Switzerland: I know no-one there (except my grandparents), so I just roam around museums and go to the local squat in Lugano whenever there’s a concert, always feeling super awkward about sitting there on my own and everyone looks so cool and happy and alright in their skins, argh… It would be less painful for me to just stay at my grandparents’ house and go on walks every once in a while, but I just love squats and alcohol. It was relieving to take the train away from the ever repeating days of bland lunches, long baths, and netflix (I find netflix and chill one of the most soul-crushing phenomena of modern life).
Paris, not a city of love for the 21st century
Paris. Drew the Sacre Coeur while waiting for a day dungeon thing that was happening in Montmartre– cheesily called ‘les gouters du divin marquis’. The French seem to have no taste -at least, none of the New York/Amsterdam/Berlin kind, when it comes to BDSM stuff, titles and whatnot. It was located in a mini chateau on a perfectly normal looking street– yes, we got past the name and it already was over the top.There actually were gouters; chocolate, tangerines, which made up for the fact all the men in there were subs.They also seemed repressed, and told me they were at the day dungeon because they needed to ‘hide their identity’ from their friends and wives/girlfriends (what is this,the 50s? never saw this kind of behavior in New York). My sample size of 4 (it was a pretty empty day dungeon) told me BDSM was still taboo for French society.
At the UNESCO Philosophy night. A bizarre mixture of useless 20 minute lectures which fluctuated between incomprehensible and lowest common denominator, out-of-place performance art, bad live music, and lots of alcohol and random dudes coming up to talk with me quite coyly. And so UNESCO was a better ground for flirtation than the day dungeon could ever have been. In spite of the general mediocrity of the event, two things caught my eye:
a tree with fingernails for flowers– perhaps the most touching artwork I’ve seen in quite some time. title: Printemps.
the fact that UNESCO has an artwork that literally says ‘what you allow is what will continue’. laughing with tears, but also, ugh.
Psilocybin and the city
I spent my days in Amsterdam walking round with two packs of magic truffles and munching on them like they were walnuts. They do taste remarkably like walnuts and do make for a good snack.I think people thought I was behaving rather strangely, but I was able to go to one of Jeff Bobcock’s awesome underground screenings at the Neue Anita, get a free haircut at Nieuestraat, try to go to technoaerobics at the bunker in Vogelspark, discover there was no technoaerobics, and play ping-pong with the would-be technoaerobeans at Ort136 with some lady screeching with a banjo in the background.
A normal kind of stop
Break in small towns -Oldenburg and Bremen- from the decadence of seeking intoxication, drugs, and BDSM in the big cities. I did the Christmas market and polite conversation with friends thing. Visited a town called Leer — it was pretty empty. While I was drawing, a nice old bearded Seeman invited me into his house for tea– turned out he’d lived in Pennsylvania and Portugal, so we alternated between German and Portuguese. He had watercolors of boats. Cute. Time to go back to Amsterdam for the biggest fetish party in the world, Wasteland. I think I just prefer wastelands to pleasant lands.
Some photographic highlights: