[july 1, 2002]Subject: Re: Suzanne at the Rheinaue Festival, Bonn, Germany
I forgot to say that Suzanne said she'll be in the Netherlands in Ocober!
And to Philip (Hofmann):
ich soll dir ein dickes Dankeschön sagen!
- demnächst mehr!
Nothing much (not much)
[july 2, 2002]from last night:
i'm sitting at the ebertplatz and i'm more drunk than i've been in my life. i've just said good-bye to you & nicole & achim & now i'm sitting here at 1 in the morning among other people who are coming home or going to work. in my head mark eitzel 'everything is beautiful' and in front of me two billboards: 'Anders ist besser' & my vision blurs and i look up and put on my sunglasses and try to smile.
[july 3, 2002]
be prepared for some strange ramblings:
it's 8:40 in the morning and yesterday has been one confusing day.
moni has mailed yesterday afternoon and here's what she had to say about giving [atoms-ust] to suzanne:
Re: suzy v in bonn
Datum: Tue, 2 Jul 2002 15:52:42 +0200
Von: "Moni Weber" <email@example.com>
Suzanne war echt froh, von dir zu hören! Sie sagte, sie hätte sich Sorgen um dich gemacht und fragte mich, wie es dir denn ginge. Was sollte ich darauf sagen? So up to date war ich ja auch nicht! Naja, ich hab dann gesagt, dass du nicht kommen könntest, weil du viel zu tun hattest -- da war sie dann ganz beruhigt und meinte so was wie "ach so, nur viel zu tun, ich dachte schon...". Sie hat sich gefreut, dass die CD von euch beiden war und hat richtig lange das Booklet bestaunt, was, soweit ich sehen konnte, wirklich aufwändig gestaltet war! Ich soll dir eine ganz dickes Dankeschön sagen.
Re: suzy v in bonn
Date: Tue, 2 Jul 2002 15:52:42 +0200
From: "Moni Weber" <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Suzanne was really happy to hear from you! She said that she'd already worried about you and she asked me, how you were. I did not know what to answer because I'm not that up to date! Anyway, I said that you couldn't come to the concert because you were too busy and she was relieved and said something like "ah, only too busy, i'd already thought..." She was very glad that the CD came from the both of you and was amazed by the booklet which was - as far as i could see - done pretty extravagantly. She asked me to send you a big thank you.
some things got clearer, some not, at least i realized that the feeling was very indifferent: it wasn't happiness and it wasn't sadness, it was changing, oscillating, shimmering depending on the thoughts and joys and fears surrounding it.
here's what i came up with: first of all i realized that i don't have any strategies to deal with intensities anymore, which actually has been quite clear for a long time. i think it has to do with xxxx because our relationship used to take this energy but now i don't really know what to do with it [i'm sorry, i'm not very eloquent today...]. the first impulse when i read the mail was to call her and shout into the telephone and then go to her and hug her and squeeze her until i realized a couple of seconds later that this isn't an option anymore: i can't share anymore. that's the point. and sometimes emotions [bad word but i know no better] are so big and overwhelming that you've got to share them. and this has also been the reason why i did not go to the concert because i wanted to avoid intensities, and meeting suzanne backstage is - of course - the hell of an intensive moment. so this is one point: no more intensities, no alarms and no surprises, please.
suzanne has been the signifier for an imaginary realm that i was thinking and wishing myself to: a realm in which people were actually spending their days writing songs, recording, performing. a realm in which i always dreamed to participate in. but i guess i pretty soon realized that this was a dream and that it makes my life easier to know that this isn't an option, that being part of this realm is just out of question, impossible and not worth a shot. otherwise i would have to concentrate all my energy and power to the goal of making music. she was the signifier for a dream that i kept dreaming from time to time but that i swept away from the dream screen with a sigh again and again. [i suppose eventually my continious sighing really made xxxx look for somebody who is more fun to be with] i just forced myself NOT to think it, not to long for it. especially since rob had died. before i might have had hope but when he died the magic in songwriting died as well in a way. in a sad way. hell, i don't even know how to express this properly.
but suddenly there's a transgressing of the border between the dream and my life: it is flowing into my life: it's like it would say: this imaginary realm is not so far away and you are ALREADY PART OF IT in a strange way: for some reason i apparently am somebody that suzanne is thinking about, even worrying about. the border is crossed from the other side and i'd never expected this and it is confusing me, it's like the whole world starts turning and shifting and nothing is at it's usual place anymore.
and suddenly i find myself caught in the old longing, the old feeling again: there's violence in my mind and i don't want to be here i feel like missing something as if there's a place to be right now and i'm so far away from it and i'm missing my only chance for everything, i'm missing my life that takes place somewhere else, somewhere my dreams are staged, are acted out and i'm not there to be in it. and to make it even worse you are sneaking up again from all four dark corners of the room and i don't want to be here i want to be within this source, within this light, the warmth, your eyes, your smell, your voice i get a glimpse of it now and again, in memories and mails and modern songs all senses are sharpened and i'm feeling twice as intense and that's what i was afraid of WE ARE FORTUNATE ONES FORTUNATE ONES I SWEAR!!!!!
[july 4, 2002]a packed day: don't know where to start. felt strange all day wearing the contact lenses because i'm so used to see the world through the frames of my glasses. maybe that's the reason for my continuous ramblings: that i think i can only see the world clearly when it's framed.
from a mail to paula that i wrote on the train back to bielefeld yesterday evening:
the clouds are rushing across the sky much too fast - everything is moving much too fast: this train, my thoughts, the rain and my heart and xxxx's love that's rushing further away from me with every second that passes. i want to freeze the moment and momentum. i want photographs, not movies. i want control. i want security. i detest changes. i want to freeze that short moment of pure joy i felt when i first read what suzanne said when moni gave her the [atoms-dust] cd. the joy has vanished, the storm remains. it has shaken the little snow dome that is my life and the fear is falling down in white, soft, flakes. i'm looking for the meaning behind all this, i'm looking for the big plan although i know that there isn't any. and this scares me. i don't want to be here. i'm lost among these strangers on the train, this is not where i belong. i feel save reading you. i felt save loving xxxx. it's crazy but i even felt save in those short moments that i shared with suzanne. more moments that i want to freeze. "each life has it's place - maybe some things are never meant to be found" it's like xxxx took all places with her, there's only non-space around me. i feel an urgency but i cannot tell for what. for a feeling? for a screaming? for a beginning or an arrival? an arrival? an arrival. that's it but how am i supposed to arrive when the aim is moving twice as fast away from me? and what is the aim? i'm dissolving like all the movement would take me apart piece by piece, like the wind would blow me to bits. i'm thinking a lot about you. it confuses me that suzanne thought about me. it's like she had said: "i had no idea you were burning here" and now the room is lurching. i don't understand how i can keep burning for so long, why haven't i just burned away? what is fueling these flames? what is feeding the fire? i should have turned to ash months ago already but i just won't stop burning.when i had walked from the station to my flat an envelop waited for me: paula had sent me a beautiful book with selected poems. this night she sent back a poem in answer to my mail above:
philipp, i can't tell you how, but someday you will find your place. even if it is a no-place. i can't articulate this at all. i can't say what i mean. i feel such solidarity with you. i hate to keep throwing things i write at you, but i wrote this sunday night. in a weird way it seems to fit what i'm trying to tell you.i went to her granny today. it was okay. i'm very proud of myself because i kept very calm, i did not talk about xxxx and neither did she, only once: she said that xxxx had called her and was very, very angry that she had called my parents - news which of course made me think in circles again: why is she so angry about it? what does it mean. i've got an obsessive need to interpret the world. and then who told her? there's only two possibilities: either somebody told her who knows me and her and who wants to make things easier for me. or she's reading this journal. and if you do stop it! i'm through with you. this is not for you! get off my back! [but then later today i learned that tara had told her.] so when i met her grandmother i did NOT try to use her as a means to indirectly communicate with xxxx but i acted as if she had never existed. still it felt very strange and i did not dare to go into the living room and confront the photos. old photos and new ones.
i am just trying to find out how to begin
i am just trying to find out how to leave
the beautiful things you write in your dream stay in your dream
"that was good," said the woman, getting up off the floor
"knock me out again"
this is the wrong way to tell a story
those broken-up roads will get you here too
the clowns are fired up in the anteroom
they will never get to perform in this story
if you're afraid of the sun --
who's afraid of the sun? right, wrong thing to say
say you're lost before dawn
you keep meeting yourself on the highway
"give me another shot" says the woman as she leans on the balcony railing
say you're afraid of meaning nothing
take the broken road here, the yellow lines transmit your position
take the storyline here, the black lines tell you where to go
listen to yourself as you watch the crickets
"take me on" says the woman as she turns to go
watch yourself as you say nothing
this is the story ending and beginning again
this is the broken-up road stretching out beyond itself to get here
i am just trying to find out if the wind is in your window
i am just trying to find out if i'm really here
i met tara and cedric today at the university in bielefeld. tara was giving a talk at a small conference for her former professor. and speaking of professors thomas left for the states today. yesterday he said good-bye to everyone and i gave him a copy of [atoms-dust] and i even hugged him good-bye - which he did not expect and so he had no chance to defend himself. so he's gone now for 9 months :o(((((
and then there's something else that i need to write about. eve has written a mail and said that she couldn't see me anymore because i obviously did not have the same feelings for her than she had for me. and thus she'd had no chance but to make a cut. i asked her to think about it but she said that she'd made up her mind. it didn't have to be a permanent decision but for the near future she did not want to have any contact anymore.
[later]i am "afraid of meaning nothing" tonight and still i'm dancing through the apartment, singing, clapping my hands while listening to sade's live cd. the other minute nicole called because she saw the coverage of the lax shooting on tv and wanted to know whether i had any news about thomas but unfortunately i don't know anything except that he probably must have been in the building by the time of the attack but i think that he's fine. anyway, it was nice to hear her voice. i'm sort of all nervous again. aufgekratzt. something huge is moving inside me tonight and it hasn't decided yet whether it's manic or depressive. where are you? would you write to me? why did i never notice|feel that there's somebody worrying about me. about ME. a sudden signification that i cannot deal with. it's so strange. somebody who's always only far away, idolized, super-human, larger than life is thinking about me and the person who i thought was closest to me suddenly stopped caring and thinking and loving. this is just crazy. this is just confusing. wish i was with somebody tonight.
[july 5, 2002]baaaaad dreams, with her in a leading role. the setting was her parents' home and we were together again, and we were never separated, we were together like we were that day we decided to be together forever. woke up like inga fever, staring at the ceilling, my head disappearing into a pillow of memories of her eyes, her look, her affection, and how we made love on the floor of her parent's flat once "and your mind won't let you out". no new messages on server. here's what i would give to get a mail from a bertelsmann-address that has the heading "want to see you": everything.
[later]my mother called because apparently xxxx's gradmother talked to her [again?] and told her as well that xxxx had called her and was just furious and asked her "wie sie ihr so in den rücken fallen könnte" - how she could stab her from the back like that". now, what the hell is that supposed to mean? why is her grandmother stabbing her from the back when she's calling my parents? what does she mean???
[later]it's tenthirty on a friday night. i'm sitting in my room and the ceilling is coming down slowly. the fear of wasting my life creeps up from the carpet like fog and i'm so filled with unspecific emotions that i don't know where to go with them. where is everybody? thomas is in la. blaine in cologne. paula is in iowa and suzanne is on tour. cedric is with tara, angelina is silent, eve has left two weeks ago and i don't even know where you are. and it's better that way. so i'll always have the mercy of fiction. i wish i could just go to sleep but i've already pulled that trick this afternoon and now i'm wide awake.
and then the old song: rob's guitar introducing the chorus that is almost happy, that had no bitterness when i wrote it so many years ago for her and i remember playing a recording of it to her one night in my old room and she cried because she was so moved and i was astonished if i had only known if i had only known what would happen to rob what would happen to her what would happen to us and then his guitar is firing distorted flagolet-notes into the chorus like pearls like tears like blood like weak hearts like bored eyes like a love that will never arrive again.
[ein wenig] || blindhübsch steht sie da | zum bestaunen schön | macht sie wieder ein lied wahr | manche sachen sagt sie nie | wie eine bombe tickt ihr herz | und artig lacht sie über jeden schmerz | dann liest sie die sterne | und ich lese sie || sie liebt mich, sie liebt mich nicht | von herzen, mit schmerzen | ein wenig, nein gar nicht || sie regnet durch die zeilen | buchstabiert die lust | nur um mit nassem haar | vor mir zu stehn, mich anzusehn | in riechweite ihr duft sagt sie: | "du fühlst dich an wie luft." || sie liebt mich, sie liebt mich nicht | von herzen, mit schmerzen | ein wenig, nein gar nicht || "ich kann den himmel riechen" | sagt sie sacht und lacht | doch ich weiß sie hätte sich beinah | selber umgeschrieben || sie liebt mich, sie liebt mich nicht | von herzen, mit schmerzen | ein wenig, nein gar nichti finally want to keep feeling again, feeling without bitterness, feeling without always only crashing my heart into a wall. this wears me out. i want to scream i want to scream i want to scream i've lost count of how often i thought in the last months that i couldn't miss her more. and each time i was mistaken. i'm so tired and so wide awake.
[july 6, 2002]will spend the evening|night at cedric & tara's place. tried all day to come up with something for the brief hollow earth talk that i have to give on monday. song of the day: 'starkville', indigo girls. no new messages on server.
[july 7, 2002]there's a lot to write. but first i have to prepare the hollow earth talk for tomorrow :-( neither cedric nor blaine have commented so far on 'the rest of [atoms-dust]' which might mean that they consider the recordings to be schwiiierig.
[later]the talk isn't really finished yet. but i'll have three hours on the train tomorrow morning. anyway, here are words from yesterday night:
it's almost 2 in the morning and i'm lying on the floor of cedric's study, listening to 'levils of edit' from [atoms-dust] my body seems strangely alien to me. my thoughts as well. sometimes i ask myself whether the longing for xxxx is the only thing that still holds my life together: "and beauty and perfection and derangment". in this order.tara's brother and his wife were here and nils and nicole [see also the entry for their weeding four weeks ago] and they are from a small town near hannover. when i was very young, about 8-10 i was in 'love' with a girl - her name was caroline. we spent whole summer evenings in her tree house, kissing and whole nights hugging and touching when i stayed with her. but her family moved away incidentally to that same small city that nils & nicole come from. so i asked them whether they know her and believe it or not! nicole went to school with caroline. unbelievable! [she's the girl on the right, laughing with glasses | i'm the one on the left, smiling like a honeycakehorse] seeing nils & nicole made me see xxxx & oliver. it's sick. it's stupid. it's nothing i could control. "these drunken thoughts | these saturday thoughts" - paula's voice is so familiar. but the very presence of her recorded voice makes her actual absence so much more present. it's tiresome to just be happy to have passed another day more or less gracefully. i'm not looking forward to new mornings anymore, i'm only relieved if it's over, if my head is heavy and the thoughts start to settle for the night, slow down and hopefully come to a halt. from what tara said today i concluded in my obsessive interpretness that xxxx is far from reconsidering her feelings for me. tara mumbled something like "it's all so unfair. so unfair." after the colloquium on thursday night she and cedric went to her former professor's house where a group of invited guests met and tara apparently got very drunk very quickly and then she said to one of the guests: "Entschuldigen Sie, aber Sie sehen genauso aus wie ETA Hoffmann!" - "Excuse me, but you look exactly like ETA Hoffmann!"
[july 8, 2002]first things first: happy birthday to ruby!
[later]it has gotten really hot here in cologne. the hollow earth talk went fairly well. at least i survived it. tonight i'm gonne meet blaine and his friend cedric. the seminar went well as well. tomorrow is the date for the exam-essays that i'll have to correct :-( but then this might keep me distracted for quite some time. no news from thomas. mood-o-meter: an indifferent 4.2. caught a summer cold and only had four hours of sleep.
[later]i obviously need 24h surveillance, maintenance and care. "even from the start i thought one day you'd probably just come home and break my heart". i'm sitting in the subway station, blaine & his friend cedric have just left for home, the indigo girls are shouting a great chorus into my ear highlighting signifiers i wish i had crossed from my vocabulary. if there is something like melting into a song i am now. same old billboard: "anders ist besser". the beautiful uglyness of cologne makes me homesick for your heart.
[july 9, 2002]it's hot. i mean REALLY hot. the office is an oven again. i've just been having ice cream with nicole [from teampynchon] and we were sitting in front of the university, somehow suddenly talking about relationships - and it was very nice. don't know what else to write. i'll get the exams-essays in a couple of minutes and i think i'll drive back to bielefeld then and correct them there.
[july 10, 2002]weather: cloudy but warm. mood-o-meter: 4.3. i'm correcting the essays.
UH BOY!!!!!!! i've just talked to cedric on the phone. xxxx has been reading the online journal. you know me good enough by now to imagine the storm i'm in now. for a moment everything went white. like you're staring into the flashlight when you're photographed. and for seconds you're blinded and the world comes back only slowly: outlines first in black and white and then the shapes are filled with colors and it's only then that you can start focusing things again. i can't focus anything. when i blink there's still the imprint of the bright halo on my retina. HOW DARE SHE!!! of course this was what i wanted! of course this was what i did not want! i don't know i don't know. this is almost a reason to end the journal. this is almost its end and you know why you know why you know why? because all these fucking words were not more than one last pathetic attempt. i think that's what they really were: one last pathetic attempt to do SOMEthing, to try SOMEthing, one last pathetic attempt to be lovable. so when she read this and she did not react then what is the point of this anyway? paula? angelina? kati? could you tell me? what am i supposed to do NOW? is there any sense in keeping on writing? how will it influence what i write and how i write. fucking hell, i'd NEVER thought that she'd actually had the nerves to read this! great! this proves the uselessness of six months of daily writing. this proves the impotence of all that i thought would express what i am. this proves that all the fear was justified. welcome to wasteland. from one moment to the next everything i still did is so ridiculously pointless. everything i still am, even. this is nothing i was prepared for. who is this? who is this person who has actually read parts of this? who is this person who dares singing 'the queen and the soldier' with me when she already knew that she would leave me for somebody else the next morning? FUCKING HELL!!!!!!! with whom have i been living together for 5 and a half years???????? niemand hat mich so verarscht wie du als du mir sagtest: ich liebe dich! a fuck you did!! what i regret having written here: EVERYTHING! why did i only write when i was down? great! i've just confirmed all you ever hated about me!! it all sounds like you. this is not about you. bloody hell!
THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU! go to hell! fuck! i'll write what i want! i write what i like! i write what i feel! i don't give a fucking damn about what you're thinking about it! screw you! this hasn't been about you for a long time. ever since i turned your name to four xs. you are only standing in. you are only a variable in my life! screw you! i'm gonna find somebody who can fill out this place, somebody who's up to the task! somebody who deserves me and my words and my songs and my strangely twisted heart! even if it will take all my fucked up life!!!!!! i can handle this and i can handle your grandmother as well! this is between me and her! i don't need your interference! i don't need your help! go fuck oliver but don't ever think that you'd have to arrange things in the background! i can handle this! this is just somebody who cares about me! i've already dealt with other things! with people who gave a fuck about me!
and now i'm going shopping!
and you won't | tear it apart | without a fight | without a heart
[later]well, i did not go shopping because it has started to rain cats and dogs: a thunderstorm was sweeping over town, darkening the sky and making the streetlights switch on. yes - i'm bloody confused. i'm all charged up. no alcohol in the fridge :-(( no other drugs. no chocolate. maybe i'm gonna get some beer to get drunk and some cake to get sick - yes, i should do this. sometimes it really seems absurd to have survived. what for? this? what a laugh!! i wish there was a way to do online singing. online journaling won't meet the need tonight. i really feel like singing, or screaming and shouting rather. but an harmonical screaming. oh i don't know. i wish i was in cologne. i wish i hadn't alienated eve. i don't want to know how much i've hurt her. i wish i hadn't alienated nicole. i wish i had a second chance and could undo all the mistakes i've made. i don't know. i think i'm really getting pissed tonight."now it's easy for me to tell you | that my love for you is real | i once stumbled on these feelings | i once stumbled on these words | something you'll never stumble on dear | oh you were so baroque | all of those words, just to tell me no | you were so soft spoken | with all of the others who said you weren't boken | they just let you go." i wish i could finally wipe your face from the figure of longing that is following me. i know that i painted it there myself. and this was probably my biggest mistake. not enough tears to wash it down. or too many. she has waterproof eyes. she is here. i can hear her searching the drawers in the kitchen, god knows what for, but she's rattling and clinging with the cutlery. and maybe that's why i'm singing. oh talk to me, come on! i mean there MUST be somebody out there who is interested in a semitragic, self-righteous guy who has just wasted his best years and is now desperately trying to make it up, whose fondness for a certain female singer|songwriter deserves to be called obsessive and whose success less career just HAS to wake the sympathy of everybody who still has a heart. quite honest! this is a bargain!
i'm scared. and if all of the above is just a lie this isn't.the kitchen is a mess. still i've got the window open, music on highest volume, and i'm singing along to:
You were in my dream three nights ago. You and I were walking around your apartment (or what I have dreamt is your apartment twice now), which had many dim corridors and large sparsely furnished rooms. There were a lot of people there and music was playing, some low-grade forgettable pop record. I was looking for you and when I finally found you in the kitchen, we stood there by the counter holding each other while someone I didn't know kept opening the refrigerator door.paula? why am i not where i belong? running for my health running for my healt running by myself
[july 11, 2002]
|h a p p y b i r t h d a y s u z a n n e ! ! !|
went shopping today: a new pair of sunglasses. talked to cedric on the phone. still no comments on the rest of [atoms-dust]. hm. difficult. the weather is better than yesterday: partly sunny, no rain, wind but no storm. i've almost corrected all the essays and when i'm finished i'll be going for a nice, relaxed walk! maybe - on the way back home - i'll get some beer again. sometimes it works in getting away from myself. the new indigo girls cd on repeat. window open. me humming. and the fate of ten students in my hands : HAHA [diabolical laughter] and by the way: thomas mailed! he's fine but of course his email address didn't work properly. what's new?
[later]by the way, did i mention that "chaos/control:complexity" has finally been published??? it looks pretty stylish and i'm happy that thomas insisted on using the dvd-box! so you can all rush to the bookstore of your trust and buy it!! tomorrow i'll have to drive to cologne to exchange the essays with mr. warrior. i'll be back in the evening for rehearsal. then this weekend i'll have to cross read the essays that mr. warrior has corrected. maybe i'll visit cedric in herford.
i wish i could write about anything other than myself. if i had used all the words i made - all the wailing i did - for a book, for a novel, a collection of short stories or a volume of poems. i'd HAVE something then, i'd accomplished something. all the words heaped up here had just one single purpose. and they did not work. so from one moment to the other they've turned useless. pointless. like i never wrote them. i think i might have overreacted a little yesterday night? or maybe i haven't i don't know. who cares? i don't. i'm feeling so stupid, writing all this and then knowing that she might have read each and every entry. and that it did nothing. it's like all the months at the end of our relationship, those tiresome, fearful months when i tried to save something, when i tried so hard to make it right, to be who you wanted - all the time. but it couldn't make a difference.
and while i'm, trying so hard to explain this, to find words for a suítuation that even *i* don't understand yet, paula is talking and here's what she's saying and what she's saying is so much to the point that it pierces my mind and my heart and it is of course exactly what i am unable to express:
"no, this writing is not exempt. it remains - like all writing - a pathetic attempt to make you understand that *my heart is breaking*"
all i wrote could not make her understand. all i wrote could not reach her. the question is whether it can reach anybody. sometimes i just want to sit down on the floor in the middle of my room, bind my knees with my arms to my chest and be very, very silent, waiting to be found. "i was lost ten years ago and i still am. maybe some things are never meant to be found" paula wrote. but what if she's right. i don't want to keep on thinking about it, i don't want to keep worrying. i just want to sit here, curled up while "my heart ticks inside me like rain", almost silent, just whispering a single phrase endlessly like a mantra: "find me please oh find me"
[feb 25, 2022]well, at least that's the date on the display of the train car that i'm sitting in right now and that is - of course - delayed. i'm on the way to cologne to exchange the essays. sounds like a high profile spy mission. wonder why i got up at 5 in the morning when the train is delayed anyway... YAWN! if i say count to three and move toward me, would you meet me half the way? cedric felt very bad because he had told me about her reading the online journal. but he said that it was all so difficult - and i know that he's right - to decide what to tell me and what not and that he did not want me to learn it by accident or behind my back. basically we had agreed from the beginning that we're not going to talk about her & that - regardless of what they might know - tara and cedric would not tell me anything because i don't want to know anything. yesterday on the phone he said something like "...and there would be a lot to tell you about..." which of course stayed with me, popping up between lines of songs and paragraphs of essays. has she lost her job? is she pregnant? is she engaged to him? did they rent a flat together? I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. i just don't want to know. i will just stop wasting thoughts and energy and feelings for her.
did i mention that the seminar blaine & i will be doing next semester is called "terribly in love"? it's a kombinationsseminar meaning that i will do a general introduction to [american] literature and then a more specific part will follow focusing on tragic relationships in 19th century british gothic literature: frankenstein, dracula, wuthering heights. maybe we can add a short story by poe or carrington, the oval lady/portrait perhaps. to have at least SOME american content. but i can already see everybody grinning broadly when reading the title: schulz/hofmann: terribly in love. but then blaine had already thought up the title long before we decided to do the seminar together. and everybody's thinking i'm gay anyway because of all the time that we're spending together.
[later]hm, obviously there's no rehearsal tonight. a fact that i only found out when i stood waiting in front of the rehearsal room and nobody turned up. called reiner and he said that daniel's not back from holiday yet. great! he said something about a guy he knows who is responsible for organizing a couple of gigs but that he hadn't heard of him recently because he's "touring italy, playing with his band at a couple of festivals. not bad, isn't it? but we're far from that...!" no! we're not! panic gripped my by the throat and i thought: i'm 30, i want to make music, i want to write songs and then i thought of making a democd with three or four songs with just guitar and voice and try to get a couple of solo gigs in pubs. i could prepare a set with about 15 tracks, cover songs and own tunes, take my amp and mic and just DO it. i don't really have a lot to lose, have i? boy, i'm feeling so old...
while i was waiting at the subway station i was sitting next to a young woman who kept smiling onto the floor and writing on a small piece of paper and i had almost talked to her, i had almost asked: prose or poetry? i was so curious what she might be writing down. but then i thought that she must think that i'm some kind of freak, talking to a total stranger in a subway station. when my tram came she kept sitting there and all the way back home i hated myself for not being brave enough, for not being bold enough, for not simply doing what i feel like doing. and it all boils down to this: i don't want to be alone.
[later]boy, i really caught a cold. first i only had a sore throat but now my nose is all bunged up and i'm coughing quietly every now and then. tried to call tara, but she's not in. tried to call nadine. she's not home as well. wrote to paula. in the meantime it's 23:03 and i think i'm gonna wrap the cover of my bed around me tightly now and make myself a hot cup of tea. i hope i'll feel better on monday, otherwise i will infect the whole course - which, after all, isn't quite such a bad idea...i'll all give them a BIG smooch!
[july 13, 2002]it's 18:00 and zisch! i've just opened the first can of australian beer. let's see to what level of drunkenness i can work myself up to tonight. you'll regret that you're not with me tonight: i can be pretty good company when i've had a couple of beers! song of the day: sade, paradise (live) I'd wash the sand off the shore Give you the world if it was mine Blow you right to my door Feels fine Feels like You're mine Feels right So fine I'm Yours You're mine Like Paradise Oooh what a life Oooh what a life OooH FEELS FINE! sometimes it's so comforting to live inside my little imaginary world where nothing can happen to me and everything is gonna be all right. talked to cedric on the phone today. still no mention of the rest of atoms-dust. this is starting to worry me. obviously the level of difficultiness is higher than i'd assumed... it kept raining all day long. but that couldn't keep me from doing my usual turn in the woods. i wrapped the md player into a plastic bag and just enjoyed the feeling of getting soaking wet in the summer rain. the drops ran down my bare arms and my face almost tenderly and it was such a strange sensation to feel the rain all over my body and not blocking my sight by running down my glasses. i thought that now that i'd caught a cold i might as well upgrade to pneumonia. by the way, if you're walking beneath an open window and you're hearing sade "by your side" and somebody is who singing along to it with a nasal, hoarse voice you've just passed my flat. oh, when your cold | I'll be there to hold you tight to me | When your on the outside baby and you can't get in | I will show you, you're so much better than you know | When your lost, when your alone and you can't get back again | I will find you darling I'll bring you home | If you want to cry | I am here to dry your eyes | and in no time you'll be fine and you might as well just ring the bell and we can share the last beer...because the second one is empty already. or you could fill out the questionnaire!
when i visited my parents today my father kept talking about his computer. we've tried for weeks to install an internet connection, but he only has a password and log in for internet banking and for his online telephone bill and i told him again and again that he first needs a log in and a password for a provider to get access to the internet. "but i have a log in and a password" he insisted again and again and i tried to explain to him again and again that this is the password and the log in for the online banking but that he could not do any online banking unless he's connected to the internet. so now he's asked a colleague from work for help. "he's an expert on isdn..." my father told me today "...and he said that there's nothing about isdn that he wouldn't know..." "and, does it work now?" i asked, sighing silently. "no, but he's found out why it doesn't work: i only have a log in and a password for online banking. but i need a password and a log in for a provider!"
hm, i don't think that sharing the third beer with you is an option any longer. sorry!
[july 14, 2002]it's raining cats and dogs. it's 11 in the morning and i've got to switch on the lights to be able to work. music: a gemma hayes cd that bernd [a colleague from cologne] has copied for me. very calm. very melodic. very good. basically 'simple' two chord songs, but with a great sound! makes me wonder why i'm not writing a song this very moment, why i'm not writing songs every second. i'm such a pathetic loser. sometimes i really, really fucking hate being me.
i got a mail from kate yesterday night [xxxx and i got to know in her seminar when we were still studying and our relationship started when we were translating a short novel of d.h.lawrence with kate] and she wrote to me and it was about what she thought went wrong with xxxx and me and there was one paragraph that hit me like a bullet with a short, sharp pain: "I once met the two of you and xxxx had cut off her beautiful long hair and she had a hairstyle just like s.v. (and i thought: oh boy! that's how bad it is already) and then i said: xxxx has cutt off her hair. and it's a hairstyle just like s.v.'s! and then you said: yes, unfortunately it's only the hairstyle."
did i really say that? and i even had the nerves to say that i never meant to hurt you! i'm so sorry. i didn't want this. i didn't want to hurt you. not then and not four days ago. i'm an idiot. i'm a self-centered idiot who doesn't deserve better. but then i was so unprepared, i was so unprepared for our relationship, i wish i had made all these mistakes with somebody else. long before you. i'm so sorry. i can't make up for this. i wish i could. i always only wanted that you loved me instead of wanting that you're happy. THIS is the important point. THIS is what should make my heart and arms mend. that you're happy, regardless with whom. and i got so desperate for your voice and for your laughter that i dug out that tape that you gave me five years ago after we went with kate and her husband on that nightwalk and it starts with you laughing and your young voice and it is the first time that i'm hearing your voice for seven months and it is a mistake it is a mistake ich will das nivcht mehr AIN'T YOU THE LUCKY ONE AIN'T YOU THE LUCKY ONE INTO THE LUCKY ONE
i'm just back from rehearsal. new messages on server. xxxx mailed. i don't understand aynthing any more. talked to cedric on the phone. i'm tired. there's one thing he said that summed it up: "es geht darum, es auszuhalten." "it's all about bearing it." i don't know any longer. apparently she's recognized old structures of complaining and whining in the diary. i wish i could fly somewhere, just lift off and rise throught the ceilling and throught the roof and into whatever sky. it's all about bearing it. my hands are cold and i wish there was anything i could do to force you to love me my hands are cold how can you ask for help when there's no way to help i know that this is nothing that you will understand no matter how much i'm writing, the more i write the less will you understand but what else do you want me do what else do i want me do? auch noch still sein? i don't knwo what then to do. "i thought i could let you go in grace- but i've got to think again" maybe that's what's lacking. the grace. the dignity. am i throwing it away by writing? will the words leave room for dignity? will these rooms leave words for grace? maybe that's what broke the love. maybe that's what upsetting her even now. but i don't really know, i only know from what cedric told me. she just wrote - and very politely so - that she didn't want her name to appear so publicly and that she did not want certain images [that i ahve deleted in the meantime] to be presented here. i'm tired. my hands are cold. do you think this is war? then something went badly wrong. i don't want to hurt anybody. really. i'm sorry. my hands are so cold. i failed so completely and devastatingly that it's laughable. ain't you the lucky one? ain't you the lucky one?
i thought that for some reason i had to prove how much i loved her. and that the way to do this was to articulate how much not being with her affected me. that putting the pain into words would be evidence for the feelings i have for her. but it all went wrong because i guess it looked like it was not about the feelings i have for her but about the feelings i have for me, soll heissen: self-pity. i don't know why i thought that proving my love for her would change anything. because of course it is not about my love for her but about her lack of love for me, which isn't anything i could cure. which isn't even anything that has to be cured from her - and probably the rest of the world's - point of view. i'm an idiot. the bad thing is to realize that there is no way to win back love once it's lost. to get it back. to get a second chance. once the person who formerly loved you gives up on you there's not much more that you can do. and maybe that's what i did not understand. why she gave up on me. in my point of view just like that and from one day to the next. from her - and probably the rest of the world's - point of view slowly and painfully and not without giving me chance after chance that i blew one by one.
tomorrow i'll be going to cologne again. i'll have to do the course on my own since blaine is in england on a wedding. nicole mailed and sort of asked me out for next week. it's still raining. "some of them never tell you just how much love they give away..." my hands are cold.
[july 15, 2002]i'm in cologne, my headache is as well. but i achieved quite a lot today: finished the seminar, exchanged the essays with mr. warrior. sent off the c/c:c-books to the contributors. now it's half past 5 and the sun is burning into the office. i've pulled down the shades but that doesn't relly help. i've put on suzanne's songs in red & gray and right now "last year's troubles" is filling the room. thought a lot about writing and my motivation to write and what kind of image this online journal transports to the reader who doesn't know me and to the reader who does know me and to the rest of the world that - quite frankly - doesn't really read this. from my log files i estimate that about five or six people are visiting the online journal regularly. got a mail from paula. she sent a photo of herself and fatima. kati and angelina wrote es well. here's part of a mail from angelina:
Subject: go on reading the starsit's six now. i'm having dinner at the cafeteria now and then i'll drive to eva's place. maybe i'll finish that entry there that i began this morning on the train. while i'm packing my things suzanne is singing: "i'd rather take myself away | be like those ladies in japan | i'd rather paint myself a face | conjure up some grace | or be the eyes behind a fan | and so you go | no boy could say no | to you" grace. there you go. that's what i always loved about her songs: the grace and dignity that she never gave up, however painful and desperate the topic was. how could i lose sight of that? how could i not realize that grace and dignity are vital components of writing. i always advocated distanced, self-reflective, ironic writing but am the first to jump gladly and with open arms into self-pity and pathetic ramblings. and the best thing is!: i'm doing it even now!
Date: Mon, 15 Jul 2002 13:52:17 +0200
i was in a hospital for the 'mentally deranged' ;-) i hope this won't happen again in the closer future.
i am not too well.
read through your journal.
what i read there makes me so sad. you are way too angry. you should not use such strong words to express your sadness. be soft. be soft with yourself. by using those sharp words you just cut yourself.
months ago i wrote the following
"my childhood crashes upon me - each time spring rushes in. i can see myself as a little kid. just big enough to lay my eyes upon the table without having to climb a chair. the fears that filled my chest, that seemed to choke me and eat my air-pipe. i still remember hearing the early bird, seeing the sun in a bright blue sky, snow on the ground out of which grew lilies of the valley. earth, snow and plants mixing into a divine cocktail of scented spring air that entered my nostrils evoking a sublime feeling that still endures and which i will keep with me all my life long. a feeling i can only make up by myself, which no one else can give me but which i always searched in people, hoping they would come near me, come close to me. they came close but never entered my blood. that was always only me. i gave myself divine feelings. that's why i need myself so much. for there is nobody who can give me so much strength and belief and faith in what is beautiful and sacred. that's always only with me. music can give me that, too, but that's no social thing."
we are alone - that's all that it boils down to.
we bleed, we cry, we lose hope.
nobody can help you or me.
we got to get through - your friend is right
we got to walk right through the fire, through broken glass, through the cold and the rain there is no shelter
and i am sure your ex-girlfriend knows that as well
--- original Nachricht Ende ----
--Nette Leute zum Flirten, Lachen und Verlieben,fuer Reisen, Sport und Freizeit!
[july 16, 2002]hm, i can't remember having had such strange dreams like those from last night in a long time: various scenes, various dreams even. i kept waking up inbetween. not actually nightmares or bad dreams, just very confusing. i was uwe johnson and i was walking on the shore and the waves kept rolling in forcefully and they almost sucked me into the sea and i had to run up the shore whenever they came closer and it was a stony beach, huge stones and i was standing on one of it and at my side was a big cricket, man-sized and on my other side was some kind of other man-sized insect but i wasn't scared. then another scene and of course she appeared but she did not really have a face and she came into a room that was my study but i had never seen that room before and i wasn't surprised at all.
before: i'm spending the evening [partly accompanied by eva] sitting on the roof in the late evening light. it's 21:15 and the sun is just right: not too hot & not too bright but warm enough to flow over the skin like water. this is exactly the kind of urban beauty that's too good to be true. the swallows are circling the roofs in flocks, rising up and diving back into the thick summer air boisterously like dolphins. the top of the huge tree that is looking over the roof and the vertical meadows of ivy on the gray walls are waving slowly like seaweed under water. chimneys in uncountable shapes & sizes, their blood red brick skin shining brightly like corrals, the roofing felt is reflecting the sun like dark volcanic sand and the satellite dishes are huge opened shells filtering the air for informationplankton. i'm sitting here waiting for a white whale to pass by. i wish i could take you up down here and we'd watch together.
song of the day: radiohead, knives out.
I want you to knowi don't want to get the knife out. i'd rather have a needle to stitch and suture. the question is whether making the same point again and again [speaking with suzanne now] will stitch anything together? probably not.
He's not coming back
Look into my eyes
"I'm not coming back"
So knives out
Catch the mouse
Don't look down
Shove it in your mouth
"If you'd been a dog
They would have drowned you at birth"
Look into my eyes
It's the only way you'll know I'm telling the truth
So knives out
Cook him up
Squash his head
Put him in the pot
I want you to know
He's not coming back
He's bloated and frozen
Still there's no point in letting it go to waste
"The reason I write | is to make something | as
beautiful as you are" (l. cohen)
i realize that my view on the online journal has changed significantly over the last days and the recent events. why do i write at all. what is the purpose? what is the reason? well, for one the reason i write is to end with a paragraph like that one about the moon in june. sometimes this happens: and you write 10 or 12 pages just to stumble over one such paragraph. that's the reason. not for revenge. my over-reaction a week ago was wrong. it was fueled by disappointment with myself, it did not have anything to do with her. and still i catch myself switching on the pc, hoping that i've received another mail from her. every time i press the get message button my heart starts beating like a bass drum inside my head. and i start reading all these past months with her eyes and although she had only read parts of the journal and she probably will never look at it again i'm writing like she would read this. i didn't do this before. that's why i always ended in the one way street of complaining and self pity and giving up dignity for honesty. no, not for honesty, but for whining. now i'm writing with the scissors in my head. i'm thinking more carefully about what impression my words will make, what image of myself i am presenting. i don't think that all what i've written in the past months does really reflect the way i've changed inside and outside. i sound the same, but i do think that i'm really at a different place than i was before: i've never been more open to other people, i've never met and sociated with so many different people - and i never enjoyed it more - than in the last months. i never before realized how much i need other people. to talk. to share. to think. to talk. to sing. to get drunk once in a while. i never felt weaker. but i also never felt stronger. i never had explored so thoroughly that what i refused exploring before. "do you really believe that?!" i hear you wondering and my answer is a firm "yes!"
sometimes the signals i get are blinding me. cedric told me that she was very angry about the journal for the reason that she was worried what other people will think about her, such as daniel and thomas. and that made me wonder why she is so worried about this. as if she would meet them ever again. those are people who are closely connected to me and which she will probably have no contact with again in her entire - hopefully long and prosperous - life. these are the small barbs that hook into my brain and tear threads of thoughts from the tissue.
i'm not writing for your pity or your sympathy. i'm writing to understand what i'm doing and why i'm doing it, what i'm feeling and why i'm feeling it. i write to differentiate. i write to split myself up because i can't really handle the whole of my self. i write to have narrated i and narrating i. i write to have a character, a narrator and an author and a text that doesn't need both. not because i want to tell her something. not because i want to hurt anybody. i try to write sense into this situation, into my life. i write to gain SOMEthing from this, even if it's just the hardly satisfactory feeling of at least having made words. i write because all of this must be good for something.
what i want is beauty that i'm part of. yes, i want the abstract beauty as well, the distant beauty, the one that passes you by in a song or a poem. but i also need the beauty i can touch, beauty that is connected to me if only by the touch of a hand or a pair of lips, if only by the touching of skin. her beauty was of such a kind. and the most beautiful thing about her were her eyes, and god knows how many whales were crossing the depth behind them. i should have tried to find out. i hope that he does. "i'm [...] trying to write something so beautiful it will make you ache from longing" (paula) her eyes could make me do that: ache from longing. her eyes were the most beautiful song i've ever heard. and i'm missing this. not in the nostalgic way that is so predominant in this writing. but i'm missing this kind of longing here eyes would give me, a longing that gave me strength and dignity for reasons i still don't understand.
[july 17, 2002]here's a challenge for contemporary gene researchers: find the gene that is responsible for the phenomenon that german girls in puberty have to bind little stuffed animals to the zippers of their eastpack-backpacks - AND FIND A CURE! kinds of toy-animals i saw hanging down from black, blue and red backpacks of girls aged 11-16 today:
[later]this is not really my day, apparently. i'm tired and sleepy and moody and not as funny and witty and communicative as you know and love me. tonight we'll first go to a bar and afterwards blaine will take me discodancing. i know you wish i had a webcam NOW! next week i can stay in irene's flat. she's on vacation so i will spend most of the week in cologne. i've planned to finally visit the zoo. nicola's working there and maybe she will give me a tour. it has been a lame working day: i didn't really accomplished anything of importance. hanjo mailed and gave me the creeps: he wrote that there's a lecture to hold in december about 'neue medien' - new media - that eckhard schumacher [an academic wunderkind from bielefeld now working in cologne] was supposed to do. but he can't for some reason and now hanjo said that i should do it. i have no plan of new media. and i certainly have no plan how to make a lecture - which will be a oneandahalf hour talk. tomorrow john krafft - fulbright professor from the states - will do a farewell party. my head hurts and i'm caught in a radiohead song. actually i should be thinking about lyrics for that new|old song we'd been playing on friday night. it's great: just two open chords, rolling drums (sort of western style but then not) and a very melodic bassline. but i have no idea where to start with the lyrics. no point of reference. the song and the sound are so smooth in a way that no words will stick to them.
[july 18, 2002]time: 8:07. weather: cloudy and rather cool. mood-o-meter: a solid 5.3. hours of sleep: 3 [directly related to my mood: pleasantly tired, indifferent]. song of the day: jonathan richman, i was dancing in a lesbian bar. so yesterday night blaine, andreas and i went to the 'pink tirangle' which is a club for 'gays&lesbians & friends'. it was sooo crowded! it really was a surreal experience. because i found myself at 2 in the morning in a club filled with 90% men [of which 99% were gay] and 10% women [of which 99.9% were lesbian] so this was probably the one place in cologne with the slimmest chances to meet a heterosexual woman who might be interested in me. and then i realized that i not only was actually dancing [moving my body clumsily to the rhythm of the music which must have looked freakin' ridiculous] but also dancing to cake's version of "i will survive" - and i was having a great time! and i did not only start to dance to the most horrible songs [backstreet boys!!!!] but i also felt so great that i would have slept with everyone on the dance floor (gay, straight or what have you) but nobody asked me. bad luck. for them! unfortunately we already left at 2:30 or so and i got up at the usual 6:30 this morning [god knows why because actually there's no reason to be here so early, especially since the fucking server is down again and we don't have any connection to the net].
[later]there's no way you could imagine how close i am to sleeping...
[july 19, 2002]I know a man, he came from my hometown | He wore his passion for his woman like a thorny crown | He said Dolores, I live in fear | My love for you's so overpowering, I'm afraid that I will disappear half an hour before rehearsal: i've just been shopping food for the weekend. i've returned from cologne this morning. yesterday night john gave his farewell party in his office and i missed the last train and had to sleep in the office. i had two bottles of champagne and i should have known from past experiences that this is nothing that my body tolerates. i was sooo sick. it was embarrassing. luckily almost everybody had gone home then already. boy, i think i can only remember one occasion when i was so intoxicated, and that was when we were still living in our first flat and cedric&tara came over to visit and i drank two bottles of champagne which nobody noticed and then an hour later i thought i had to die. i felt the same yesterday night. just thought: okay, if this it it then let me just lie here... i didn't even had the strength to carry the sofa into the office so i slept on the desk. as i said: embarrassing.
when i was in the supermarket around the corner they were playing paul simon's "slip slidin' away" and for a moment i was hypnotized by the music and i stood there motionless in front of the cereals for 3m49s and listened to it. God only knows, God makes his plan | The information's unavailable to the mortal man | We're workin' our jobs, collect our pay | Believe we're gliding down the highway, when in fact we're slip sliding away
[later | 22:59]i've just returned from rehearsal. it went exceptionally well. we played 'space walk' a little slower than usual and it improved the performance considerably. before it was too hasty, not relaxed enough. now i think that we've finally found the right speed and mood. reiner brought a distortion for my guitar, but it wouldn't work properly. but when it did it added to the sound immensely. i guess we will try to get one that works and sounds good (it's a little difficult to find a distortion effect for acoustic guitar that sounds okay and is not too expensive...)
next week i will live in irene's flat. she's on a conference in berlin and asked me whether i would like to take care of her plants and her apartment (i met her this morning by accident at the station when she was boarding the ice to berlin. she said: "boy, you look like you haven't had any sleep at all!"). so i will be in cologne almost all week. i'm planning to work on the hollow earth articles: there still are a lot of german quotations that have to be translated. also i will finally try to visit the zoo! nicola's working there and we'll try to fix a date.
just a quick reminder: there's a questionnaire that you can fill out anonymously.
[july 20, 2002]weather: cloudy but no rain. mood-o-meter: 4.8 out of 10. song: indigo girls, moment of forgiveness. and cedric is right: it's the best fleetwood mac tune that the indigo girls have ever written! when he heard it for the first time he said right away: the backing vocals are so typically macish! for example how the backing chorus sets in in the bridge (1:20), repeating the lyrics from the main melody a little latter and even the drums sound like fleetwood mac, especially at 1:39 when the cymbal is crashing on the two.
[later]cool! robin has just sent over a couple of pictures from the pynchon conference:
in the meantime it's 22:41 and dark outside. i've lighted a couple of candles and sade is singing. while i was writing a mail to john krafft just the other second i saw something like a shadow pass through the room. it was so real that i was petrified with fright for a moment. and the next thought was the worry whether she is alright or whether anything had happened...
[july 21, 2002]rain so hard that the drains can't hold the mass of water that's washing down the roofs, turning the street into a river and the cars to boats. it's a slow sunday morning. joni mitchell's cd 'both sides now' is playing and the orchestral sound is the perfect music for this kind of gray, wet weather. sometimes i love you | oh and sometimes i hate you | but when i hate you | it's because i love you | that's how i am | so what can i do | i'm happy when i am with you i'm lazy today, letting my thoughts wander and calling them back immediately when i realize they're on the way to her. which is work enough. my hands are cold. for some reason i remembered a passage from a mail i sent to paula almost two years ago:
Last night I thought I saw you sitting on my bed there, together with all the persons I so violently miss. Ghostlike the four of you were sitting there when I entered the lonely, dark apartment: my lover, Rob, Suzanne and you. And for a moment I thought I could see your face. "And something flickered for a minute and then vanished and was gone..." And I was missing you so much that my nose started to bleed. My heart has turned to 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...there is no reason to cry. except for the beauty of the music. i keep telling myself this: there is no fucking reason to cry. except for the emptiness inside oh i am a lonely loser | i live with a bunch of saints | i'm frightened by the devil | and i'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid | i remember that time you told me | you said "love is touching souls!" | surely you touched mine | cause part of you pours out of me | in these lines from time to time no reason but there are a lot of things you're doing without any reason, any reason at all
[later]spent the afternoon lying on the sofa, cuddled up into our old, brown blanket watching old late show episodes that i taped about six years ago. and from time to time i had flashbacks, remembering slow winter sunday afternoons that we spent together on that same sofa under that same old, brown blanket and then i turned up the volume and kept laughing hysterical about letterman's monologue, laughing my head up. hysterical and useless.
[july 22, 2002]great! i overslept because in my usual absentmindedness i set the alarm to 6:45pm instead of am. i've missed my train and now i've got plenty of time to wait for the next one and i won't be in cologne before noon. the weather hasn't decided yet whether it's gonna be a sunny or a cloudy day. it's cool though and it doesn't really feel like summer. and from my indecisive ramblings you can tell that i don't really feel like writing...
[later]what a strange day. surreal. low clouds. just had a coffee with blaine and nicole and s. now i'm back in the office. apparently there was an earthquake this morning. it's a strange winter day today except that there's no snow and the trees are green i feel like being taken out of one film and put into another one, one that i don't know. even the words have a strange sound, are unfamiliar. i'm aching to be touched. thought last night before i fell asleep: why is yankton so goddamned far away? another thought: fear. fear of having anything again because i could lose it. fear of not having anything again because what else could signify me other than belonging to somebody? okay, rhetorical question, but still: why should i start a re[a]lationship again when there is even the slightest chance that it might end like the last one? what if her leaving was not more and not less than the final action in entropy: "She stood a moment more, irresolute; she had sensed his obsession long ago, realizing that that constant 37 was now decisive. Suddenly then, as if seeing the single and unavoidable conclusion to all this she moved swiftly to the window before Callisto could speak; tore away the drapes and smashed out the glass with two exquisite hands which came away bleeding and glistening with splinters..." maybe it was the only way to break the stagnation and frustration of the hothouse that i've made of our relation. maybe i'm all wrong. maybe i think too much. milky light and warm wind outside. there's no poetry in today. this is one of those days that you just want to live through as fast as possible. i'm aching to be kissed. even if this ... ah i don't know. there's not even prose in today. for some reason "strange angels" is playing in my head again and again: And I didn't know whether to laugh or cry | And I said to myself: What next big sky? i could just sit here and stare out of the window at the silent, muffled world that's been pushed along by the wind [a tv screen with the sound turned off], in my back the clacking of nicole typing on the keyboard and in my mind an endless loop of laurie's voice:
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
Here they come.
Well it was one of those days larger than life
When your friends came to dinner
and they stayed the night
And then they cleaned out the refrigerator -
They ate everything in sight
And then they stayed up in the living room
And they cried all night
Strange angels - singing just for me
Old stories - they're haunting me
This is nothing
like I thought it would be.
Well I was out in my four door
with the top down.
And I looked up and there they were:
Millions of tiny teardrops
just sort of hanging there
And I didn't know whether to laugh or cry
And I said to myself:
What next big sky?
Strange angels - singing just for me
Their spare change falls on top of me
Rain falling Falling all over me
All over me
Strange angels - singing just for me
Old Stories - they're haunting me
Big changes are coming
Here they come
Here they come.
i've invited eva and ralf for dinner tonight because i've been staying at their place in cologne for almost two months now. i'm feeling strangely lost today, not lost from her though but lost from everything else as well - and please note that i'm not complaining, just noticing. i was sitting in blaine's office the other minute and he was wondering why i was so down and he asked: "why are you so down? you're gonna meet great people tonight, you're gonna meet nice people tomorrow night and the night after and i'm thinking of doing a gameing-night on thursday. so, what do you want?" and i said: "i want to spend the night in a dark, warm room lit by candles, in the arms of somebody who will still be there the other morning, listen to sade and not speak a single word."
[july 23, 2002]eva, ralf and i went having dinner at the "zeit der kirschen" yesterday, a pretty nice restaurant and although i wasn't really in a very talkative mood i immensely enjoyed the evening|night. at some point eva and i ended up sitting alone in her kitchen at midnight, discussing music. she asked me which radiohead cd i'd prefer: amnesiac or kid a and then we talked about our favorite songs from those albums and listened to them and then she said: "well, you probably like nick drake as well!?" and i said yes and i asked her what her favorite nick drake song was and before she could answer i knew that it was the one that i like best, too and like in a déjà vu she said: things behind the sun. and then we talked about stina nordenstam and she played this one song to me that is so exquisitely beautiful. "soon after christmas". great melody. great production. great lyrics. "every inch of my skin is crying for your hands" and i had a strange - a *very* strange - feeling in my belly sitting there and being so close to something and being so far away from something and the piano notes kept falling onto my skin like rain and i was so confused suddenly by trying so hard to ballance the closeness and the distance by making sense of being there and not there at the same time of being infinitely tired and nervously awake and for a moment i couldn't tell whether it were her eyes or the music that made me feel that way. Soon after Christmas || I've Called You Now A Thousand Times | I Think I Know Now | You're Not Home | I've Said Your Name A Thousand Times | To Be Prepared If You'd Be There | | I Wanted So To Have You | And I Wanted You To Know | I Wanted To Write Songs | About How We're Walking In The Snow | | You've Got Me Slightly Disappointed | Just A Bit And Just Enough | To Keep Me Up Another Night Waiting For Another Day | | The City's Taking A Day Off | The Streets Are Empty | No One's Out Tonight | My Life Is In Another's Hands | | I Wanted So To Have You | And I Wanted You To Know | I Wanted To Write Songs | About How We're Walking In The Snow | | But There's No Snow This Winter | There's No Words For What I Feel For You | It's Not Enough | Though It's Too Much | Why Must It Always Be Like That? | | The TV Screen Is Lighting Up My Room | The Film Has Ended | Every Inch Of My Skin Is Crying For Your Hands so, no: i did not end up "in a dark, warm room lit by candles, in the arms of somebody who will still be there the other morning, listen to sade and not speak a single word" but i guess i got as close to it as you could get.
i'm off to irene's place now. see you tomorrow!
[july 24, 2002]from later last night: it's 21:01. i'm at irene's place, already lying in bed, listening to stina nordenstam and thinking about people, two new people for a change which is good, which makes a difference and differences carry signification. i keep thinking about something blaine said about somebody we both know today and it surprised me and it made my heart jump a little bit however long it might have been ago or however "just said". anyway, enough crypric allusions. i've just had my nightly five minutes of desperation - a storm in which the mood-o-meter is in free fall - so now i'm extra tired & worn out. these lyrics keep revolving in my head : violence in my mind. I've Called You Now A Thousand Times | I Think I Know Now | You're Not Home | I've Said Your Name A Thousand Times | To Be Prepared If You'd Be There actually i wanted to meet with n. tonight but she had to work so this was cancelled. tomorrow night we'll go out & k. will join us. i'm looking forward to this and although i know that it'll be a lot of fun i would also like to - i don't know - just talk extensively with n.. i really enjoyed the conversation the two of us had at john's farewell party and i really would like to continue this. now that i don't have the possibility to spend the nights in cologne anymore there won't be many oportunities to do so in the future...
[later that night]i had just gone to sleep when n. called and we talked on the phone while watching "sex & the city" - i saw it for the first time and quite frankly i don't think that i understand why there's all this hype about it...- now it's almost twelve and i'm sitting on irene's bed with my back leaned against the wall, unable to get to sleep because of all the things i said that were just stupid and all the things i did not say that were stupid as well when i didn't really know what to say at all other than "please let me not listen to this music alone" that was playing in my head and it goes on playing "i've called you now a thousand times" and i almost feel like calling blaine now but it's midnight already.
irene's flat is very nice: a bedroom/study and a kitchen and a big bathroom. there are photos all over the place: large ones and small ones. set up in elaborate frames or just pinned to the wallpaper. and it reminded me of my own flat with the gallery in the kitchen and the collection of loosely connected images above my desk. but the photos in irene's flat are quite different from those in mine because hers are photos of her family, of her friend, of her nieces, of herself, of her brother and her sister, of her parent's dog and among all those images there's not a single one of a singer/writer and more than i wondered what this says about her i wondered what this says about me.
[july 25, 2002]n. said: "home is where you're sleeping". but it is not. meet with n. yesterday night: we prepared a chinese dish, talked, drank white wine and later that night went to meet two friends of her in a bar.
my dream tonight: i was walking n. home and we were walking down a narrow beach at night. to our right there were huge cliffs, to our left the black sea was stretching endlessly into the dark. sharks kept swimming out of the water and onto the shore, trying to bite us. and i could not protect her.
when i came home yesterday night at about 2am i couldn't sleep. i was nervous. i ate a whole bar of chocolate. the resulting sugar flash did not really help to calm me down. listened to that song that i can't get out of my head for three days now and i realized that one of the most bitter parts (except for the lyrics in the first verse) is the one where she's singing: "You've Got Me Slightly Disappointed | Just A Bit And Just Enough | To Keep Me Up Another Night Waiting For Another..." and then there is a pause and you start to complete the line "...waiting for another guy, boy, lover, man, somebody who won't leave me, somebody who won't hurt me, somebody else because i'm through with you i'm over you somebody else who will find me..." and then the first chord of the new verse starts already although the line hasn't been finished yet and then she's singing the last word of the line into this new chord: "Waiting For Another...Day"
n. said: "home is where you're sleeping". and it is. it's just a matter of intonation. home is where YOU're sleeping.
tonight we'll meet at blaine's place: eva, ralf, s., me and another friend of blaine. looking forward to that. should be a fun evening. boy, i really need sleep this weekend. when i came into blaine's office yesterday morning he said to me: "you don't look very good!" and i'd had nine hours of sleep that night...
[july 26, 2002]had a great time at blaine's place yesterday night. while walking home at 2 in the morning i was biting my lips on the way downtown.
condition today: silently confused
[later]it's 23:57. rehearsal went fine. we'll have two rehearsals next week: on thursday and on friday and on saturday we'll tape "was one" and the new, improved version of "the nerves end at the fingertips". feel free to check out the nerve bible pages for the respective lyrics ;o) and also i just wanted to mention - in case that i haven't yet - that there's a questionnaire that you can fill out. i'm tired now. stina nordenstam is singing and it really makes me want to sing and write songs as well. i wish we had any gigs - they haven't decided yet who is going to play at this fall's unplugged gigs. it's so pointless to put work and energy into a song when there's nothing that you can do with it, when it doesn't have a function. and again: i'm not complaining, i'm just thinking aloud....! great music! too good to listen to it alone. too romantic to listen to it on your own. it would be good if i lived in cologne. i wish i could pack cedric & tara and the band into my suitcase and just take them with me. it will eventually come down to giving up something. and right now i'm still trying to delay the decision as long as possible. stina's wondering whisperingly with the most fragile voice wrapped into the most beautiful melody and i'm aching to share this with you i turn my face to | from wherever the wind blows | is it worth so much to try?
[july 27, 2002]so, so. just when you least expect them they're back again: bad dreams. i was at a banquet and she was there but she wasn't together with oliver anymore, instead with the singer of the grauenhafte german band "fury in the slaughterhouse". analyze that! i wanted to beat him up but i couldn't. my arms were too heavy.
i just was shopping for food and now i'm listening to a cd cedric has compiled for me that features nico "my funny valentine"; scott walker "on your own again"; the venus in furs "bitter-sweet"; simon & garfunkel "you don't know where your interest lies"; elvis costello "when i was cruel no.2"; robert forster "broken hearted people"; cockney rebel "sebastian"; wall of vodoo "ring of fire"; john cale "riverbank"; bob dylan "love sick"; sheryl crow "weather changed"; ryan adams "sylvia plath"; nick cave "here comes the sun"; tocotronic "schatten werfen keine schatten"; lou reed "ecstasy"; frank sinatra "my funny valentine". analyze that!
hm, that "sylvia plath" song of ryan adams is pretty good actually: I wish I had a Sylvia Plath | Busted tooth and a smile | And cigarette ashes in her drink | The kind that goes out and then sleeps for a week | The kind that goes out on her own | To give me a reason for well, I dunno | And maybe she'd take me to France | Or maybe to Spain and she'd ask me to dance | In a mansion on top of the hill | She'd ash on the carpet and slip me a pill | Then she'd get me pretty loaded on gin | And maybe she'd give me a bath | How I wish I had a Sylvia Plath | And she and I would sleep on a boat | And swim in the sea without clothes | With rain falling fast on the sea | While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me | Telling me it would all be okay | Out on the horizon and fading away | And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh | I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath. "my blood beating the old tattoo i am i am i am" and now it's lou reed's "ecstasy" with that great guitar riff! and for some reason the lyrics remind me of that very old text that i once wrote and that i might use as a basis for the lyrics to that new chord pattern...
"the king and i."oops - a sudden outburst of summer: the temperature has risen by about 10° in comparison to yesterday and the sun is shining so brightly as to make up for all the cloudy weeks. the mood-o-meter is rising accordingly by 0.3 points to 3.8 plus an additional 1.1 points coming from stina nordenstam's "little star" on repeat: totals 4.9 - which is pretty good. there is even the slight chance of crossing the 5.0 mark. i was close on the way through the park half an hour ago when i decided that it's simply the best thing to be happy when she's happy. i mean that was what i wanted from the start after all: to make her smile. and sometimes you can do things by not doing anything. by being absent even. by being nothing even.
I was hugged by a strange man today
who claimed he was a king.
He promised he'd make me a national treasure,
I thought his mind was deranged.
He made a step towards me
and held me in his arms.
His touch was quick and bright,
I just could not resist his charms
or his slender, skillful hand
with which he made me something
that I don't understand.
Heavenly heavy and frozen stiff
I'm competing with the sun.
The only thing that melts my heart
is when a lover speaks my name.
But every time I hear a voice
it sounds the same
it sounds the same.
The man has vanished, so has the sun
I haven't changed position since.
I love you. But that's hard to prove
cause I'm so ghastly valuable
that I can't move
I cannot move.
[later]it's 0:30. i've spent the evening playing guitar and singing extensively, which was good. then, at about 20:50 while i was checking my mail, my mobile phone was ringing and i thought that this might be the event to push the mood-o-meter over the 5.0. but then it was only my sister. oh well, time to sleep now...
[july 28, 2002]slow day. sunny. warm. went walking. then put on my nerve bible [!] t-shirt and my shorts [!] and went sunbathing. played guitar and sang. thought about the lyrics for that new song. cedric suggested the title 'no point of reference'. but i'm not sure. for some odd reason the line 'whales and trains' pops into my mind every now and then. lyrics so far:
your green eyes spell a fearblaine's on holiday for two weeks, the lucky bastard! i'm missing him already. maybe there will be another suzanne vega cover project: someone suggested on undertow to put together a cd with vega covers by towsters. we only need somebody who'll organize it...uhm...yes, i WOULD be interested but i'm not sure whether i have the time. from next week on [that is: tomorrow] there'll be hollow earth time. it's time to finally finish the project!
that you have known before
that out of the dark waters
sharks will jump upon the shore
your green eyes spell a fear
that you know from your past
that on the way from hand to mouth
god will fall into the dust
dream from tonight: i had to do the written test for my high school exam and the question was: schreiben sie etwas schlaues über das fussballspiel bayern münchen gegen real madrid. write something smart about the soccer match bayern münchen vs. real madrid (actually i'm not quite sure whether it were these two teams. because 'real' madrid would just be too good to be true for any lacanian analyst...). my german teacher [whom i hated] was standing at my desk and everybody was writing and writing and the time was passing but i just did not know what to write. i only had two or three paragraphs which weren't even very good. and my teacher kept making fun of me.
[july 29, 2002]enhanced my chances to get skincancer by 120% today. no call. angry mail from angelina: i've pissed her off. affirmative mail from prof. nitsch: i can do the lecture in december. tomorrow i'll go to cologne. unfortunately i don't have a place to stay any longer so i will probably return in the evening. which means: little time to spend with the people there :-(
[july 30, 2002]it's hot. i mean really hot. i'm in cologne in the hottest office in the whole university. on the train that ryan adams song on repeat and the verse i love most is While she was swimming away, she'd be winking at me | Telling me it would all be okay | Out on the horizon and fading away | And I'd swim to the boat and I'd laugh | I gotta get me a Sylvia Plath which is just great because it reminds me of this passage in "the bell jar" where she's trying to kill herself by swimming as far out as she could, so far that she'd be too tired to return: she leaves her boyfriend behind and just swims on. out on the horizon and fading away. it would all be okay. and i'd swim to the boat and laugh. nobody in the office. especially not the person i had hoped to meet.
[later]oh well, it turned out to be the most beautiful afternoon :o) first irene came by and told me about the conference she'd been visiting the previous weekend, then i went with eva and s. to have a coffee and later n. came by as well and we had an ice cream and talked a little and i know it's stupid but i think i had butterflies in my tummy. and although i tried to supress it by telling myself not to be childish and that she considers me to be a *friend* and that she's giving away so much warmth and smiles and looks and touches to everybody and that i should stay with my feet on the ground i could not deny that there was something sparkling in my heart. i'm gonna get myself into trouble again, i can see it coming with my eyes wide open. but - hell! - i've got nothing to lose!!