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[june 01, 2005 - why don't you take me down / and tell me all your plans / i got it all worked out / and i'm in your hand...]
it's almost midnnight and i've just returned home. when i wanted to drive home this afternooon at about six i knocked on blane's office door. nobody answered. so i checked s.'s office next door and there he was, drinking champagne with s., j. and k. so i joined them for a glass. or they forced me to. later on, g. and t. came as well and at about seven we decided to all have a pizza together so the seven of us went out and i got pretty drunk and we went from the restaurant to a bar and it was very nice, such a spontaneous get together with my colleagues. i love our department. i like the people i work with. it's great and unique. anyway, at one point during the evening i went outside the bar and i stood on the square in front of it and i looked up at the sky with the stars and my dizzy head and my thought which only revolved around one thing and i suddenly got so sad that i felt so alone even though i was among all these people, all these friends, and i called princess superstar and was sad and told her so and told her whom i miss and i almost started to cry and i was drunk and confused and i looked at the stars and at the phone i swear that i would have ... i don't know ... very weird.

paula wrote:

 i watched you sing over and over and i cried so hard. you were here. i wish i could be there.
it's 00:04 now. my eyes are tired, my head aches. actually i wanted to go to the gym tonight. i haven't been in three days. i ate so much today: the pizza and the some candy bars and i had all these beers and actually i wanted to write mails tonight and update the journal properly. i'm sorry. you know what for. and if you don't know it doesn't matter much. i long for your arms and your voice. i long for your smell and how you breathe beside me. i long for peace and quietness and the miracle you brought into my life.
[june 2, 2005 - i've locked inside / you'de be surprised if shown / but you'll never, you'll never know!]
haven't been to the gym in four days and need to go tonight. i was so tired today that i went home and four and slept for an hour. i really could need some days off. the conference organization has entered the 'hot phase' - there are only 28 days to go - and yesterday the felt arrived and stefanie and nadine cut it into the right-sized pieces which we brought to the printer today. unfortunately this semester' exam essays will have to be corrected from june 24th to july 04th, which is exactly during the conference which will go from june 30 to july 03. this means that bernd and i will have to correct the essays while organizing and writing our talks. which won't make things easier or more relaxed.

our little get-together yesterday nighti think i sort of shocked nadine today. when we were on our way to get the felt to the printer in her car we had a conversation about parenthood and about children and i told her that i did not want to have children.
"what?" she asked "why not?!" and i said
"i don't know. i just can't think of any reason why one would want to have children in the first place"
"well, they're part of you and they remain when you have died. so something of you will live on!"
"well, when i'm dead, i'm dead and i don't care then whether something of me will live on..."
"and what if you partner wants to have children?" she asked
"hm, i don't mind if she has children, as long as they're not MINE"
"you mean you wouldn't mind that your wife sleeps with another man to become pregnant?"
"well, they don't have to have SEX. there's artificial insemination..." a comment which left her speechless.
am i strange? maybe i am.

it's half past midnight already. was at the gym which felt good. wrote to paula. she said that she had the funny wish that she could cook for me. i really, really wish i had more money. the first thing i'd do was sending paula a plane ticket to cologne. i really would love to meet her in person. we've mailed for over seven years now. it might be one of the longest relations i had in my life. the later it gets the more melancholic i become. it's important not to miss the critical point, to be in bed soon enough not to get swept away. to sleep before, well, you know. i don't even know why i bother writing in the first place. you know. read an old mail from somebody when i was looking through the online journal no 1 and wished i could talk to her. i wonder how she is and what she's doing and what exactly has happened that changed the situation so drastically that she doesn't want to talk to me. the last time i saw her she said good-bye to me in cedric's house. she had driven me to stay with tara and cedric because she was afraid that i might not be able to cope with our break up. well, with *her* break up. i remember the drive from bielefeld to herford. i was sitting in the car next to her and i didn't feel a thing. i was totally numb inside. it ws all so surreal and i had no idea what was going on. i was stunned and couldn't think. the fields passed by and the trees passed by and we'd been driving this road so many times when we visited cedric. i don't know why i'm remembering all these things now. it's like the past breaks away piece by piece, person by person. "i swear that i would have called you if i was sure you were alone".
[june 3, 2005 - if you detect a smile / it's as i dream of foreign lands / and let things get out of hand / is exactly what i've got planned]
hot and humid day. thunderstorm in the evening. lightning struck across the sky as i was listening to lotion's "around" on the stepper. sublime moment when, almost five minutes into the song, the harmony changed and the strings set in and my skin bubbled like champagne as they were demanding "put your troubles behind you / put your love in my hands!"

we worked all day for the conference. the poster and the program are finished. made some film-clips for thomas' lecture and had a coffee with blane. also made some 200 lurkers cds because j. had asked me last week whether she could have ten more copies. i wonder what she's doing with them all :o) paula wrote and i'm dead tired now.

there have been a couple of causes that made me think about the journal and its 'poetics' - if one wants to use such a big term. and i had the old argument with princess superstar again. *sigh* maybe i am the only one who feels how fictitious the journal is in the first place. and how little what i write has to do with me or the people described, how much language displaces and condenses 'reality' and how impossible it is to relate word and worlds. the more precisely i'm trying to describe ideas, emotions, situations or other people the more i realize how much the initial 'event' and its representation differ. the more i'm writing about myself the less i find myself within the writing. the more 'intimate' i get, the more alien and unfamiliar the narrator of this journal seems to be to me. the direct 'journal style' doesn't seem to be able to give away anything about *me*, or differently: the direct style of the journal makes things blur and be out of focus. in contrast, the vague metaphors and unspecified images in the lyrics of the 200 lurkers seem to capture what and how i feel much better. i feel more exposed and 'intimate' in the lyrics than here, even if i'm posting links to pathetic, embarrassing little mpg.-files. but the point is that there's a vast space to hide behind all this 'naturalness' and 'honesty'. i've gotten a lot of comments in the feedback-forms which say that what people like about the journal is the honesty. and i always ask myself: how can any reader tell what is 'honest' about the journal? what gives them the impression that all this is true? am i such a good writer? why do they assume that what is expressed here is honest and true? especially people who do not know me or other persons mentioned in the journal. maybe all this is fake [i *have* used a couple of fake photos, for example], maybe i've only invented that i'm going to the gym, maybe i've only invented x. and paula, and maybe i'm not a man but a woman. i might as well be some kind of computer program designed to generate text that appears to be composed by a human being; maybe i am just a kind of weird turing-test! nobody can really tell what is a fiction in this journal and what is true. and since this differentiation cannot be made any longer the terms don't really make sense anymore.

but still people are telling me: "you simplify things, you cannot simply say that the journal is fictitious!" sometimes i would love to answer: okay, try this: sit down at the end of the day and write down what you've experienced, the conversations you've had and the hopes, fears and emotions you've felt. and you will realize that this is not possible. you will notice that - while writing - you're constantly thinking: that's not *really* what i thought. that's not *really* what we've talked about. this is not *really* how i felt. because there's no way to mirror the world, to make a 1:1 copy: the level of distortion that is inherent in the translation process [and in my case a double translation: world into words and german into english] will make you come up with a result that's totally unsatisfying. and you lean back, reread what you've written and think: "*that* is supposed to have been my day? no way!" you will have left out important things, you will have added or changed details. of course the subgenre of the journal helps to negate these distortions and enforces the fiction of a 1:1 image of 'reality'.

what is the point then, you might wonder. why bother writing anyway? for a number of reasons: first of all, writing is fun. i enjoy it. i'm not enjoying it for expressing some truths or for describing some 'state of affairs", but simply for the almost childlike pleasure of 'speaking'. second, the writing substitutes for talking to a partner. you might have noticed that i haven't really updated the journal when i was together with x. because i could talk to her. these conversations are now lead with the journal. and for the third, and most important, reason let me quote paula from her poem "levels of edit":

no: this writing is not exempt:
it remains, like all writing,
a pathetic attempt
to make you understand
that *my heart is breaking*
so, that's been my little friday night rambling. the wind is getting stronger and the trees are foaming. the smell of rain is in the air, which is pleasant after the heat and humidity. it's time to go to bed. need to be fresh for the weekend's work and all my plans. put your troubles behind you. put your love in my hands.
[june 4, 2005 - and all i ever wanted / was just to come in from the cold]
woke up with a headache, which is not the best precondition to start my work-on-deleuze-you-bonehead-weekend. thank god the weather has cooled down. spent the morning shopping groceries and cleaning the apartment. fixed myself a cup of coffee and now i'm all set to explain how you [not] make yourself a body without organs.

song of the day: "river" by joni mitchell.

It's coming on Christmas | They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer | And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river | I could skate away on
But it don't snow here | It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money | Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river | I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long | I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river | I could skate away on
I made my baby cry

She tried hard to help me | You know, she put me at ease
And she loved me so naughty | Made me weak in the knees
Oh I wish I had a river | I could skate away on
I'm so hard to handle | I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've got lost the best baby | That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river | I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long| I would teach my feet to fly
I made my baby say goodbye
i wish i had a river i could skate awaaaayyyyyy ooooon.......

later: thunder and lightning. sudden, heavy rain that clears the air and simultanous sunshine so bright that i have to pinch my eyes. there must be a beautiful rainbow somewhere over town, but it's out of my sight. when i returned from the gym i found a mail by paula in my inbox: totally unusual time for her to write. she didn't really send anything but a poem:

live it all now and pierce it down,
hold the meaning inside
and still impart the force
the gears need to tell the story.

drive all night alone and pass relay towers,
red lights run up them like a spine.
you in a radio car sending messages
to nightswimmers and runaways.

now the margin lists right.
there is a beforehand.
a lost life comes back,
speeding along the lawns.

if i give my heart to you and say:
take this, my heart, and take care of it,
for this is the only way it can exist
outside my body --

then hands, then breath.
the moon a tell-all for love.
a lake, you and i swimming to the middle,
and boxes of coats on the shore.

things that cover us completely.
i am looking at a black & white picture
of my sister as a baby. eyes as black dots.
the truth hadn't occurred to her yet.

she has a way with words that i only know from kisses or from touches. her words travel my body like fingers of former lovers. i'm missing you.
[june 5 -
my saturday nightwhen i was typing quotations from beautiful losers i came across the beginning of chapter 21: "Among the curious items I inherited from F. is a box of fireworks packed by Rich Brothers Fireworks Co., Sioux Fall, South Dakota." (BL 62) and i thought: "this is where paula lives!" i checked the net, and the company still exists! :o) maybe paula can send me such a box of fireworks one day. not much happened: strange mix of sun and rain again. gathered some quotations. went to the gym. fixed myself a big bowl of salad. it's night now. i'm going to watch zimmer frei now and then i'll hopefully drift into refreshing dreams. tomorrow in the colloquium we will discuss parts of blane's dissertation. suddenly today i wasn't sure anymore whether i am able to put together a talk. for a moment i considered canceling the whole thing, to say to thomas that i can't make it. but this would mean to prove to myself that i'm not an academic in the first place. and it would mean that i would have to look for another job. i might not be an academic at heart, but i HAVE to come up with 30 minutes of anything reasonable about deleuze and cohen! oh well, blah blah! paula wrote today. 23:00. are you thinking at me right now, too? are you thinking at me at all? today when i was fixing dinner, i got mad and angry for a moment, really mad, and i thought: if i had known that i'd end up to be just another name on her long list of ex-boyfriends i would NEVER have ... well, too late. and being angry doesn't help at all. well, writing doesn't help either.
[june 6, 2005 - magic is afoot. god is alive. magic is afoot. god is afoot. magic is alive. alive is afoot. magic never died...]
monday night. the sinking sun is painting a golden shine onto the houses across the yard. listening to the theme from american beauty. the movie was part of the deleuze lecture today and i made the clips this morning that thomas showed and i realized again what a great film it is. the music is achingly beautiful: some ambient keyboard sounds and then very, very soft and careful piano chords like drops of water, encompassing everything that is expressed by 'beauty' when lester says in the end from the off (while the camera shows a white plastic bag that is dancing in the wind):
... it's hard to stay mad,
when there's so much beauty in the world.
Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once,
and it's too much,
my heart fills up like a balloon
that's about to burst...
these are the moments when i'm missing you most. when my heart is filled like a balloon and the only thing i wish for is to share this feeling. with you. with anybody. when i'm overwhelmed by the beauty of those little things, like a dancing plastic bag, or by the color of the light that slides down the walls of the houses across the yard like honey, or by soft piano chords, either in american beauty or in magnolia's "wise up", or by the way her hair was tumbling down the side of her neck and her skin and her skin... it doesn't matter. it's there. like magic. "magic is afoot. magic is alive." and i have to cope with it alone. i have to stand it on my own.

wrote to paula. still have to prepare the session for tomorrow. it's 10:14 pm already. i'm thirsty. [later] 23:37. i can't sleep. music in my head. music in my head. music in my head. wet keys. music in my head. music in my head. music in my head. music in my head. music in my head. music in my head. myousic in my head. myousic in my head. myousic in my head. myousic in my head. myousic in my head. myiusoc ni hey mad umsyuoin scheda eish k ol doen o ADS JH  a bl kjfibu uj juu ksd apsdo dui bai hu ich kiebr dich duch so. fuck duckfhjb 8 kdfj aö nlkj o  fduvhhvudjköoi 89 dfosaö hdlnvdfl üäaop9v hiu iuh4 98r aiour ruiheiu hi 89 heiu hi werig hiu iuqölaölk üo 0qlkhv öao hoiv h hqao    weopuhj oih iho98hnk hrfhi hiur qeght  heruvner 908h erhhvohvqhqv oih

[june 7, 2005 - ordinary eternal machinery like the grinding of the stars]
well, the seminar went better than expected. i even seem to have raised some genuine sparks of interest in a few students. we talked about freud today and about his 'new' concept of the subject in contrast to the 'romantic' idea of the subject in the enlightenment. later on more conference preparations. extracted more quotations from beautiful losers, although i'm totally confused as to how i should interpret them. is the Danish Vibrator a molar, symbolic and castrating machine? does it produce empty and fascist BwOs? or does it unblock the flow of desires and help the protagonists to couple to the plane of immanence? so many questions. sigh. :o) went to the gym at night which was good because the only thing you have to do at the gym is move. on the spot. you don't have to think. you don't even have to think about the direction that you're moving. it's stupid, pointless up and down, up and down, left leg, right leg, left leg, right leg. if it goes well in tune and rhythm with the music. you sweat and you breathe heavily, but you don't have to think. thinking is work. moving is not work. it's just, well, moving. i also have to come up with an idea for a seminar next summer. haven't really decided on what to do. actually i had planned to have my dissertation finished by then. HA HA HA HA! yeah, i know: good one! maybe i'll do something on 'american classics': poe, whitman, plath, melville, pynchon, fitzgerald. i think i would love to do a laurie anderson seminar. but this would eat up a lot of preparation time. plus there isn't so much secondary material on anderson. i'll do the 'american classics' next summer and i'll do the laurie anderson seminar when i've grown-up.

it's 23:11 already. careful piano spots while i'm writing. my new favorite song. maybe it would be nice to invent some lyrics and a melody for it. don't really know why i'm posting so many pictures recently. probably a petty and desperate attempt to create some kind of intimacy that language cannot provide. as if the images could! as if i could upload parts of my personality by inserting a blurred picture of my eye. as if this could substitute, "but it just don't do it / like the feel of a warm, warm body / loving your touch". maybe i think that this comes closest to a touch. maybe i think that this comes closest to share a heart filled like a balloon about to burst. i've gotten very melodramatic recently. can you be endlessly tired? i keep writing to you even though you're not there. three months. probably even longer. how long had you already been gone before you went? the music makes me remember you because it sounds how your skin felt and how your neck smelled. i never thought that this would be possible, but it does. and still you're not here. though the music is playing on repeat it cannot bring you here. 23:38. the narrator in beautiful losers states: "Desire changes the world ... Catherine Tekakwitha, do you see how I get carried away? How I want the world to my mystical and good? Are the stars tiny after all? Who will put us to sleep? Should I save my fingernails? Is matter holy?" (BL 5) No new messages on server. how could i even dare to go to bed with all these dangerous thoughts circling through my mind. what will happen when i'm almost asleep? what kind of power will they develop once my eyes get heavy and i start drifting away. where will they take me when i won't be able to fight and repress them any longer? and how aching, sudden and painful will the jerk be that pulls me out of the dreams and releases me into vastness of the bed in the dark or into the sodden morning.

[june 8, 2005 - it's a good day to run away]
anne bancroft who died todayi'm home. listening to laurie anderson's concert in new york, 9/19/2001, just a week after 9/11. her voice is definitely something that fills my heart up like a balloon. anne bancroft has died. die guten werden immer weniger :o( more organization today. copied more quotations. returned at seven. dinner. now: replying a couple of mails. bit my cheek. it hurts now and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. lost some verbs today and some subjects.

"They say that heaven is like TV / A perfect little world that doesn't really need you / And everything there is made of light / And the days keep going by / Here they come Here they come" eyes ache. i put down the glasses and raise my hands to rub my eyes and when i put them down to the keyboard the fingers are wet and someone has planted perfectly cut diamonds into my eyes and they make the light break and sparkle like kaleidoscopes.

"what's this? a little dust in my eye.
it's 4 am.
i'm standing by the bed where you lie.
i put my fingers to your lips: warm air.
then you slip away.
you slip away.
and after all the shocks.
the way the heart unlocks.
and we slip away.
we slip away.
i'm thinking about the way that lost things always come back
looking like something else
a fishing pole, a shoe, an old shirt, a lucky day
ooo then they slip away into the remains of the day
ooo they slip away. they slip away.
i know that sometime i'll stop looking for you.
stop seeing your face every day
bad dreams and nightmares and big bad wolves
ooo they slip away into the remains of the day
ooo they slip away into the remains of the day
they slip away
you told me you had no idea
how to die
but i
saw the way
the light
left your eyes
and after all the shocks
the way the heart unlocks
and ooo
then you

there's not much more to report. i'm tired. the music sucks all tension out of my body and i'm arching over the keyboard with a bend back and if it wasn't for the piano chords that travel up and down the vertebra like pebbles skipping over the surface of a lake my spine would simply fold and collapse. time for bed. take care. goodnight

[june 9, 2005 - and the future is certain / give us time to work it out]
got a much needed dose of irony and self reflexivity today when i was listening to the talking heads' "road to nowhere" on the stepper. the manic marching rhythm and mr. byrne's unsubtle voice made me step faster and faster. "would you like to come along / you can help me sing this song / and it's all right / baby it's all right." be prepared: lots of lyrics again today! it's gonna be more of a collage than a real entry. lately it seems that i don't really participate in my life anymore. it sort of happens without me being really involved. it's like what my writer friend paula said:
"i was in the back yard about two hours ago with my dog and i found a dead bird. i got a clear plastic bag, the kind you get from the grocery store, and picked up the bird with it. i was walking to the garbage can when the bird opened up its eye and said to me, "life is never enough". then i threw it away. i don't even know what more to say about that."
today the posters and programs for the conference arrived. or rather: we picked them up. they look great! it's white writing (arial, of course) on dark, gray felt. it looks classy and pretty stylish :o) tomorrow thomas, nadine and i will meet downtown to search for a fabric that we use for the "deleuzian events" labels that we're planning to sew onto the t-shirts. we decided against printing the t-shirts and for creating small labels which will be sewed to the back of the shirts as if "deleuzian events" was some kind of brand name. could look good. listened to laurie anderson today. "blue lagoon" on repeat. "I got your letter. Thanks a lot. I've been getting lots of sun. And lots of rest. It's really hot. Days, I dive by the wreck. Nights, I swim in the blue lagoon. Always used to wonder who I'd bring to a desert island."

when i stepped out of the gym and onto the parking lot in the twilight, tired and sweaty, there was a fatzke (what's this in english? 'fop'?) just unlocking his bike: wearing designer jeans, hip shirt and sneakers, 70s hairstyle, 10 years younger and 15 times healthier than me. with one hand he was turning the key in the lock, with the other he was holding his mobile to his ear: and he performed this complicated operation so gracefully as if he was dancing. and i felt the rage and envy rise in me. and i saw him talking into the mobile and even though he was too far away from me to understand what he was saying i knew what it was because suddenly i knew that he was talking to x. and he was saying: "yes, sweetheart, i'm just about to get on my bike and drive to you. sure, let's have a beer. and yes: i can stay over tonight." the idea of not only having lost her but having lost her to another person hit me like a brick falling out of the sky without reason and from out of nowhere. like the spotlight that's crashing onto the street in the movie the truman show. only that it didn't miss me by an inch but hit me right on the head. "Days, I remember cities. Nights, I dream about a perfect place. Days, I dive by the wreck. Nights, I swim in the blue lagoon. Full fathom five thy father lies. Of his bones are coral made. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him that doth fade. But that suffers a sea change. Into something rich and strange. And I alone am left to tell the tale. Call me Ishmael." i hope you ever get this letter. thinking of you. love and kisses. blue pacific. signing off.

[friday, june 10, 2005 - we're on the road to nowhere / come on inside]
yesterday: quotations. today: images. good day at work today. not that i managed to do a lot, only that it was fun. n. had her final exams today and she got all straight as :o))) achim came by visiting, which was fun. then on the stepper satyagraha again. it's soooo great! i had the images from the dvd in my mind all the time, you know the dvd that x. gave me as a present. actually i think it would be great to have an opera night at the department (we already had kalkofe nights and ellen nights, which were a lot of fun). maybe to 'inaugurate' our new video projector that we have ordered the other week. it would be great to have the images on a big screen, with powerful boxes and some beer & chips. i wonder, however, if anybody esle would be interested in watching it.

not much to report. it's almost midnight and i gonna get some sleep now. tomorrow night it's gordon's birthday party, and before i want to get some work done. if you ever get a chance to listen to satyagraha, do so! it's overwhelming!

[june 11, 2005 - "I saw things change their nature by mere intensification of their properties" (BL 160)]
extracting quotations from beautiful losers, and they send showers down my spine. partly because they seem to fit so neatly into a deleuzian framework and terminology, partly because they are 'simply' beautiful: "I wanted your confusion to be a butterfly net for magic" (BL 160)
later, much later
it's 4:44 in the morning and i've just returned from gordon's birthday party. we had a lot of fun and still, even though all these people were there, well, you know. i don't need to tell you. even though everybody was laughing and glasses were clinging i had the american beauty theme in my head all the time and i could hardly understand what people were saying because it was playing so prominently in my head. and then i had to go outside and i took my mobile phone and i had to decide: either calling x. or calling princess superstar. and when she answered the phone i could tell that she had been sleeping already. and the princess said with a sleepy voice: "can i call you back tomorrow?" and i said : sure and i said sure and i said sure and i said : i'm sorry but she had already hung up. more piano and more champagne and more mouths moving and lips talking to me without communicating and i was looking at the moon above the house and the stars and the big dipper and the stars and the stars and more music more music. now the birds are singing and it's slowly getting brighter and brighter outside. more kaleidoscope vision and more kaleidoscope sound and you in every dark corner of my fucking heart in my fucking empty room and my fucked up life. i love you. why didn't this make any difference?.
[june 12, 2005 - welcome to you who read me today. welcome to you who put my heart down. welcome to you, darling and friend, who miss me forever in your trip to the end]
slept for four hours. then woke up, still a little intoxicated. went to the gym and catabolized the alcohol on the stepper. did the laundry and worked. fixed myself a salad and worked some more. mailed to paula. talked to princess superstar on the phone. got a mail from amazon that the copy of anti-oedipus i had ordered a month back has finally been shipped. so i'll probably get it tomorrow. more american beauty soundtrack. looped. got ice cold fingers. i'm sorry, but i can't really provide any exciting stories today. sundays are always passing by too slow or too fast. this one has been too fast.

... oh. die dicke frau ist bei zimmer frei.

[june 13, 2205 - and what a day that was...]
oh jeh. came home tonight and while watching the news i fell asleep and i was only waking up because i was drooling on my shirt. i finally hit patheticness' rock-bottom :o)

thomas' deleuze lecture was pretty good today. he talked about the body without organs and of course he said all the things i wanted to say in my talk - only he did it better. sigh. in the evening nadine and i went to the 'literaturhaus' where the first day of the conference will take place: great venue!

the students are on strike. so i have no idea whether my seminar tomorrow will actually take place. we'll see.

[june 14, 2005 - and now i am breathing water]
well, night again. busy day: we managed to get a lot of stuff organized for the conference, which is good. my seminar didn't really take place since the students are on strike because of the impending tuition fees.

when i was cycling home from the gym the sky was red from the sinking sun and it was still very mild and warm and the swallows were shrieking while they were diving between the canyons of the houses through which i was riding as if in a boat, as if on a river.

[june 15, 2005 ]
it's one o'clock in the morning. i've just returned from having a beer with blane, sirka and eva. i ended up singing 'say a little prayer for you' on the street while accompanying myself with the bicycle bell.
[june 16, 2005 - don't let on / don't let go / it's just parts of who you are]
yesterday i got so old i felt like i could die. yesterday i got so old it made me want to cry. go on go on, just walk away. go on go on, your choice is made. go on go on, and disappear. go on go on, away from here and i know i was wrong when i said it was true that it couldn't be me and be her inbetween without you.
without you.

another day over. more or less successfully. the flyers for the concert and party that will be part of the conference have arrived today: they look great! the entire event really has gotten a kind of professional touch :o) maybe nadine, nina, stefanie and i *should* change into event-management and make lots of money. today annemarie also brought her sewing machine because we will sew little deleuze labels onto t-shirts which we then can sell during the conference. and next fall you can see the entire 'deleuzian events' fashion series at the paris pret-a-porter shows.

ordered two "lotion" cds that i don't know yet :o) i'm sorry for writing so little recently. hope i will have a little more time on the week-end.

yesterday i got so scared i shivered like a child. yesterday away from you it froze me deep inside. come back, come back don't walk away. come back, come back, come back today. come back, come back why can't you see? come back, come back, come back to me. and i know i was wrong when i said it was true that it couldn't be me and be her inbetween without you. without you.

[june 17, 2005 - be careful girl, you give it all away]
office. worked a little: added a paragraph to the talk. came home in the afternoon. did the week-end shopping. wiped the hallway. cleaned the bathroom. fixed myself dinner. slept for half an hour. now it's nine at night and i could drop as i'm sitting here - fully clothed and everything - into my bed and sleep until monday morning. the weather is back-breaking: it's hot and humid and it feels as if a thunderstorm is about to start any minute: but it doesn't. talked to princess superstar on the phone. she's been ill the past couple of days. maybe i will meet her tomorrow, depending on how my work on the talk will go.

this afternoon i met a friend at work, and he told me that he'd been out with a friend of his whom i have met a couple of times at his parties where she had always been with her boy-friend. and he said that "she listened attentively when i said that you and x. have broken up..." and i said "what? she did what?" and he said "well, yes, she said that when she met you at my party she - for the first time - considered having an affair with someone..." and i stuttered "you mean because of ... *me*?" and he nodded. wow. i was extremely flattered. especially since i had always felt attracted to her as well. anyway, this didn't help me write the talk this afternoon and it doesn't help now.

[june 18 - i try to make things better / try to make things mine / i write a love letter to pass the time]
laura veirsit's 10:30 in the morning and i'm just about to start deleuzing. listening to laura veirs. she's sooo brilliant. i get green with envy. great, great songs! great melodies! great lyrics! great production! i think i may be in LOVE :o)

later: bernd just mailed and promised me to bring another laura veirs cd to work on monday. visited her website and saw the pictures of her working with the band in the studio and on stage and i got melancholic. i swear, if i get another life i'll become amusician and i'll write all the songs that are passing through me like unactualized virtualities. or are they unrealized possibilities? i never understood where exactly the difference is.

d&g, then gym, then called princess superstar, then D&G again. it's ten pm now. i really wish mrs. veirs would step out of the photo and invite me to play a song with her. i'm listening to "riptide" on repeat. basically: only bass drum [playing regular quarter hits that create a kind of heartbeat tempo], great guitar that plays an accentuated ragtime picking theme [which appears to be very simple but is of that kind that i never managed to play because of the syncopes] and then a most beautiful string quartet sets in at the end. beautiful melody and lyrics. "I'll float here with the shrimp and brine / And on my cheeks and hair / The salt will always shine". it makes me ache for the touch of the water, or at least for diving into a song and be swept away by its rhythm and ebb and flow. i want to play again. and i want to sing again. flashback into moments when i was sitting next to rob on a chair in an otherwise empty and silent rehearsal room. and developing something out of nothing. it wasn't even that *we* were developing it. *it* developed itself. it started with one chord, then two chords, then three chords and it grew. sometimes it was so fragile that it collapsed immediately. but sometimes it formed into unexpected and unpredictable shapes which i accredited to rob and he accredited to me. it was neither me nor him. it was magic. "magic coursing through the flesh" (BL 158). it was magic flowing between his strings and my strings. i miss this magic. i miss the flow. i miss being part of beauty. i miss to be possessed by beauty as if it was a ghost or a god. i sometimes had this feeling when i was together with x. but it's so long ago that i can't really remember.
[sunny sunday june 19, 2005 - with photographs / and magnetic tapes / we capture / pretty animals in cages / pretty flowers in vases]
woke up at eight and couldn't gte back to sleep again. now the morning sun is shining in a sharp angle into the room and onto the desk while i get dressed and listen to "ether sings": "Come with me we'll head up north / Where the rivers run icy and strong" mrs. veirs is singing and i would pack my suitcase right away if she was only serious about that offer. i'm ready to be lured into a journey going anywhere by basically anybody. "Guitars can't help but sing / Can't help but ring" very consoling music: "All the time spent dreaming is never lost" well, i hope so because i have already spent oneandahalfhour updating the journal, checking lyrics on the net, writing to paula and staring out of the window, musing about the conncetion between deleuze's notion of desire|intensity and cohen's magic|god. question: if 'desire' is the 'human' mode of intensity, is 'god' then the 'human' mode of magic? "Hearts can't help but sing / Can't help but ring".
it's almost eight in the evening and the sun is still glaringly bright. mails from and to paula. talk has grown. i might even finish a big chunk by tonight. gym and there, on the stepper, for some reasons i had still the mp3s of "breathing water", "cold smoke" and "trees lounge" on the player and what can i tell you - i reacted to them as if they were good songs by professionals. i mean i really, really liked them. i know it stinks, but i was very proud suddenly and did not understand how they could be *my* songs. weird feeling. but nice.

adding all the mails together that i got today i could have enlarged my penis by 6 inches and i could have won 4,000,000 $ in the online lottery. i should never have posted the mail addresses on the web-site without removing the "@". now i get tons of spam. sigh.

[june 20, 2005 - riptide pulls me out into the open sea]
busy day which is far from being over. it's ten to ten and i've promised myself to work on the article until midnight. it has been the perfect summer day: hot and dry, no clouds. now the swallows are shrieking, the french window is open, the curtain is blowing softly, and there are not enough letters in the whole world to put down how much i am missing you. "riptide" is playing on repeat and the sound of the string section is the exact sound my heart makes. it's still hot, and i don't expect the night to get much cooler. give me a call or drop me a line.
Desire changes the world ... Catherine Tekakwitha, do you see how I get carried away? How I want the world to be mystical and good? Are the stars tiny after all? Who will put us to sleep? Should I save my fingernails? Is matter holy? (BL 5)

[june 21, 2005 - it's all painted in red / all painted in red / all painted in red]

baklavathe few clouds are getting red and golden by imperceptible degrees. hot day. busy day.

my day in facts:
woke up after four hours of sleep at about six in the morning and couldn't really get back to sleep again. realized that lately my days have started to fray: i don't really get tired before one at night and when i get to bed then i can't sleep. and in the morning i wake up early and can't get back to sleep anymore. anyway, went to work. did the seminar. did some conference preparations. got back home rather early at four, slept for two hours. worked on the talk and then went to the gym. now it's ten thirty and slowly getting dark. i'm going to watch harald schmidt and then i will either go to bed or work on the talk.

my day in intensities:
we have planned to offer some snacks for the speakers during the conference breaks. but thomas didn't want to have cookies [which would be the predictable choice] so we decided to get some turkish sweets: baklava. leyla offered to get an assortment of baklava so that we could each try the various styles and decide for one. so today she bought two big boxes of sweets :o) baklava is really perverse: it's very oily and sweet and full of oil and sugar and sugar and oil and basically made from puff pastry, oil, sugar and nuts. but it's delicious :o)

very, VERY intense moment on the stepper when i listened to "december" from the new laura veirs cd i've got. it was the first time that i heard that song and it struck me full force. and when i say full force, i mean full force. most beautiful melody and instruments and lyrics which almost knocked me off. i mean it literally knocked me off the machine. my heartbeat was travelling through the outer layer of my skin and it was pulsing at the back of my head as if there was some*thing* under my scalp. at the same time the skin on my arms started to bubble and prickle and i had trouble breathing. and these are not metaphors.

birds were falling from the sky all leaves had turned to brown the heartless cold froze everything and took my poor red down
poor old red she's dead and gone her eyes i do remember at least i have this old guitar to get me through december through december
her eyes were dark as winter's night both somehow young and old i loved her most the day she died her hair was colored gold
poor old red she's dead and gone her eyes i do remember at least i have this old guitar to get me through december through december

old man winter at my door the sky heavy with snow all's cold but my heart poor red it's hard to let you go
poor old red she's dead and gone her eyes i do remember at least i have this old guitar to get me through december through december

her eyes were dark as winter's night both somehow young and old. i loved her most the day she died her hair was colored gold. and can't you please try / to make it go away!???

and right now the last twoandahalf instrumental minutes of "movin' along" are playing. and it's unbearably beautiful. i'm sorry for sounding so corny. there's no late show tonight because of the soccer match. just my luck. am i the only one who has this ambiguous feeling when it comes to music? that you listen to something and it's so beautiful that you have to turn it off. that it's so perfect and delicate that it threatens to affect your coherence. because it seems to move into you and open you from the inside and you're leaking all over the place, disintegrating because your skin ego has evaporated with a sweet pain? sounds that are so fragile and perfect that they ache. you know where this leads to. you know the next thing i'm going to say. it has to do with intensity and it has to do with the experience of sharing intensity. how would it be to be able to experience the effects of the music with someone else? what would it be like if there was a way to transfer this kind of intensity into a touch, a caress, a kiss? and i said: help me, because i can't stop being overjoyed. i can't stop being overjoyed. and it scares the fucking shit out of me... :o(

[june 22, 2005 - i'll be moving along]
bad news: the german research foundation turned down our network project today. which means: half a year of planning and writing the application spent for nothing. fuck. it has been such a great idea.:o((((((((

switched between listening to laura veirs and lotion. there are at least two hits on lotion's telephone album: "glorified" and "feedback queen". they make what i chose to call "non-posing-eastcoast-rock" :o) think i'm going to write more about "glorified" tomorrow.

had a glass of champagne with blaine, s, a. and j. this afternoon. now i'm home and it's so hot that i'm wearing shorts! this should give you an idea *how* hot it is. i'll continue working on the talk now and hopefully finish it tonight.

interesting: http://www.afi.com/tvevents/100years/quotes.aspx#list

it's half past twelve now. talk is finished, more or less. only need to polish it up a little tomorrow. need some sleep now. good night.

[june 23, 2005 - hear the whistle blow far off in the still night without stars]
it's 00:19 and i can't sleep. am driven by laura veirs' "john henry lives": a semi-country-strange-rail-road-rhythm-dark-mooded song with a haunting melody and a beautifully recorded acoustic guitar.

today i met that friend at work, the one i told you about on june 17. and he said en passant: "has z. [that friend he had told me about] contacted you yet?" and i said "what?!" and he said "oh, well, never mind then!"

finished the talk and sent it to the members of the colloquium. we will discuss it on monday and i'll get some feedback then. i also sent it to paula the other minute to get some native speaker advice on the language.

tomorrow will be another long and busy day: we will have to finish the t-shirt production for the conference, bernd and i will meet and write a mail to all the participants of the network which now will never see the light of day. also we still have to discuss a little project that we're planning and that i will tell you more about after the conference :o) and then i have to attend some oral exams that thomas is conducting tomorrow afternoon and then we will also get some written exam essays that bernd and i have to correct by monday. which means that my week-end will be filled with essays about hemingway's "a farewell to arms". :o(

wish i could upload a thousand mp3s. it's a way of sharing. well, it gives me the illusion of sharing.

[june 25, 2005 - precious, so ellusive / i couldn't catch her / i've often tried]
well, in the wake of laura veirs i got out my cheralee dillon cds that i haven't really listened to for years: great songs! great voice! it brought back memories from the late 90s, but that was alright.
my friend sheila just yesterday
told me about this really cool masturbation trick
you do it in the bathtub
you do it with WATER
and now i have discovered
WATER to be the perfect lover
DEEP into my bones
MAKE yourself at home
i'm drowning under water all alone
me in the office being attacked by an empty carboard box. here's the key to the heart of me :o)spent most of the day correcting essays. phew. actually we had thought that this semester's exam text (hemingway, a farewell to arms) would be rather easy. but all the essays i've read so far are exceptionally bad. gordon had the best one though. he showed me the first sentence of an essay he was correcting friday afternoon: "In the novel 'A Farewell to arms' by Earnest Hamingway...". poor ord hamingway, he never really laughed a lot! considering the fact that the name of the author was on the task-sheet this is not the most convincing way to start an essay.

listening to "john henry lives". great songs. the lyrics are a bit enigmatic, but the music is really, really good. "hear the whistle blow far off in the still night without stars" read the talk today to see how long it actually is when i 'perform' it. it has 11 pages now which take 35 minutes to read. which is too long, unfortunately. also, i read pretty fast, too fast probably. so i will have to make some cuts. hopefully in the colloquium on monday people can give me some hints which parts of the talk i can do without. "take to him this hat and hammer and tell him i'm gone i'm gone i'm gone i'm gone i'm gone."

to be honest, i'm scared what the next weeks will bring. or rather: what they won't bring. i fear that i will plunge into a black hole when the conference is over. two weeks later thomas will fly to the states and then there won't be a lot to do. i mean, there will still be a lot to do (i have to write the diss) but it will be pretty quiet and lonely at the office again. the semester holidays will start and i'll have too much time with myself and too many moments in which i can think and remember and quarrel with my life. princess superstar doesn't have any more friends she can match me up with so it seems as if it's going to be a long, long summer :o( it's all painted in red all painted in red all painted in red...

bernd and i are planning to publish a journal called "Deleuze & Gadget". it's based on the french concept of Pif Gadget (in german: yps mit gimmick) and here's a little preliminary blurb we've written:

In May 1968, strikes broke out at universities and high schools in Paris, France, after student protests against deteriorating conditions in their schools turned violent. 1969 – De Gaulle resigns, Deleuze’s Logique du sens appears on the scene … and Pif Gadget, a very ‘pop’ magazine that combined comics, riddles, reports and playful education with a gadget – one object or that was meant to inspire a kind of ‘practical knowledge’ – learning by doing. Pif Gadget thus was based on a kind of tinker  strategy, a forceful but unconstrained and unconventional way to think different styles and materialities and together. Since perhaps no other concepts in philosophy are at the same time as abstract and as much rooted in [and connected to] the very real 'state of affairs' of the world as those developed by Gilles Deleuze, to make, to mix, to connect – bricolage, assemblage – which was the strategy of Pif Gadget, will also be the compositional make-up of Deleuze & Gadget. Inspired by that French classic, we would like to see Deleuze & Gadget as a kind of fanzine. In the fanzine, massculture and subculture align forces in such a way that passive readers become active authors, that this distinction does not hold anymore – the audience is the producer and vice versa.

Deleuze & Gadget aims to link to the affective environment of the fanzine and to introduce Deleuzian concepts through a mix of style and disciplines – to create fresh percepts. Various positions from the arts, academia; music, architecture, etc. are being coupled to provide a differentiated assessment and explanation of concepts such as ‘rhizome,’ ‘body without organs,’ ‘line of flight,’ ‘plane of immanence’ and|or ‘refrain.’ True to its name, Deleuze & Gadget will also address the immanent practical relevance of Deleuze's ideas by coming with a gadget related to the specific interest of each issue, thus showing the workings of the respective forces or concepts in the World.

I   W.A.N.T   A   S.E.C.O.N.D   C.H.A.N.C.E   !   I   T.H.I.N.K   I   B.L.O.O.D.Y   D.E.S.E.R.V.E   A   F.U.C.K.I.N.G   S.E.C.O.N.D   C.H.A.N.C.E.!.!  so, das musste mal gesagt werden.
[june 26, 2005 - oh stary night / come and chart a course]
a riptide evening. i'm frustrated: the exam essays are so bad. talked to blane and bernd, and they both say the same: exceptionally low quality this semester. there's not much more to report: got up at eight. corrected. gym. princess superstar called. dinner. mail to paula. more corrections. and now: online journal, then zimmer frei and then sleep. the next week will be hell: exam essays. seminar. conference preparation and organization. talk.

wish i could rest my head in your lap. miss the feeling of fingers wandering aimlessly through my hair. miss the kisses. sich anlehnen und nicht den ganzen tag, die ganze zeit, sich selbst halten zu müssen. denke an paula's stimme: "you are the one solid the spaces lean on" zitiert sie sylvia plath. it is this 'solid' that i miss. to be able to lean on something. to be supported. to be able to forget gravity for a moment. you know: spacewalk. being weightless because you're connected to another body that needs you. a solid that allows you to let go of all the tension that you need to keep up to walk upright through the days. and nights even. i want to get rid of this tension and give myself over to the shelter of somebody else: arms, hands, neck and chest. like, ... you know the image. i had it before. but it's just so perfect.

even though i've been thinking recently that it might be a good thing not to be in a relationship (because i have no idea how i would have managed to combine work and 'private' life during the past busy weeks) there are reoccurring moments in which i ... well, what's the point writing about it? you know what i want to say. i can't surprise you. hm, that's actually quite a bitter realization: i cannot surprise you anymore. maybe that's what i need to learn to be: unpredictable. maybe that's a way not to lose love, a way to keep it fresh. maybe i had simply gotten too boring.

they say it's going to be another hot day tomorrow. i'm tired. and i want this situation to change. this and the diss-situation. both have to change. i want them to change. i'll do whatever is necessary. i know, you always think that i'm too passiv and simply sit around and wait until things happen without taking life into my own hands. but i have already. i have already tried to be unpredictable and take the road less traveled. it didn't really help. yet. i'm tired.

[june 27, 2005 - the jailhouse is on fire!]
argh! what a day! it's 23:33 and i've just finished reworking the talk according to the suggestions from the colloquium today. we made a countdown list of all the things that still need to be done or have to be done during the conference and i think there's not a single minute from now to sunday that is not planned. ugh! and i haven't even prepared the seminar for tomorrow or looked into the exam essays from bernd that i have to cross-read by monday.

today thomas shocked me by  making an en passant comment about the dress-code for the conference. until now i thought jeans and t-shirt would be okay. but today he made some cryptic remarks about a some 'decent' clothes. not even do i not own any 'decent' and representative clothing, i also don't have the time to buy any until saturday. so i'll wear my jeans and t-shirt and if he doesn't like it he should have made up his mind earlier and not two days before the whole thing starts.

[june 29, 2005 - guitars can't help but sing...]
phew. hardly time to write. it's eight pm and i'm still at the office. we're going to meet with the speakers now who already have arrived in cologne. my head hurts and my eyes ache. has been a busy day that went by just like that. tomorrow the conference will start and i don't think that i'll have time to update the journal then. but why don't you just come by and see how it goes :o)

guess who is accompanying bernd and me to the american studies conference in olomouc this september? nadine! bernd and i asked a couple of people whether they would like to come along since it is always interesting and always fun, the more, the merrier. and nadine spontaneously booked a flight :o)

the other news: i met the friend who has this friend who sort of likes me (i reported about this in a previous entry) and i sort of like her (even though we haven't seen each other for a year, i guess...). and he was out with her yesterday and he said that she said that when she's back from holiday in two weeks he should organize that we're all going out together. i didn't have the time to ask him more about it, but i will when i'll meet him again.

have to run now! talk to you when the world's back to normal!