The Berlin Diaries – Blinding My Boss

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I always start these diary entries in the same way and I’m gosh darned bored of it. So here’s my newest introductory paragraph:

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

WHAOAOAKAKAKAKAKKAASDHOFUOEZZZZPPO

-KWIP!

 

See that^^^^? 100% Original. OG literature. Mark Twain said there is no such thing as a new idea. Well, I just proved him wrong. You’re full of shit, Twain.

What’s that? Joyce already did it?

Kerouac too?

Fuck’s sake. Fine. Whatever.

ANYWAY Continue reading

Primal Screaming

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it was tramlines festival in sheffield. we had been out all day, a big group of us, new friends and old friends running around together being half wits.

i was on a high, no drugs yet, just pure energy borne all from freedom and a can-do sunnyside upbeat demeanour, the sort that just pours out of you

when ya with ya mates. Continue reading

The Berlin Diaries – The Eggs

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Dave turned 23 last weekend. It was Friday night and I was three sheets to the wind, sitting cross legged on the floor of a colleague’s bedroom with a handful of workmates, listening to music and getting ready to head to some tropical-themed party across town. Dave called and told me to head to his flat, as everybody was there. He asked me to bring some drinks but the signal was bad; all I could really make out was that he wanted me to come over. Continue reading

Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 7.5, Venice After Dark

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Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 7, Venice by Sunlight

It’s 11pm and my last night in Venice has been spent in the hostel bar, after a lonesome meal by the canal on a candlelit terrace, where the waiter felt sorry for me and gave me free wine, with a wink. I was extremely humbled and grateful until the bill came and I found I’d been given free wine but charged 4 euros for a glass of tap water. Bastardo.

I was hoping to meet the Toronto girls from yesterday and chill, but they’ve gone to the opera. I had a look at tickets and they were around 40 each, so no. Instead, I sat myself at a central table in the hostel bar and nursed a beer, my eyes roving around the bar for a friendly face. A group of Spaniards in animated chatter, no; a rabble of droopy eyed Englishmen all attempting to charm the same one American girl, no; a middle aged Chinese couple knotted up in each other on the sofa, no. So that’s the kind of evening it was to be, then. I began to unpack my bag with a sigh, reaching for Kafka, my most loyal friend of late; a twisted, morbid companion, but a companion nonetheless.

‘How’s it going, mate?’ Continue reading

Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 7, Venice by Sunlight

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Drink, Play, Loathe: Day 6, Venice by Moonlight

 

Got up early, quickly dressed and escaped the snoring, smelly dorm, and skipped breakfast; no time and no money anyway.  I’d arrived in Venice under darkness, and stepping outside and seeing the city in the daylight was a true and rare joy, one of those moments in life where you actually stop and say ‘whoa’ out loud, even though there’s nobody around. I kicked through the hostel doors with a yawn and a stretch, and I was greeted by the bluest lazy waters, easy young skies in a cirrus haze, majestic old buildings and barnacle clinging docks. Oh fuck yes, what a day. Continue reading