Hamburg had me down today, with the Reeperbahn, the nonexistent Nachtmarkt, etc. But my heart warmed when I heard the chanting, "I am going to a fuck, a fuck." Something about assholes cheers me, is that wrong?
What also cheered me is taking you out on a nice date. It starts at Eisenstein in Altona for dunch. I reserved us a table.
In fact I reserved the whole place.
There is distance between us, but I close us in with my glare. I order you that nice thin crust Tuscan pizza that you like. YOU LOVE IT.
Such a nice meal and I promptly ruin it.
I can't stand traveling without music, so lets go dancing at a kitschy club.
I laugh at your joke, and I let you buy your drink - to make you feel in control, but you're not.
We take a walk around some romantic monuments. We talk about our hopes and dreams, but I grow restless hearing you talk about what will simply come true tonight.
I break into my Dads old dormitory and show you how awesome I am.
You seem nonplussed by my efforts to pleasure you, dear reader.
Perhaps it was the line I gave you at my door; "Want to share my bunk bed?"
I'm pumped to head to London tomorrow. I think a familiar language, chavs, friends of friends, and buckling down to get some work done will make it more enjoyable, but I needed a hectic time too. Some Vodka and Justin Timberlake in an Ice Bar with Dutch people was a good end to the city.
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