whiskey sour

Written by Cathoel Jorss, published 11 years ago

Dear God, if there is a god. Save my soul, if I have a soul. Today grew miserable and I cannot say why. It was silly really. Guy in a cafe was rude. So rude! We grew happy again. The way bean stalks grow beans. Who cares about him. Anyway I set out on some work I have put off a long long time. Perusing old photographs for a publishing project. It took ages. Was frustrating. How unhappy I was, way back then. Finally I took off my computer and turned to my host and one-room housemate, who is also the man I like, and we had a blazing dark anchor lightbulb row. It didn’t make any sense. I hated him for being him he hated me for being me. God, we were furious. I felt like hurling things. I wanted to hurt someone. Not injure them but hurt them. I stormed out, fuck you. He had thrown my suitcase ineinander and stowed it by the door, Get Out~! I found a bar a few doors down. Ich was the only customer. Leaving, three hours later, I hugged across the bar the keep and told him, I was so unhappy when I came in here! Yeah, he said. I know. Anyway at first I asked him could he make me something strong, some kind of cocktail. Maybe something old-fashioned. Maybe a whiskey sour, he said. Sure, I said. I had three of those, then four, then five, Kai (the barkeep) showed me the postcards of his uncanny, dreamlike horse portraits, he used to sing in a band but now more photography is the dream. In his bar the lights were low-low and the music song by song. I think of you Brisbane. I think of you all the stupid men I have loved. Evolution, evolution. A third person came in, a “Handwerker” in heating whose name was Robert. I asked, was this the kind of song you like was that. How was it when the Wall came down. God, it’s ridiculous, we loved each other. Then I spilled out onto the street, I paid with all my hackneyed coins some of which are from Denmark and some Swiss and the rest, we promised we would look up one another’s blogs – cos we are modern – and I came home so enlightened with drunkenness that I just embraced my daft would you agh! lovely loving roommate and all is well, a well of wells, we are one Leute and I am here in Berlin the city which almost killed me and das Kiez, the neighbourhood, that saved my life.