Pick any bad word.
Berlin was bombed to the flat during the War so there are all kinds of parks and flat lands, abandoned buildings, abandoned air strip landings.
Only bad words, real curse words, can describe the true nature of Berlin.
Even though I don’t live there, and I don’t plan to live there, I think about the city A LOT.
Living in California now, to my huge surprise, I’m having recurrent, amazing flash backs of the month that I lived in Berlin, and I long to go back to the little studio by the train station, cabbing it to bad ass disco clubs in abandoned electricity generating plants at night and dance the night away until 2AM, where no one cares. I saw people entering the club at 2PM on Friday afternoon and did not emerge until 9AM Monday morning…crying, “water…water…” As I closed the taxicab door, someone reached in and asked me, “Do you have Magic?” Maybe he was asking for the real thing, but I think he was asking for drugs.
I saw a woman dancing like no one was watching. I saw some British young guys dancing with steps like no one’s business. I saw so many young Berliners working hard during the day like they are competing against world.
Neighbors come out and eat fork-and-knife at local pizzerias. Teenagers get kebab sandwiches from the ‘Doner’ man by the bahn (train station). Doner man saw me coming to buy a doner everyday because he knew that I didn’t speak German so couldn’t order from other people and he knew that I could only order from him because he spoke a little bit of English. Supermarkets in Berlin are silent for music, just quiet and calm. Old men approve quiet.
We love Gesaffelstein. I miss Berlin. The only way to re-live is to have a house party!
I feel in America we don’t use our public space nearly as adventurously as we could. Maybe, maybe an old fashioned train station in Philadelphia could become the next Gesaffelstein set in Amish Country.