Marcel Winatschek

Bad Weather Weekend

The weather’s this bad - there’s no winning. You’re wet or you’re cold or you’re both. So the weekend has to become something else entirely.

I bike around pointlessly. I jump into the nearest lake naked because why not, let the perverts in the bushes enjoy the view. I find the kids everybody avoids and we start a terrible band. I sing Katy Perry on the morning train at full volume like I don’t care what anyone thinks.

None of it’s productive. None of it’s dignified. It’s all just increasingly absurd ways to forget that outside is a punishment. The missions keep spiraling - each one more crude, more willing to cross lines you’d normally draw. But that’s the whole point. You’re not trying to have a nice weekend. You’re trying to actually exist one.