Chill Out
The weekend was too short and absolutely full of drunk people saying absurd things—the kind of weekend where you end up with phone numbers of people you’ll probably never talk to again. Spent most of it with Lisa, my future roommate, and her chaotic friends around Berlin, mostly in Wedding. We had a decent brunch, then I found myself singing sad Corpse Bride songs with Svenja and Meike at some point, which makes way more sense when you’re already drinking. Later at Conny’s place around three in the morning we were playing those stupid games with pieces of paper where you write something dumb and it gets worse every time someone reads it. It felt profound at the time.
I even ran into Rubi-Rubi-Ruben at IM2BE at around five in the morning, just standing there in sunglasses inside a hip hop club. Pretty sure he’s the only person on Earth who actually does that.
Somewhere in all this I apparently saved a homeless guy’s life, which was good. Finally started writing that book everyone keeps asking me about—at my current pace it’ll probably come out around 2025 or so. And I’m officially stating: if someone says the word creative
to me one more time I’m throwing them off a building, and no government on this planet can do anything about it. That was today’s sermon. The ceiling here is actually pretty nice. Going to sleep now.