What you say is what you are. Nobody will ever see you, they will only hear you. Keep fucking silent.
I went to the kitchen to grab some wine and it looks like it’s a fine day out there. I would love to go out for a walk, instead by the end of the day I must have prepared a lot of material for the coming week. I’ll be running from a job to another, and then the beloved german class, etc.
My mother would like to know what I’m working on, but I don’t love phone calls and I hate texting. I’ll tell her at some point. Lawyers, car rental, screen printing. It must all start and work out well within the next few days. Then insurance, tax consultant, Termin!
And I have to book a flight and check my schedule at work to see what’s good, what’s bad, what stinks, what smells amazing. I may be buying a shiny latex item in the next few days. We’ll see. I still wait for an answer from some guys in order to take a dirty appointment in the city. You don’t want to know.
My stomach contains more shit than yours, can’t really explain that.
Back to work, now. Next Saturday I’ll be DJing at the Neu! Bar in Prenzlauer Berg. Do come. The motto for the night is FUCK THE DJ, just saying…
FACEBOOK EVENT -> CLICK HERE
There’s something you can’t buy: proud.
I got all the best and I got all the worst from my parents’ families. I am the worm and I am the king. Who’s the worm and who’s the king? I am. Kneel and be sorry! “The dominion is ours!”. The third ring on my fingers will turn me into an untouchable man, a loser among losers, I’m longing for that, all happens in order to end.
Last night I was a new character, I was Alëša from The Brothers Karamazov. I dreamed I was a young monk, my grandfather died and I had to carry the coffin. It was cruel and my stomach burned. I woke up feeling so bad, I thought “somebody must have died last night, try to be cool, it just happens”, and I was crying before checking my mobile.
All day I’ve been daydreaming. Imagination is the strongest power I’ve got. People look at me terrified, because I am terrified. People smile at me, because I am smiling. When I went home tonight I felt like I haven’t been here for weeks. I looked at the streets, the tram rails and it all seemed new. Where have I been?
Somebody who feels too much, feels nothing at all.
Tonight I was at a friend’s and Winson was on the radio, Flux Fm. When I was on the terrace, there in the studio with my singer and he took a picture of us, I told him “God! So you’re not just a voice on the radio!”. Einstürzende Neubauten, “Stella Maris”.
One more ring.
I had one hour free today. I was in Kreuzberg and I had a beer in this courtyard, no green, only women covering their heads and bodies. It was warm. One woman came from a shop near-by. She sat. Looked around herself stealthy. Fast she took a little bottle of Pfeffi from her back pocket, she drank it all, threw the bottle away and went back to job (I assume, considering the clothing).
It started raining a bit so I went somewhere else for another beer. It was a gay bar in the Kotti area and it must have been a lesbian night. Four old gay people, two men and two women, they must have been in their eighties, were discussing about german grammar and Thomas Mann, while drinking beer and sending kisses to one another. Around eight in the evening, when I left, one of the men left as well: “ich muss nach Hause”.
I have ideas and I take notes.
I lose my notes and I forget my ideas.
The sweetest thing that have happened to me in the last few days was cuddling with some stranger in bed, all the rest was boredom.
Does my bedroom looks like a drug dealer’s filthy space? Why’s that? Must be the sofa. Sofa = friends = clients. What? Nonsense.
My idea of a sofa there has only porn oriented aims.
I finally got access to a huge archive of music I couldn’t access in almost one year. It contains all stuff from my Italian time. Wovenhand, Radiohead, Bauhaus, Chet Baker, McLusky, und so. It’s so much fun, even more than my gin and tonic. Hey guys: D.A.F. Ach, lieber Gott!
I could now put the carpet my great-grandmother sewed for my mom, because I am “ancient, as ancient as the sun”. I also found a little Persian carpet mom brought me from Iran. I talked with her a couple of hours ago, she in Japan at the moment.
I want to run. RUN. RUN! I find it so boring it’s taking weeks to settle everything in this new flat. Na ja, alles in Ordnung. Musicians in Berlin are so soft-pervert, it’s intriguing, but it’s not enough. Gehen wir! Wohin? Nach Hause. Meine Freundin wartet auf mich.
You must know I have discussed this with a drummer in the States, I’ll give him stories, he’ll write the book. I’ll tell you about your boyfriends. Once in Milan we were playing as support act for Courtney Love and Hole, a couple of girlfriends were shouting something at me, something sweet. Little time after some loser-boy who was there, somebody who wanted so bad to KNEEL, wrote that the girls were ignoring I just “wanted to fuck their boyfriends”. Oh boys! Boys are silly. Boys are little bitches, prude hungry whores-wannabe. I am so glad I’ve left that sick circuit.
I have plans I won’t tell here. But It’s countdown time, kids.
I’ve gotta go buying wine and such delicacies. I tell you goodbye listening to Nick Cave.
As a 15 or 16 years old asshole, I could do wrong or painful or dangerous things If I wanted to. It didn’t matter if I was afraid, I would tell myself DO IT, and I would do it. It was scary how determined I could be. At times I had a sharp knife in my hand and I really knew I could cut any finger. I would do it on purpose. Same thing with breaking things or saying something out of place/outrageous. Lately I’ve been trying to get that “strenght” back. This is how I had thought about saying “hey hi, are you enjoying the evening?”, and I ended saying “I wanna lick your nipple”. The process is the same. The violence as well.
A few months ago I could feel as punk as fuck and I would tell myself I didn’t give a shit and I could scream if I wanted to, and I screamed.
I would tell myself I could be kinky. Well, there I “failed”, because it’s not my nature to be “publicly kinky”, but then, I’ve tried.
It’s time to give up something else now. I must do it with the same violence, I have to do it. Just fucking do it.
I wanna enjoy everything I do.
Anyway, I like to promote artists. I’m listening to this dj set and I’m liking it a lot https://www.mixcloud.com/DJNEUEK/ds-neue-k-lithium-live-mix-set/.
Punk as fuck!
Saturday morning, I slept long. I had a proper shower, the one during which you can get a hair mask. I haven’t shaved in a week. A few things create little trouble to me. I need a way more free time to accomplish whatever my desires are. I haven’t eaten too much shit, and I haven’t drunk much. I’ve started German classes two weeks ago, it’s not going too bad, I do even dream phrases in german now. The real trouble is that I’m having no free time. I have sheets of notes, I wanna do so many things and it all brings to freedom. Working is necessary to live, but working is to die, then I’m trying to create a way to enjoy working, which implies to change job as well. Rather, to create my own.
I’m a huge Patti Smith fan. This is a manifesto from 1974.
Sixteen and time to pay off
I get this job in a piss factory inspecting pipe
Forty hours, thirty-six dollars a week
But it’s a paycheck, Jack
So hot in here, hot like Sahara
You could faint from the heat
But these bitches are just too lame to understand
Too goddamned grateful to get this job
To know they’re getting screwed up the ass
All these women, they got no teeth or gum or cranium
And the way they suck hot sausage
But me, well, I wasn’t sayin’ too much neither
I was moral school girl, hard-working asshole
I figured I was speedo motorcycle
I had to earn my dough, had to earn my dough
But no, you gotta, you gotta relate, babe
You gotta find the rhythm within
Floor boss slides up to me and he says
“Hey sister, you’re just movin’ too fast
You’re screwin’ up the quota
You’re doin’ your piece work too fast”
“Now you get off your mustang, Sally
You ain’t goin’ nowhere, you ain’t goin’ nowhere”
I layed back, I get my nerve up, I take a swig of Romilar
And walk up to hot shit Dot Hook and I say
“Hey, hey sister, it don’t matter whether I do labor fast or slow
There’s always more labor after
She’s real Catholic, see, she fingers her cross and she says
There is one reason, there is one reason”
“You do it my way or I push your face in
We knee you in the John
If you don’t get off your get off your mustang, Sally
If you don’t shake it up, baby, shake it up, baby”
Twist and shout, oh what I could will a radio here
James Brown singing ‘I Lost Someone’
Or the Jesters and the Paragons and Georgie Woods
The guy with the goods and Guided Missiles
But no, I got nothin’, no diversion, no window
Nothing here but a porthole in the plaster, in the plaster
Where I look down, look at Sweet Theresa’s convent
All those nurses, all those nuns scattin’ ’round
With their bloom hoods like cats in mourning
Oh to me, they, you know
To me they look pretty damn free down there
Down there, not having to press those smooth
Not having to smooth those hands against hot steel
Not having to worry about the in-speed
The dogma of in-speed of labor
Oh then they put damn free down there
The way they smell, the way they smell
And here I gotta be up here smellin’ Dot Hook’s midwife sweat
I would rather smell the way boys smell
Oh, those schoolboys, way their legs flap
Under the desk in the study hall
That odor rising roses and ammonia
And way their dicks droop like lilacs
Or the way they smell that forbidden acrid smell
But no, I gotta, I gotta put clammy lady in my nostril
Her against the wheel, me against the wheel
Oh, the in-speed-o, slow motion inspection is drivin’ me insane
In steel next to Dot Hook, oh, we may look the same
Shoulder to shoulder sweatin’ 110 degrees
But I will never faint, I will never faint
They laugh and they expect me to faint but I will never faint
I refuse to lose, I refuse to fall down
Because you see it’s the monotony that’s got to me
Every afternoon like the last one
Every afternoon like a rerun next to Dot Hook
And yeah, we look the same
Both pumpin’ steel, both sweatin’
But you know she got nothin’ to hide
And I got something to hide here called desire
I got something to hide here called desire
And I will get out of here
You know the fiery potion is just about to come
In my nose is the taste of sugar
And I got nothin’ to hide here, save desire
And I’m gonna go, I’m gonna get out of here
I’m gonna get out of here, I’m gonna get on that train
And I’m gonna go on that train and go to New York City
I’m gonna be somebody
I’m getting, gonna get on that train
Go to New York City
I’m gonna be so big, I’m gonna be a big star and I will never return
Never return, no, never return, to burn at this piss factory
And I will travel light, oh, watch me now