I’m skint as fuck, man. It’s the 20th of November today, and for the past two weeks I’ve lived off about 40 euros. I have 15 left to last until the 13th of December, or when I get paid for some freelance work a while back. Whichever comes first. Being skint is very, very boring. I’ve already paid my rent and I’ve bought enough food to last a couple of weeks, so I won’t die, but christ, there’s bugger all to do. If you want to interact with the world around you, you need money. If I want to see my friends, I can walk 5 miles across the city or pay for the U Bahn. Choices, choices.
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The Berlin Diaries – Brunch
Last Friday, Michelle invited me along to a house party, near Schlesisches Tor. I met Victoria first for a couple of beers, sitting in her cavernous flat overlooking the river Spree. It’s a stunning place. The bedrooms alone are bigger than entire flats back home. It’s the kind of place that would cost you a grand a week in London, but here Victoria and her flatmate Klara pay around €300 a month each. I swear, you could work part time here and enjoy a decent quality of life.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – The Poets
I first visited Berlin back in May, just for a weekend. During that weekend I met a bunch of Michelle’s friends, all of whom I loved. One of these many weird and wonderful people was Annie, a writer from Houston, Texas. When we first met in May, Michelle, Annie and I spent a long, hot summer day hanging out and discussing all kinds of peculiar and brilliant things.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – A Jolly Good Battering
The sun rose on Monday morning, and gentle rays of sunlight drifted in through the curtains. The old schoolteacher who lives upstairs was practising the piano again, and the notes floated down to me like snowflakes. I lay sprawled in bed fully clothed, hanging, desperately dehydrated and unable to move, but I was happy. The weekend had been a heavy one. Mike Skinner, Kater Blau, Slaves, all brilliant. There was but one last gig to attend.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – The Sweat of Slaves
After the Mike Skinner gig came the weekend. It was Friday night, and although many friends of mine were heading out and my phone was buzzing like a rampant rabbit on meth, I tore myself away and stayed home, applying for jobs and writing. I know, right?! It’s almost as if I’m becoming a proper adult – although not really, because the real reason I couldn’t go out was that I had a friend from home visiting early the next day and I didn’t want to be deathly hungover.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – A Refreshing Spot of Grime
Hello again.
It’s been a while. How the devil are you?
I’ve not written any new diary entries for a week or so, because I’ve been spending too long writing while steadily running out of money and neglecting to look for work. Don’t fret, though. I’ve been up to a lot, and I have some cracking stories for you.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – Welcome to Paradise
Holy FUCK I’ve been here a month.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – Neverland
I’m unemployed, and have been for almost a month now. That’s not to say I don’t have an income – I’ve been doing bits and bobs of freelance work, and have been pitching articles and short stories for publication. It’s going surprisingly well so far. It feels nice. It feels amazing. I’m living life on my own terms – making money for myself, no boss, no rules. I’m carving out an existence the way I want to, not the way my bank account dictates. Maybe you could do that anywhere, maybe not. Berlin treats skint artists and musicians and literary types very kindly. It’s built by them and for them.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – Eye Contact Forever
There’s always something going on here. Every day, it’s a simple matter of having a quick peek on Facebook or wherever, and lo, hundreds of events. Gigs, poetry slams, open mic nights, comedy, raves, free parties, art exhibits, light shows, performance art, you name it. Never a dull moment.
On Saturday, an old friend from Come Backpackers messaged me. It was Dave, the long haired English guy who is furious about Brexit. The guy I kind of accidentally smoked hash with in a park on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Dave sent me a link to an event happening that evening. I looked on the website and found that it was an eye contact experiment – one of the world’s largest, or something. I watched a video of one previous exhibition. Strangers in the street simply sat opposite one another and stared unspeaking into each other’s eyes. Seemed suitably weird for my evening’s entertainment. I went along.
Continue readingThe Berlin Diaries – Virtual Reality Orgy
I know right? Hell of a title, that. Doesn’t it just make you want to dive right into the article and find out what the fuck I’ve been up to? Don’t worry, I’ll let you in on the goss.
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