2005-02-13 - 4:57 p.m.

there was an ancient, handcranked ice crusher at the first cocktail bar i drank at in Berlin. the bartender used it expertly to make two mojitos, each as big as my head.
all the cute girls dancing at cake tucked their jeans into their winter boots, and refused to smile back at me.
i have learned the names of several new cocktails, though not necessarily their constituent ingredients.
every breakfast is basically the same.

this is club transmediale:
v is lying back on the sheepskin in the silver room, wreathed in the smell of new wood.
he is bumming cigarettes, taking credit for things, while i'm trying to guess his age through his myopia-correcting lenses.
v teaches me the German word for 'goosebumps' and how to order a beer in Polish
and why the one thing you absolutely cannot do in Indonesia
is freak out.