In the second installment of Fahrten Auf Der Autobahn, Frederic our narrator takes us deep into the notorious club Berghain where nights are charged with lines of coke, sex and freedom. While the come down from that hedonism is not far behind-Frederic ultimately finds clarity of thought in the next stage of his journeys into club land Berlin and beyond.
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Berlin is always happening. There is always something to do. But, when the weather is nice the city is electric.
I don’t remember whom I am laying next to until I feel the other person next to me. I don’t know what time it is, and I barely remember how I got here. “Jamal, Malik” I hear inside of my head. “Twins. Afro-Germans, you met them both at Berghain.” I escape from in between the two and stumble to the bathroom, it is dark outside and the warm breeze from the open window makes my naked body feel amazing. “What time is it?” I’m wondering why I keep talking to myself, but I figure it is better than speaking out loud. I don’t want to wake the sleeping beauties. I peer in the mirror while flashes from performing at Berghain pile back into my conscious.
Blinded by the lights, I am standing outside in the noon sun, a sea of people in front of me as the Cantina outside of Berghain is bustling. I can barely hear myself, but I’m reassured that sound is coming from my mouth by the sway of the people in the crowd. The music is pumping loud and I exchange smiles with dancing spirits having fun in the Berlin sun. Last time I was here there was barely any sun to spare, today the entire city is lit aflame.
Berlin is always happening. There is always something to do. But, when the weather is nice the city is electric. The people are outside; in the parks, spilling out of the cafes unto the streets, laughing, drinking, smoking, enjoying every fucking second of the sun; cause when the sun is not around, and the weather is winter, the sun is gone by 16h, and the day is night, all the time. Not today though, the sun is here and the night is day, until the day ends and becomes night. The warmth of the sun makes each moment feel like eternity.
I’m almost done with my set while the sweat from my brow drips melodically down my left temple. My shirt might as well be off because it is drenched and wide open. The soft breeze catches the fabric of the shirt, blowing the material loosely like the flapping from the ears of a cartoon elephant. I catch the eyes of a very tall man. He is fine. Next to him is the same face. I think to myself, what are they? Never have I seen such good-looking men, and finally I realize that they are twins. Afro-German twins. Our eyes meet and never release, entangled in illusions, I begin to think of my move after my set. The crowd claps as I walk away from the microphone toward the twins.
“My name is Malik.”
“And, I’m Jamal.”
“Twins,” I finish their sentence. “Nice to meet you, I’m Frederic.”
Crowded Bathroom stall. There are some pretty cool flyers on the walls of the stall in the club and I am seeing yellow. Jamal and Malik sandwich me in between them and I start grinding the nearest leg. My hand slowly unzips Jamal’s pants, maybe it was Malik, any way, erect penis in my hand makes for movement and I am excited. The pulsating movement in cramped space with four strangers, creates a lot of sweat between us three. I feel like I am performing again, in this tight toilet, doing lines. Lines of what? That’s the new question, but a bit too late, cause I’ve already done the white substance on the iPhone 6S. Now, I know why I forgot how I got here with the twins. Shortly after I did the drugs, I fell into a k-hole.
“Frederic, you okay brother?” I hear a voice that awakens me from my flashback. I yell back that I am fine and I am coming out to join them soon. Malik yells back that yes, he agrees that I am fine. The sound of the toilet flushes as I walk out the door towards a newly lit front room. White lights, strings hung midlevel on all the walls in the duplex. Now, I notice all the plants and huge maps that adorn the walls. This place is fly. There is a downstairs unit that I can see from the stairs that winds down to the first floor. Huge windows are decorated by beautiful furniture, and my two pieces of art, both still naked, and both still very fine. Lying next to each other, Malik rolls a joint while Jamal places white powder on a magazine cover. He makes three lines, one between each of the German women on the cover.
“Hey sexy….” Malik says as I enter the room.
“No, you two are sexy.” I say.
“How about we all sexy!” Jamal says, giggling and smiling like a cat sitting on a fence in a children’s story. His accent is like a feather playing daintily near my ear. I am hard, my dick, in seconds and everyone can see because I don’t have on any underwear.
“Well, hello.” Jamal laughs.
“Jamal, so you can’t speak anymore. Your voice makes my dick so hard and I’d like to sit down for a minute without having to figure out what to do with this.” I point to my erect penis.
“I know what to do with that.” Malik quirks.
Hours later, we decide to go out. We shower together, and I never find it weird that these two brothers are constantly around each other naked. Of course, they aren’t physical to each other, but the site of the same body twice has me constantly excited. I borrow old clothes from Jamal. He has some of his old clothes still from when he was in high school; we all laugh that I can fit them. I am very short compared to these tall trees.
For a moment, I am sad. This is what club-life is…Reaching a high that will never sustain itself.
We walk out of their apartment laughing and literally skipping down the street. Jamal and I kiss in an empty vestibule while Malik finishes his cigarette. They lead me to a club named Sisyphos and I immediately start to laugh as I remember the story of Sisyphus. He was destined for all eternity to push a huge boulder from the bottom of a hill toward the top, only to have the boulder fall once he reaches the top. This action repeats itself for eternity. For a moment, I am sad. This is what club-life is, depending on your addictions. Reaching a high that will never sustain itself, only to be back where you started when the high began, at the bottom.
It’s raining today and I’m alone now.
I can’t remember how long we hung out, the sexy Afro-German twins and my lucky ass self. I think I had two shows in between the time we spent together. If I think hard enough it was around two weeks. This time together was good because I didn’t have a place to stay anyway, and they barely let me leave. Wish I could stay, and not take this plane back to no where. They were good to me but I think Jamal got a little jealous because Malik and I spent more time together. But Jamal had a boyfriend, so I wasn’t too worried about his jealousy and I actually found it quite cute.
I pull out my journal and start to write about my time here in Berlin. The need to live her is intense while I am sitting in Gorlitzer Park smoking a joint and manifesting things. I’ll live here. I know it.
Still from the film Meat