[september 1st, 2005 - ju hu san da dejo ho (at least that's what i *think* sigur ros are singing)]thursday noon - i overslept. woke up at ten and then hurried to work. it's pretty hot again. on saturday bernd, nadine and i will fly to the american studies conference in olomouc. which means: no entries the next week. am i looking forward to the conference? hm, don't know. perhaps. it will be nice to meet all the people from last year and it will be nice to get some input and to present the paper. but it will also be very tiresome. when i remember correctly, we didn't get much sleep last time. and we drunk and ate too much. "you drink for then and you smoke for twenty". princess superstar has returned from hungary where she had been with a school class.
COMMENTS = make the best out of it...you mean of olomouc? i surely will.
[september 2, 2005 -
it's
friday night. spent the entire day preparing everything for olomouc: packing
my things, washing clothes and trying to get them dry in time, getting
the laptop and powerpoint right, reading through the paper again. i hope
that the week "off" (well, not really off but at least away from cologne)
will provide some distance and space for thoughts. got to make up my mind
about a lot of things. things i cannot really tell you about - which again
makes me question the entire concept of the online journal. sometimes i
really wonder how people can mistake THIS virtual space and character with
... oh well. i mean: this is a dump. i'ts a junkyard for thoughts, feelings,
ideas and what-have-you that i can unload here so i don't have to bother
with it in 'real life'. so naturally what you get here is mostly just trash.
it has not hing to do with 'expressing myself' or, i don't know, what i
*really* feel and think. is this so hard to understand?
switched between various 'new' songs the entire day. american music club: "home". anie difranco: "welcome to". maria mckee: "from our tv teens to the tomb". and of course various eels songs.
I've been careful just trying to get it right.
Lyric fair, beauty sublime
Such an opus is way ahead of time
I am full of grand ideas
I've been perfecting them for yearsLarge as life, with a purpose
Are we finally gonna play a gig
Is it time, been rehearsing five years
Still a way to go, better cancel it
We plan, waiting for a break
One can't rush into these thingsAnd we believed our mothers hung the moon
We stayed asleep, forgetting what we knew
And we will dream and never leave our rooms
From our TV Teens to the tombWhen I'm dead I'll be discovered
They'll write a book about my life, my lovers
A masterpiece isn't born in a day
I'm so ambitious I hid myself away
I'd fly, the envy of man
If I had guts to lift a penWhen we were kids, delusion served us well
But then we split to make fools of ourselves
And we will dream and never leave the shelf
From our TV Teens to the tomb
We're still holding out our cups
We will never give it upAnd we believed our mothers hung the moon
We stayed asleep, forgetting what we knew
And we will dream and never leave our rooms
From our TV Teens to the tomb
[september 16, 2005 - i believe in you girl, and i want you]due to recent events (some predictable, some unpredictable) it doesn't really make any sense to continue this online journal. however, bernd gave me james yorkston's just beyond the river the other day, and the first track, "heron", is playing on repeat for the last couple of days, so i thought i might share it with you:
An unfurrowed field, home of the heronthanks a lot for your interest and feedback during the years! i had fun (most of the time), hope you had as well. maybe now i will finally get to write the novel i always wanted to write. maybe i will finally write a couple of new songs. or maybe i will finally finish the dissertation. please check out www.200lurkers.com on your way out! i think i would like to end this with the closing paragraph from cohen's beautiful losers:
Is keeping us kindled, our eyes on the heavens
It's threatening again, though we're hardly rushing home
We bypass the pathway, we've the time, and the mind to be aloneYou sink to your ankles, I fail to mention some fall
Your city eyes they let you down
But you're laughing at it all
I sing like a baritone, of some nonsense or other
You hold out your hand, you bundle me overI'm used to it now, you excel at the ambush
I believe in you girl, and I want you
Poor men, poor men, such as we, they've gone and fled. I will plead from electrical tower. I will plead from turret of plane. He will uncover His face. He will not leave me alone. I will spread His name in Parliament. I will welcome His silence in pain. I have come through the fire of family and love. I smoke with my darling, I sleep with my friend. We talk of the poor men, broken and fled. Alone with my radio I lift up my hands.Welcome to you who read me today. Welcome to you who put my heart down. Welcome to you, darling and friend, who miss me forever in your trip to the end.