We eat bread with (a) sour cream (-like substance). We eat bread with chocolate frosting. We eat bread with fig, rhubarb, cherry jam and marmalade. We eat brown bread, rye, seedless rye, pita, baguettes, stale bread, soft rolls, hard rolls, very stale bread, pide, crackers. We eat tuna pizza, perplexing pizza, leftover pizza, pizza mixed up in a situation involving applesauce, marshmallows, peanut-flavored corn snacks, pickles, herring filets w/paprika & questionable cake. We eat bread with cheese: sliced cheese, soft cheese, fried cheese, cheese spread, cheese w/ herbs, expired cheese, ripe cheese, pasta cheese, swiss, edam, norsk, parmigiano, gouda, emmentaler, butterkase, haloumi, feta. We eat noodles. We eat fish w/ pickles & onions on bread. We eat bread with yogurt, falafel, spinach, garlic, tahini, hummus, cabbage, sauerkraut, cucumber, tomato, relish, sun-dried tomato, eggs, tuna, mustard, arugula, butter, nutella & tomato paste. We eat bread crumbs. We eat croissants filled with marzipan, nutella, chocolate, poppy seeds, spinach, cheese, apple, pudding. We eat doughnuts. We eat cookies filled chocolate, marzipan, nutella, caramelized nuts. We eat shortbread. We eat macaroons. We eat these things called Rollos which consist of marshmallow sandwiched between two very stale tasting cookies dipped in relatively flavorless chocolate. We eat simit. We dip bread in lentil soup, spargel soup, onion soup, curry. We eat cheesecake, black cherry cake, strawberry cake, peach cake, chocolate silk cake. We eat scones. We eat brownies. I eat a tiny sandwich for 1euro. I eat a waffle dipped in chocolate and sugar crystals. I eat an airplane muffin. There are packaged chocolate chip cookies but I do not take one. There are cupcakes, muffins, cookies filled with nougat, pound cake, carrot cake, tarts that I don’t buy. We purchase a bag of wafers for our host that I manage not to open before leaving. I eat a really shitty cookie at London Gatwick that costs about $4.25 with the exchange rate. We eat crackers that taste like edible floor. I start to panic that I’m gaining weight. The bigger I grow the more my life shrinks and it’s fucking dumb but distraction is paramount. I say oh god no more pastries fuck fuck and so i eat chocolate; filled with nougat, cookies & cream, lemon buttercream, caramel wafers, hazelnut cookies, cornflakes. I am not sure if this is a “problem” I’m “ready” to “acknowledge”. I crave fish. I crave adrenaline.
As you age, the ethics of (in)dependence become increasingly problematic. Lacking presence, it is best not to think of any given person, place, or thing at all, lest you fall into a well. To write as you witness, to factualize and extend a series of beliefs to the point at which nothing actually happened at all, this is what drives you to the terror of documentation. I know in a flesh-esque way that I’ve nothing left to lose. Be that as it may, I sit in Schonfeld paralyzed by the image of my suitcase bursting en route to JFK like a groundhog in a microwave. I recall sugar like a customer service representative.
Esther Neff speaks of concrete strategies and in such a way you simply stop romanticizing. You look beyond the lover who consumed your logic, that tour you went on when you GOT BY and MORE, you raged and everything was FINE/OK. The thrift stores, erotica, weight loss, drugs. The performance space that haunted your dreams twice a week. The subbasement of a subbasement of a subbasement. Baltimore. Pittsburgh. Berlin.
Panoply Lab buys a hen and attempts to perform with it. Rae Goodwin takes pulses, she documents linguistic impulses. Lorene Bouboushian chews euros; she performs trauma/makes me cry. Kaia Gilje seduces a bike. Adrian Shephard likes the X-files as much as I do. I bust open a celery root at Loophole Gallery and fuck up my knee for the remainder of the trip. Edward Sharp has been trapped inside a garbage bag for at least 4 minutes. Once you’ve entered Norma you can’t leave. Hui-Chun Lin has an 8 month old child. He is dynamic and curious and full of love; we improvise with him. Frauke Heidenreich fills empty bottles with shredded paper. Joel Verwimp interviews; we take a pass at Wisdom in all of it’s exonerating Glory. Ali Dolanbay and Johanna Gilje walk into a pole. A large group of performance artists engage in a philosophical discussion whilst blindfolded. Lin & Shuichi Chino improvise, cello & piano. They build and obstruct playgrounds with Debussyan effortlessness, and in such a way overture and recess collide. German Neologisms. Klaus Kuvers is there. There are english-speaking meetings. I chat with Sean Derrick Cooper Marquardt. Dana Freund bakes cheesecake it’s extraordinary. Lan Hungh curates a night of female/male pairs which tends towards voyeurism. You cannot veil the nature of your coupling; sex will always be bondage. Wild Torus expounds this catchall by publicly fucking + canola oil. I want to converse with Joern Burmeister but maybe I’m intimidated fuck knows. Apple Cider Vinegar is Cheap. Esther Neff cuts hair. Brian McCorkle determines the resonant frequency of rooms. Birgit Hanson has a cosmically comforting presence. 9 times out of 10 they want to eat our cake. Franz Rodek starts a fire. We wait to perform. We perform at La Bettolab. Anya Liftig is extremely patient with the chair. Kaia and Lorene disappear, it’s raining. The ponies are filthy, we wash them. Natalia Steinbach opts out. Natalia Steinbach makes business cards. Natalia Steinbach saves my life on a regular basis. Florian Feigl describes a particular German director’s dramaturgical methodology. There is an atypical unity to be found in jars of Nutella. Shasta Ellenbogen is a great violist. Martha Cargo tells her friend about our performance. Miriam Siebenstadt invites us to improvise with her trio comprised of sax/guitar, vocals, sewing machine. Robert Phillips comes to our show at Altes Finanzamt. Margaret Dragu is present. I really, really, really, really, really hate balloons. There are eight or nine air mattresses. We make an audience member cry by accident. Lo Bil truly understands the symbology of ARM. Rose Bouboushian helps me out, she paints her nails. Teena Lange sets an alarm to not say anything. Teena Lange curates performance art qua dialogical imperative. Teena Lange is beautiful. Bread, fish. It’s late. Hi Tom. I miss my cat. I can’t stop walking. Schwarzfahren. Bradlees. Probably my suitcase will erupt; also I may have fucked shit up for every american musician attempting to fly out of Tegel Airport. Something feels strange, like buzzing. Mrs. Doubtfire. The gentleman next to me smells like a pit of rotting crickets. You just keep moving, you stomach the exhaustion. Hi Danielle. Gauloise Rot. I love my parents. The novelty of living is more than it’s cut out to be. I don’t want to hate him but I do. I read it when she isn’t looking. The coffee isn’t working. Natasha’s cat is scared of Facetime. I run into Lizzy McDaniel on the street. God. I am no longer in Berlin.