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the last supper
lost in a forest
amw
I spent most of the today sleeping. I had a sandwich and some beer and chocolate in the fridge, so i didn't starve completely. At about 8:30 i decided i should go out one last time. Frankfurt at sunset, not the most romantic place to be, but it fit the bill.I am finally ordering my Flammkuchen.

I'm not going to cry. Not yet. The thought of going home, to that job i hate, to that cycle of party and misery... I know it would be no different if i lived here. But for a few months it would, and that's why i wish i could travel forever.

I didn't do it on the cheap. Although my most expensive hotel was only 70€, i never worried about train tickets or meals. That can't last forever.

* * *

But for now, 12 more hours of fantasy. That Flammkuchen was even more awesome than it sound - they melt regular cheese over the cream cheese, and put onions and chives with the bacon bits. So good. Beer, so good. Smoking everywhere, so good. Happy hour "21.00 Uhr bis Ende", so good. I might draw this out and have a coffee and dessert too. Or a caipirinha. Although cocktails here aren't as cheap as the $6 specials you get in North America, at least the bar staff actually know how to make them properly.

I don't want to go home, i don't want to go home. Home is where the hatred is, home is filled with pain. It might not be such a bad idea if i never, never go home again.

But i gotta deal with my affairs. Even though this is the one place in the world i could just skip my return flight and not fear deportation.

I never wanted to leave, you know. Not to Australia. I always dreamed of America, but when mom said she was moving to Australia i was torn - stay in Europe and study, or go to Australia with her. I shared the exact same story with another East European i was talking to - stay with the grandparents or move with mom. You always choose your mom. And while Australia was a huge culture shock, and i hated it for years, it was the country of my 20s. It gave me lots of wonderful experiences that i don't regret - it made me who i am. But that move... it left me stranded for so long.

This place is called "Central Park Corner". The romanticization of America continues. The more i think about it, the more i think this is where it all comes from for me. I don't think the Brits are under the same kinda spell.

Last night i went to one of the most difficult-to-find nightclubs i have ever been to. It rivals the "down a back alley, down another alley, and behind the dumpster" of Tramp in Melbourne. About 15 minutes walk from Darmstadt Hbf., in a light industrial area, in a non-descript parking garage, up a non-descript elevator, on the sixth floor, there is a fabulous cocktail bar and nightclub. For fucking real.

I went to hear Britta Arnold and Dirty Doering. By the time i found the fucking place Britta was done and Dirty Doering was in the middle of a UK-style "deep" (pff) house set. The same boring fucking big bassline house i can hear at any shitty Toronto party. It's a popular sound (as far as the underground goes), but disappointing to hear from a resident at one of the most infamous Berlin nightclubs whose label releases such unique and quirky tracks.

Fortunately Re.You and Martin Dacar saved the day with straight-up German tech-house. No doubt the Germans are as bored of that as i am with the stuff Dirty Doering played, but if they were they didn't show it, whooping and laughing and dancing till 7am (i checked out at 6:30).

But perhaps my experience was tarnished by the amazing day party i had been to that afternoon. I didn't know any of the DJs, i just saw a flyer for an "open air" about 30 minutes from Frankfurt, so i jumped on the train and went. What a fucking treat. I walked in to Robert Owens "Bring Down The Walls" (one of my favorite classic house tracks) and heard all kinds of deep, tech and progressive house - new and old - spun by local DJs. Dancing in an old industrial park, trees on one side, brownstone on the other, and a motherfucking beach (complete with deck chairs) in the clearing. It was bliss. Spoke with another drunk Pole, the poor girl was in pieces because she was in love with a boy there (her first) and he didn't give two shits about her. I left when another oldie came to look after her. As much as getting old sucks (my back kills after last night), it's kinda nice to be able to give that knowing smile to someone. It says more than any broken Deutsch ever could.

"I go to R&B parties and i always feel sad, but when i go to techno parties everyone is happy, i always feel happy... So why am i now so sad?"