he told to me after much hesitation. It’s true that my opinion of him was lowered (re, “I’m just doing what I want” lifestyle). Apparently he had tried to make it work.

I told him things here and there – brief gig as vegan chef, neuroimaging lab in Australia, everything as fake and dysphoria. He mentioned that on my instagram there was a picture with someone’s butt in Lad Musician. Yes, that’s my sibling, the taper and seaming on Lad pants are so good and they age beautifully. He said “you know a lot!” We talked about fashion. We walked to Bottegon, he pulled me into him, away from a car.

We sat close together, drank two spritz hugo, went back to my place, said hi to Nicolas and Alexis, smoked on the trash-porch. He questioned himself on whether what he was doing was art, asked me if I knew how he could get his work into the world. We stood sort of close. It felt sort of sweet.

In my room he said he probably wouldn’t catch the train. I said I had two beds. He kissed me in that entitled masculine way. It was fine.  I said “I don’t think I’ve ever kissed someone with a beard.”

18.3.17/19.3.17

Nothing like going to bed early on a Friday and then having a whole Saturday!Met C at the station, who was wearing an oversized-coat that draped nicely,  and red jeggings (I found out later). We went to Karim’s surprise going away party on the rooftop. When everyone got kicked off the “terrace” we went inside. Before making our exit C got innovative with green mint vodka (that had been lingering, party after party) and an empty coke can. We drank it on the train, found another empty coke can by the bus stop and put it “next to its friend.”

There was no place to buy tickets. There was no bus stop where we were supposed to get off. We climbed over the highway barrier with some Germans because Googs also led them astray. The bouncer checked my backpack, told me to leave the cheap beers I had forgotten in there outside, found a bottle of B12 that could have easily been ecstasy, after eyeing it suspiciously he let me keep it. I thought “I should sell these pills for €20 each now.” The vjing was Terrible, the music (Analogue Cops) was pretty good.

We intermittently danced and slurped tequila-soda, Left at 3, missed the bus, then walked back to pick up the cheap beers I had forgotten outside.
It was misty.

All buses are free because there is no place to pay. We stumbled back through Venice. I stole a kiss on a bridge at sunrise (“I think this is the bridge where we have to make out.” C looked at me dubiously.)

We walked through daybreak-Venice as people in bright orange uniforms swept the street with straw brooms.We fell asleep in a sunlit room, in an area where laundry was hanging, where everything was rendered in pastel hues, it was silent.

Waking up heroically hungover, we went grocery shopping, made a feast, and wiggled to Shakira in a small kitchen.

16.3.17

I missed the early bus because I had left my tooth next to my toothbrush and Alexis was showering. I rode Mensa Bike all flat to Fabrica and passed everyone else who was biking on non-broken, adult-sized bikes. I finished the second round application for Amsterdam Light Festival and got it in one minute before the deadline.

Then I picked the color for Designer Box clips.

Then I had a cigarette.

I edited video until Mensa and went late to Mensa and it was relaxing. There were peas and the salads had corn and tomato and it felt fancy.

I forgot about the Imago Mundi Skype call but Jonas reminded me and then I went and it was SOOOOOO BORING. It took about 40m but could have been summed up in “can we know what the space is like?” “Not really.”

There was one graphic design trial from Romania. He brought Prosecco.

I was considering getting back to work when Lorena posted that she and Jonas had brought everyone gelato.

Xtian: Weekend plans? Birthday+
M: Everyone is tryna dance in Venice at a warehouse squat, but only if the music’s cool. C is in town and maybe I will steal 1 kiss 😏
Wut u?
Xtian: OH MY GOD M
we all know that when you steal a kiss
it’s not just one
M: Ha ha ha ha ha
Xtian: hahah
M: That’s how I get ’em, I’m like “we could share just 1 smooch and that would be enough for forever…”
Xtian: GOTCHA
hahaha
oh my god
giant horchata vodka illusion
Horchata vodka illusion infusion
M:I just changed everyone in my Fabrica group chat to “Carlo”
Lorena (queen boss of social campaigns) says make your letter of intent more punk.
I’m just over here in design like: “hi my name is Carlo and I’m a professional.”
I was doing work like how we do in the design department and then social campaigns brought everyone gelato.
They’re “more punk.”
Xtian: im so punk
you know me
you know
im the real Carlo

21.2.17

I saw Teresa Mascia in a dream. She was wearing a dusty rose skirt. She beamed and waved as she walked by. It was nice to see her.

Never know anyone, or yourself… because you can’t. Because there isn’t. That’s how it just now felt, more or less, and earlier today too.

Like at the Imago Mundi meeting, agreeing on a concept. I disassociated for a moment and we were just containers for nervous systems with all words meaningless. In us and through us: blank space.

And just now, thinking about “cute” and remembering Jess use the word the last time we saw each other, and thinking the way they said it was it. (Cute). And I never knew Jess and never will know anyone.

The memory of having that crush and then being rejected is on a feeling-loop whenever I think about it. And now I’m trying to avoid giving those feelings to someone else again. By lying. But not really, just halfway. By not being fully honest because mightn’t full honesty result in emotional catastrophe? I don’t have the time.

How did I dig this hole and am I building a house in it? Wasn’t it all sealed in that first 10 minutes of looking in Kamille’s eyes?

14.2.17

Alexis convinced me to ride the bus by saying “you could ride the bus.” I Hugged Ainhoa and Leo at the bus stop. I Met Matteo, the new photography trial from Italy. Lorena talked with her Spanish/special needs bus-friend (who is an excellent singer when Lorena isn’t around to converse). The guy with elegant outfits who I see exiting the bus whenever I bicycle by was sitting near me. Jonas and I talked about how good his outfits always are as he exited.

Big mama Fabrica bought me some presents which were sitting under my desk. New ultrasonic mister and accompanying floating ring. It felt like my birthday, which it will be soon.

I was working on a maxpatch, Kenzi and Laura came in and rang the Mensa bell. Quentin stayed and worked on modular furniture drawings. Ainhoa made him a mensa-sandwich.

Kenzi and I went to Mis Catena. I talked about Finland (he didn’t know I was going), he talked about the “Venice Over Tourism” Unesco World Heritage project that Social Campaigns is working on.

In the afternoon I was measuring out a fan-array  when Quentin came in and said “it’s five” we went to the Imago Mundi meeting. Karen skyped in. Jonas picked ever present glitter out of his hair.

I chatted with Fuse as we left the bus home. Ran upstairs, ate the tiny amount of soup left from last night, changed the SIM card from my phone to ipad (broke the cable on the battery replacement I was attempting to instal on my phone) so now I giant phone instead of a tiny monitor.

Met with German photographer, Phillip, in Venice. We got a coffee, I signed his handwritten model release because there are no internet cafes in the world anymore, and no printers in all of Italy. He gave me €50, we took pictures by graffiti, by water, by trash cans with the Mcdonald’s logo (M, for me). A drunk guy came up and asked drunk questions.

The train was coming in half an hour so we got a drink. Two medium IPAs each. We had two because though the room was full of clocks, none of them were correct and I missed the train. I said he didn’t have to babysit me and he said he would be delighted to do so. We stayed another hour, talking about AI. Phillip lived in Japan with his gf, they started a company, they broke up. He went back to Germany and translated Japanese into German for Nintendo (Mario, Zelda, etc.) creating new jokes for those that were untranslatable.

“Grazie mille” I said to Phillip, as we waved goodbye, half a meter apart. Last Valentine’s day I was in Venice for the first time, having dinner by myself, amidst a sea of couples who’s language I didn’t know, and it was romantic. This year I had a romantic-platonic date with a stranger (who also forgot it was Valentine’s day).

I don’t really know the story of saint Valentine (of course I could look it up) but my impression is it has to do with someone who was brutalized/imprisoned, wrote kind letters (to friends?) from prison, and then got killed/martyred. And it’s a nice thought to celebrate love in many forms in honor of this dude who was v loving in spite of having it real bad.

In practice Valentine’s day seems to make people feel like they’re being martyred ;) All responses, critical and non, are common to the point of being boring. I feel boring writing about it. I am so bored. Here is a chart.

Critical / Negative Uncritical / Negative
The way Valentine’s day is celebrated is overly capitalistic Stress about buying gifts for (usually female identified) partners
The way Valentine’s day is celebrated is overly focused on romantic love Stress about being romantically alone on Valentine’s day
The way Valentine’s day is celebrated is cis/heteronormative Blanket middle-school-like hatred of Valentine’s day because it seems edgy
The way Valentine’s day is celebrated causes a significant upswing in emissions from rose agriculture  

 

Critical / Positive Not Critical / Positive
In terms of the namesake story, the holiday is actually just about spreading love, which is lovely It’s romantic

 

I am only parsing my thoughts on this topic because Kamille was bummed, belonging primarily to the uncritical-emotional-response group (though she’s meta about this). She said “When I’m alone and see other people in love I feel somehow jealous and my thoughts go in the direction ‘noone loves you because you’re trans.”

Heartbreaking. Reading what she had to say made me empathize more with people who feel things other than indifference toward the holiday.

💎

In Berlin you can eat garden-weed-spread on toast and drink steamed white wine with a teabag in it.
You can go to the sweatiest basement, from the pointiest wind, and back.
In Berlin you can come home to Kamille making 150 vegan perogies.
Falafel is €1. You can buy a warm beer and walk outside with it until it is cold.
Aside from that, they do a great job game-ifying their recycling.