so this is my attempt of an online diary. we'll see whether it works. i mean i can also include pictures and sounds and stuff. perhaps doing it online is more fun, perhaps doing it online makes me write more regularly...
i also though about writing in english as opposed to writing in german. i think i'm gonna do both. but i will stick to english most of the time because i nedd practice. and because it's a sort of protection. there's simply more distance in english. from what i'm writing. and perhaps from the people i'm writing about.
so here we are: it's the beginning of march and it's almost spring outside. i've benn working like mad all week for the chaos/control:complexity cdrom. which meant sitting in front of the screen for hours and hours until i was totally besides me. i have also been working on the sisv project and the last couple of days i've received new contributions, including some very interesting ones. fatima's is quite good. very creative music. and it made me worry about my contribution. because i haven't really started yet. i think i'm a little afraid of it. like i was afraid when we had new music and rob and daniel wanted me to write the lyrics. i always was scared because i thought i couldn't do it anymore. so i never started. it's the same kind of feeling. this fright that i might disappoint myself when i start recording and it turns out to be just really bad music.
ich habe neulich nochmal rosemary gehört und es war so perfect.
es war so gut da´ß ich dacht: vergiß es, mach was anderes
oder am besten mach erst gar nix. aber ich will. ich muß, es ist
so wichtig für mich und ich weiß nicht, warum.
es beweisen. ich will beweisen, daß ich gut bin, irgendwie
ist es wie eine bewerbung und da ist die hoffnung, zu gefallen. i don't
know how to win your heart and this is the most frightening part: i don't
know how to win your heart!
nächste woche: auftritt. im chattanooga. i don't think that a lot of people will be there, and maybe that's a goodd thing. it's the first performance with our new guitarist. and it's the first gig since rob has died. i just pray that it works. because if it doesn't the band will just slowly and painfully fade away. rehearsal went well, some of the songs even got me carried away. like cultural studies II. it really was full of energy and the new songs simply are good. i'm so sure about them and i'm so proud of them. i know that we made a pretty good record! i know that "a star after me" is a good record with good songs and good lyrics. and this makes it even harder to creep along like this. it would be easier if i knew that the songs are crap - but they are not.
RECOGNITION! that's what i want. finally. i finally want you to
stand up and say: yes i like it. that's all i want to hear and that's all
ebbn woir been working for, that's what makes
me get up in the morning and that's what keeps me writing. writing and
writing and writing this.
I'm complaining too much.
read more of the passionate eye. good writing, very good writing. it makes me want to write. it made me write this.
i'm tired. i'm waking up early every day, feeling restless. because there's so much to do, which is good. it's good to be busy, keeps you from thinking. am i negative today?
Joni Mitchell is singing hejira. and i've got nothing to say
I. woke up, too, and she asked me what was wrong because I was breathing heavily and I told her about the dream I just had and she told me that she had read in a book that the loss of teeth in a dream refers to the fear of losing a relationship or a person. And she said that I had had this dream before, right, and I said, right, I had such a dream before and I thought that it might have been because of Rob, because I have lost him and all that was left were the ruins of our songs, some goldfillings which are worthless without him, and the teeth are scattered in my hand now and I don't know what to do with them and I am afraid of the pain I am afraid of the pain I am afraid of the pain.
This has been last night and I'm feeling sick now and I can't write as fast as the fear is raging through my mind and my chest and I just can't grasp it and pin it down and put it into words and this makes me even more scared this makes me even more afraid and the transmission of feelings into words is so slow and way too clumsy and not what I want not what I want it to be not what I want to be. And I am afraid of the future. Will you ever believe me? Will you ever believe me this? I am terribly afraid every morning and every night and whenever I let myself think and whenever I allow myself to feel I am afraid that all my dreams that everything I want to be will never come true can never come true. I was so close I almost felt how it is it was almost perfect but now it's gone and you're gone and all that's left is the f-word, the fear, the future which is the same which is the same I tell you and I don't know how to win your heart and I don't know how to win your heart and I don't know how to win your heart and this is the most scary thing I don't know how to win your heart and I don't know why I'm putting all my hope all my hope all my hope on you I don't know why, why do I think you could give me back my future?
Now it's raining and the cars are driving by outside and my thoughts are settling and I realize that this is the worst thing: that I cannot come with you. Everybody is going where I cannot go. Everybody is leaving and I cannot follow. They told me you would come but I know that you will leave, too, you will leave and I will not leave but I will be left so WHY DO I THINK YOU COULD GIVE ME BACK MY FUTURE?
It is raining tiny, wet and dirty drops which are falling chaotically through the air and onto the trees and onto the street where they're exploding like parachutists whose chutes haven't open in time. And you might think that I have lost my mind but my mind has lost me and I'm falling too and I'm afraid I will explode. You are everything I ever wanted to be and this is as condensed and as true as it will ever get: You are everything I ever wanted to be. And all I know of you is in my memory and all I ask is you remember me
sometimes i wish he was here. when im listening to a song, when
there is no song terrible enough to meet the loss which made my
life explode quietly. where are you inme? i want to hear you but i do not
hear you, i cannot hear you, ive been silent all this tme but i cannot
hear you. you have simply gone and there is nothing left. nothing that
isnt hurting. there is no song and there is no music and there is no sound
left of you. and i couldnt even say goodbye. and im missing you so,
im missing you so much
I want to write. i want to create. i want to be proud again. Yes,
t#äs the poujnt
that's the point: I want to be proud again.
how can i write when i hsave no words to write when i have nothing but the will to write. the will is not enough. So i listen and i read and i'm stealing words and i take them out of these beautiful songs and out of these beautiful poems and claim that they're my very own and i rearrange them and it's just crap.
i sound like a spoiled child. Die Frage nach Sinn wird als Antwort zum Verstand.
GIVE ME TALENT!
The concert was the most humiliating experience in a long time. I don't want to report about it. There was no real pa system. i couldn't hear my voice, neither could the audience. nobody was there except for the three or four friend we brought. no one was there. how do you cope with the experience that all you've done and all that is you doesn't say or mean anything to aynody else. Narcistic self-cricling around my own head and then the wish to explode into whatever you have done and to melt into your song and your word and your god.
acting insane doesn't make things easier.
It's gray outside. It's not raining but it looks as if it would start every second. permanent threat. Blumfeld got me thinking, Blumfeld got me writing again. Despite of my daily shower I'm feeling greasy and sticky and nicht wohl in meiner Haut. Blumfeld got me thinking. HAve I said this before? HAve I said this before? Want to write, listening to these songs, these beautifully crafted songs makes me aware and makes me realize what I have lost, what i cannot do anymore. i've been thinking about rob all the time. permanent threat. I feel like being cut off from a source, i feel like being cut off from my aim. my destiny and destination have vanished: this is the genuine Tired of Sleeping feeling: I wonder when I'll be waking, It's just that there's so much to do and I'm tired of sleeping
We tried a new song on Thursday. But it did not went the way it's
supposed to go, it wasn't like it was used to be. It was clumsy and feeling
of mutual, silent understanding was missing.
But the way we were
working before was unique and it's probably unfair to expect this kind
of working atmosphere now that Rob
I'm avoiding "The Passionate Eye". I know it#s strange but I av
reading the book, perhaps because it would start this urge again, it would
start this longing again. This feeling was once precious to me. It once
was what I have been searching for: for this kind of energy that makes
you write that makes you sing that makes it impossible to sit still and
But now I'ms care dof this feeling, I'm scared that I cannot use it anymore, that it will be locked inside me, that it will rage through my body and I unable to release it, unable to transform it into a song, a word, a melody. I'm afraid that what I once was feeding on will now eat me. it's burning in me and i all in flames.
And again I'm complaining.
Es ist so still. Ich hör Dich schweigen. So schlägt mein Herz und warum hast Du nichts gesagt es hätte auch für Dich geschlagen es hätte für uns beide gereicht für dich und mich
A new year, a new day, a new mourning.With my lack of words for all that hurts my need for you is growing like the flowers on your grave.