[may 1, 2003 - blink your eyes and I'll be gone]you know, sometimes reality is so great, so beautifully constructed and composed. when i opened my mailbox this morning and read the mail eva had sent me i was just listening to lou reed's "new york city man" on repeat. as if all this was a movie. as if somebody had carefully picked a soundtrack. very nice. and what's even better: i don't have to describe you what the mail was all about, you can just conclude it from the music. and that's how great soundtracks are supposed to work, n'est pas? and besides the fitting music there's also a fitting setting: a storm is unfolding in the streets outside, making leaves and small pieces of trash dance in the most bizarre and obscure and artistic and unpredictable ways through the air. hm, it almost seems like somebody was just making all this up. as if it was only a fiction created to fill the pages of the journal: invented people leading invented lives and the course of the action is inspired by the author's favorite songs. ;o) the question is of course: had the content of the mail been different if i had listened to another song while opening it.
in other news: had a bad nightmare tonight: i dreamed a crack in the earth destroyed all of bielefeld. now that wouldn't REALLY be too bad, but in the dream it somehow was. houses were collapsing and among the city ruins: a zombie sci-fi setting with people traveling into the 2nd dimension. woke up tired and with headache, worn out, body aching. but then i booted the pc and checked my mail and found the message from e. and thought: "phew! thank god! it was just a dream and it's all back to normal: i've arrived back in my life!" we'll have rehearsal this evening. thank god, because we've got to get some order and especially routine into the set. the leineweber-gig is only three weeks away.
[later]back from rehearsal. we played for three hours, working primarily on the order of the set list and on "headcrash" and "trees lounge". hope that they will work when we play them live. hope that the other songs will work as well. i'm a little nervous about the whole thing. we haven't played live for so long. for such a long time. for so long. the gig in oerlinghausen seems to become really fun! reiner says it's a room with only 20qm. guess it will be a really intimate unplugged gig! great! lots of possibilities for me to tell stories and make contact with the audience ;o) and also there will be no time limit so we can probably play the entire set that we've prepared: 14 songs.
[later]watching a neil young concert on tv. he's sitting with greasy hair, white sleeveless shirt and jeans on stage on his own. surrounded by his guitars and he's singing with his high pitched voice. beautiful. just the pure songs: the warm guitar sound. that's what i want to do. the instrument. the melody. the words. a voice. songs are like precious stones. they cut glass. they break light. it's 0:15. i slowly start realizing the significance of things, heart worn out like an old shopping bag. things repeat. words repeat. feelings repeat. i'm tired. wish there was a way to break that circle. i'll find it. eventually.
[may 2, 2003 - ]okay, here's another installment of the journal within the journal section. suzyv posted a couple of new entries. she's so cooooool! *SIGH*! wish i had been born ten years earlier. in new york. what a lovely couple we would have been!
-----------------------------------------------------------[may 03, 2003 - one day, i know, we'll find a place called home...]
Road Diary: Higher Ground - Winooski, VT - April 27, 2003
Sunday Winooski Vermont April something 2003
Hello you chaps -
let's see. I have been chided a couple of times for being "behind" in my tour diary. hmmm. guess it will be like my real diary then! 40-plus notebooks of circles, byways, doubling backs, big blank spots, obsessions, ruminations, stuff I meant to finish, and whatever...
back to the subject at hand! Vermont was beautiful! what a beautiful day! we stopped to eat and I found a book in an antique store next door called "The Voyage of the Vega" which I had to buy even though it was $75. I also bought a book of children's poetry from 1879 for $21 - such a lovely, heavy book with beautiful print and illustrations.
The gig was good, though I think I threw everybody (meaning band and crew) by completely scrambling the set list - I am trying to get it to be more like a RetroSpective and less like a showcase for SIRAG. Still needs work. Good audience though! Jack Hardy opened and it was nice to see him, though he arrived five minutes after he was supposed to be on stage. He pulled out a rumpled green velvet jacket from a shopping bag, threw it on, and sailed off to do the show with white hair and eyebrows sticking up and out all over.
Doing St. Clare together was great. We had never done it together before, or even rehearsed it privately! It was very heartfelt. He scooped up his money afterwards and went running off into the night.
The next day after a sumptuous lunch of Doritos, Diet Coke, and some kind of weird dark chocolate with pink peppercorns, I was idly looking out of the van window admiring the Vermont scenery, when I saw the startling vision of the woman in the next car taking down the strap of her shirt in the back seat. "There's a woman taking off her clothes in the car next to us," I said aloud. To my surprise nobody even looked up. Billy was either sleeping or mesmerised by the Vermont scenery and memories of his boyhood at camp, Dougie was nursing his wounded neck, Glynn was on the phone, and Scott was driving at 60-plus miles per hour. As I continued to watch, suddenly she took off her entire blouse and the camisole underneath, leaving her completely bare from the waist up. "Guys! She is half-naked!" I said. How interesting.
This seemed to get their attention, as everybody scooted over to the left side of the van, and pressed their faces against the glass. She then realized that a gang of people were peering at her. So, turning her lovely back to us, with a shake of her hair, hanging over the blade of her cheekbone, she put something else on in one swift movement. Eventually the car accelerated beyond our view, leaving us to discuss and replay the incident all afternoon.
Road Diary: Calvin Theater - Northampton, MA - April 30, 2003
April 30,2003 Northampton
Funny show! It began so early. I was onstage by 7:10 because it was a co-bill with Richard Thompson. I think the earliness of the show threw me. The first mistake was getting Richard's name wrong. I called him "Richard Thomas" who is of course the actor who played "John-Boy" on the Waltons. Ooops! Why the hell did that happen? I have known Richard Thompson for years and never made that mistake before.
That reminded me of seeing Lucinda Williams once - she didn't speak to the audience at all, until she introduced her band. Then she forgot the keyboard player and apologized by saying "I have just made the faux pas of fucking hell!! I forgot..." whatever his name was, and introduced him tenderly, thereby breaking the ice. So I cheerfully shared that with the audience.
Then my attention was pulled by the two empty seats in the front row. My eye was pulled back to them again and again. "Whose seats are these?" I demanded to know. To my surprise a couple of people jumped up and ran into them. Good! I thought they were the real ticket holders but apparently not, judging from the Undertow mail this morning.
Then we started "Maggie May." As the song went on I watched the lady in the front row get settled in, and for some reason we smiled at each other. This caused the entire second verse to fly out of my brain. I stood there staring at the ceiling waiting for the words to return. They didn't. The band played on.
I asked Zev - "What are the lyrics to the second verse?" He didn't know. I looked through the entire annex of The Passionate Eye. It wasn't in there. The band stopped playing. "Why did you stop!!" I asked. "So you can just jump in at the second verse!" said Zev. "That won't work! From the top," I said, thereby making Maggie May something like half an hour long or at least it felt that way to me.
That reminded me of the last show of 1987. It is customary for the band and crew to get mischievous on the last day of a tour, playing pranks. I was very nervous that day, and it was right before Christmas. What was going to happen? I hate being humiliated publicly. I fretted about it. Suddenly Steve Hall (our lighting designer at the time) swung down from a rope dressed as Santa Claus. "Here comes Steve Hall dressed as Santa Claus" I said helpfully, hoping he'd go away soon.
"Ho ho ho," he said, flinging these little Christmas crackers around. These are beautifully wrapped English things that you pull a straw out of, and they go off with a bang. Mike, my long-standing bass player, pulled on of them, and something hit me in the back of my newly shorn neck. My manager filmed the whole thing. On the film you hear something like this - Bang. "Oww!!" I rub the back of my neck. The next thing I know I am pointing at Mike, saying "That hurt, motherfucker!!" As I recover, Steve eventually leaves the stage, and I confusedly launch into the Queen and the Soldier.
That night, as I was lying in bed, I suddenly realized that I had called Mikey a motherfucker into the microphone in front of 2000 people. I apologized the next day. "I was a little taken aback," he admitted. "I know you don't like surprises." Mikey is now on tour with Dar Williams, who I am quite sure doesn't shout curses at him. He'll be back in June.
Oh, by the way, Richard Thompson looked great, and sounded great! He wore black leather pants, black shirt, and a black beret worn rakishly to one side. He must be working out or something.
Road Diary: The Birchmere - Alexandria, VA - May 1, 2003
May 1, 2003 The Birchmere Va
At the venue. Did a surprise overnighter on the bus to get here. For some reason, I didn't know we were sleeping on the bus, so did not bring special sleeping hoodie!! Am ridiculously tired today. However, clean good bus. Good bus driver.
How nice to see Bob Hillman! He is opening this show. How nice of him to offer to be my slave! He says I have no imagination when it comes for me to tell him what to do. I am not used to having slaves, so I just giggle at him. Note please that he said regular "slave" not "love slave" or anything like that. Must work on list of things for him to do. Oh Bob! How happy we could be! If only you would stop watching South Park! But you always say "Whatever! I'll do what I want!"
The food at the Birchmere is always good. I love the bread pudding with Bourbon sauce. I am starving and looking forward to dinner.
It is after the gig. I stuffed myself with gumbo and bread pudding. Finally the set list is coming along and we are getting a good flow on stage. Just in time for Richard Gates, our third bass player, to come along on Saturday! The tour of the Revolving Bass Players.
What a great crowd. We got a bunch of encores. Whatever we don't do is what they ask for. Tonight it was Undertow. I felt silly today because I thought Dave's name was Bob. (DJHamma, who I have known for years and who does a ton of work on my behalf!) Another faux pas of you-know-what! There is a guy in England who comes to a lot of shows. I always call him Davy and his name is Chris. I hope he will forgive me.
Tomorrow is a day off of sorts, maybe we'll go see A Mighty Wind! On the bus we are watching Pootie Tang. Very amusing. At least its not the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Onward.
i've got the flat in cologne. i can move by the end of june. this started an avalanche of thoughts this morning. i am mentally disturbed, i mean i MUST have some kind of serious defect. i kept wondering about my entire life all morning. am i doing the right thing? what is the right thing? do i have an aim? do i have a task? where do i want to be? what do i want to do? moving to cologne somehow seems to be such a very important decision because it is one more step towards the university. and is this what i wanted? BUT DO I HAVE ANY CHOICE????? then i saw that image from the documentary that someone is making about suzanne and in it lay everything i dream of. i want to write and perform songs. period. now, i don't know whether people have a task when they're sent on earth but i for myself have some kind of notion about what feels right and what doesn't. some things i do just seem to me to be more "natural" (okay, okay!), more like that which i SHOULD do. some voice inside me that says: yes, philipp, THIS is YOUR thing. THIS is what YOU can do best. THIS is what makes YOU happy. and when i combine words and music in a performative act then i hear this voice. an almost frightening certainty that tells you where you belong. at the same time it's of course utterly ridiculous. because when you tell this to people it sounds like some children's dream of being a pop star. but this is not about jumping up and down in front of the mirror lip synching into your mother's hairbrush. it's not about fame and it's not about money. it's about the the thing itself. not for everything that people connect to it. i don't want to be famous or rich. but i want to have the chance to engage with all my heart and all my mind and all my energy into writing songs. not having a bad conscience about it because i have to work on the diss. not having permanent doubts about whether i'm wasting my time and ruining my "career" at the university. why don't i trust myself when i'm feeling that it's the right thing? there were two things in my life that i KNEW were right: my long-term relationship and the music. but despite this certainty i want someone who ALLOWS me to write songs. i want an expert's opinion that it's worth it. i want an encouragement that it's NOT a waste of time. and of course this is why suzanne is so important for me. i am terribly afraid that i will regret the way my life has been in ten years, that i wish i had done everything in a different way. that i either had suppressed my strange dreams and neurotic longings completely or that i had lived them. but this current inbetween-state, a little bit of everything, seems to be counterproductive and frustrating in a way.
anyway, about yesterday. cedric and i went to the mexican bar and had dinner. we met bruce willis, discussed cedric's exam topics, music and private stuff. unfortunately the other guests weren't neither very attractive nor very single. i was home at two, pretty drunk actually. it's strange: there seem to be different types of drunkenness. when i'm having cocktails (cuba libre or long island ice tea) i feel a different sort of dizziness than when i'm having a couple of beers. although the alcohol level in my blood is probably much lower after three beers i'm feeling lighter, more talkative and more disinhibited than i do after a couple of cocktails.
just when i had uploaded this month's entry i got an email:
Subject: The Space And The Sea[later]
Date: Sat, 03 May 2003 12:04:06 +0200
From: music for life <email@example.com>
Hallo liebe Leute,
vielen Dank für die Zusendung Eurer CD. Ich finde sie sehr gut, und wäre sehr an einer Zusammenarbeit mit Euch interessiert. Ich bin zur Zeit noch auf Reisen, bin aber ab Dienstag den 6.5. wieder in meinem Büro. Ich würde mich gerne mit Euch einmal unterhalten. Bitte teilt mir kurz mit wann Ihr am besten telefonisch zu erreichen seid.
Zur Zusammenarbeit haben wir folgende Möglichkeiten:
- Professionelle Produktion Eurer CD in einer 500er oder 1000er Auflage
Gleichzeitig produziere ich zur Zeit einen Sampler für die Help Alliance, eine Charity-Organisation der Lufthansa. Dieser soll dann an Bord verkauft und auch gespielt werden. Hier könntet Ihr auch gerne mit einem Stück vertreten werden.
Wie gesagt, ich würde mich gerne mit Euch näher unterhalten. Wir können dieses am besten am Telefon machen.
Bis dahin erst einmal,
music for life
i've just watched cedric's "classic albums" documentary on lou reed's "transformer" - probably to distract my self from the idea how great making records is ... brilliant plan! and in the end reed says: "but it's just an album. you know, you do an album and then you have the rest of your life..."
anyway, it's ten at night. did the laundry. walked once around the block. talked to cedric on the phone. played a 45 minutes solo set to annoy the neighbors. they'll be so happy when i finally move out!! that's one thing that REALLY bothers me about the new apartment: here i only have the neighbors upstairs since i'm living on ground level and there is the hallway between my apartment and the one next to mine. but in cologne i'll have four neighbors: upstairs, downstairs, left and right. how am i supposed to make music there? it really, really troubles me. i need some kind of rehearsal room. and recording room. but then that's pointless as well because i'm doing all the taping with my pc so i might as well just move into the rehearsal room and live there. i had planned to put together a couple of songs, 70 minutes maybe to play in pubs in cologne if they let me. but i'll need to rehearse the stuff. sigh. i just walked down to the cornershop and got myself six bars of snickers ice cream and ate them all. i guess i tend to be obsessive with persons, songs and food. and there you go: another great accidental chorus line! hey sweetheart, give me a call!
[may 4, 2003 - bleach it clean to a vinegar shine... or alternatively: that hurt, motherfucker!]sun's out. i'm as well. in the park on a sunday afternoon. work with me on the blanket. harbor song in my ears "through golden curtains you told me you'd let me know..." in the meantime it's 5 o'clock. mild light. light, green grass. soft, just like the music. kristin hersh's me and my charms. great sound! i want to write her name onto every leave of grass in this park. and after i'm done with the grass i'll continue on the flowers and the trees. here we go-ho: writing all over the world!!
[later]not much to report. thought about asking cedric whether he'd want to go out tomorrow night but then i remembered that we had loosely planned to have a little after work get together of thomas' staff. then the thought of asking e. whether she'd care for a drink on tuesday night flashed through my mind but then i remembered that she wanted to keep a little distance so i guess it's better not to ask. in the park today i made a little list with songs for a solo set once i've moved to cologne. *sigh* the end of the band is really something that troubles me and makes me sad. just when we started to play gigs again, just when we started to turn the 200 lurkers songs into band songs. it's a crying shame! anyway, here's the list in no particular order:
1 the pilotthis would make two sets of about 45 minutes each. now i only need two weeks rehearsal time, a room to rehearse in and gigs. and an audience. and 500.000euros. and a life time half-time job at thomas' department. and a wife. or at least a girl friend. or at least somebody to kiss. found out the three chords that sade's "no ordinary love" is based on and played it all day. "you know - it's not nuclear physics..."
2 a tree, a rock, a cloud
3 was one
5 space walk
6 ohne dich
8 cultural studies ii
9 trees lounge
10 cold smoke
11 1st day love
12 the nerves end...
14 lady lazarus
plus cover songs:
15 harbor song
16 famous blue raincoat
17 no ordinary love
18 song in red & gray
19 me and my charms?
and maybe - if i can arrange them for guitar only:
the little lighthouse
[may 6, 2003 - work! the most important thing is work!]i'm just back from having dinner with s. and it was much longer than i had planned. it's 1:47 in the morning. we discussed a lot of things. what really troubled me was what she said about the online journal, though. hm. that it was pathietic. that i was writing in clichés. that it was an endless and almost unbearable string of self pity. i think she's right. the question is why. and i guess parts of it are that way because pathetic, bad and cliché writing happens when there's no refelction anymore, no distance to what you write and how you write it. and i think there are moments of intense feelings or fast feelings or overwhelming feelings when there only is cliché writing, pathetic words because there is no distance anymore, there is no reflection, just a rambling, an attempt of expressing what one has no words for and thus turns to the pathetic, the always already written, the cliché, the bad writing that you cannot read without feeling a cramp inside your belly out of embarrassment. but then it's the same cramp that i felt when writing. just for different reasons. anyway. i tried to defend the format of the online journal and why i'm doing it and what it means to me. i tried to explain my notion about text and the relation between text and world or rather: the non-relation. "the world is not like poststructuralism" she said. i don't want to write pathetic things. i want "to write something so beautiful that it will make you ache from longing." if you think that this quote is pathetic then we have a problem, because i don't think it is. i think it's beautiful. so we're back to the level of simply having different tastes. anyway, i need to sleep now badly. i should have slept at nine already i only had a couple of hours sleep last night and i will have to get up at seven tomorrow. i'm missing you. whoever you is. i don't know aynmore. a fantastic mix of real and fictitious people. yes, i suppose i wish i could be with you now. just to know that sometimes things turn out to be alright. no - i don't think that i deliberately choose people that i cannot get to anyway. i don't know. i hope you're okay. i know it has been a difficult evening for you tonight. i don't know - talking to myself now: i guess the only thing i want to do is write. "but why do you have to circle around yourself so neurotically???" i have no idea? i want to sleep. i don't want to sleep. yes, i want to be with you. i don't think that this is a pathetic statement. it might sound so, but it doesn't feel so. heavy head. heavy head. thinking about you. about the other. about the one who is not here. you. pathetic? self pity? maybe i should stop writing altogether when i'm not able to create more than that. i don't know. maybe i should call you. but there are too mayn consequences. besides you might not be alone. maybe that's it. i need to meet somebody who is alone. or someone who is alone.
[may 7. 2003 - a curse on this game...]
Datum: Tue, 07 May 2002 02:43:43 +0200
Von: cedric <firstname.lastname@example.org>
just a moment ago, I read your latest entry: Don't be confused! People like to look on things that way! They do not have a language for themselves ... - They borrow their words & images ... from the latest hits, from movies or TV shows (that are hip) ... AND most of all - I'm afraid - from TV commercials ...
Is it O.K.? I don't know ...
Here's from the world of words I borrow from:
"Meine Hand?: lag wie Holz auf Holz (Borkenkäfer müßten ihr Gangwerk mir unter die Haut schnitzen. Im ganzen <Struwwelpeter> ergriff mich am meisten, und mit fast magischer Gewalt, die letzte Bilderreihe: vom <Fliegenden Robert>. Regen und treibender Wind jagten mich jedesmal mit über jenes flache Land. Bald stieß der Hut am Himmel an: der war also auch zu!: so zwang das Gebildere mir Kind eine indikopleustisch=geschlossene regnerische Welthalle auf.) »Als Kind hab ich morgens im Bett gelegen, den Blick nach oben: wenn man da an der Decke gehen könnte! Da wäre es so hübsch leer und weiß=ordentlich. Nur die Lampe stünde als Blume.« (In die man ja mal hineinsehen könnte. Sie kam vor Spannung ans Fenster; sie fragte leichthin=leichther: »Was wäre denn so Ihr Ideal?« - war also wesentlich nüchterner als wir. Wie sichs auch gehört). Soll ich??! -: -: »Also eine quadratische Stube« (5 mal 5 Meter, und 3 Meter hoch; in der Ecke die unsichtbare Tapetentür; rechts 2 nackte Fenster). »Links oben ich«: auf einem Eins Fünfzig hohen hölzernen Podium (die Schreibtischplatte also ziemlich dicht unter der Decke, die ich mit dem Haarpull leicht fege. Nur noch mein Stuhl hat da Platz). »Schlafen?«: auf der Tischplatte - vielleicht das dünne Stuhlkissen, blaßgelb mit blauen Blumen, untern Kopf: »Wie Ihres hier.« (sie erschrak doch ein bißchen; mein neugieriges Kind!). Dann Staatshandbücher und kritzeln in der Dämmerung. Rechts eine mannshohe weißblaue Vase für (mit?) Staub. Nichts essen brauchen und trinken (daß auch unten bei moi Ruhe ist). »Zur Tapetentür muß der Schlüssel verlegt sein.« (und die Leute vergessen haben, daß dort noch ein Zimmer war.). Stille. Nicht mehr aufgefunden. Niemand mehr sehen.: Vertrocknen. (Halt son Ideal, nich?). Die Sterne, bleiche Kreislein um die Hälse, gafften den Himmel voll. (<Den Himmel voll gaffen>!: Aufdringlichkeit!). Ihr Kopf kippte langsam auf die Brust. Der Mond hatte seinen öligen Claim um sich abgesteckt. Nachdenken. Sie kniff lange den Mund: wer viel fragt, kriegt viel Antwort! - -"
then she said that she couldn't understand what i was doing. that she would be so embarrassed if she knew that her friends and acquaintances could read such kind of corny writing (referring to the online journal). i tried to defend myself, saying that this text doesn't have to do a lot with me, that it is out of the frustration of NOT being able to say what one feels and thinks that one continues writing. that with every insufficient word one puts down it gets clear how little the text can express the actual feeling, how alienated the signs are, how other, how different. how much everything one writes symbolizes how LITTLE it has to do with what one thinks and feels.
and then she said that she didn't understand why i wasn't seeing somebody anymore. she said she always was interested in her ex friends and wanted to keep up a friendship. i think for a split second i thought we were in different worlds because for me it seems to be such an impossible thing to do: keeping up a friendship with someone for whom one once had the kind of feelings that i had for somebody. unthinkable. then i thought: maybe s. and i experienced the ending of a relationship in different ways. maybe it hurt me more. and instantly i corrected myself realizing my self pity again and thta my argument was that i suffered more than her. i don't know. i'm confused. can't put it even down properly. but then i nly had four hours of sleep this night again. i don't get it. i don't get it. why would you run into the danger of opening wounds by seeing a person again that you have struggled to keep away from you, that you have fought to forget and erase from your mind, memory and heart. i just don't get it. i don't know. maybe i am pathetic. maybe i need the grande gestures, the corny imagery, the clichées, the melodramatic expression.
"Why is the measure of love loss?.... You said, 'I love you.' Why is it that the most unoriginal thing we can say to one another is still the thing we long to hear? 'I love you' is always a quotation. You did not say it first and neither did I, yet when you say it and when I say it we speak like savages who have found three words and worship them.... Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid. ... It is so terrifying, love..." (winterson, written on the body)[later / may 7, 2003 -
it's 1:32 in the morning again. i'm drunk again. just returned from
a night out with first andreas, blaine and eva and then just eva and me
in a cocktail bar. on the way back to the university cliché and
patheticness around me: i was crossing the park and the stary sky and the
moon was reflected in the black water of the pond and suddenly i wasn't
cold anymore but was just looking up into the constellations of stars and
the moon and the beauty and the things around me and the things behind
me, looks and smiles and the warmth of candles and the warmth of voices
and the warmth of alcohol and yes, i think there is some very real patheticness
and clichéness in my life, thrown in by god knows whom? i don't
know anymore. if things had been different. it's not fair to tell you things
that i don't tell you so i should just stop rambling and start sleeping
but these words are here instead of a touch.
[may 8, 2003 - you are the one solid the spaces lean on]
Betreff: Re: pointless
Datum: Wed, 7 May 2003 19:18:13 -0500
Von: "paula" <email@example.com>
and i was totally divested of the earth. and nothing the dog says comes true anymore. and the neighbor mowed his lawn twice today. and a thunderstorm is coming and beyond that, snow. and what happens to lives when they stray from the path they were given? and the trees are in leaf because it is spring. and the sadness of a siren passes under my window and goes away. and somewhere else someone is dying. and the screen door rattles in the gusts of the strong wind. and the drunken men come out of a fourth street bar and walk into the river that only goes up to their knees. and white is the word in the black night. and evermore will i walk these streets, no one knowing my name which is fine with me. and the bandages on my hands are not so much cumbersome as dirty. and i was picking up the broken glass from the beer bottles in front of the shrine to mary. and it all became clear to me but immediately the water was muddied. and the last of the sun disappeared long ago from the trees, leaf to bark, soup to nuts. and all this is the elaborations of a bad liar. and it's this kind of a hackneyed joint you run that's the ruin of this town. and i said help me because i can't stop being overjoyed. and i said run little kitten.
and the drunks in the bar said stop now. the larks are singing their purple notes and the parakeet has lost his voice. and whosoever climbs to the top of the hill and stretches out his or her arms is like the risen christ around here. bear me up on stairs of dirt, you know this folly is truth.
sitting in the cafeteria of the university, early morning, sun on my arms that look strange: the fine hair cramped upright, stretching toward the sky, straightened by letters from paula's mail that travel the length and width of my body like armies of invading ants. "and i said help me because i can't stop being overjoyed" (and if this is pathetic than i want to drown in patheticness) the instance i read that line i knew that it says everything i had tried to explain during the last months to eva or in the journal. AND I SAID HELP ME BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP BEING OVERJOYED. cheap italian pop music starts to play and my eyes grow heavy. my heart is beating fast and irregularly and much too loudly and although the air is filled with magic and i feel alive and far from being sad i wish i could fold my hands in my lap and just be dead. i can't react to your mail with words that were appropriate. i wish i could send you anything else, a pure feeling, the sparkling of my skin that moves in arcs over my body when i read your words. and then a line from "pilgrimage" comes to my mind and i know that it is a lie. "i am coming to you. i will be there in time". li(n)es are all we've got, paula, the lie that it will get better, the lie that it's all worth it, the lie that we'll stop being alone. i did not have enough sleep the past three nights. i'm looking out onto the square in front of the university and i'm seeing [censored] everywhere. something is wrong. i can't stop being overjoyed. but i can't say help me. in my little endless world inside my mind you are always with me. i know that doesn't help neither you nor me. it's not even much of a comfort. i don't understand how things can feel so right when they are so wrong. you are not a bad liar. your lies are honey, honey! your lies lie strewn all over the square in front of the university like snowflakes that refuse to melt and i wonder whether i'm the only one who can see them. i want to wrap your lies around me like a blanket. i am sitting here in the cafeteria like in a neosurrealistic marriage of dali and hopper: i'm sitting here & i'm burning. people passing by, next to me, behind me, in front of me crossing the square, nobody thinks that it's strange that someone is burning there by the window, flames licking all over lips and cheeks and eyes. paula, you must never be not with me.
[later]paula's words still haunt me although i've read them over and over again. i don't know how to stop them from echoing through my mind. i'm on the way back home although home will soon be where away is and away will be where home is now. my new apartment in cologne will be much smaller and i'll probably have a hard time deciding which things to keep and what i'll throw away. i should get rid of a lot of unnecessary memories and sentimental emotions. a heart as empty as a fresh moving cardboard box. paula once wrote: "i hate what this life does to people" and i can't help but agree. and still there are moments in which the joy is as unbelievable as the pain is. i don't know. the train is crowded. the late evening sun is filling the compartment, people are talking, the attractive young woman next to me is reading [and secretly i'm hoping that she might glance over from her book and read the lines "the attractive young woman next to me is reading [and secretly i'm hoping that she might glance over from her book and read the lines "the attractive young woman next to me is reading [and secretly i'm hoping that she might glance over from her book and read the lines...]]] and still there is a profound crack in the world that i try to carry into the words - they don't function . but it's a different malfunction than that of the world. i was crying aimlessly for 20 minutes in the men's room this morning. god knows why. right now i'm listening to sade's "by your side". on repeat. obsessively. i guess i'm trying to create some kind of stable, predictable (sonic) environment that simulates security. "and - oh - when you're cold i'll be there by your side, baby!" the rattling of the train lulls me to sleep. i have slept so little the past nights that i'm feeling like being on some kind of drug. "and if you want to cry: i am here to dry your eyes!" why are the simplest lies always those that you tend to believe most gratefully? sometimes writing feels like touching. and believing is another word for resignation. and resignation might be another word for love. and maybe love is just another word for love. but what the hell do i know?? a page filled is a moment secured. great - i start writing in aphorisms! i REALLY need some sleep. "find me on this train going east, clutching a book and i'm made of its words. find me in this tomb of brown fields. find me, please oh find me."
we're cutting through fields filled with blooming rape - and the thick yellow of the buds is shining so intensely in the evening sun that i've got to grasp for breath. it has been a very strenuous week in cologne. jobwise and otherwise. can't really report about it. doesn't have anything to do with me directly, but i'm a little troubled and concerned for everyone involved. and then thomas came up with a lot of work: well, not really a lot or difficult work but the fact that he suddenly realizes that he needs a room for 80 people just one week before the lecture makes the relatively easy task of organizing a room almost impossible. rooms are booked almost half a year in advance!! and stuff like that. and then he kept making fun of me. which is okay and which i am used to. but today he was a little bitchy (don't know if this word exists. in german i would say he was zickig or patzing). anyway, i'm home now and i've received "retrospective" by suzanne. great artwork! it has a stunning photo that surprised - if not shocked - me a little at first because the woman in the image looks so infinitely fragile and vulnerable. as if the only means of defense were her blue eyes. unfortunately the scanned picture does not really reproduce the softness of the colors and the realism of the photo. i only realized on the second glance that she's not wearing anything.
[may 10, 2003 - my heart ticks inside me like rain]saturday morning. i'm sitting - still moving slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes - in front of the pc. outside the first sounds of people preparing for a busy weekend: car breaks screaming, birds singing, dogs barking. the notes played by the harp in joni's "amelia" are dancing through the room like confused fireflies having lost all sense of time. paula wrote. joni sings "so this is how i hide the hurt..." and i am wondering whether things ever healed or whether i was only hiding the hurt instead of getting rid of it. woke up next to a beautiful figure of fear this morning who drove into me smilingly with long fingers of ice and held my heart while her wild hair flowed like water around her head and all over the bed and with the other hand she touched my cheek softly, moving from the eyes to the lips whispering things tenderly: "dissertation, earning money, losing your job, always be alone" had weird dreams which i can't really remember, only small splinters from a broken mirror. i was playing a board game with a friend, i was a boy again, a dog was there, people accusing me, i was embarrassed, on a lawn in front of the house, there were more people, and a room in the attic with a tv-set and a book, and torn pages.
[later]the rain is pouring down in streams from the roofs, the drops connect the avenue and the gray sky like puppet strings, the cars make soft "whooosh" sounds when passing by. turned the heating on. candles burning. in the streets the wet smell of smoke. n. just called: "Philipp! I just puked!" she said "I just puked because I'm so excited! I've fallen in love!!" how strange that everybody around me keeps falling in love and just i keep clinging to the same old hopeless situations, feeling attracted to what is impossible to get near to. paula, the rain you wrote about in your last mail has reached my place. the trash is washed down the street. i'm thinking about you.
rehearsal yesterday night was strange: when we played "estragon" i suddenly realized that this is the beginning of the end of playing it. when i've moved the band will cease to exist and maybe i will never again play those songs with the band after our gigs. and there are only two more rehearsals. so while singing the words i figured that all in all i will probably play the song six more times with the band and when the song was over i thought: and now only five times. and then we played the coda of "headcrash" and the bass drum set in and reiner's bass started to become hypnotical and daniel played the toms lightly and it all fell into the same place at the same time and there was this feeling of a unity that was striving forward, almost as good as love, the sounds two arms and i thought that i must be a fool to throw this away.
[later]hmmmm...i must admit that i'm puzzled. someone answered the questionnaire and i 'm trying to figure out who [click here to read the answers]. he or she knows me personally and appears in the online journal. and he or she wants to spend a day with walter benjamin. and he or she knows the secret behind walter siegmeister. at first i thought it was achim or martin but then walter benjamin wouldn't really fit....very mysterious. and then i wondered whether it was eva because the other week she asked whether anybody answers the questionnaire on the website. then the answer to the question "are you with whom you intended to be?" would be quite a statement. and then i thought that it might be bernd. but why on earth walter benjamin??
[later]it's night now. went for a walk. colored my hair. made dinner. watched tv but nothing's on. actually cedric & tara wanted to come over and we wanted to go and see a film. but tara's got to work so we postponed it. i rehearsed the songs from this summer's setlist. ute sent a photo of blaine, tina and me in her office. oh man, sehen wir fertig aus! checked my mail every ten minutes today. mood-o-meter: 2.9. random zürn quote of the day: "Der schwarze Baron nimmt an diesem Morgen seinen Handel mit den Köpfen alleine auf seine Schultern und das Gaunerliebchen bleibt im Bett liegen. Sie kochte sich frischen Kaffee und schlürfte ihn heiss und süss hinunter. Sie wäscht sich den Samen des schwarzen Baron von ihren langen Beinen und fegt das Zimmer auf. Sie wäscht den Fussboden und die blindgewordenen Fensterscheiben und die Teller. Dann kriecht sie wieder zurück ins Bett und beginnt wieder ihre kindliche Litanei: Wo Du hingehst, da gehe ich fort und Dein Land ist eine Bettlerstube. Wo Du stirbst, planze ich keine Blume und streue spitze Steine auf Dein Grab. Dein Name ist schon vergessen und niemand denkt an Dich. Ein Hund kommt vorbei und hebt das Bein und wühlt den Sand auf. Ich warte nicht mehr auf Dich und ich träume nicht mehr von Dir. Ich lache Dir auf die Nase und rolle mich wie eine Kugel zusammen. Ich bin unangreifbar geworden. Der schöne Sessel mir gegenüber ist leer. Die Lampe ist ausgelöscht und ich habe alle Deine Briefe und Bilder zerrissen. Du hast Deine Kleider aus meinem Schrank herausgenommen und der Duft ist mit Dir verschwunden. Du bist auf eine grosse Reise gegangen und schwimmst in einem Schiff auf dem Meer. Der Klang Deiner heiseren Stimme ist noch in meinem Ohr. Ich bin traurig ohne Dich, aber das ist nicht zu ändern. ... Ich spüre noch das gewölbte Innere Deiner Hände und den sanften Druck Deiner Finger. Man muß tapfer werden und allein bleiben, das ist eine noble Haltung. Ich umarme Dich zum letzten Mal und bald werden wir alles vergessen haben, so, wie man uns vergessen wird. ... Und wie man sich bettet so liegt man. Es deckt einen keiner zu. Und wenn einer tritt, dann bin ich es. Und wenn einer fällt, dann bist Du's. Heute morgen rauchte der Gegenstand des schwarzen Baron in dem kalten Zimmer. So warm war es in dem Bauch des Gaunerliebchen gewesen."
[may 11, 2003 - ]quiet sunday morning. the sun can't really decide whether to shine or not. bikes passing by. birds singing. my sister is going to pick me up in an hour and we're going to our parents' place for mother's day. nadine and i loosely fixed a date for this afternoon. scobie's book on cohen is lying in front of me. i haven't opened it this week. maybe i should really get some professional help concerning by academic writer's block. suzanne continued the road diary:
------------------------------------------------------------got a new favorite sade song: "every word". hm, i really seem to dig those groovy tunes. well, whatever "groovy" in my little musical world might mean. but all the sade songs i like have this very distinct 'heavy' rhythm. wish i could post the music here, but then the words are okay as well. "I saw a picture | How could you be so careless | How could you have done that to us | And I write this letter | I send it all back to you | And every word you said || In there every word | How could you have done that to us || You treated me like a stranger | And all the time I was loving you | All your slick moves | They were once innocent moves | I wanted to look up to you | I really trusted you | And every word you said || In there every word | How could you have done that to us || (Love is what the word was) || I was loving you like a child | All the time you were smiling | The same smile | I was loving you like a child | I really trusted you || Every word you said | Every word you said | (Love is what the word was) | I send it all back to you, yeah | (Love is what the word was)" it has a great voice sample. actually i think this is quite a good topic for a theme cd: songs that are written as letters: there's "famous blue raincoat" of course, and natalie merchant's "the letter" and "the letter" by kristin hersh. i'm sure that there must be more...
Road Diary: Opera House - Claremont, NH - May 3, 2003
new hampshire whatever date 2003
where was I? Lets see. I still have not written about NH. it seems so long ago. last saturday. we played at the town hall. the night before we stayed in a beautiful bed and breakfast and became quite friendly with the owner, Debbie. we had fits of anxiety on the way up there as it became evident we weren’t going to arrive before 9:30 PM. where are we going to eat dinner? I began hallucinating about a CupONoodles I thought I saw in a cupboard somewhere. turned out to be on a previous bus. Fortunately a place called Woody’s was still open and we ate heartily.
we met the girl from a travelling pyrotechnic circus who was staying at the same bed and breakfast. a cute skinny girl from the Lower East Side with red hair and bangs. the guys in the band all fell in love with her and stayed up late chatting with her in the lounge. the next day I heard she had said, wouldn’t it be funny if we woke Suzanne before we left at 8:30 in the morning? Um, no it would not.
the day of the show we wandered into town looking for - what else? a place to eat. Dusty’s looked a bit, well, dusty, in spite of the inviting signs to come in and do karaoke. So instead we walked all through the town and settled on a pizza place near the end of Pleasant Street. We got to the venue to discover that Scott our backline guy had been locked in the elevator and had to be rescued by the fire department.
It was a strange show in some respects - strange technical difficulties, floating staticky noises. I was so intent on getting Richard Gates (the 3rd bass player on the tour)’s name correctly that I introduced Billy Masters on guitar as Billy Merchant, my bass player from 20 years ago. Ooops.
It was also one of those nights where I got the “he” and the “she” mixed up in the Queen and the Soldier - he ends up with the crown on his head, she’s on the doorstep wondering what’s going on, and the audience is thinking finally he’ll win! Haha.
What the crowd was missing in numbers it made up for in enthusiasm! great crowd. A woman came up afterwards and said to me, I brought my boyfriend as a birthday present! I almost said, How nice! And it isn’t even my birthday! But I bit my tongue.
Road Diary: Majestic Theatre - Detroit, MI - May 8, 2003
Detroit MI May 7 Thursday
We came in overnight from NY to do this show. This leg is mostly sleeping on the bus and more sleeping on the bus. Sleeping on the bus is like sleeping on a sofa while someone shakes you awake everytime you settle comfortably into some good quality REM. We are tired.
Yesterday Miriam, one of the Towies came to see me bringing pizza and bread and good conversation. How nice it is to see her! Afterwards there were a whole gang as well including Larry from Columbus. Although we were tired I can feel the set list finally settling in.
During the show as I began to sing “solitude stands by the window” I saw a woman come forward toward the stage and face the audience. From the back I could see she was wearing some kind of huge feathery hat. I saw the outline of her silhouette. ”If this is Solitude she has changed since the last time I saw her,” I thought crossly. “I hope whoever this is doesn’t try to get up onstage.“ Fortunately she went away. I found out later she was a Candy Seller local to the venue. Glynn says she leaned her ample bosom over the sound board and asked if she could offer him anything. How nice.
The most moving moment of tonight came when I went out afterwards to say hello to the people waiting. A young woman was there who came forward and said, “I want to thank you for saving my life.” She told me her story - her father had been beating her, putting her in the hospital 12 times. The 12th time he had broken her pelvis bone. The doctor asked her, what is happening here? Because she had heard Luka on the radio she felt she could tell the doctor what had happened. I gave her a hug. We both had tears in our eyes as she told me this.
Road Diary: Luther's Blues - Madison, WI - May 9, 2003
May 8, 2003 Madison WI
The road is like a man
who takes your youth and beauty
when you think you need him
he goes for some new cutie...
Do I really feel this way? Not really, I guess. But being on the road does nothing for beauty rest, I’ll tell you that. Another overnighter tonight. My eyes are nearly normal again after nine hours of sleep in an actual bed. Must remember to bring own pillowcase as the polyester sheets make my face pink with irritation.
I remember some guy on Mike’s message board complaining about a gig in Vancouver when I looked “old and grumpy”.... well of course we had travelled all night to get there, stopping at 6 AM at the border, hadn’t slept in days, getting over the flu etc, and I guess he was expecting Audrey Hepburn??? She, of course, used to have it in her contract that she would get a nap at 4 in the afternoon during filming as she got older. How sensible!
Anyway, enough bitching and complaining... last night’s show was a GREAT audience if a little tipsy! And yawning. Standing venue which is always fun. Very warm and friendly. I invited everybody to Chicago today, all 300 people. Someone wanted to know if I would buy them beers as well. We must practice Soap and Water since that’s what people are yelling for almost every gig.
The other song people want to hear is Men In A War, and though I do like this song the lyrics still make me cringe. I was trying to write about Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome - how women who have been abused feel flashbacks similar to the ones men feel when they have been in a war - but people get stuck on the image of the man with no limb and they take it literally. Including me! When I sing it I think sometimes - I am not in the mood for this. So I don’t think I’ll sing it this tour.
The other thing is that right now there are a bunch of songs about “women alone” in a row - Widow’s Walk, Maggie May, Marlene, Penitent, Calypso. Even in Gypsy, though there is a romance, the woman ends up alone. Then comes Solitaire! I might have to put in Priscilla or Stockings or anything to put a bit of some other energy in there. I am really looking forward to finishing a bunch of new songs in the fall!! The new songs have a whole new perspective to them On to Chicago!
Last nights was the best Tom's audience we ever had in America! For some reason during the break after "cathedral" everyone started whistling and cheering and applauding, which made me laugh, which made them continue. That almost never happens in America. For a minute I thought we were in Belgium with the "famous crazy Belgiums!" You crazy Madisonians!
[later]it's afternoon. trostlos. literally. was looking through some of my old stuff to see what i need in cologne and what i can store in my parents' cellar. doing this was probably not a very good idea for it kept kicking up dust. and then i stumbled over an old text from i don't know: 1995?, 1996?. it had comments in her handwriting. ([...] and again massive use of the delete button). in the meantime it's four o'clock. i don't have your number. i don't have the courage.
[later]when i am thinking of you i sort of think in music or in paintings. hair that looks like a wheat field, eyes as gracefully as an a major chord. but mostly i don't think of you at all because i can't come up with anything as beautiful as the way that / oh boy, i've just missed a chance to write: portishead blasting through the speakers: i'm in some bar, trying to prepare the session on creeley and frost. had one beer which was too much because i didn't have anything to eat. a poem passed by but wouldn't want to sit at my table, wouldn't even look at me. "give me a reason to love you". walking through the old neighborhood on the way to the bar was strange knowing that i will move in a month.
[later]a quarter past ten, i'm ready for bed. sade's still singing. great melody. great chords. there's some strain in my body. my shoulders hurt. there's nothing i want to write. i don't know why i started a new "later" entry. maybe just because i'd like to talk to you. i could call you. reading creeley sent shivers down my spine. words and power have a very strange relationship. i'm tired. i'm on the verge of writing things that i will not make any sense. things that will not ... anyway. mood-o-meter: 1.9. 22:22. 03:04. my inside tries to fight a way to the outside. but i will turn off the pc now before it will reach the screen. love is what the word was.
[may 12, 2003 - love is what the word was]it's 19:45. i'm sitting in the office. it's windy outside, cloudcarpets are covering the sky, the streetlights are on already. busy day today. right now: sade. some computerwork to do. later: probably meeting with eva, tried to call her but couldn't reach her yet :o(
[later]it's 1:24. when i was walking home from picking up eva at the movie theater and ahving a cocktail the bars werew closing, the waiters putting the chairs on the table, blowing out candels, turning of the lights. the trash was blown through the avenues. sade in my ear. the air mild-. you are dancing. i don't know how yo're doing it but you're dancing with your eyes. and with every thing you say you seem to hide, you seem to conceal more than you give away. i think i was never more puzzled by any other person. hm, i only had two calpirinhas. don't know why my spelling ability is so much disabled. ten seconds after the last chance i always hate myself for being a coward. but maybe i'm just being careful. who can tell the difference?? "ten seconds after the last chance" will be the title of my new album. "and i'd rather be anywhere than here without you..."
[may 13, 2003 - and if only you could see into me]i don't know. it's half past nine. i'm sitting in the office. thomas has called at eight while being on his way with hayles to cologne and he said that she needs a beamer and a laptop for her lecture. i mean it's four hours before the talk will start. isn't there any way to find out IN ADVANCE what she needs for the lecture. sigh. feeling down. feeling out of place. sade is singing by your side and i'm singing along to it. just want to write songs and sing. stupid wish. outside the wind is blowing. cool air. fresh air. smelling like the sea. smelling like denmark. "you think i'd leave your side baby? you know me better than this!" i shouldn't be here. i shouldn't do this. when i was coming out of the cafeteria yesterday where i had dinner i was standing in the liquid light of the late evening, showered with gold. and i checked the mail box of my mobile phone and eva had left a message that i could pick her up after the movies so i put my backpack to take the tram and i searched for my md player and even before i connected the phones to the player or put them in my ear i already thought about the great guitar riff of "every word" and i pictured the sound in my mind while i was standing there among all the people in front of the building and then the music started to play and it was so much more beautiful than i had imagined or remembered and it was so intense that a jolt went through my body and in an uncontrolled moan i went: "oohm!" so much for my 'don't get noticed' policy!
[later]six in the evening. tired. hayles was great: a very nice woman. these are the moments i love: sitting with thomas and achim and n. katherine hayles in his office and having coffee. that's sort of cool. not as cool as sitting next to suzanne vega and she's telling you how john cale once threatened to cut mike's (her bass player) balls off, but still very exciting.
just talked to someone on the phone (a female friend of mine) who had a date yesterday night. she saw the guy for the second time and they ended up kissing on the sofa. and i said "what!?" and she said "well, it was the second date, that's normal, isn't it??" and i thought : wait a minute!! i wouldn't even kiss a girl after two years, so i'm either very polite, very insecure, very slow, very distanced or very hesitant. or worse and probably true: all of the above. sometimes it seems to me that i'm doing things the wrong way. or maybe i simply lack the opportunities.
[later]just watched "the lady from shanghai". great end: "everybody's somebody's fool. the only way to stay out of trouble is to grow old. so i guess i'll concentrate on that. maybe i'll live so long that i'll forget her. maybe i'll die trying." and somehow it reminded me of a scene from last night: eva and i were sitting in the foyer of the cinema, waiting for the film to end. it was a german film, called "poem". basically a filmed version of a couple of german poems from goethe to rilke to trakl to bachmann. you know: the usual suspects. and the distribution company had come up with a great promotion gimick: they made a booklet in newspaper format that had each poem printed lavishly over the page complete with colorful stills from the film. so eva and i were browsing through that booklet, it covered the whole of the small table we were sitting at and a good part of our legs: as newspapers tend to do. it was almost as if it was a blanket of letters that we nearly disappeared under. anyway, we were looking through the poems, and suddenly there was this text by hans arp: "sophie". and it was very prosaic, few rhymes, not really a very lyrical language, almost a matter of fact style. but when i read the last two verses it hit me in the stomach and i had to look away:
Du lächeltest,and suddenly i felt very lonely under that blanket of letters. suddenly i felt very lonely sitting there in the foyer next to her. i felt something that i couldn't quite explain except that it had to do with people i will never see again because they have died. literally and metaphorically. "...danke ich jedem vergehenden Tag". i'm missing you beyond every reason.
um nicht zu weinen.
als würden lange noch
die guten Tage scheinen.
Deine Flügel glänzten
wie junge Blätter.
war ein weißer Stern.
Seitdem du gestorben bist,
danke ich jedem vergehenden Tag.
Jeder vergangene Tag
bringt mich dir näher.
[may 14, 2003]it's two in the morning. i'm just back from celebrating nicole's birthday. it was very nice. although the absolute top thing was that suzanne vega was there! sitting right across the room! unbelievable! the same pointy nose, the same big eyes, the same haircut, the same mouth, the same age unfortunately. and a different voice. but it was almost uncanny. our eyes met a couple of times and each time i was plunged back into the memory of REALLY talking to suzanne, being recognized. i can't describe it tonight and i probably will never be able to and it doesn't matter. i think nicole wanted to bring me together with one of her friends. which was a nice idea but it didn't really work out because we sat at the opposite ends of the table ;o) on the way back the full moon was shining and a band was carrying the sound equipment out of a club and the pavement by the underground station was strewn with red rose petals. and i thought: this MUST be a film, this can't be a life. and as so often everything i could write now would be wrong. i'm too tired. meeting the fake suzyv made me realize what a big metaphor, symbol and projective plane the real one is. it's not sane. but then what is sane? talked a lot today about relationships. not mine, though since i don't have any. but about blaine's and later on in the bar about k's. and first blaine said this afternoon: "you're always so rational!!" and later k. looked at me and said: "jesus, philipp. you're so rational!" there you go. maybe i should become a therapist. need to sleep now. take care. sleep well. remember me.
[may 15, 2003 - i am sitting in the morning at the diner on the corner...]5 hours later: cool morning. heavy head. warm coffee. sweet muffins. bad music: "sexy lady, you're so fine". short sentences. monosyllabic words. i'm still half in dreams. from where i'm sitting in the cafeteria i can see the used book seller outside, arranging and rearranging the covers while the students who are crossing the square are checking them out in passing by: samuel beckett, john steinbeck, günter grass, arno schmidt: "brands haide". the other day sirka said that she was falsely quoted. she didn't really say that the online journal was "pathetic" but rather "overemotional" or "full of pathos". both expressions sound a little too positive compared with the german "pathetisch". oh boy. i must look like having crawled out of a sewer. at least that's what i feel like today. maybe i can get some sleep on the way back to b.
yesterday i realized that my private life has dropped one place from the hot spot of the "top ten things to worry about". so we've got a new no. 1!: my dissertation. don't know if this is a good sign. it's probably not a sign at all.
[later]another near sublime vega encounter: on my way to the train station a very big woman with a cute golden retriever walked towards me and it was anne haigis - or as she was christened on vega.net: nina haggis - a german pop/soul singer who was opening (for whatever strange reasons) for suzanne in paderborn two years ago. when we were talking backstage mike played with her dog (see the picture). so when i saw her i remembered all this and had to smile madly when i recalled how we were sitting there with suzanne, drinking champagne. in the meantime i'm back in bielefeld. tonight a young woman called who wants to move into my apartment here. she'll come by next week and check it out.
[later]it's 23:12. i've just taken a loooong hooot shower which felt great after having stayed for three nights in a row in the office. rubbed myself with that great rose oil and put on my pajama that i had prewarmed on the heating :o) i'm gonna sneak under the cozy bedcovers now, watch the late show and then i'll sleep for twelve hours!
[may 16, 2003 - i have packed / i'm leaving this place now...]it's a quarter to eleven already. just had a long conversation with cedric on the phone. quiet day: was in town to get the various papers i need for renting the apartment in cologne. a young woman called to arrange a meeting because she wants to rent my flat here in b.. rehearsed the current set this afternoon plus a couple of cover songs. went quite well. tomorrow i'll go to cologne again for blaine's birthday party. i will return on sunday and sunday afternoon we have scheduled another rehearsal. then on monday i'll drive to cologne again. on tuesday i will sign the papers for the new apartment and on wednesday i'll return to b. because it's my father's birthday. on thursday that woman will come by to see the apartment and i guess (or rather PRAY) that we'll have another rehearsal then. and also cedric will have his german literature written test on thursday. on saturday we'll play the first of the three gigs. and bad news: i have to correct zwischenprüfungsklausuren - exam essays - this semester :o((( hm, i guess i will miss my little cozy apartment here once i'm in my tiny new apartment. all of the online journal was written here and all the new songs and recordings were made here. i hope this will continue in my new home. the other night i considered to stop writing on the online journal once i have moved, but then i guess i'm too vain and egocentric to NOT write about myself all the time - publicly.
[may 17, 2003 - do you have eyes? can you see like mankind sees?]hmm, this morning i remembered why i hate moving: was looking through old folders to decide what to throw away and what to keep and i constantly stumbled upon traces of a former life. strange feeling: letters that spoke of need and devotion and the l-word with a stunning sincerety. "evil is sweet in your mouth, hiding under your tongue" i'll drive to cologne this afternoon for blaine's birthday party. think i'll rehearse the set one more time before i'll leave. i'm excited already: next week we'll be playing live since, well, i don't know: three years???
[may 18, 2003 - and you won't leave soon because i know / that you're just like me: with no place to go / there's a love still here, no, nothing's died / you just got hurt very deep inside]it's sunday and it's 9:55 am. i guess i was the last one at the party [and the first one as well by the way] and left at 4 in the morning. got a couple of hours of sleep in the office and now i'm sitting at the station waiting for the train to get me to rehearsal. can't really write anything about yesterday night because - you know - oh well, i think because people are reading this. however i truly wondered why the hell i always seem to feel attracted to women who are already having a relationship. having said this i might as well tell you that a. - one of blaine's oldest friends - was at the party [with her boyfriend] and she is really - well, you can guess all she is, no need for me to drift into corny cliché writing.
most sublime & cinematic moment of last night: it must have been about 2 in the morning and eva & i were sitting in the living room talking about - i don't know- maybe music or her exams, some people were dancing, there was hardly any light except in the corridor. at one point eva got up to get more wine from the kitchen. she returned a couple of minutes later and when she entered the room there was one short, delicate moment when she was standing in the doorway and i could only see her graceful silhouette which cut out sharply against the bright corridor: black stockings, long legs, short skirt, blouse with wide arm sleeves and the light was breaking in the bottle of red wine that she held loosely at her side and the liquid was glowing like a ruby on fire. sometimes i wish my head was a camera. sometimes i wish my life was a movie. and sometimes i wish my life wasn't a movie. half an hour later we were sitting next to each other on the sofa. and when she said that she thought it was time for her to go home i took all the boldness i could gather and my hand moved towards her and with an insecure gesture i brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. she looked a little startled for a second, then smiled mildly. i figured that i had nothing to lose so i whispered "you have led many men to death with your body". and she straightened her skirt, licked her lips, looked up and said: "give me a kiss!" no - wait ! - i'm in the wrong movie!!
blaine's friends from england had prepared a pop quiz. great idea! my group ALMOST won. blaine's was first but when you see the questions you won't be amazed about THAT! you can test yourself:
A. the 80s:since it was blaine's birthday we let him win.
1. what was paul young's 1983 1 million selling lp called?
2. which 3 artists performed on the 1987 hit "what have i done to deserve this?"
3. who was the lead singer of haircut 100?
4. which irish singer had a hit with "tarzan boy"?
5. what was madonna's first hit?
6. which band did mick talbot and paul weller form in 1983?
7. what did "voice of the beehive" ask us not to do in 1988?
8. where does singer chris de burgh come from?
9. who is mark king the singer with?
10. in which year did the housemartins have a "happy hour"?
B. the 90s:
1. who sang the vocals on subsub's hit "ain't no love, ain't no use"?
2. who had a hit in 1995 with "hotstepper"?
3. who sang the seductive "i wanna sex you up"?
4. jenny and lyn beggren are singers with which 90s group from sweden?
5. who checked into the blue hotel in 1991?
6. which beatles classic did candyfli cover in 1990?
7. who is shirley manson lead singer with?
8. who had a chart success in 1991 with "everybody's free (to feel good)"?
9. who had a hit with "satruday night" in 1994?
10. what was the name of c&c music factory's hit in the early 90s?
1. "the phone rigs in the middle of the night, my father yells what are you gonna do with your life?"
2. "close your eyes, give me your hand, darling. do you feel my heart beating?"
3. "once upon a time, when we were friends, i gave you my heart, the story ends"
4. "i am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar"
5. "bands don't play no more, too much fighting on the dancefloor"
D. genius round:
1. which lennon/mccartney song was a hit for the rolling stones in 1963
2. which english artist celebrated his 50s birthday 1997 in new york with lou reed and the cure?
3. which belgian artist is remembered for "ca plain our moi"
4. which singer was justin timberlake associated with for several years?
5. what nationality is tina arena?
6. what was the name of john travolta's gang in "grease"?
7. which british group won the 1981 eurovision song contest?
8. name 2 members of duran duran
9. "up where we belong" was from which film?
CLICK HERE FOR THE ANSWERS
[later]rehearsal's over. it went well. but then i got all nervous just from hearing reiner talk about when we'll have to do the soundcheck next week and where the stage will be set up and so on. arrgghh! but it's a positive kind of nervousness. by the way, may 24 is also his birthday, so after the gig we'll go and celebrate this as well. then there was an awkward moment when reiner asked when the nerve bible had been founded and daniel and i thought back for a while and said 1994. "it's the ten year anniversary then next year" reiner said "maybe we can play an anniversary gig in the schlingen [a venue in bielefeld]" and i thought: yes that would be great. but then i realized that i will be moving to cologne next month :o(
[may 19, 2003 - did i break the thread or did you break the thread well at this point we could ask who cares?]setting: cologne, the office, flooded with evening sun. time: 20:19. weather: the rain has just stopped. there must be an awesome rainbow somewhere. music: suzyv, song in red & gray. i'm frustrated. i have so many words and i have so little words. so many words for all the useless things and so little words for everything i should say. i haven't written a single word on my dissertation. i don't know when. i don't know how. not even an introduction while precious time is passing by. i prepared the text by derrida for the colloquium today pretty thoroughly and i even thought that i understood most parts of it. and still i couldn't say a single thing about it. everybody else was discussing, throwing in gadamer and searl and foucault and husserl and i sat there with a sudden lack of words. i felt so ashamed. i don't know why i can't talk about these things. maybe because i don't really understand them. i do when thomas explains them. and while i'm writing this i wish that i could sing and that this would be enough. i want to create something and i feel that creating something academic is so much harder, i don't know. it's silly. but my speechlessness in important areas and the unstoppable flooding of words in others is confusing and frustrating.
however there was a great moment in the colloquium when thomas made a freudian slip. last week in his lecture on realism he wanted to say "perfect organism" and he said "perfect orgasm" instead. and today he meant to say "dual origin" and he said "dual orgasm". it was great, because we were all really surprised and said all at once "again!!". it was hillarious. thomas blushed.
and then i came storming into blaine's office this morning and i had made a decision on the train. i decided that i would mail a. and ask her out. so i said to blaine: "do you have a.'s email address? i thought of asking her whether she'd have a coffee with me..." and he said: "sure i have. by the way, she told me saturday that she and oliver [her friend] are planning to marry this year..." great. and then i met nicole and when we had a coffee she first grabbed my arm and then my knee, leaned over the table, fixed me and said: "philipp!" and it sounded like she was going to give away a big secret. "you know after my birthday party one of my friends said that you looked like keanu reeves..." which was a thought that hadn't occured to me before. "and my other friend said that you were so nice and so interesting and that it is such a pity that you're gay..." obviously something goes REALLY wrong here! this morning she (nicole) tried again to pair me off with a friend of hers. which was a nice gesture...
more dark clouds and the smell of rain in the air. the guitar intro of "song in red and gray" makes me craving to play and sing. here's what i want you to do. get out songs in red and gray. i know that you have it. put it on. play track no. 6: "song in red and gray". close your eyes and conecentrate on the voice in the first verse and how softly she is singing the last line "i feel that she peeled back my guilty disguise" (it's 01:04 into the song). i wish that you were as near to me now as her voice is.
once you told me[may 20, 2003 - between them there is only opposition: the entire mechanism of language.]
how your father
took you swimming -
years ago when you were young.
and he told you
that his daughter
had a magic lung
and that you were able
breathing under water.
when he swam
you tried though you
could hardly swim
and almost drowned.
i had trust in you
like you had trust in him.
now i am
i'm tired. can't concentrate. the seminar went well, i guess: we discussed saussure. signed the contract for the apartment this morning. thomas made fun of me - as usual. for various reasons. i'm just back from having dinner with blaine. eva played the new song to us that her friend and she have recorded: pretty cool! think i'm going to watch a video now. i should work but then i have for ten hours.
[later]just watched "slaughterhouse 5". thought that a little bit of culture couldn't hurt. still tired. still headache. bad news for the leineweber gig: the weather is supposed to stay bad: rain and low temperatures. i don't really care tonight. missing my guitar. will you please tell me why i remember these things after all of this time, i don't know. 22:09. dark shades. yellow light. watch ticking. the no said stuff for you. and while this grass go here. tarcking to heirt blight. no puncture iz in my dork. fught blons redfw fhe iunk aerv jjpoijpjo aernvwper- errerevevmkp. if i'm not able to find someone among all these people here then how can i find anybody ever? hgrt 8gaerg 8gaeorig oig iaoeirüjvkv 9t haoeif 9uioeifoefj üwrfoeri04welfjkefoihüa QW* EFJU) THINKING MYSELF TO YOU:
[may 21, 2003 - ...just like everybody else does!!!]sitting in the train back home. just reread the little poem-thing i wrote the day before yesterday. i really like it. really. think it's quite good - actually ;o) but no dissssertahahahation, no! no disshertahahahation, no disssser, no disssser, no disssser, dishertatiohohn! i can write SOMEthing. signs and the feeling of how the pen craves softly onto the paper. as i said before: THIS IS INSTEAD OF A TOUCH. rain clouds, cold wind, tomorrow's cedric's exam. the trees are pathologically green. only three day till the concert. tried to read baudrillard. gave up. too dumb. i already read my failure into the text, my silence that is bad only because it is a disappointment for thomas. i want to be worth all the trust he has put into me. giving me this great job. crying children on the train. endless landscape outside. "i'll tie some poems to my shoes / so when i look down while walking / i think of you / and beauty / and perfection / and derangement"
[may 22, 2003 - i could drink a case of, darling, still i'd be on my feet, i'd still be on my feet]gray, cold day. heating on. lights on. rain. tonight: last rehearsal before the gig. someone i know in cologne has ended the relationship he's had for 9 years yesterday night. today blaine said: "you know, that english friend of mine told me after the birthday party that you looked much bigger and much more attractive than when she saw you last time. she said you had changed so much for the better. and vera [another friend of him] said that you were pretty handsome and that you looked like dave gahan from depeche mode who is her favorite singer and that it's such a pity that you're gay..." it's so strange: i'm getting all those compliments recently, which feels really, really good [of course i'm just making them up myself; but still...]
[later]rehearsal went okay. i think we're all set for saturday. headcrash went well. still i had these thoughts in the middle of the song: what if she will turn up? if only by accident. i don't want this. i'm a bloody liar. i'm fucking pretending that i'm over it. i guess it's like being a drug addict: just only little dose will get you hooked again. i'm over nothing. why i'm thinking about all this again? well, talking with that friend in cologne about relationships made everything surface again. because right when i got to know him we realized that the relationship he had to his friend and the relationship i had to my ex-girlfriend were very similar. and so are the reasons and the structure of the break up. i'm projecting myself into his current situation. it's like talking to my ex-g.f. in a way: he is telling me about what he feels and his longings to break out of the chains of the relation and how he isn't sure what to do and about how he is in love with someone else and about his bad conscience and about how he wants to stay friends with his partner and i keep thinking: this is probably the kind of talk that she had with justine [a friend of hers]. anyway, i explained this to cedric on the phone today and he asked me whether this would open old wounds and i said: "no!" and i meant it and i said "i think i'm pretty much over it. i think all this just leaves me cold now. there's such a lot of distance..." and he said "well, that's good" but then during our conversation he briefly mentioned her - not her name but something about talks they have - and suddenly i realized that i had lied: it still affects me. i still don't want to hear about her. i still get hooked immediately. it's good to move to cologne. it's good to have written that mail to a. an hour ago and ask her out. it's good to think about eva before i fall asleep. it's good to dream of long and exhaustive conversations with suzanne. it's good to realize that i don't know what your face looks like anymore. and it hurts that i still turn my head every time a woman with long brown hair passes by. i don't know. i hope there won't be a surprise on saturday. i'm not prepared for surprises. i want a quiet heart. need to sleep now. good night.
[may 23, 2003 - AND IF YOU DON`T LOVE ME NOW / YOU WILL NEVER LOVE ME AGAIN / I CAN STILL HEAR YOU SAYING YOU WOULD NEVER BREAK THE CHAIN]i can't wait. that's the predominate emotion tonight. and i'm a bit scared of playing the songs in which i have to pick the strings. because usually my hands start shaking when i'm nervous. we'll see. i'm so much looking forward to "headcrash". we have this ending which is so great to play. maybe not to listen to, but to play. and it's a REAL band ending that i will not be able to play on my own. sigh sigh sigh. i want to keep the band. i want more gigs. probably cedric will come, which is good. i wish tara, blaine and eva were there as well. i don't know why but i really wish they would. i even caught myself wishing thomas was there as well!! analyze that! of course i won't keep wishing this tomorrow at three when i have forgotten the lyrics and messed up the picking in "space walk" and nobody will listen and the drunkard in front of the stage keeps requesting "living next door to alice".
i've been listening to fleetwood mac a lot today while looking through my box of old photos. i ordered them and threw away one third of them. mailed back and forth with blaine today. ah, and by the way: a. answered! the other day (when i was still considering whether to mail her or not) i was talking to blaine and he said: do it. and i replied "but i don't even know what to write, how to start? 'dear a.'? or 'hello a.'?" and blaine said "hello dear a.!" and i immediately said: "no! that's too much! that's showing too much interest..." anyway, i decided on "hello a." and she replied today: "hello dear philipp..." - yes, of course i'm sounding like a 15 year old. but that's only because i have to make up for so many years!
and then the other week this friend of mine from cologne who had fallen in love with a man he's only seen for one afternoon was daydreaming about that guy and i said: "you just wait! he probably is a laurie anderson fan." because my friend - let's call him b. - simply hates laurie anderson. on the other hand music is a very, very important part of his life. although his musical taste is rather, well, let's say: "peculiar". basically he hates all good musicians like cohen, vega, reed and especially laurie anderson. and guess what b. mailed today? the guy he's fallen in love with is a BIG anderson fan. HA! poetic justice? his mail had the subject: worst case scenario :o)))))))))))
"I'll follow you down till the sound of my voice will haunt you, You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you" stevie is really a good one. so i'll leave you with my favorite nicks song: "storms"
Every night that goes betweengonna watch the late show now and then it's time for bed. gonna be an exciting day tomorrow.
I feel a little less
As you slowly go away from me
This is only another test
Every night you do not come
Your softness fades away
Did I ever really care that much?
Is there anything left to say?
Every hour of fear I spend
My body tries to cry
Living through each empty night
A deadly call inside
I haven't felt this way I feel
Since many a year ago
But in those years and the lifetimes past
I did not deal with the road
And I did not deal with you I know
Though the love has always been
So I search to find an answer there
So I can truly win
Every hour of fear I spend
My body tries to cry
Living through each empty night
A deadly call inside
So I try to say
Goodbye my friend
I'd like to leave you with something warm
But never have I been a blue calm sea
I have always been a storm
Always been a storm
Always been a storm
I have always been a storm
We were friends...
"Every night he will break your heart"
I should have known from the first
I'd be the broken hearted
But I loved you from the start
And not all the prayers in the world
Could save us
[may 24, 2003 - looking out for love, big big love...]18:21. struggling with postperformance depression. it went well. although we made more mistakes than during the last three weeks of rehearsal - but we played through it pretty professionally so nobody really noticed, i think. cedric was there. unfortunately he had to leave soon after the gig. wish he had stayed and we'd had a drink tonight. after the gig daniel overheard: "they have a cute singer!" of course i'm making this up. i don't want to stay home, tonight. playing felt great, singing felt great. although i was scared beyond belief! the stage was huge! the sound was good! and "headcrash" went well. up to now "cultural studies ii" had been the most powerful song but i think "headcrash" took its place. reiner said that a woman in the audience asked whether we would like to play at an open air in august. in haltern (?) and daniel said that it was a BIG venue with thousands of people. we'll see. and the guys from newtone said that they'll release another "soundz of the city" sampler in the fall and that we should contribute a song. so yes: it was suboptimal but still great.
don't want to stay home tonight.
[later, 0:32. pc switched off already but then turned on again...]
lightning strikes. maybe once, maybe twice. and it all comes down to you. it all comes down to you. and it all comes down to you. she's right, of course. what it all comes down to is the question: would you fall in love with me again? i think i have to get used to the thought of living with this question. i think it will accompany me all my life. being the first thing i wonder in the morning and the last at night. it's the ghost of the second chance of which i'm not even sure whether i want to have it. i guess i would just blow it again. and now - one month before moving to cologne - these thoughts keep coming more frequently. i want to see you again. i don't want to see you again. i don't know what i want except for not wanting to be alone. you haven't mailed since we last saw us the other week. i'm not sure whether i hurt you with what i wrote in my last mail. so i'm back to the velvet underground. you know that it does! headache. i'm all wound up, can't sleep. everything is at its place except for you. would the songs this afternoon have made you reconsider? would my voice have changed your mind? i don't think so. even when the monitor implodes to black and the humming of the pc ceases and i have switched off the light the question will still be there in the room like a blinking neonlight advertisement in "vertigo", changing from red to green to red: would you fall in love with me again?
[may 25, 2003 - your eyes say yes, but you don't say yes]strange day. had a coffee with nadine and then we went to the "leineweber", a city festival, basically a big fair. it's good to realize that you don't miss a thing if you don't go there: basically just a lot of people eating expensive bratwürste and drinking beer. this morning i tried to work, but couldn't concentrate. tara mailed: derrida will be in heidelberg next week. but that's definitely too far away. and did you say he was pretty? and did you say that he loves you? baby, i don't wanna know. guess i'm reading some freud now [the only level of intellectual writing that i can handle today], eat something and pack my things for next week. it's like there was some chip implanted in my brain that paralyzes my thinking. a short circuit of thoughts that circle around a well known one point attractor. and although i know that it's wrong it doesn't change anything. even if i am in love with you, all this to say, what's it to you?
[later]strange excitement als ob ungeschriebene lieder mir durch den magen geistern. it's eight:ten at night. light fading, temperatures sinking, people driving home. packed my things. read a little. almost fell asleep.
[may 27, 2003 - ]feeling silly. it's hot and humid and it feels like half of my brain was missing. it's 16:36 on a tuesday nihgt. seminar went well: death of the author. some people were shocked. one student came to blaine afterwards and was close to tears. it astonishing again and again how much people cling to the conventional notion of an author.
Subject: nixin the meantime it's 18:23. going to have dinner with sirka tonight.
Date: Sun, 26 May 2002 02:05:59 +0200
since there have been so many references to Stevie Nicks (Fleetwood Mac) in your diary, lately, I thought, probably, it is now time to send you the clustered parts of lyrics that have originally been intended to be about the short, beautiful woman in question ... (... too sad, that I'am gay ....):
"they kept you simple
because you were complicated
there is a curl and a dimple
and they are related
to hair full of thoughts
and a head full of spiders and dreams
in my language your name sounds like nothing
in your language i don't even exist ..."
[later]00:13: i'm just back. had a beer with sirka. talked about music and families and exam topics. very nice evening: it was still warm so we were sitting outside. feeling a little dizzy from the beer.
[may 28, 2003 - keeptryingforyoukeeplyingforyoukeeptryingforyou]bad bad dreams: cedric called and said something to the extent of "did somebody talk to you already" and i knew that something must have happened because he mentioned her at all to me and i said "why?" and i was at the university in the office which looked different suddenly but was still my office and we had a hollow earth meeting and despite that cedric was on the phone and not there in person and he said "hm, i can't tell you too much, you will probably see" and he was smiling at the other end of the line and suddenly i knew that somebody wanted to come back and then i was talking to blaine about this in an alley and she had written a mail to him, a desperate mail and she wrote about me but actually about her saying that she had tried to kill herself and that she would try again and that she had made a mistake and then i woke up and it took me almost a minute to realize that it had only been a dream. it still feels totally real.
i hate myself.
when i checked my inbox i had a desperate mail from paula.
[later]great - i'm on the way back. it's too hot. i'm too sweaty. the train is too crowded. omnipresent feeling: frustration about being alone. all the people outside and me in a plathish architecture under a bell jar. the only thing that seems to get through is music. wears me out. which leaves me with the question: why doesn't the feeling wear out when the words do? i can still sense traces of the feeling of the dream from last night in my mind. it's good to have the gigs this weekend. thomas gave me some advice this morning on how to continue making music: "you've got to find someone" he said enthusiastically, "someone who can handle the technical aspect. you know: some samples, keyboards, soundbites, beatbox and who can also do some backing vocals. of course it has to be a woman, a female voice. you have to make a flyer. why don't you pin a flyer to the blackboard of the music department? you know, a little laurie anderson, THAT'S what you need..." only the music. and of course the question is why "only"? the question is why i'm still asking questions in the first place. i want to fall in love again! really: don't tell me it doesn't happen because i'm not ready yet because i am! it will be hard to come up with an appropriate text for a flyer. i can't remember that the train has ever been so crowded except right before christmas. i'm tired. had almost fallen asleep during the guest lecture this afternoon. the feeling of the dream is there like the bright spots in your vision that stay and dance after you've looked into the sun for too long. i think it IS in a way like linda looking into the cracked mirror sadly or rather: void of any expression, coming into the room like she had heard an unusual sound and wants to check what it was. a photo that has been falling from the wall, a bird that's been flying through the open window by accident. someone waiting for her. something waiting for her. but always behind the glass that's cracked in a spiral, a vortex, a one point attractor spinning towards a black square, an empty space where you just see the walls, the space where representation ceases to work: behind the mirror is the wall. and what you see in the glass lies behind you. lies. lies. i can't say why that photo fascinates me so much! the young woman opposite is closing the book she's been reading. hesse: der steppenwolf. schade. she looked nice. random chalk patterns on the window from raindrops that have dried. traces. spaces. "i'm not a child anymore. your eyes say yes but you don't say yes" what a dream that has been.
[may 29, 2003 - So now you're saying you've been wrong / And you want to come back home / You know I've known all along / That you had a heart of stone]it's a holiday. which is bad because my fridge is practically empty. sun is shining. paula wrote. i think i'm going to take my stuff and go in the park, working there. favorite fleetwood mac song of the day: heart of stone. news about the gig tomorrow: we will be the last but one band. vorletzte. :o( thought we were the last band then we could play basically as many songs as we would have liked. now we have to restrict the set to 30-35 minutes. well, on sunday we will hopefully have the chance to play anything we like. i borrowed thomas' video camera and maybe we can tape the gig on sunday. would be a nice memory. so on friday night (ca. 10pm) chattanooga and on sunday afternoon (ca. 4pm) jz oerlinghausen. so be there or be square!!!
had a strange dream tonight, fortunately without a certain somebody. but thomas was in it. and it was set in the university and it was very vivid and frightening at parts and real and then i heard a new song by suzanne which was great but when i woke up i couldn't remember it. boy, strange plot! can't really recall everything or describe it here but it was surreal! like in a dream!
from a mail to paula:you know, sometimes i think that the break up has been the best thing that could have happened to me. it initiated change. it made a difference. it menat dynamics. and then again i think that thinking this is really mad!
i'm sitting in the park, red blanket on green grass. it's sunny, warm, hot, i've unbuttoned my shirt [wo-ho!] and it is blown by the warm wind like a sail. the water fountain is working soundlessly, the lawn is freshly cut and is smelling like childhood, the people are relaxed and quiet and lying on other blankets strewn all over the hill on their backs or bellies and from above the park must look like a broken chess board. the bushes and flowers are blooming among the uncountable variations of green that are broken up into a million small leaves, each one leading a separate life, moving in the wind, like scales. and behind all these green fishes the sky blue sky endless and transparent. it's so beautiful that i start to lose verbs "she is dancing away from you now" stevie nicks is singing "and it all comes down to you" and the eight rising and falling notes of the keyboard riff in "gypsy" are as real as the grass, the blanket and the wind that messes up my hair and makes the trees move AND I SWEAR THEY ARE DANCING TO THE MUSIC I SWEAR THEY ARE DANCING PAULA WHAT TO DO WITH SO MUCH BEAUTY?? i want to be part of it! i want to be beautiful, too. my words and my voice and my music and my body i want it all to be beautiful to be part of it. i feel like i''m soaked with music, it's not mine, though, it's what i'm listening to this moment or another but it always gets so close to me. i'm sitting in the burning sun and the coda of "silver springs" gives me goose-flesh. nothing else can do this. not even what i felt for [censored] could do this.
[may 30, 2003 - da da da da da da, da da da dadadada]first things first: favorite fleetwood mac song of the day: "i know i'm not wrong". great track. a little unusual as the most of lindsay buckingham's contributions but great harp tune consisting of, hm, about three or for notes only. quite an uplifting tune and thus fitting perfectly because it has been a beautiful summer day. tonight: gig at the chattanooga. i'm really looking forward to playing live tonight! and any other occasion :o) today cedric asked whether the nerve bible would play at a garden party that he and tara want to organize this summer. and no kidding: yesterday night i was thinking the same thing! because i was pretty sad that the gigs were over soon so i thought about where we could play next and i remembered that i had promised to play for tara (it was one of her birthday presents from six months ago!) and i thought that we should play a small gig at tara & cedric's. in other news: corrected term papers, went shopping (the fridge was completely empty), rehearsed the set for tonight.
[later, 01:20am]i'm just back. it was great. unfortunately we were the last band so most people had already left when we finished the set. however some stayed. daniel brought seven friends which was good. after the gig the boss of reiner [who is the owner of a big guitar and bass store and a music school and who has organized the festival] came to us and was very very enthusiastic. who knows what it's good for. now: predictable post per-dep. even though i'm pretty tired and a little drunk. es kotzt mich so an, allein zu sein, das könnt ihr euch nicht vorstellen. you know, this is the actual magic of performing: besides the fun and the energy it's the silly hope that something will happen. that someone beautiful will step out of the lights and say: "hey! i really liked the songs. would you join me for a drink?" now, when i'm counting the set lists that i've saved it ads up to about 30 concerts that we've done. but not even after a single one did someone approach me and said: "you're kind of interesting and i'm kind of interesting as well. why don't you find out?" so why did i think that it would happen tonight???
but besides this it went well. daniel was a little drunk so he forgot a couple of breaks but i don't think that anybody noticed. unfortunately the lights were pretty bright so i could not really see the faces of the audience: there were just legs that dissovled into the lights. so i sang to an imaginary audience behind this curtain of light. the band before us had a very "hard" sound: the singer temporarily thought he was jim morrison: he sang barefeet and shirtless and drank from a bottle of red wine from time to time. so i started our set by announcing: "i'll tell you one thing straight away: i'm NOT going to undress!" and then i welcomed everyone to our günther pfitzmann memorial evening (a german actor who had died today) and i told the fictive story of my grandfather who was an astronaut before we played "space walk". as an encore we did "disneyhead" and daniel announced it: "for a friend who cannot be here tonight."
[later, about three in the morning: there's another life for you / pretty rose and pretty fell / my hair burns with a funny smell / i felt too deep today...guitarsolo]i mean, tell me: what the fuck am i doing wrong? it's been almost two years now! working at the language department of one of germany's biggest universitys means that i'm with the biggest group of intelligent, young, interesting women you can think of: 3000 or something students, 65% female! i'm not too old, i can be quite charming if i want (granted: i'm a little self centered) but still everyone around me is having new relationships, new loves except for me! what the fucking hell is wrong with me??? i don't get it!! it's really frustrating.
take care. good night.
[may 31, 2003 - And even if you did miss me / You never let me know]favorite fleetwood mac song of the day: "paper doll" - great drums and of course the best part is the bridge! great melody! "He says well I have forgotten you / And your beautiful eyes / We were off the wall / We were mirrors of our former selves"
the weather is still warm but less sunny. i'm cleaning the apartment, windows open, music on.
[later]it's night now. still warm outside. hope that you are well. tomorrow: concert. now: thoughts. and music. my heart became a bone, my mind left me alone everything is at its place. except for you. from the broken lines in space i can tell that it's not just the sun but your face that curves the room as well. tomorrow: a new month. don't really know what to write. i'm tired. missing a pair of arms. bah! what a silly sentence. what a stupid feeling. really. so cheers to us! and to what's lost. it was well worth losing!