TRACK 7 - sound of alarm clock
Jurg wakes up to a loud abrasive repetitive tune, his face is buried in his pillow, he is completely disorientated. He fumbles to find the source of the noise. He must have been so drunk when he went to sleep he didn't think to change his alarm to an hour more accommodating for a hangover. Hitting his face back against the pillow he groans and thinks the irony! Someone naked is lying on their side turned away from him in bed. It's a guy, he looks like he's still asleep. Good for you thinks Jurg as the pounding inside his head increases. He'd had no intention of getting so drunk last night and even less intention of being picked up, which, he deduces is what must have happened, because he had no recollection of hitting on anyone, but then he wouldn't be feeling as rotten as he did right now if he hadn't been seriously drunk, in which case anything was possible, so what the hell did he know.
He dimly remembers some abortive sex and cock sucking, then, noticing a beating pressure down in his groin he realises he has a fat hard-on. Suddenly an erotic intensity surges from his loins and collides with his brain, making his headache worse. Persevering, Jurg wraps his fingers around his cock and shifting slowly forwards gently begins brushing it's swollen tip against the fine hairs on the guy's arse. He thinks he'd like to get in there, but who is he kidding. Loosening his grip his cock falls up to his stomach. Staring into the guy's back Jurg wonders why he bothers. Sex with no intimacy seems so abstract to him and abstract in a cold sharp geometric way, not in a big loose brushstroke kinda way. he rolls onto his back and imagines he is lying there next to a row of neatly aligned concrete bricks, he turns his head and tries to visualise this arrangement. He smiles and thinks if anyone's the walk over here, it's me. Maybe.
Before he knows it he's out of bed and examining the pale not quite muscular frame reflected in the bathroom mirror. he looks rough. he sighs and lifts the toilet seat. As he's pissing Jurg can feel the weight of white wine and beer in his eyelids. He forces his eyes open so wide his head rolls back causing the stream of urine from his still tumescent cock to hit the floor. He let's out another longer sigh.
He enters the kitchen to drink some water and starts preparing the big coffee pot before he realises it's size is perhaps too welcoming. He definitely does not want to give the guy the wrong impression. He reaches for the other pot which produces just the right amount for two strong but quite small coffees. When they are ready he steps into his bedroom announcing them in a tone of voice intended to wake the guy up. He waits until he sees him stirring, then walks back to the kitchen.
Sitting there in underwear hunched around his coffee, Jurg's eyes follow the guy into the room when he eventually emerges. Jurg pulls a face which is thinking not bad. The guy's fully dressed and looking for his shoes, Jurg is pleased. They drink their coffees and exchange something not even close to a conversation. At the front door Jurg kisses him tenderly good bye, knowing it's the last time he'll ever kiss him, but certainly not the last time he'll ever see him, whatever his name is.
Back in the kitchen Jurg experiences the full nasty extent of his hangover. He softly shakes his head and moves over to the fridge door. He opens it and stands there looking at half a dried lemon and a carton of milk. There must be something he can do to shake this wretched feeling, but he fears the situation is hopeless. Shutting the fridge door he turns and slides his back down against it. Great now he's on the floor. Maybe it's the best place for him. He brings his hands up to his face and covers his eyes. Then, a revelation. Springing upwards with an overwhelming urgent craving that makes him dizzy, he realises the only thing that will help. He knows exactly what he wants.....
TRACK 8 'I-I-I-I want Ice Cream!!!' etc...
story written and told with audio accompaniment as the prelude to dessert at Basso Bistro, 24/4/09, Berlin
Painting of Chatsworth Road shops by Katie Horwich
Ak
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