A Thousand Plateaus

"would you like a piece of cake?..." and the word 'cake' is sung rather than spoken. i look up from the ibook. a broad smile greets me, without the bitchiness i had feared to be confronted with.
"...it's on the house!" hands are wiped on the apron nervously, but relax when i smile back.
"hm, sure!" and i wonder whether i should say anything concerning last friday night, but then decide that there are too many people here and that it's not the right time to discuss it anyway and maybe it doesn't really need to be discussed in the first place. it feels strange, sitting here in the 'other' café with so many unfamiliar faces. it's right downtown by a fancy shopping street and i seem to be totally underdressed and understyled to be sitting here. i'm silently hoping that the ibook will make up for my unfashionable appearance.
"here's your cake. enjoy!" the peace offering is a gigantic piece of apple pie on a snow white plate.
"thanks!"
"so what have you been up to this week?"
"working, correcting papers, editing texts, and trying to write an info-text for my 'band'" and i'm actually making virtual scarecrows in the air "which turns out to be more complicated than i thought!" and before i can explain some more the demands of the other guests end the conversation. while i'm still trying to make up my mind whether to kiss or not kiss good-bye when i'll be leaving, my attention is distracted by someone sitting across the room and i've got the funny feeling that i've seen this beautiful face before. when our eyes meet by accident we exchange a polite smile and i sense the same semi-recognition expressed by a slight trembling of the lips. and then i remember: it's d.! i can feel myself blushing. during the next hour i look up from time to time, and catch d. looking at me, too. and i try to imagine the extend of bitchiness that would hit me if d. stood up and came over  to my table. luckily this doesn't happen.
"can i bring you anything? you want another coffee? what are you doing tonight?" my vision is blocked by a blue apron that suddenly stands in front of the table.
"no, i'm fine, thanks. tonight there's a birthday party i have to go to.  i'm not really feeling like going out, though..."
"hm, guess i know what you mean. we close at eight, and when i'm home i'll be falling into bed like a stone."
"yeah, it's really busy today, isn't it?"
"yes, the week-end, and the sun : everybody's in town shopping... okay, i have to continue working. you're sure you don't want anything?"
"no. well, the check, please..." i overtip and don't kiss when i leave.  halfway out of the door i look back across the room and exchange a smile with d.. 
 
it's spring-like again today, which is good : it's mild, the weeds in the backyard start blooming cautiously and the cat has strewn the guts and feathers of a pigeon all over the lawn. yesterday night was quite fun : c. celebrated her birthday at the café, and a lot of nice people were there. after inspiring conversations about the balance of stones, the advantages of iphones and the (qualitative) difference between vaginal and clitoral orgasms i was the last one left at three in the morning which was - because summertime kicked in last night - suddenly four already. i helped gorgeous victoria clean up a little so she wasn't  alone (last week when she was closing the place there was a guy standing suddenly in front of the panorama panes, exposing himself and starting to wank), then walked home and slept badly until nine. 

been a couple of busy days for various reasons. plus i'm still working on that 200 lurkers flyer. felt weird all day long : nervous and excited, unrestfull. went to the gym tonight even though i had been yesterday already.

not quite sure how to deal with a bitchy reaction i got to my decision to go home after the cocktails last week. sigh. do people have to be that complicated?! and all that even though i had said right from the start that my mind and heart is still with you. thinking about you each time i'm listening to "lonely lonely". maybe that's why i'm not finishing the new song. because it's about you. i used to write about loss most of the time. but lately this has changed. the songs are more about things/people/feelings that are there than about those that aren't. and the new song will be, too. but it's difficult to write with you not being here.

elaine called me the other night telling me that she had met the partner of paul patton (another deleuze scholar) who apparently is a specialist on spinoza. she told her that i've written a thesis on cohen and the 'deleuzian body' and elaine said that she was very interested because she's a big cohen fan.

tomorrow night there's a party at the café because it's one of the waitresses' birthday. oh yes, and i did something very embarrassing. so embarrassing, in fact, that i will *never* tell you. it's the single most embarrassing thing i've ever done. and i'm not talking ordinary every-day embarrassment like dropping the yogurt in the supermarket but something so extraordinarily embarrassing that it will be on top of the embarrassment charts for a very, very long time. it's so embarrassing that i even don't know what the second most embarrassing thing is because it overshines every minor embarrassment i've ever had the doubtful pleasure of going through.

...that i'm not paranoid! otherwise this text message that i received yesterday afternoon would really puzzle me:

i don't know any marco. i don't know the number the message was sent from. nor have i ever written any message this could be an answer to. so why on earth a random message that i get by mistake should - of all sorry places in germany - mention b. is a beautiful mystery to me! i'm sure there's NOT a conspiracy going on! oh and by the way - got calls from numbers i did not know twice last week.
it snowed even more today! large, countless flakes - the entire city was white. never seen anything like that in cologne before!

it's easter-sunday, 21:13. sitting in the café, and it's too cold. reading a term paper on the pornographic qualities of beautiful losers. a good topic but not a good paper. before that some deleuze-book editing. i'm doing everything to avoid writing that 200 lurkers info. i want some of those underwater-guitar sounds of "all my love" in the new song, which is tentatively titled "the wind". you know, the song that's been waiting to be finished in the drawer for half a year now. it might be the best thing i've ever written. the chorus sends shivers down my spine every time i'm listening to the rough demo version i recorded in october – which is a rare thing. i already know that it will be overproduced hopelessly.

later
exchanged easter-presents with jodie who is leaning behind the counter, sucking at her cigarette listlessly, with one eye watching the few guests, with the other solving a sudoku puzzle in the paper. my back hurts. how much i would like to hear and play to these drums live [still listening to "all my love"]. you know, i can almost, no, not almost, i CAN picture myself in a dimly lit rehearsal room with drums behind me and a bass player on my left and a guitar player on my right, and we're breaking into the song and the rhythm takes over the room and it's so relaxed that everyone is playing with closed eyes, we might as well turn off the light completely, iwantthatiwantthatiwantthat.

the easter blizzard has coated the cars with a fine icing. i'm walking home because i've missed the last train and just spent a small fortune on cocktails so i can't afford a taxi. before we walked home in different directions there was some mild arguing going on:
"pleeeaaase!" and the plea was underlined by a swift kiss in the snow.
"you go to your bed and i will go to my bed" i repeated firmly.
"okay, let's play rock, paper, scissors and if i win three times you'll come home with me."
"no." i felt weird. i had feared all night long that we would meet you. thank god we did not.
i was hugged firmly and a warm breath touched my ear gently. then a playful bite in my cheek.
"grrrr! i just want to cuddle. not more. just cuddle!"
"good night!"
i have to unlock arms behind my back.
i wanted to be alone. it would have been dishonest to stay.
now the snowflakes are falling all around me, twirling beautifully, and i don't mind getting wet. the cool night air should clear my mind, but it doesn't. walking down the avenue i'm thinking of you. what if we *had* met? will this never end? what keeps me warm : a scarf from florida and the drums of american music club's "all my love".

borrowed from paula's blog:
http://www.sendspace.com/file/93it8r
not much to report. ate all the easter sweets i had bought for friends myself.

just returned from jodie's. she called tonight and asked me whether i'd like to join her and melanie for a beer. it was great - we were really silly and at eleven jodie made us fish sticks, spinach and dumplings :-) yummy! hadn't eaten these in years! wish you had been there.

not much to report. met with jamie yesterday night and we sort of finished the secret project. now it's up to fate and chance which way it will be going. started to work on the new secret project with alice. the holidays are almost over and the new semester will start soon and there are literally a thousand things i still want to do! *sigh*

talked to my parents on the phone the other night because of easter and my mother said:
"well, we'll be on vacation then..."
"oh!" i said
"why? did you want to visit?"
"well, i still got p.'s [my sister's] video camera and i said i'd give it back to her when i'd come over easter."
"well, you can come anyway and stay here for a couple of days. you'd have the whole place for yourself..."
yeah right! why the hell should i stay on my own at my parents' place with our mentally challenged cat over easter deep in the suburbs of bielefeld?
sometimes my parents are weird.

"oh, look at that! you've got a birth mark on your palm?!!" this, sadly, seems to be the most extraordinary thing about my body. it always triggers the same reaction of surprise.
"hm" i'm grunting, sipping at my mojito which hardly contains any alcohol at all.
"where i come from, when you have a birth mark on your palm and under your feet it signifies that you are a chosen one."
i have to laugh out loud.
"no really, like, hm, like an emperor or an artist! because the mark on your hand supports and protects you from the top, that underneath your foot from the bottom."
"i never checked under my feet..." i reply, raising my voice against the music that is too loud and too obtrusive just like the clothes and style of most of the people around us. i wish there was a pause in the conversation that would allow me to think some more about this strange situation : taking this out of the surreal seclusion of the dimly lit fish tank on the 16th floor makes me feel, i don't know... uncomfortable? and this short thought alone makes me lose track of what is said, so i throw in an all-purpose "yes" and a polite nod. i could have prevented this situation when being asked:
"we can order something up. there's a chinese place nearby. or we could go out." then, it felt to be a good idea to get dressed, break up the weird intimacy and escape from the halo of warmth and smell that attracts and repels like a magnetic field. so i said: "let's go out." while the sound of the shower drowns the noise from the colorful videos on mtv i'm waiting, sitting on the sofa, seeing the moon rise behind the cathedral in the distance.

on my way home birds are singing, even though it's two at night and pitch dark. when i'm home i undress in a haze, fall onto the bed and the last thing i'm doing before i turn off the lights is looking under my feet. then falling asleep to the thought of being halfway elected.

listened to feist all day long. beautiful, very very beautiful. especially this one. then at night text messages: it was so nice getting to know you a little better. i don't want to answer, but i do, anyway.

By my only things are clear
Baby boy I'm staying here
Lonely lonely that was you
Lonely and so untrue