A Thousand Plateaus

it's 17:53 on a sunday evening. i'm sitting on the balcony, the washing next to me, and while its drying it is giving off the scent of cleanness and peace. the neighbors in the backyard next to ours are having a barbecue and in the tree in the middle of the lawn two robins are flattering from branch to branch. had a horrible night : i didn't actually drink that much and i honestly don't know why i was drunk to nausea. anyway, this morning i woke up with a headache and i felt generally sick. so i started to work on the thesis [you can figure out the nature of this logical connection for yourself], and in the afternoon i dragged myself to the gym. i only made 8.9 km. when i got home i felt completely crushed. and then it happened.

and i'm telling you right now : i refuse to take part in this life any longer. i simply won't play along anymore. it's too much. i want another part, somewhere else, but not in this freak show! i thought about what jodie had suggested last night : that i should call the number the text message had come from from a public phone. the next pay phone i could think of was in the lobby of a hospital down the street, so i went there. i pulled out the small sheet of paper that i had written the number on, threw a couple of coins into the machine and dialed. after i had pushed the final button there was first a hectic beeping when the numbers were dialed and then the regular tone of the call signal. once, twice, thrice and then a voice at the other end :

"hi! this is the number of s.. i'm not home right now, but you can leave a message and i will..."

i hung up violently and shell shocked. i stared at the telephone in disbelief. then i looked at the black digits on the sheet of paper that i was still holding. they were dancing up and down because my hand was trembling. "you're only imagining this!" i said to myself. "this cannot be. you misheard something. it must have been a different name that sounded similar." there was only one way to find out. i searched my pockets for more coins but i only had a bill, so i walked out of the lobby slowly and up the street to break it. the only shop that was open was the bakery. the sales girl was looking up when i entered and i think that i might have detected that her eyes shone a little brighter when she recognized me and i had almost whispered "help me" but instead i bought some pastries and smiled helplessly when she handed me the change. hm, yes, "helpless" seems to be the most fitting word to describe my current state of mind.

i went back to the hospital and redialed. the call signal went out. once, twice, then someone took it.
"hello?" her voice unmistakably.
i panicked and hung up.

fuck.

i know i have dreamed about this scenario, but these were nightmares, for christ's sake! i wanted to forget her. i wanted to cut her out of my life. not be reminded of her neither by friends in conversations, nor by her name on water bottles nor by accidental meetings.

back then i had told her that i would never become one of her ex-friend-friends. we had been meeting them frequently, when we were walking through the city or were at parties. and she met them for a coffee or a beer, chatting about old times.
"i will never do this" i had told her then, "i will never turn from lover to a friend. this is either all or nothing.

and i certainly won't change my mind now.

eva cassidy is singing "kathy's song" so effortlessly . i am missing you. and this whole absurd scenario makes me only more aware that you are more lost than ever before. i'm still feeling too much tenderness for her and i wouldn't stand being near her without being able to touch her while she's telling me about her new friend. there's a kansas tornado twirling inside me, leaving not a single home and shelter undestroyed. i don't want to meet you. i don't want to see you. two years haven't healed anything. give me another twenty. and yet i want to see her. fuck.

something else :
a couple of weeks ago the first song from suzanne's new album beauty and crime was posted on her official website. it's called "frank & ava," and it wasn't that, hm, great. now, don't get me wrong : i adore suzanne. and i do so irrationally, it's a kind of luxury that i'm allowing myself. with me she has gratuitous and unlimited credit and i will always follow her work and listen to her songs. it's a kind of reverse parental pride : i'm willingly ignoring all the flaws as if she was my child, and even if she handed me a piece of paper with stickmen, mcdonald's birds and a triangular sun i would still stick it to the refrigerator and be happy every time i see it. but i wasn't particularly enthusiastic about this first track.

but then, two weeks ago, someone posted a qualitatively poor copy of another new song, called "the pornographer's dream" and it had exactly this weird, indescribably something that makes my skin sparkle. the chorus is pure energy : an ascending melody and a melodic shift that is unusual yet not atonal, shifting from minor to major chords. and her voice like velvet and – and you better listen away now because it's getting really corny – there is a tenderness in this chorus and the way she's singing (and how exactly there can be tenderness in something as incorporeal as music i don't know) yes, you know what i want to say, this tenderness is directed at *your* body and *your* face and as long as this is the case do you really want to meet me?

there's an almost full moon hanging above the roofs and paul simon is praying :

Oh my God
First love opens like a flower
A black bear running through the forest light holds me in her sight and her
power
But tricky skies, your eyes are true
The future is beauty and sorrow
Still, I wish that we could run away and live the life we used to
If just for tonight and tomorrow

and one more thing:

http://bornneverasked.blogspot.com/2007/04/and-we-all-went-to-heaven-in-little-row.html

libertine wrote:

" t.c.f.w. "

the cute freak wriggles?

those condoms follow writings?

take care friendly witch?

thousand calls flash wounds?

AND WE ALL WENT TO HEAVEN INA ITTLE ROW BOET

THERE WAS NOTHIN TO FEAR NOTHIN TO DOUBT

THERE WA SNOTHING TO FEAR NOTHIN TO DOUBT

THERE WAS NOTHING TO FEAR NOTHING TO DOUBT:

 it's 1:49 and i fear i'm as drunk as i havem't been in months. my eye hurt, been out withb jane and we ended up at the kaschemme and jodie came in and i was a big hello and we ha shots and ow everything's turnin. they said. is shoud call he number of the text message from apublic phone. maybe i'll try. maybe i don't give a damn. yeah, right!!!!!!! fuck. give me a gunn. there wa snothin to fear nothing to doubt. all my lovers were there with me. all my oast and future. and we allw ent to heaven ina ittle row boat. there was nothing to fear nothing to doubt.

F U C K

so, instead of learning latin i took a blanket and went to the park this afternoon to read james' washington square which will be the novel the students have to write their exams about which we'll have to correct. i had totally forgotten how over the top auctorial the narrative situation is!

of course the gods punished me stante pede for my laziness : a group of  middle aged, beer-bellied, shirtless, hairy german guys started to play soccer right where i was sitting, trying to concentrate on catherine sloper's fate. they were yelling:
"gib ab, jan!!"
"hier! ich steh frei!"
"schiess doch, schiess doch!"
and "schöööööhhhn!"

anyway - this morning i did it : i talked to the sales girl. you know, there's this really cute girl in the bakery at the corner, and she's always smiling shyly when i'm coming in, and this always makes me feel funny and i start dropping things or turning around too quickly bumping into other customers or pushing the door on my way out when it says "pull" in big, red letters. her looks have this almost imperceptible (and this is no deleuze jargon here) softness, just like the piano that sets in at 1:09 in james yorkston's "i awoke".

anyway, this morning when i came in she was listening to her colleagues behind the counter. one of them was joking:
"...i think from now on we should speak in abbreviations only. like 'h.m.t.b.k.'!"
"what's that supposed to mean?" another one asked.
"hand me the bread knife!"
they laughed. *she* was quiet though, only smiling mildly as if in dreams.
"yes, and the customers have to do this, too!" the first one added
"t.b.r.p. - three bread rolls, please!" more laughter.
*she* turns to me and looks up.
"hi"
"hi"
"what can i get you?"
"a sunflower seed bread, please."
"that's all?"
"yes."
"2,60"
when she hands me the change i'm saying:
"thank you. oh yes, y.h.a.m.e.s."
she's startled.
"you have a most enchanting smile."
and while i'm leaving the bakery hastily i'm almost stumbling over the leash of an old lady's catatonic dachshund.

okay, i confess. i didn't really say that. but it *did* cross my mind.

however, here's what i did:
this morning when i came in she was listening to her colleagues behind the counter. one of them was joking:
"...i think from now on we should speak in abbreviations only. like 'h.m.t.b.k.'!"
"what's that supposed to mean?" another one asked.
"hand me the bread knife!"
"hi"
"hi"
"what can i get you?" she asks me.
"one bread roll, please."
"that's 30 cents."
when she hands me the change our fingers touch.
outside i pause for a minute, then return.
"yes, and the customers have to do this, too!"
"oh, it's you again..." shy smile on both our faces.
"one bread roll, please."
after another minute i'm back again.
"one bread roll, please."
ten minutes later i'm 3 euro poorer, but ten shy smiles and a three days supply of pastries richer.

okay, i confess. i didn't really do this either. not yet, that is :-)

here we go. just a couple of mundane observations, nothing really interesting or even remotely poetical.

my latin teacher entered the class today and said: "we'll have a surprise test!" we had, but he didn't collect them, it was meant more as an opportunity to see how we're doing. i'll spare you telling you how i was doing. however, i *did* participate in the discussion today and translated a gerund-construction. after we had translated a long and complicated sentence the teacher said reassuringly:
"don't worry, this looks difficult now, but by the time we're starting with caesar you'll be laughing about such a sentence!"
and i almost said aloud:
"i think you're overestimating our sense of humor..."
and when he - at the end of the session - asked:
"are there any questions except from 'my god, why me?!?'?" i almost commented:
"no, but i think we haven't sufficiently discussed this very question!"
of course i bit my tongue.

stained the bathroom rug beyond repair tonight when i colored my hair. (yes - i color my hair. the color is called 'cosmic blue'. the name alone makes it worthwhile. to the untrained eye it looks like plain black. but we know better :-) my natural color is the most ordinary boring brown. so yes, i suppose i *am* a little vain.)

the other day alice wrote, commenting on the events of the past week. she said that the journal "is becoming a metaphysical story. Coincidences and dreams keep coming closer and closer to disrupting your quiet life." and this is exactly what is happening. or is it? a metaphysical story is not really what you strive for as someone influenced and interested in deleuze.

it's elaine's birthday today. she turned 28. or something. so happy birthday!

and again david byrne has saved my day:

Oh Supergirl, you'll be my Supermodel
Although you have a reputation.
Can I afford to move above my station?
I'm not the only heart you've conquered.

Oh Supergirl, you'll be my Supermodel
Although at times it might seem awkward.
Don't run away, oh don't you recognize me?
I'm not the only heart you've conquered.

Oh Supergirl, you'll be my Supermodel
Although your pants are around your ankles.
And when you're done, I'll be your Dirty Harry.
It will be just like in the movies.

Oh Supergirl, you'll be my Supermodel
Although at time it might seem awkward.
Don't look away, I'll be your teenage fanclub.
I'm not the only heart you've conquered.

sitting on the balcony in the dark, bright moon and stars above my head. i'm letting small pieces of dark chocolate melt in my mouth. here's what i would give to kiss you with this sweetbitter taste on my tongue:
- my firstborn child
- my innocence
- the childhood memories i have of spending the summer holidays by the sea

it's warm outside – t-shirt and baggy pants are enough. three candles and the electric light from the ibook. i think when i got out here about an hour ago there were quite a number of things i wanted to write about – but i can't remember anymore. writing is such a petty substitute.

the workout was a real drudgery this afternoon because it was simply too hot. and then, when i had reached the 10 km mark, your face pops up on the ten tv screens which i'm running towards but will never reach and which are all showing the same channel. i close my eyes again and concentrate on thom yorke's "the eraser" which actually starts to go into the chorus the very moment your fake tv smile outshines even the bright, hot afternoon sun.

The more you try to erase me
The more, the more
The more that I appear
Oh the more, the more
The more you try the eraser
The more, the more
The more that you appear

[deleted]

are the stars tiny after all, catherine tekakwitha?

i'm listening to some very early nerve bible songs (paula had asked for a compilation), 4-track recordings we had made during the first sessions in the rehearsal room, our first one that had such a low ceiling that i couldn't stand upright. it's such a weird feeling listening to melodies i had already forgotten. some songs are dreadful : crappy lyrics and just bad music. but some are also not too bad. and weaving through every song is rob's playful guitar. like the most optimistic instrument i've ever hear. even in the saddest songs it still has a hopeful and almost tender quality, and in the uptempo ones ... i don't know. i'm missing him and the playful energy that he was able to create.

if they can clone a man from blood cells why can't they clone him from these guitar tracks?

My sister says she never dreams at night
There are days when I know why
Those possibilities within her sight
With no way of coming true
Some things just don't get through
Into this world , although they try

it would have been my gym day, but i felt like i'd gotten a good thrashing last night : every bone and muscle was aching when i got home from the office. so i stayed home.

now about yesterday. i did not call the number back. first of all it is highly unlikely that the message came from s.. because
1) she has no reason to write such a message.
2) she would never phrase it that way.
3) she would never ask "coffee?" at six in the evening.
4) the 'Also los!' at the end of the message was just a little too inviting.

and even if it had been her the question is : do i *want* to answer to that? i thought about this last night and even though i did not come to a definite conclusion i tended to answer this with "no". because the (f)actual person s. has of course nothing to do with the cipher "s." that i'm constantly evoking here.

i think the whole occurrence seemed so, hm, threatening to me because it coincided with accidentally having met her exactly a week ago (and before that i hadn't met her in over a year). it was as if the nasty nightmares about getting calls and messages from her are continuing in my waking life. and what do you do when you can't escape the hauntings neither in your dreams nor in waking life?

okay, folks. that's it. i mean, that's really it. i am NOT making this up! fucking hell! i just got a text message that read "coffee?". i didn't know the number. two minutes later i got another message that said: "oh yes, right: i've got a new number. this is s.. also los!"

and even though i suspect that this is just one of those spam messages that try to make you answer to expensive numbers i was perplexed and dumbstruck. s. is not really a frequent name in germany. WHO THE FUCK IS DIRECTING THIS??????!!!!!!!!!

 later: 

i don't want this bullshit any longer. i'm so tired. i simply don't want it anymore. :o(

sitting on the balcony, listening to aimee mann's "wise up". there's a thunderstorm coming. it has been warm and sunny all day long, but now the sky is filled with high clouds and the wind keeps getting cooler. my eyes hurt. been sitting in the sun this afternoon on the campus, correcting term papers, listening to the p-wolf. it was all peaceful and quiet. it was just what i needed after a frustrating latin class. there's a lawn in front of the library building and it was completely covered with daisies. thousands of them. i started to count them only in the vicinity where i was sitting, and i soon lost track. they were swarming all over the green, swaying in the wind in unison, turning left and right simultaneously, like a large flock of birds or a school of fish. a small rabbit was jumping from under a bush. the dry wind was blowing clouds of dust across the square in little whirls and the students were trying to cover their faces with books that had come freshly from the library. the rabbit hesitated, looked around and jumped back into the bush. i know : sounds like dorothy in wonderland.

here's something that i scribbled in my notebook the other night : "songs are more important than women!!". decided that this was kind of a hasty statement when two female students laid down on the lawn not far from me, removing every piece of clothing that decency allowed.

the sun is setting and it's slowly getting dark. people are collecting the washing from the balconies and the birds are starting to mark their territory by songs. the clouds have vanished and the sky is clear again. could you please tell me what the point is? i seem to have lost track of it.

weird feeling : after the text message had come in i needed to talk to someone urgently, i didn't really know, why, i just wanted to, i don't know, have some comfort? is this the right word? probably not. some grounding? some being-pulled-back to reality, maybe? but princess superstar is in montreal. and jamie didn't answer the phone. and elaine didn't answer the phone. and blane didn't answer the phone. fuck. i felt a menacing solitude suddenly. i read a great line from nabokov today: "like a mental counterpart of a bad taste in the mouth" exactly. plus the emotional equivalent of having run 14 km on two consecutive days. i'm worn out and if i would only do drugs i would get me a loooooong trip to wonderland tonight.

beautiful sunday. the house was unusually quiet all day long, which was a luxury. got up, did the latin homework. read deleuze:

"Though experience always shows us intensities already developed in extension, already covered over by qualities, we must conceive, precisely as a condition of experience, of pure intensities enveloped in a depth, in an intensive spatium that precisely preexists every quality and every extension. Depth is the power of pure unextended spatium; intensity is only the power of differentiation or the unequal in itself, and each intensity is already difference, of the type E - E', where E in turn refers to e - e', and e, to e - e', etc. Such an intensive field constitutes an environment of individuation."

aha. wish i had studied architecture.

had breakfast at two. then tried to decide whether to learn latin, copy deleuze quotations for the conclusion or work on the song(s). went to the gym instead. i have a hunch that this is not going to have a happy ending.

patrick wolf's (or 'the p-wolf' as alice refers to him) "magpie" on repeat. in the middle of the song marianne faithfull joins him. a sublime mixture of arpeggio piano (aka the p-wolf's voice) and scratchy string quartet (aka marianne's voice). and throughout the entire song there's some kind of white-noise-rumbling going on underground which you only hear in the very low parts, in the others it is there almost 'unconsciously'.

it's eleven already. the week-end went by much too quickly again. only did the bare latin essentials (= homework). i remember that afternoon more than seven years ago when my then girlfriend was coming home from work (we were living together). she had just finished her studies and was working for a publishing house and i was in the middle of my exams. and i was kind of worried because, well, because the date for the written tests was coming closer and closer and i felt unprepared and didn't really have a clue about the topics i wanted to write about. so that afternoon the gf came home, and when i heard the key turning in the front door's lock i ran through the apartment to greet her, and she gave me a quick kiss before she asked with worried voice:
"hey honey! how's the learning coming along?!?"
"oh," i said proudly "i didn't really get to do any of the stuff but i have finally come up with a great chorus for that new song, you wanna hear it before or after dinner?" and i was positively beaming with joy. she looked at me in disbelief, closed the door silently and went without a word into the bedroom. when i followed her a moment later i found her sitting on our bed, face covered in hands. i think it was the only time i had made her cry.