Part 2

TRACK 2
phone rings
- hi how are you?
- it's been a strange afternoon, how are you?
- o really? i'm good, what are you up to?
- right now i'm late for this dinner and my bike's broken
- what dinner?
- this thing, there's gonna be a talk after by some performance artist, i thought i should check it out, what are you doing?
- i'm just at home, think i'm gonna drink a beer, let's meet up when you're done
- i don't think i'm in the mood to go out
- alright speak to you later...

The after dinner talk was unbelievably painful. Some well known half wit performance artist who expressed her creative individuality through her choice of bracelets was making a hideous fool of herself. Up in front of the gathered crowd, accompanied by a slide show, she fluffed her way through some half formulated ideas, clearly aware she was exposing a total lack of genuine direction in her work. It was embarrassing. Jurg scanned his eyes around the room. To his confusion people actually looked like they were listening, some were even feigning interest. It didn't take long for Jurg to realise he was surrounded by half wits, so he downed the rest of his beer and stood up to leave. Out on the street the night air was slowly warming up for Summer and blossom bounced on a cool breeze. Thank fuck Jurg thought as he escaped down the street. He passed the balcony of an ex lover and rolled his eyes. He narrowly avoided stepping in some shit and came to a cross roads [and stopped]. He found himself waiting for the lights to change for what seemed like an eternity. He waited even though there wasn't a car or a bike or another person in sight. He felt a tremor up his spine that caused his shoulders to shake, he let out a small disgusted sigh then quickly stepped into the road as the little red man flashed green. As he neared home the hazy feeling of having drunk three beers was beginning to clear. He was not happy about this. Then there was the performance artist's stupid bracelets, the fact that he'd waited at those lights as if governed by an invisible force, the tyre he still hadn't managed to fix on his bike, fucking hell he wanted to burn the city to the ground, though he was aware this was something of an over reaction. He figured he was on a come down. He thought he should probably call someone so he sat down on a step with his back towards the front door of what looked like might be his building. No names in his phone book were jumping out at him. He would have to call the only person he ever calls, his best friend, Stanley.

TRACK 3
- hi how was it?
- it was shit
- what are you doing?
- nothing
- i'm drunk
- i want to drink more
- let's meet at Schmutzig platz and we'll go to Mouth Club

Jurg had forgotten it was a Thursday and Thursdays generally meant the Mouth Club. He looked at his phone, 11.30, perfect the show would just be starting. By the time he's met up with Stanley the first act should already be over. Jurg stood up and walked back in the direction he had just come from, this time determined to ignore any little red men who stood in his way.

Ak