[august 1, 2002]I'll be seeing you tomorrow | I'll be seeing you again | God knows we've said so little | I'd go so far as to call you a friend | But there's something in your ways keeps me | vying for a connection | And I know you'll feel the same | It's become a two-way addiction | Come on and give me your heart | write it on the back of my hand | and say it's forever spent yesterday night at cedric & tara's place and tonight we're going to see spiderman. in case that they'll be here in time... all other things that happen in my head and in my heart can not really be discussed here. i listened a lot to gemma hayes and stina nordenstam lately. good songs. the recordings we wanted to make on sunday have been postponed because ajan, the technician, is on holidays. which is a pity because i think that the two songs would have added a new side to the demo cd: they're more uptune songs, faster than the others. but we will have to wait until ajan has returned. unfortunately no news whether we can play at the unplugged gigs. we need gigs. really. we want gigs. really.
[august 2, 2002]spiderman was fun. except that certain people meant to make funny remarks when the girls says to the protagonist (who, thanks to his improved bodily skills doesn't have to wear glasses anymore) "you've got blue eyes? do you wear contacts?". as if being a superhero wasn't enough to bear already, they also have to make fun of us! after the movie we went to a bar and had cocktails which could probably be claimed responsible for the headache this morning. the very seldom occurrence of having received not a single piece of email over night: no new messages on server. no calls either. plan for today: go shopping for food [and now i remember a dream i once had in which i was shopping for food and meet somebody's father in the supermarket and he told me that she was engaged and i remember it so very distinctly suddenly, it feels like it was a dream that i had four or five years ago and i had told it to somebody and for the fraction of a second it felt like a prediction but already the memory has vanished. very strange. very peculiar. very intensive. very surreal.] anyway, so the plan for today: shopping, hollow earthing, color my hair [cosmic blue again], write to paula, go for a walk. weather: sunny and not too hot. mood-o-meter: 4.6.
[later]okay, did all the things that were on my plan except for hollow earthing and writing to paula. but i think i will do the latter tonight. by the way, when i was in herford two days ago we went to visit a strange site called "the junker house". total abgefahren. they have a website here. in the meantime it's 21:39 and dark outside. seems like summer's over already :o( there have been moments today when i felt so strange - i kept thinking about her and i felt like calling her up and talking to her and for the first time in 8 months it has not been xxxx i've been thinking about all day. i have neither any reason nor any grounds for this - almost silly - sparkling feeling in my heart and i keep telling myself to be cautious and not imagine and fantasize too much, but as usual i'm not really listening to my good advice. i wish i had a flat in cologne. i wish i had more money. i haven't checked my account for over a months now. i wish i would finally get an offer for the movie rights for the journal! i'm wishing for so much instead of being content and happy with all i've got. how to find you? maybe by your singing one white whale in all these oceans one white whale slipping through the nets of silence under polar icecaps miles down you leave your echoes in the water one white whale in all these oceans ONE WHITE WHALE
[august 3, 2002]that sheryl crow song [weather channel] on repeat. i'm hollow earthing and it's driving me mad. too many images, not enough structure. too many folders. argh! i've been searching those plutonia images that cedric had scanned the other year and i *know* that i have cut them to size and arranged them already - but i just can't find them. fuck. it's really driving me nuts! while searching on my cd-roms i found all those great paintings by leonora carrington and i thought that i might as well add a little color here. i also realized that she's done a painting called "nobo mummy and nobo daddy" which could interest cedric since arno schmidt has written a novel called "nobo daddys kinder". slow day. want to write a song. here's another painting. reluctant sunshine. cars sound by like waves. i'm here: a differently abeled captain who's prey has been exterminated eons ago. "we may not fix the hinges but at least the door has stopped its creaking" nope, i'm not complaining.
[later]went for a walk. it's rather cool outside. started to rain. found those plutonia images finally. the list [undertow] is suspiciously quiet. only one mail in two days.
[later]have been listening to lou reeds "ecstasy" on repeat for the last two hours. n. wrote. my heart sank. the acid in my blood boiling. bitter taste in my mouth. much room for interpretation but i fear that it won't really be what i want to hear :o( i'm very surprised that it all has gotten so important for me all of a sudden - which is good and bad at the same time: good, because it replaces the past. bad because i feel that i'm getting vulnerable again. [pft! as if there had been a time when i wasn't!] They call you ecstasy | Nothing ever sticks to you | Not velcro not scotch tape | Not my arms dipped in glue | Not if I wrap myself in nylon | A piece of duct tape down my back | Love pierced the arrow with the 12 | And I can't get you back | O ecstasy, ecstacy | Across the street is an old Ford | They took off its wheels | The engine is gone | In its seat sits a box | with a note that says "goodbye Charlie, thanks a lot" | I see a child through a window with a bib | and I think of us, and what we almost did | The Hudson rocketing with light | The ships pass the Statue of Liberty at night | They call it ecstasy, o, ecstasy | Some men call me St.Ivory | Some call me St.Maurice | I'm smooth as alabaster | with white veins running through my cheeks | A big stud through my eyebrow | A scar on my arm that says "domain" | I put it over the tattoo | that contained your name | They called you ecstasy, ecstasy, ecstasy | The moon passing through a cloud | A body facing up is floating towards a crowd | and I think of a time and what I couldn't do | I couldn't hold you close, I couldn't, I couldn't become you | They call you ecstasy | I can't hold you down, I cant hold you up | I feel like that car that I saw today | No radio, no engine, no hood | I'm going to the cafe I hope they've got music | and I hope that they can play | But if we have to part I'll have a new scar right over my heart | I'll call it ecstasy | O ecstasy, ecstasy, ecstasy
[later]mood-o-meter: 0.6. talked to n. on the phone. no room for interpretations. i've lost an affair. i've won a friendship. listening to paula now. 'black letters of fire'. disappointment looms in the room like fog. i wonder what exactly it is about me that everybody sees 'a brother' or 'a good friend' in me. this is quite a limited repertoire. boy - i had forgotten how fast things can build up and how fast they can break down again. cedric&tara are not home. blaine's on holiday. yes, i think i am in fact slightly disappointed. just a bit and just enough to keep me up another night waiting for another
[august 4, 2002]obvious song of the day: simon & garfunkel: "you don't know where your interest lies". uneasy sleep, woke up every now and then and realized that i haven't dreamed yesterday's occurences. slight ache. tara&cedric called yesterday night when they returned home and we talked on the phone. they tried to cheer me up - which worked amazingly well. You don't know that you love me. You don't know, but I know that you do. You may think you're above me, yeah, what you think isn't always true. Don't try to debate me. You should know that I'm womanly wise, still you're trying to manipulate me. You don't know where your interest lies, no, you don't know where your interest lies. You don't begin to comprehend, you're just a game that I like to play. You may think that we're friends all right but I won't let friendship get in my way. No, I won't let friendship get in my way. Indications indicate running the same riff will turn you around. Obviously, you're going to blow it but you don't know it. You don't know that you love me. You don't know, but I know that you do. today: sunday. weather: hmm, not really sunny. plan: work, walk, rehearsal. mood-o-meter: 3.2. when i was talking to n. on the phone yesterday night i suddenly remembered an occurence five years ago, and for a short moment this gained a sublime importence, for the fraction of a second it suddenly was so significant that i had to tell her about it. of course after starting the story i realized how stupid it sounded, but it was too late then. so here's the scene i remembered: location: bielefeld university. dramatis personae: cedric, thomas, somebody and me. the four of us were waiting in front of a seminar room in which thomas was to give a lecture. we were standing there, talking and joking, with our backs leaned against the wall, sipping coffee or tea that was too hot, cedric was smoking a cigarette, holding it away from us with one hand and with the other gesticulating while discussing the new lou reed cd with thomas. somebody was listening and i was absent mindedly playing with a paper clip. i straightened the outer part of it and bent it in an angle of 90°. then i held it between thumb and index finger and i turned it so that the top of it started to whirl around so fast that its outlines were blurring. and i thought: this looks like a propeller. and suddenly i had this vision of that one shot from the final scene of "casablanca" in which the propellers of the plane are cutting through the thick fog. and then - without looking up - i said into cedric and thomas' conversation: "what movie is this" and i held the paper clip that was rotating between my fingers up to their faces and without hesitation thomas said: "casablanca". even weeks after that somebody could not believe it. and last night after i said to n. on the phone that her mail must have been the friendliest refusal that i've ever gotten and she kept silent for a very long short second and then said "...hm, yes" very softly and with the air of relief i suddenly remembered that occurence with thomas. "and one more thing: keep moving. cause it's a long way home." - laurie anderson
[later]bad news: those %&@§# bastards haven't booked us for the unplugged concert series in september. FyUyCyKy! and then reiner is on holiday almost all month long, so the next two or three rehearsals will be cancelled :-( sometimes it seems so strange to have tried and tried, to have written songs, to have rehearsed, to have changed, to have made new friends, to have kept the old ones, to have flirted, to have struggled to get through the days when you find yourself at exactly the same spot that you have started from: nothing has changed. let me rephrase this: i wasn't able to change anything. i'm only older. i'm as alone as before. i'm as unsuccessful as before. i'm not complaining. i'm just making a statement. "it's a long way home". and i don't know the direction.
[august 5, 2002]boy, i overslept big time! when i opened my eyes the alarm said 10:47. i hurried out of bed, jumped under the shower and now i'm sitting at my desk, not really quite awake, a cup of hot tea in front of me, starting to hollow earth. nadine just called and we're going to meet tonight. we haven't seen each other in - i don't know - two months? and this although we're living in the same neighborhood. weather: cloudy. mood-o-meter: 3.9. music: catherine wheel, "frip". bye, bye long day | i need to sleep so much | you shine on me | too much is not enough | too much is not enough | too much is not enough
[later]found a couple of kircher-illustrations for the hollow earth project that we didn't have yet. coded and went for a short walk. answered 20,000 emails from students concerning their term paper topic. no other exciting events today. have been headbanging to catherine wheel all day long. great songs. great guitars. going to meet nadine now. see you.
[august 6, 2002]"come outside and join the human race - but i don't feel so human..." i'm on the train to cologne. short night. strange dreams that made me wake up. i was with nadine and we met lars, a good friend of somebody. and we were talking in a very friendly way and i was really glad to meet him and then i realized that somebody must be around as well and when i looked back nadine had turned into her. i woke up then.
[flipping into my would-be-laurie-anderson voice]
you know, this might be just a coincidence, but it's seems like it's always the same, whenever i go to an audition the same thing happens: i'm getting the script and it's a fairly descent story: a romance, or, let's say, a romantic comedy, or even a romantic tragedy, you know, the kind of stuff with lots of hugs and lots of kisses and even some nude scenes. and i'm auditioning for the part of the lover - and i really give my best: i learn my lines by heart, do all the method acting, really become that character, that is, let's say, called "Oliver". and down in the dark auditorium a couple of guys are sitting in the deep red chairs, chewing on their yellow pencils or smoking nervously and ashing into their coffee cups. they are coughing into my best lines, breaking my concentration, interrupting my improvisation wanting me to jump right into another scene. and when i'm done and i've gotten ever so close to kissing my acting partner (a really attractive red haired blonde brunette) they shout "thank you!" and quickly she winds herself out of my arms and escapes into an empty corner of the stage. and down in the dark everybody's leaning back, rubbing their chin, nodding softly, mumbling "yes, yes" and then they're whispering and gesticulating and that one guy - the director or producer i assume - gets up and says: "well, you know, this was really impressive, you know, you're really a talented actor, but you know, you're not really what we were looking for - we thought that this oliver character is a little more exotic, a little more erotic, a little more extraordinary you know, just slightly more, uhm, exciting. but we'd like to cast you for that other role, you know, the "best friend" character called Skip." see, this is always what happens: i end up with the role of the best friend. and of course i keep playing it. i mean, what else am i supposed to do? you've got to live on *some*thing.
it's been raining cats and dogs all day long. it hasn't stopped a single minute. long, silver threads of water that bind the sky to the earth. an endless arhythmical downpour.
[later]my heart is as heavy and weary as the sun that can't keep itself above the horizon any more and sinks down slowly with a ruby red sigh. in the window of the train my reflection and i'm seeing the white of my eyes and it is crossed by fine red lines, little rivers of blood. i wish i could paint: i'd paint my face onto a pane of glass and smash my fist through it. nets of power lines, woods of chimneys and smoke that is bleeding into the clouds gracefully. countless rows of tracks, iron nailed to wood, regular, symmetrical like lou reed's slapping onto the strings of an undistorted electric guitar. "if we had to part i'd have a new scar over my heart" dark brick walls flowered with bright unfinished graffiti. no images. only big, floated letters. waving roofs stuck to iron constructions. the sky red as the blushing of her face when she saw me entering the room today. "the hudson rocketing with light" no river here. the woman in front of me won't take off her sunglasses, she's wearing too much jewelry, black fake leather bag. the guy next to her - about my age - is staring at me and i try to avoid his looks. the young woman next to me is opening a vogue and the smell of fresh printer's ink, of unread pages is waving towards me with every page that she's turning filling my nostrils with the perfumed promise of fresh letters, of new words, of unseen pictures. an unreal dali sky: clouds with hyper sharp outlines, towering over the city. suddenly the guy in front of me is tipping on my knee: "excuse me, can you tell me what song you've been listening to when we drove off in cologne?" "uh?!" i'm saying. for two and a half years i've been driving back and forth from bielefeld to cologne but it's the first time that somebody ever actually talks to me... "i'm not sure" "it was a female voice, a very beautiful song..." "i think it was a song by sheryl crow..." i finally remember "...called 'weather channel'..." "oh!" he says and i'm adding almost like an excuse: "a friend of mine recorded it for me..." i'm leaning back again. silence. two minutes later he gets off. a line by paula is flashing through my mind: "...busy as you are with keeping still"
[august 7, 2002]
in the water of my dreams
an alligator screams
from the depth there
i'd swim with you there
i'd swim with you there..."
catherine wheel, "fripp"
[august 8, 2002]That summer fields grew high. We had wildflower fever. We had to lay down where they grew. How I've learned to hide, how I've locked inside, you'd be surprised if shown. But you'll never, you'll never know. i think i could fill the whole diary just with lines from songs. and i could fill my whole life just with singing them. worked on the hollow earth. went walking. drank tea. ate a sandwich. worked more on the hollow earth. thought. tried not to think. then tried to think but something different. sang. drank another cup of tea. weather: cloudy with occasional light rain. mood-o-meter: 3.4 and steady. you'll never, you'll never know well, i've warned you! here's another song with a slight hollow earth reference (l. 12)
I stepped into an avalanche,and then again and again you stumble over lines that say it so much more gracefully than all the entries during the past six months... by the way: i think it's somebody's mother's birthday today: so happy birthday!
it covered up my soul;
when I am not this hunchback that you see,
I sleep beneath the golden hill.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn, learn to serve me well.
You strike my side by accident
as you go down for your gold.
The cripple here that you clothe and feed
is neither starved nor cold;
he does not ask for your company,
not at the centre, the centre of the world.
When I am on a pedestal,
you did not raise me there.
Your laws do not compel me
to kneel grotesque and bare.
I myself am the pedestal
for this ugly hump at which you stare.
You who wish to conquer pain,
you must learn what makes me kind;
the crumbs of love that you offer me,
they're the crumbs I've left behind.
Your pain is no credential here,
it's just the shadow, shadow of my wound.
I have begun to long for you,
I who have no greed;
I have begun to ask for you,
I who have no need.
You say you've gone away from me,
but I can feel you when you breathe.
Do not dress in those rags for me,
I know you are not poor;
you don't love me quite so fiercely now
when you know that you are not sure,
it is your turn, beloved,
it is your flesh that I wear.
this is your world, beloved,
it is your flesh that I wear.
[august 9, 2002]have been listening to various cohen cds all day long because i've promised to compile a "cohen for beginners" cd for nikola and nicole. and now i'm asking myself why anybody would still care to write songs? those melodies and lyrics are just everything the world will ever need. my sister's going to pick me up any minute now with her new boyfriend and we're going to my parent's place. it was my mother's birthday last week but they were on holiday then so we're going to have a little belated birthday party today. tomorrow cedric's going to come by and we will do advanced hollow earthing. worked on the html versions of the novels today that will be included on the cd-rom.
[later]so here are the songs i put on the "an introduction to leonard cohen" cd [79:41]:
it's 22:51. no new messages on server. during the last days eva and i have mailed back and forth quite regularly, every day and i tried to make her some compliments. sorry, there's no point to this story unfortunately. i'd love to sing for somebody now. whenever i'm alone and there's some kind of longing bugging me i feel like singing. like this was the only way to reach people, like this was a way to touch people without having to touch them, without the fear of transgressing borders, like singing could be like a hug, like a kiss even: a tender movement towards you. when i was at my parents' my mother gave me a painting she didn't want to have any longer: it's a really corny colorful print of a shepherd and his flock in some gold frame. but i love it. it was hanging above the bed of my grandparents and i've hang it up above my sofa. and when i looked at it the other minute it reminded me of my birthday two years ago when somebody took me to a castle and we walked through the woods there. i was not in a very good mood and kept frowning and although somebody did her best to cheer me up i was stubborn and bad company. we saw a flock of sheep then and somebody thought that one of it had died because it kept sticking all four legs into the air. i think that day was definitely one of the many occasions that she lost patience with me and a tiny piece of her love for me. there were other days, more days, that kept breaking away piece after piece of what somebody felt for me until in the end there was nothing left but a huge dry pile of sand. i'm an idiot for not realizing that. i'm an idiot for letting that happen. i'm an idiot for building such a wall around me. i'm an idiot for not loving her back the way she deserved it. i'm not complaining. but i should have sung more often to her. and we're still making love | in my secret life
[august 10, 2002]surreal moment of the day: when i got a spam mail that said:
i especially like the question mark above the squirrel's head! weather: cloudy and rainy. music: stina nordenstam, "fireworks". mail of the day: eva's answer :o( . mood-o-meter: 3.2. plan for today: advanced hollow earthing with cedric who will be here every second, minute or hour.
Subject: Feed the Birds not Squirrels
Date: Sat, 10 Aug 2002 15:54:54 -1900
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[later]it's 00:30, cedric and i have just returned from a bar [we've been watching women] and he's on his way home now. when we were discussing to which bar to go he mentioned that there might be one or two where we could meet people we did not want to meet. "i mean certain people from the university" he added, "not somebody and oliver..." so i suppose they're still together and i realized that i had hoped by myself that it would not work out and that they have split again and then i thought how selfish this was and i remembered what angelina had written and i tried to convince myself again by advanced autosuggestion that somebody's happiness it what counts for me and that i'm happy when somebody's happy even if this is in a relationship with whom ever for how long ever.
so now i'm listening to my leonard cohen compilation slowly feeling the effects of the alcohol i had tonight. it was a good day: we managed to get a lot of work done and i think the hollow earth book|cd-rom will be really, really good. it's fun to work on it. it's a good feeling to create something of value. n. called today. she just wanted to say hello. now i'm going to answer eva's mail and then i will sit in the kitchen and sing one or two songs. and if you're very quiet and you keep your window opened a little bit you might hear me...
[august 11, 2002]HOLY SHIT! worked a little on the hollow earth and then went walking and returned at three in the afternoon. was tired then and though that i might as well close my eyes for a couple of minutes - and i fell into a deep, deep three hour [3 hours!!!] sleep that was packed with dreams so colorful, detailed, surreal and spectacular that "industrial light & magic" and lewis carroll would drop dead green with envy. boy! i haven't had such a long and real dream for a long time! the indigo girls were there and they knew me somehow, we joked and they pressed me to their bosoms and emily pressed me to her legs and asked me whether she should put on nylon tights [?!?] and i said no! her skin would smell so well and they asked me about my guitar and suddenly i had three and one of it belonged to paula and they saw that one that suzanne had signed and then i told them that suzanne had the room across the hallway [which she had in the dream] and they wanted to use my guitar and answering machine, and when they left somebody was making a movie on the corridor and john goodman was there and then not and then it was rowan atkinson and the not and when i returned to my room it was a cabin on a cruise liner and emily and amy had hidden a bomb in my room that i found and i was subsequently chased by terrorist/cia gangsters. before, i was in a sort of holiday resort where i kept finding tennis balls for a blind woman who was sitting high up on a ladder with a tennis racket practicing her service. now i've turned on radiohead and i've turned up the volume to blast all those lost, fragmented images out of my mind. it's scary, really! HYSTERICAL AND USELESS HYSTERICAL AND LET DOWN AND HANGING AROUND CRUSHED LIKE A BUG IN THE GROUND LET DOWN AND HANGING AROUND
earlier today i had another surreal moment: when i walked up my street to get to the woods i listened to stina nordenstam's "little star" i suddenly realized that it's the first sunday after somebody's mother's birthday and that - traditionally - there's a birthday party then at somebody's parents' place and i had this virtual scene in front of my eyes: their living room filled with guests as every year: grandmother, sister and husband, uncle and friends of somebody's mother and then somebody arrives and for the first time she brings him along and introduces him to everybody and stina kept singing "you must have wanted the world to know" and nobody was amazed, it was just any ordinary event that somebody went around with him close by, introducing him and i waited that my heart would twitch and stumble over this image but it did not beat at all it was all hard and silent and then i saw her laughing face in close up in front of me, her laughing face that was relaxed and content being with him among the rest of her family and stina kept singing "and now they know" and i felt some sense of relief, a quiet contentment that she's laughing finally and i was happy about her happiness and suddenly i was so worn out by my happiness that i wanted to curl up into a ball and die. and then all of a sudden things took a strange twist when sade's "ordinary love" started and everybody on the birthday party sang along to it: somebody's mother and father began to sing into the camera, doing 60s-metro-goldwyn-mayer-technicolor-musical tap dance numbers, waving their hands and arms, and then all the birthday guests formed a chorus line and it all ended with a total shot of the living room: somebody and he were kneeling in the front and everybody stood around them smiling with a toothpaste commercial smile into the camera and pointing towards them with a slow, grand gesture on the closing chord of "no ordinary love".
you think i took any drugs today, but i didn't! i certainly cannot complain about a lack of imagination...
[later]just talked to cedric on the phone and he said that the dream wasn't so mysterious at all. at least not the john goodman/rowan atkinson part. he said this clearly was him! which actaully could be because we have this old joke that he imitates john goodman as "walter" in barton fink, running down the burning corridor shouting "I show you what creativity is!" tried to call blaine but he's not back from holidays yet.
[august 12, 2002]a monday that felt like a sunday. nothing happened. worked on the hollow earth. talked to blaine. he's back and i'll meet him tomorrow at work. went for a short walk. though that what is good for thomas pynchon might as well be good for me and listened to my best of lotion: for a long, long time 'around' again: put your troubles behind you | put your love in my hands now i'll pack my things for cologne tomorrow. perhaps i will stay two days and spend the night in the office. if you know of a nice, cheap flat in cologne, MAIL ME! kati mailed. paula wrote as well. she and fatima have moved to minneapolis and she has registered at the university for courses on american literature, textual interpretation, political psychology, and oceanography. that's all there's to report about today. weather: a mix of sun and clouds. right now it's dark already. mood-o-meter: 3.8.
[august 13, 2002]on the train: hazelnut bown voice is lulling me to sleep: listening to a reading of arno schmidt's lake scenery with pocahontas. unausstehlich klugscheissender erzähler. blonde girl next to me, stone washed blue jeans, black leather jacket. ich ziehe die knie an und falle asleep. the thought of having to return to bielefeld in a couple of hours makes me tired. light nap, iterrupted by rags of words until there's silence in the headphones und ich schrecke auf. yawning: kulturverwöhnt and ignorant and i'm changing the md. this is a gray day, if there ever was one. the opening lines of sade's 'by your side' force a smile upon my lips.
[later]it's 23:56, i've returned to bielefeld. here's what i wrote on the train:
this must be the record: listened to "ecstasy" on repeat for 2 1/2 hours now. i'm on the train back to b. and i've just read the most dreadful term paper. about "the novel 'Death of a Salesman'". decided that i will go swimming when i'm back in b. decided to go swimming at least two times a week: keep myself tired, keep myself worn out so i won't start becoming restless and start to think. all this walking and the swimming is just to create the illusion of having done something. when i'm tired & worn out i feel like not having wasted the day. stupid escapism. it's almost 7:30pm and still half an hour to go: eight times "ecstasy".of course i did not go swimming. i stayed home, tried to write to angelina but i couldn't concentrate. i'm troubled by what she wrote today. talked to cedric on the phone. then, about ten minutes ago, something happened in the room or in my mind i couldn't tell i couldn't differentiate like a dam broke, like a flood rolled over, all over the place, like the toms in 'ophelia', the toms in 'estragon': hoofs of cattle in panic or a deep thunder that starts in the belly and not in the head and i thought i'd left this behind long ago, weeks ago "love was at first sight | love" and the hunger for her voice comes like a "tempest, cyclone | a god damn hurricane" scheisse ich weiss nicht mal mehr wie du aussiehst oder wie deine stimme klingt, wie du lachst wie du lachst wie du lachst ich kann mich nicht erinnern far away i'll be gone will you wait for me here how long i don't know will you wait for me here we have promised each other so much and we have kept so little. [deleted] ich will nicht mehr.
[august 14, 2002]another morning. another day. another attempt to get along *gracefully*. hello? mr. pinhead? i said *gracefully*! so no more yesterday nights! went swimming this morning. hollow earthed. weather: partly sunny, warm. opened my window and blasted philip glass down the street - as a matter of fact i'm still doing it now: all of satyagraha and the beautiful last 15 minutes have just started.
from a transcript of an online chat:
Washington, D.C.: When I saw George Clinton and the Parliament Funkadelic a few weeks back at the 9:30 Club they frequently worked in the opening ditty from Tom's Diner into their jam. Should you be complimented? Offended? Paid?got up. went swimming. worked. now i'm listening to the bootleg of suzanne's cologne concert: "...so now we're doing 'soap & water' by request..."
Suzanne Vega: Haha! That old chestnut!...
[august 15, 2002]
[later]my life is a never-ending string of exciting, awesome adventures. today: our hero tries to recover a lost book from the forces of darkness and oblivion. he went downtown to try to purchase a copy of unica zürn's der mann im jasmin that he wanted to send kati. he searched every single bookstore in town [and this includes the one that somebody's mother is working at and yes! - thanks to the never ceasing tough luck of our hero - she was in fact working and he saw her from the corner of his eyes but he did not think that she either saw or recognized him] but alas! our hero could not find a single copy of the book, not to mention any other book by the same author. so the only chance that our fearless hero has is to go into the dark castle of the evil wizard amazon and buy it there - which means that he will have to come up with at least 20 euros worth of books so that he won't have to pay the postage! argh!
ha! but then our clever hero has just convinced his mother to buy a heino hit mix cd, so he has managed to outwit the evil amazon! - happy end
[later]the day is over, it's still warm outside. "witness for the prosecution" has just started...song of the moment: the prosecutor's love song. and right now Marlene Dietrich enters the room and says: "I never faint because i don't know if i'd fall gracefully enough..."
[august 16, 2002]went swimming this morning. hollow earthed. weather: sunny and warm. thought about pulling the old castle trick, which i might actually do tonight. there's not much to report. there doesn't really happen a lot round here. which is good because i can concentrate on the cd-rom. maybe i'll manage it to finish it by the end of august. obvious song of the day: paul simon, graceland.
[later]i'm just back from the castle where i first tried to write a letter to kati and then tried to play a couple of songs . but i'm too old for this! definitely. felt extremely ridiculous. now i'm waiting at the tram station. it's a most delicate friday night, 11 pm. golden moon and the sky so full of stars that you cannot decide where to look first. i thought the old castle game would still work - see!? *that's* how desperate i am. every now and then i'm losing perspective and i have to remind me that it's the amount of beauty in *her* days that i should be concerned about. if only i hadn't this persistent, resistant and fucking annoying feeling of wasting my life. i doubt that even a proper gig would have improved my mood tonight. i feel like i'm in the game for the wrong reasons. like i was a good swimmer but then somebody puts me in a soccer team although i keep protesting that i cannot play soccer, that i can only swim but for some strange reason i have to play in that team now. but i'm a swimmer! a swimmer! here's an advice from the local church that has put up ads in the tram: "throw your weight upon the lord!" hm, maybe i can think of a funny, appropriate remark tomorrow...
[august 17, 2002]dreamed of thomas today. when i checked my mail he had written. am i going psychic? weather: sun galore! i'm going to spend a couple of hours in the park. right now i'm listening to the prosecutor's lovesongs. the whole cd. i haven't listened to it in a long time. funny, but it's like every note would spark a memory - i can remember how we taped each guitar track and how rob was sitting there by the mixing board, drowned into his playing. especially all the guitars in "between the years" have this effect. underwaterguitars. "well, i said, i had to kill *some*thing..." and if he didn't go to heaven for those songs then i don't know *what* you've got to do to get there! [later] i'm back from out of the sun. i'm really getting a tan! i will end up healthy-looking one day! plan for the rest of the day: work on the cd-rom, prepare dinner, start to write the letter to kati. [later] oh boy, found a great chorus for that half finished chord pattern. and a great chorus melody as well. and even lyrics! when i reread parts of kati's journal i stumbled across a passage where she writes about talking to her cactus and it reminded me of that verse in 'nothing left to lose' [you know, just the other night | it was such a sort of night | when my cactus caught fire | and we talked about god and the world | all night long | and guess what it said to me | my cactus said: forget her!] and when i was searching for the lyrics i came across the folder with the nerve bible reviews and there was the clipping from the paper with the great picture of rob and since this month's page could need a little more visual stimulation i've scanned it. i still remember opening the paper and there he was, gazing at his shoes, absorbed in playing, covering a quarter of the page and for the next 120 rehearsals we were making fun of him. otherwise: slow day. some thinking. some longing. silver lining: accidental chorus chords, which - in itself - is quite a good album title. wish there was some way to re-live the years with the band. wished there was a way to re-live the years with somebody. but would this work? i feel so much different now. i feel like having changed so much. "...und ich denke: das muss liebe sein..."
[august 18, 2002]typical sunday: sunny, window open, the shadows of the leaves from the chestnut tree on the corner are dancing on the windowsill. the pigeons are flying among the roofs. went walking this afternoon, my usual turn. made a cd for kati. could have sworn that i was the only one who was out there alone. hollow earthed. listened to rainbirds.
[later]mood-o-meter: 0.3. started a mail to undertow. erased it. eve wrote. my teeth are hurting from pressing my jaws together and i'm sweating.
[august 19, 2002]belch! i'm sick! i've just eaten 300g of cheap cantuccini which were - above all - sweet. i suddenly had such a hunger for something sweet - now i'm regretting it. tomorrow: cologne. today: work, sun, emails. read unica zürn and it started the voice in my head again that commented on what i did and thought in the third person, zürn-style. going for a walk now. mental note: very surprisingly it does not work to wash down the sticky sweet taste that you get in your throat from eating too many sugared cookies by coke.
[august 20, 2002]on the train: lotion's 'around' on the md, blue sky, early morning and the song is pulling and pulling with a 3/4 rhythm, acoustic guitars, riff, imperatives: "put your troubles behind you | put your love in my hands" and now the change of chord patterns, minor chords, anticipated, already sensed since the second chorus, the toms rolling, the strings replace the vocal melody which drifts into the background with more & more delay
[later]i'm on the way back. it's 20:14 and we're in dortmund. actually i wanted to go swimming right when i would come back home but we're delayed for almost an hour so the swimming hall will be closed when i arrive. the temperature has dropped by almost 10 degrees. there's chaos on the platform. a part of the tracks ahead of us are blocked so all the trains have to be redirected. people are getting out their mobile phones "Hi Darling, I'll be late. No, the tracks are blocked. Is it already dark at home?" at home. "Sugar - I'm calling from the trains, we're delayed. Yes, I miss you, too, I'm kissing you. Yes! Bye. Kisses! Bye! Yes, bye! I'm kissing you!" kissing you. the thought of my empty flat makes me shiver. i'm reading zürn. i'm cold. it's 21:41. we're 90 minutes delayed. it has started to rain. the water is drumming against the panorama panes of the train from out of the darkness. panorama pain. it's gotten even colder. the air-conditioning is not working properly. i'm hungry. i'm listening to lotion's 'enormous room' on repeat "mark on my shoulder that won't go away..." there's nothing outside - it's completely dark. i've been sitting on the train today for 7 hours being transported through the dark and the rain and the sunrise and it isn't fun.
Aber "Kreis" und "Gefängnis" verschwinden - man wird wieder fähig zu arbeiten - bis zum nächsten "Ping" - von gegenüber - bis zum nächsten Geräusch des Hammers, der die 9 oder 7 Schläge auf einem Dach auf eine beunruhigende Weise wiederholt. Es kommt darauf an, sich zu merken, dass das "Ping" entsteht, wenn eine unbedeutende Frau ihre Teller abwäscht und dass die neun Hammerschläge notwendig sind, um einen Stein bei den Maurern zu zerteilen. -yesterday: in cologne i first sat with blaine and tina (his new colleague) on the campus in front of the university and we had an ice cream: brauner bär - brown bear - an ice from the 70s that we used to eat when we were still children, about seven or eight years old: it's rather small with a caramel kernel and a chocolate tip. they've 'relaunched' it recently. then nicole and her friend joined us. later also eva came, and when everybody started to go back to their offices again eva and i stayed outside and i had another brauner bär. yummy! on thursday night i will meet with eve. we haven't seen each other for - well, two months now? since she wrote me that she can't see me anymore because she felt more for me than i did for her. so over the past weeks we haven't either mailed nor seen each other. but she wrote to me the other week and asked whether i would like to meet her again, which i do very much.
[august 21, 2002]
[later]hollow earthed. went swimming. went shopping for food. talked to cedric on the phone: conference calls for the project - seems like we never stop thinking about it in the back of our heads... tried to get that unica zürn book. prepared dinner. worked more while watching with one eye "Robin Hood" staring Errol Flynn [or however you spell his name] with the sound turned off while listening to lotion's "the enormous room" on repeat. i truly wish i could put sound into the journal as well! i wouldn't have to write a single word anymore then! worst tv-spot of the month: the new "lätta" ad. i'll watch harald schmidt now. see you tomorrow!
ps: isn't it strange how you sometimes can be existentially frightened by two very oposite feelings? moments where you're scared of the sheer length that is still before you, all the days and weeks that seem to be endless and you only want them to pass, to be over, to be lived through. and then suddenly and out of the blue you have the same fear but this time it's coming from the feeling of not having enough time: every precious second that you have, every unique minute passes without having shared them with somebody and all the time that passes much too fast is time you will not spend with somebody, is wasted, and you want to stop time, freeze it. and in both cases there's this urge, this pressing feeling that something is terribly, terribly wrong but you don't know the way to change it. you're not at home in your life. you're not where you're supposed to be. you're not where you intended to go. you went missing. i think it has something to do with panic. panic of doing the wrong thing. panic of making a mistake. panic of making the wrong decision. panic that somebody else might be living your life while you are standing at the side, watching, wondering why you're .. oh well, i don't know. Die bekannte Panik setzt ein und sie hat ihr Gutes, sie foltert bis zur Entscheidung: Flucht. The familiar panic starts and it does have its good sides: it tortures you until you make a decision: flight (zürn). it's when you realize that all the light heartedness and indifference you force yourself to feel is ridiculously inappropriate considering the sudden awareness that every moment that passes is a lost moment, a moment that you're not sharing. it's so hard to put it into words, the sentences above don't really pin it down, it's not really what i mean.
[august 23, 2002]hm, missed an entire day: yesterday night eve and i met and we went to an ice café and then to a bar [i had an chocolate-cracknel-caramel ice cream and a cuba libre - well, i'm a sweet eater but political drinker]. fortunately the atmosphere was very relaxed from the start - we did talk about what had happened shortly, but most of the time it was just like it used to be. we agreed on reviving our friendship.
what else happened yesterday? not much. hollow earthed, went swimming. this is also the plan for today: i'll go swimming now and then it's back to the pc. also have to write to angelina and to answer paula who has written the other week. plus there's a new suzanne vega cover cd project in the making on undertow. of course i'd like to contribute something, but i'm not quite sure which song. maybe 'the rent song'. or a track from songs in red and gray. or a trip-hop version of 'small blue thing'.
aside: ever since i've been listening to lotion's cd full isaac i've been in love again and again with the ending of the song 'love theme from santo gold'. it has this great line: 'you're like the pilot - you make the metaphor come true' which i though was just the perfect line! and i always wished that *i* had thought of it, that *i* had come up with such a sublime image. somebody used to not believe me. she said that it was 'you're like the *pirate* - you make the metaphor come true.' anyway, the other day i finally found the lyrics on the internet [two different sources so i think the actual wording is well verified] and the line is neither what i nor what somebody thought but: 'you light the pilot, you make the metaphor come true'. which is great because now i can use that line that i had always understood myself!
[later]answered about a million emails concerning term papers: and i had answered every single question in class already. i wonder if they have listened to anything that i have said! *sigh* started to cry when watching the new video by herbert grönemyer - which really is a frightening development! eva mailed and offered that i could stay at her place in cologne next week for a night. i'll probably do that. music: natalie merchant, "carnival". weather: cloudy. mood-o-meter: 3.3.
[even later]listening to suzanne's cologne concert that i have copied for blaine and eva. 'priscilla' is really a great song! it's much better in the live version i think. nothing much worth writing about. had a propper dinner for a change tonight. made myself some pasta. that's as exciting as my life gets nowadays...
[august 24, 2002]oooops...bad unconscious! bad unconscious!: unpleasant dreams: first i went for a walk but forgot my keys. i was only wearing my pajamas and the tv remote control and it was only when i was walking down the street that i realized that i had locked out myself. and suddenly i was living in a huge, gray tenement block and i took the elevator up to my flat and luckily the door stood open. next scene: found a note by somebody on which she was planning her holidays with him. she had written in black, he in red ink. that made me wake up. song of the day: laurie anderson: 'broken'. You say: Where have you been? | I say: Nowhere | You say: There, you're doing it again | You know I can't keep, I can't keep | I can't keep doing this | I wanted our life to be so sweet | To live on harmony | But there are so many things | You just don't want to hear anymore from me | You know I can't keep doing this, I can't keep, | I can't keep doin' this | Where did it go, the heat? | I can't keep doin' this | I wanted to tell you so many things | But I lost my voice somewhere along the way | I think to myself where did it go? | Maybe it lives somewhere | Outside the city and it's waiting for me there | All I have to do is say the word | And it will come back to me, it will come back to me | But I can't even recall | How to ask something as big as that | You say: What are you thinking now? | I say: Nothing | You say: There, you're doing it again | How did you get to be my conscience? | You know I can't keep, I can't keep | I can't keep doing this | Where did it go, the heat? | Silence can be a beautiful thing | But only when it can be broken by a kind word | With a soft word | With a word | Our love unspoken | Our love lies broken
[later]listened to anderson's 'one white whale' on repeat for the last three hours. soothing. which is good because i had unpleasant flashbacks tonight which made me feel very uneasy. tried to block them but didn't succeeded completely. splinters of it escaped into my mind and cut with their sharp edges into whatever fiction of strength i had established there. almost started to wail and continue the endless litany that i had promised to stop but then i realized that i have already described those feelings: they have't changed an inch so you can just as well read the entries from four or five months ago. wrote to angelina and eva and now i will lay on the sofa, light a couple of candles, finish the beer and read. instead of working on my dissertation or finally work seriously on that new song! but why should one work on a new song when there are no gigs ahead? why should one waste the time with songs when somebody won't get to hear them anyway ... blast, i did it again! how to find you? | maybe by your singing | a weird trail of notes in the water | one white whale in all these oceans | one white whale | slipping through the nets of silence | under polar ice caps miles down | you leave your echoes in the water | one white whale in all these oceans | OcNcEccWcHcIcTcEccWcHcAcLcE c"als die worte aufhören, atmet er ein und dann verschliesst sich plötzlich sein hals, als sei er zugewachst und der druck in seiner lunge verteilt sich so im ganzen körper und es rauscht im kopf und knackt in den ohren und der druck treibt das wasser in dicken, heissen tropfen aus den augen und sie zittern noch im fallen angefüllt mit dem echo ihrers blickes und sie zerspringen lautlos zu einem nassen, dunklen fleck, der sich langsam auflöst an den rändern und einsinkt in den dichten, groben stoff des sofas, das sie zusammen ausgesucht haben, auf dem sie träumten, lagen, liebten und geflüstert haben darüber, sich niemals zu verlieren. und mit dem gleichen krampf im bauch als müsse er sich übergeben und dem geschmack von rost im mund versucht er, an ihr lachendes gesicht zu denken, ihr strahlendes gesicht, ihr schlafendes und friedliches gesicht und das wünscht er ihr und das wünscht er sich. und dann ist es gut."
[august 25, 2002]boring sunday. spend most of the time watching tv after cedric said yesterday on the phone that i should relax for a day. went to the park. read zürn. went for a walk. it's night now. gotten cold. i'm wearing a sweater that's coming fresh out of the laundry - and still it smells funny...very strange. got a tête-à-tête tonight with a bar of white crisp chocolate. yummy.
i'm lost in a language that scatters everything, hammering until only the smallest entities are left: atoms, electrons - senseless, meaningless. and then - with a mad puzzling passion - you put it back together with a feverish, childish joy into new shapes into new forms: lego poetics. mein dummes, noch nicht ausgewachsenes unglück hingegen haftet mir an den versen wie ein klebriges käuzchen. und mit traum[w]handlerischer sicherheit findet es jede nacht den weg zurück zu mir. auch wenn ich es zum verhungern im dunklen, feuchten wald zurücklasse. es findet den weg und schleicht sich durchs fenster wieder rein, das ich nachts auflassen muss, damit ich nicht ersticke. lächerliche situation! so wird man niemals schön! i say: NOTHING A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh. in meinem mund wächst ein süsser pilz und rauht meine lippe auf. oder sollte der mein unglück sein? kein wunder, dass es ständig zurückfindet, es braucht ja nur den worten zu folgen, die bestimmt genauso bepilzt sind wie mein mund. the arcs of a love affair. oder sollte das ihr letztes geschenk gewesen sein? aber ich weiss nicht einmal, wann sie mich zum letzten mal geküsst hat. ist der narr eine musenfee? bleileib. reime rissen, fassen es, dursten als besseres unserer erde in tiefsinn. mein lied starb. fernsee, reiss es uns aus! seelen fressen reime. stirb! sind seine leben ein strumriss? mein stern frass liebesreue. es sind risse im sein. es starben freunde. esc! sterben seelen? a! es sind risse im ruf. die seelennarbe muss frei sein. rest: s. die am meer sind wütend da ein hain in reimen hundu weinte. da! das 'nein'! rede deinen whansinn im tau. die reime husten in den wind. aa! dein mund ist weinend, dein haar eine sternweihe. dein name ist wahrheit. im a rann die wunde ins ende. raben nisten auf meinem arm aber mein rücken ist gerader jetzt, meine schultern breiter und auch der rest meiner behinderungen ist vorzüglich versteckt - selbst ein neues loch in meinem gürtel und ein beinah frisches, ausgeschabtes herz, noch etwas müde von der abtreibung, die ich ohne ärtzliche hilfe vorgenommen habe: blutiges geschäft. i say: NOWHERE ich weiss, dass du weisst, dass ich hier bin.
[august 26, 2002]bad dreams. no idea where they are coming from suddenly! feel obliged to say that not only eva but also blaine had offered me to spend the night at his place. [he has protested this morning that i did not mention this :o)] longing stands in the doorway. i'm struck once again by her black silhouette by her long cool stare and her silence: listening to the laurie anderson compilation that i made for eva. buah! i want to write songs!!!
[august 27. 2002]i'm in my ofice in colgone and the other minute i met eva and we've exchanged cds: i gave her a laurie anderson compilation and suzyv's cologne concert and she gave me a notwist and a fiona apple cd. and the track list on the fiona apple cd said that the last song was "14: Bonus Track: Schlaflied (DO NOT COPY!)" which of course made me curious! so i plugged the headphones into the pc and listened to it and a quiet song started: mostly keyboards and a female voice that i did not know started to sing: "so klein wie du hier vor mir stehst hab ich dich noch nie gesehen | du hast geweint noch tränen im gesicht du kannst die welt nicht mehr verstehn | stell mir keine fragen ich hab nichts mehr zu sagen | denn hier trennt sich unsere welt die tage sind gezählt | genau hier trennt sich unsere welt die wege sind gewählt | mein bauch wird mir so flau wenn ich begreif wie's um dich steht wenn ich dich seh | wut wär nicht so schlimm viel zu gut kenne ich deine gesten doch ich kann dich nicht mehr trösten | denn hier trennt sich unserer welt die tage sind gezählt | genau hier trennt sich unserer welt die wege sind gewählt | es ist nun vorbei ich geh heim und allein neue wege | mein herz zerbricht wenn ich sehe wie sehr ich dir fehle | ich denk oft an dich soviel erinnere ich | ich treff dich wieder im traum meiner angst vor verzicht | wir drehten uns träge um ein himmlisches licht bring mich ans ziel diesere welt wo jeder zweifel zerbricht | doch hier trennt sich unsere welt die tage sind gezählt..." and with each word the voice was shoveling pebbles as big as oranges into my heart that was hanging shapelessly in my chest like a worn out coal sack.
strange day. my head is aching although i took a pill this morning.
[august 28, 2002]we [blaine, his friend cedric, andreas, eva and i] went to see "about a boy" yesterday. good movie - except for the last ten minutes that became almost unbearable cheesy! great soundtrack, though. went to a bar afterwards. got home at one and sat with eva in the kitchen until half past three. right now i'm listening to that great fiona apple song that eva played to me yesterday night: "I'll never live the life | That wakes me in the night"
[later]uh oh, what a strange day - half awake, half asleep. the night was too short. feel restless, though, strange. strange. feel like running. i'm sitting here in front of the pc and i don't manage to do ANYthing because things keep just drifting from left to right and back again. you said you would not leave - never! but never is such a broad term, maybe you want to narrow it down to 'forever'. you said you would stay - forever. but forever is such a broad term, maybe you want to narrow it down to 'never'. something is moving through me and i want to move with it. it doesn't have a face yet and i wonder if it ever will. i can only see the back of the head and i. my heart ticks inside me like rain
[leter]there's no sense inn hanhging around here anymore, i'll try to get some sleep, need it badly. tonight meet with blaine and cedric and i'll get 'home' to eva now.
[august 29, 2002]another split screen night. went out with blaine and cedric, later nicole joined us. it was very nice - we argued about music, had cocktails, discussed tv series and who would dress up as who if blaine would do an 80s theme party [blaine himself wanted to go as phil oakey from human league, cedric wanted to go as tina turner, nicole as nena and i had proposed to dress up as leonard cohen - a choice that did not create as much enthusiasm as i had suspected. so later on i thought about other options and came up with robert smith or stevie nicks...]. and the whole night it felt like sitting in a dark movie theater watching some avantgarde east coast intellectual film with a split screen: on the left the scene was showing my life, my reality: being together with blaine and cedric and nicole while simultaneously on the right half of the screen her life, her reality was shown: she was together with a him and a couple of people of which i knew only a few. i tried to get rid of this split vision but it did not really work. there were moments that i tried to wash down with another sip from my long island ice tea when i felt a little like eva had described in one of her after midnight mails: sometimes you can be lonely although you're not alone. and it's painful to realize that you can do something against solitude more or less easily by going out with friends or calling somebody or even writing an email but that this doesn't cure the loneliness. and in those scenes that i saw of her yesterday night she was neither alone nor lonely. she was with friends and with him. and i envied her for it.
[later]i need more sleep. and a faster computer at work. it's really annoying how slowly it works! when i was showing blaine the chords for 'marlene on the wall' [he is thinking of participating in the sv-cover project] i found two great new chord patterns! i mean really great! okay, one of it is partly by blaine, but it's just this one chord that i've borrowed and he doesn't really mind, he even said that i could have it and that he'd be happy to give me as many of his musical ideas as i want to have. he's such a generous guy! it's just a pity that his musical taste is so helplessly screwed up. it's three in the afternoon now and i will take the train back to b., go swimming from the way to the station to my flat and then i'll start to work on that article that thomas has sent. i have to edit it according to a certain style sheet. not a lot of fun but better than sitting in front of my empty dissertation.doc word file and staring into the screen without having a clue of what to do.
[later]great! and i had thought the day couldn't get any better! think again! i'm sitting on the bus because one station before we'd arrived in bielefeld they stopped the train because some pinhead has called and said that he had hidden a bomb at bielefeld station! this is the second time in a month! WHO the fuck wants to blow up bielefeld station??? it's the smallest, most meaningless kaff you could think of! this is really fucking annoying and it will cost me an extra hour! instead of being home at 7 i'll be home at 8, driving an entire hour through gütersloh - the town where somebody is working. the train needs 8 minutes for the same distance. song of the day: pj harvey 'the whores hustle and the hustlers whore'. und zwar laut! went swimming right away when i arrived at the station finally. i had never been to the swimming hall before when it's dark outside - looked cool: they had underwaterlights and it felt strange gliding through the shimmering and reflecting blue in which the beams of light were dancing. i had to think about 'fripp' by catherine wheel but then they were blasting the pretenders' 'don't get me wrong' through the sound system - from the sublime to the ridiculous. now it's half past ten, i've lightened a couple of candles and my body is tired from moving through the water and through the city. feel like mailing to eva now. no - erase that last sentence and replace it with: i feel like getting a mail from eva now.
[august 30, 2002]went swimming this morning. after that i went to h&m and bought two trousers and three t-shirts for 80 euros. colored my hair. tried to clear the shower sink that was sort of blocked. edited thomas's article according to mla style. went shopping for food and returned with alcohol. right now i'm listening to the notwist cd that eva gave me. it's 21:09. weather: warm but pitch dark already. mood-o-meter: 3.9. decided that i will finish that new song this weekend. we will rehearse on sunday, reiner's back from holidays. tomorrow i'll go with my sister to my mother's place and help in the garden. first i kept starring at your photo throughout the nights, counting your eyes – but they wouldn't look at me. than i kept saying your name, throughout my dreams counting the letters – but they wouldn't speak to me. "my heart ticks inside me like rain"
[later]great! i've spotted two bugs in my room and when i tried to kill them they escaped! now they're hiding somewhere, making evil plans to kill me when i'm sleeping. seems like i have to sleep in the kitchen tonight. i'll never be able to close my eyes when i know that these two mad killer machines share the room with me. i'm sort of stupid this way...
[august 31, 2002]thomas just called from the states. it was the first time that we were actually talking to each other since he'd left in july. strange feeling. he asked how things went and i'm not sure how personal he meant it - but then he'd made quite a number of offers in his mails to get a little more personal - which i reacted to very reluctantly. i think the relationship to thomas is one of the most difficult and confusing relations i've ever had.
but what i also have is am obvious bug-problem. i killed two yesterday night and three throughout the day. creepy! i'd never had bugs in here before! it really pisses me off! this night three of them were sitting on the outside of the windowpane so i kept the windows closed.
finished that new song yesterday night and it even passed the "the morning after"-test. when i listened to it this morning i still liked it. i've got two more great chord patterns and an idea for a set of new lyrics. unfortunately i can't seem to put the words of "check" to music. it just won't work although i think that the text is not bad: "You took the drawer with the flatware | that we have gathered all our lives | It took you the entire night | To sort my forks from your knives | | You counted all the glasses | And wrote down which were mine: | "Four small ones for table-water | Three for coke and one for wine" | | "I pay you for the fridge and curtains | and the carpet in the hallway | I also pay you for the mirror | I broke the other day" | | You put down all we bought together: | And summed up which was mine: | "200 dollars for our bed | and for the table 29" | | This is just to let you know | Before we finally will part | That you will work for all your life | To pay for half my heart"
spent all afternoon and evening at my parent's place: my father is on holidays and my mother asked me and my sister to help her out in the garden. now it's half past ten at night and actually i should work on thomas' article now, but i might postpone this to tomorrow morning. tomorrow afternoon we will rehearse. the new song doesn't have a name yet.
weather today: first sunny and warm, then more clouds and wind. mood-o-meter:
see yesterday. another month has passed. times goes by so fast. nine months.
the uncertainty whether the distance is healing or hurting circulates in
my mind like a kamikaze plane armed with two atom-bombs. i must not think
so much! my dream is sick like hate. i rent in milan. he makes dry ice
kites. riti! mc ekki lies in my art. he reads it in. she is a tidal kite
in ny. rick, rem me. my nickname is herr die-lite. ask it. lenin
scars time. i rhyme. i take kid a and listen. i meet kirk. shy crime.
i kiss katirih. dance in my limetree: harakieri like tiny minced stems.
mr. kimi says: "tired cake in the nile. silence is the kind key". maritim
ra, i ride the tame isis. kick lenny. arm the kid. kissin' in my tear.
reclaime my heart. rain ticks like me inside. her star dies like a tiny
mick in me. she likes my mad, rine, rine kite. i lie in my arm. the icescater
drinks milk. his enemy is a crank, red tie. it takes time. links are chimin'
dry. i charme letters in naked sky. m.i. III. i met kink [sic!] midas at
her ryeline. kenny is a sacred hikermime. i tilt, i drink ink. symmes ate
a rich elite.