Here, now. Forever? Performance in Düsseldorf #2 Caner Teker

wednesday, somewhere in amsterdam. it’s one day before an audition and i’m having so much energy, i don’t know where to put it. so i meet this guy, a client, always now, always for a session. he pays me good money for fucking him. he’s an old dirty dutch men being married for 30 years. his husband is somewhere, i forgot, and it’s fine he says. really, it’s fine to invite a boy like me. we’re open, he says. making love to you is my job. i enter his place and we’re having a tea. his flat is spacious, renovated, bathtub, little terrace. we talk a bit about art of course, like gay men do. if i want some ghb? or gbl? and a viagra? yes, ghb and viagra please, because i won’t get a hard-on with you. he writes down the time and our names, i take a small dose, he takes a big one. i’m like, hey, don’t you think it’s a bit much? he will be fine i think. i go the terrace to smoke a cigarette. i know i will do this for the money, but i can’t get fucked up, not now, not before the audition. so i take my glass with me outside and pour all the water mixed with drugs into his plants. poor plants. i’m fine, for real. i meet him in the bedroom half-naked now and we get down going. a small little massage? yes. turn around baby. no shame, i repeat, no shame. not now. the standard program in my head, depersonalizing myself from the situation. repetition and difference. destroy, i said. do you feel the g? oh yes baby, it’s kicking in. and after i said that, he starts coughing. but really hard. like really really hard. is he ok? not now. don’t collapse. no baby. no. not now. i mix him some lemon water. where do i get some speed now? fuck. recovery position. don’t puke. please don’t. i’m fine – no you’re not. fuck. too much for a wednesday. i hear him snoring. i take a bath, like i wanted to do in the beginning. washing off my shame. i’m so embarrassed. making love to you is my job. still hearing him snoring. he’s alright yes? no. god wake up please. one hour later and he still doesn’t wake up. how much cold water did i put on him? the bed is the bathtub now. puke and cold water. a bit of lemon. wake up, i repeat, wake up. please. what shall i do? i run around, take my salary, steal some viagra and xanax, should i leave? what if he doesn’t wake up? i’m gonna put this men in a cold bathtub, i say to myself. come on. this is the solution right? i pull his arm so hard, that he screams, stammers, spits —

Eine Reihe kuratiert von Seda Pesen
Fotografie Damian Rosellen