A Thousand Plateaus

i’m oscillating between two extremes the past couple of days: either i’m feeling totally empty, hollowed out and cut off from the world or i’m manically overjoyed and so filled with an unbearably beautiful world that passes through me that i fear it’ll burst me at the seams. oddly enough, you (addressing absent persons now) are giving me both feelings. and it’s getting increasingly difficult to keep balance.

stina nordenstam: “fireworks” | These fires never die They told me this would help I’m walking by the water I’m falling with the tide They said that this would end I went as far as I could Fishing-boats go by I’m on distant ground now I scream when no one hears me I fall asleep too early The waves will wipe it out And we’ll be even I turn my face to From wherever the wind blows Is it worth so much to try? For lights to fade below I’m at the airport waiting And then: something else I won’t remember All instant things are fading The pain will go And if the lights went out If we were lost where I was If the elevator stopped The train just stopped Or in the deepest tunnel But you gave me no chance I turn my face to from wherever the wind blows Is it worth so much to try?

finished shortening the ulmer paper and converting the fucking film clips so that they run on the ibook (and it took me an entire day until i had figured out which was the right codec and compression rate). so finally i can start working on cohen again. it’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, it’s not too hot and the bells of the cathedral have just stopped their noon-concert, all the windows are open, the stereo at the café is playing morcheba and melanie (there are two melanies working at the café, it’s the brunette one) just asked me: “was darf ich dir bringen, liebster? / what can i get you, darling?”

things are happening in the world which are not really my business and are not meant to be mentioned here, but they keep my mind occupied. “fear can stop you loving and love can stop your fear but it’s not always that clear” morcheba are singing and somewhere in the back of my mind i remember that this was the subject line of the very first email that s. had sent me years ago. thought about printing 200 lurkers posters for future-gigs. checked my bank account and then decided against it.
“wanna have anything else to drink?” melanie is asking me from behind the counter.
“i take another bionade, please” and i get up to hand her the empty bottle.
“oh, you’re such a sweetheart…” she comments my efforts without irony.

[later:]
i’m staring into the room with a blank expression, half asleep and half in sorrow. the sun is painting the name of the café as a shadow onto the fake marble floor, there are children playing in the churchyard and people all over the square outside.
“you look worried…” melanie says “…wanna talk about it?”
“don’t get me started or else we’ll sit here until tomorrow morning.”
“you know what phil? for YOU i would even sit here until tomorrow morning.”