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.