Petting Cats at the Weise Puff

Woke up at Sara’s and pulled the curtains back on this ridiculous sunrise over Berlin. One of those mornings where you’re still drunk but the light makes everything feel like it’s mattering. Immediately had this irresistible urge to wash the dishes. Still don’t really know why. Talked to Carsten for a bit about the Beatles and his grandmother bowling and all this nonsense, and walking back home through those few blocks with my balance still off, still feeling everything from the night before, I couldn’t stop thinking about how sharp the city looks that early. You actually see it when the rest of the city’s asleep.

We’d started at Belushi’s beforehand, pre-gaming our way to this Deep Throat Action Party at the Weise Puff. Found it through some guide app—one of those Berlin things that makes no sense until it does. Whole place was cats. Just cats everywhere. We ended up sitting with a bowl of pretzel sticks, feeding these enormous fat cats—just existing at a party with animals. Probably the most Berlin thing that could happen. We’d planned to go somewhere else after, some club on Klosterstrasse, but we were way too destroyed by that point. No point pretending otherwise. Went home instead, turned on Friends and just let it play until everything went black. I love Joey. That guy’s just doing what the voice in your head is always doing.

Uncle had sent me some money that’d hit the account, and for some reason that dish-washing urge from the morning never left. So that’s the day. Whole day dedicated to actually cleaning the place, really doing it—washing everything, fixing things, making it all new again. There’s something good about having a completely weightless reason to spend twelve hours resetting your space. You know it won’t fix anything, but you go anyway. If you feel that pull too, we’re cleaning friends in spirit. Or whatever.