Listening to Amon Duul now takes me back to 1997 where Brynn and I were stoned out of our mind listening to music of my choice. One night is most rememberable, however: She was stoned out of her mind and collapsed onto the bed (or pretended to, perhaps) and I put on Operation: Mindcrime by Queensryche (an awful album, as I have come to see). I undulated to the singular unadorned riffs whilst she slept. As an aside, highchool brought this album to presence. Miller and Ira were obsessed with it. Well,maybe only Miller. I recall him playing it to me at his place in Fort Stockton. It is empty and disgusting: An idol to American ignoance.

Can it be? Shall it be? Will it be? Is it inevitable?

What is Pohanka, anyway? Destruction is all I have ever sought. It creeps in my stillness and energizes my manic times. I slithered to Karolina’s place, laced with vodka, the other night, and fonud myself unknowning of myself or of anything natural (though this is, in some ways, a transcendental state).

God damn it!

So I am banned from there for eternity. (Eternity is a very small amount of seconds for poor Karolina.) I tried to watch ‘Idiocracy’, but despite James’s and Christian’s lucid and adamant claims that the film is excellent, contemporary and telling, I found it pointless and tiring. Cynically, Perhaps I am growing into a toadstool of cynicism.

I was just thinking about lack of sleep and that sometimes you must make up for your downtime with uptime which dissolves, like salt does to water, whatever downtime you have made. Though the saline permeates, it can be driven away by other measures, such as piloting to the sea.

Though I don’t know if that is for me. I wonder how far the sea is right now. The UK. Hello, home.

My parents say that I only care about myself. But, actually, they care about me caring about them, which is caring about themselves. It is selfish beyond anything I have ever experienced. They are enslaving their young. They are the infants now craving young to care for them. It is a recipricol cycle.

It’s gone.

1. Do you think people have any misconceptions about you?

I think they all do.

2. Do you own shoes that cost more than $100?

Well, what is the exchange rate now? Um… I’d say yes.

3. What did your last text message say?

“What’s up, eh? I’m leaving the cafe in 15 short minutes.”

4. What show did you last watch?

The latest episode of Lost.

5. Do you wear Hollister?

I don’t wear anything which begins with the letter H.

7. Do you get shy around the guy/girl you like?

No.

8. Do you remember what you were doing a year ago today?

No, but I bet you remember what I was doing a year ago today.

11. Do you have family problems?

Very rarely.

12. Where are most people in your top friends from?

From or where are they now? If the former, then the USA. If the latter, then scattered over three continents.

13. Where’s 13?

It’s in my incense burner.

14. Who are there pictures of in the room you’re currently in?

Absolutely no one if I don’t count CD covers.

15. What are you doing at this exact moment?

Waiting for one of my fucking top friends to arrive.

16. Do you give special ringtones to certain people?

The ringer on my phone is always off.

17. What’s the weather like outside?

Ovoid.

18. Have you ever seen a 3D movie in theaters? >

Nope.

19. What is your favorite holiday?

Everyday is a holiday.

20. Have you ever ran away?

Yes.

21. Do you text with T9?

What the fuck are you talking about?

22. Have you memorized your social security number?

Long ago, but it is now forgotten.

23. Have you ever had a dream about people you love dying?

All the time.

25. What was the last advice you gave someone?

Don’t be stupid.

26. What radio station do you listen to the most?

I never listen to the radio.

28. Why are you doing this instead of something else?

I’m taking a break from shaving my buttocks.

31. What’s the last food you ate that had salt on it?

Onion, red lentil, pea and tofu soup.

32. What are you watching?

Too much whiteness.

33. What did you do last night?

Worked at a cafe with wifi for some hours, then walked to the market, bought a few things, then walked the remainder of the way here.

34. What’s your favorite sport?

Grinding peppercorns.

35. What piercings do you want to get?

None.

36. Have you ever seen your friends cry?

For sure.

37. Who was the last person you cried in front of?

I don’t recall exactly, but probably my girlfriend.

38. Can you do a push-up?

No, but I can levitate.

39. Have you ever had a panic attack?

Not a debilitating one.

41. Would you ever consider moving back to your hometown?

Ugh.

42. Describe your laugh?

Strangled and passionate.

43. What do you think about the person that last commented you?

That he has knobby knees.

44. Who sings the song you last sang?

Lou Reed.

45. Plans for this weekend?

Work.

46. How was last weekend?

Fantastic. I didn’t have to deal with any other human.

47. Have you ever been to California?

Yes, sir. Awful place.

48. What are you listening to right now?

Arvo Part.

49. What color is your underwear?

A stained and mottled bluish-purple.

50. Do you like anyone right now?

I mainly dislike people.

Current Location: Kačerov

Current Mood: scrunched

Current Music: Camel

The illness of nearly three weeks running is yet to slow its pace. Bed-ridden and weak, I stumble mentally through each day, trying not to fall to the hypothetical floor.

I just got over a bad bout of the shakes, owing to the heat. The fresh sweat on my skin has become stale and run off in rivulets. Dr Seifert claims the malfunctions of my liver have something to do with my body’s revulsion to higher temperatures. Must I stay on my back listening to the whirring of fanblades throughout the whole warm season?

I need to live somewhere where the sun never shines.

Is Kacerov hell? I don’t think so. I am unable to type without thinking about my fingers. That is a bad thing. Time whistles around me. At least we have a new washing machine here. I go back over and over again to the words…. life is just a series of moments, one after the other. I gotta get out of it. Maybe Michal well help me on Sunday.

Life takes so fucking long.

Something has infested me and refused to go away. In other words, I am fantastically ill. Summary –> Hovno.

Job:
It is petering out. The capriciousness of Jan Kovarik is denting not only mine but many others’ delight in remaining more than 30 seconds within a few metres of him. After the recent money scandal, I am going to stretch my illness to as long as possible, then, in the end, not return at all. Summary –> Fucker.

Music:
I’ve completed about 70% of the portion of Draperies I mentioned in the entry last week. It is splendid! Yesterday, additionally, I put together the score for the meat of Sonata for a Sombrous Spirit (what a fucking awful title! What was I thinking?) to send Tony. With a bit of expansion and practise, it could also become reality.

The melody came out like this:
a (down to) e f d
(up to) b (down to) e f d
(down to) b (up to) d f# g#
I was pleased when I first invented it, but feel like it could grow a bit stale over time without suitable variation. I’ll let it spin round my head a bit longer. The melody will undoubtedly be used later as the basis for one of the ‘songs’ (ie, vocal portions of the piece) with many subtle changes showing up, but I suspect the root notes will remain the same. Therefore, that second b (the low one) may be inappropriate.

Shit, I really want to record something this weekend.

I got an email from Tone-tone this morning expressing interest (which, admittedly, comes intermittently anyway) in musicking together. I am to set up a way to share files. This is a fascinating concept, for sure, but time constraints (or is it possibly just laziness) have seen me balking every time in the past. This balking surrounds the creation of new groovy tunes, as well.

Perhaps these will help:

• Start out writing simple things.
• Make them short.
• Two to three parts only.
• Allow them to be recorded (my parts, anyway) within a day.
• Get one done before moving to another.
• Send results to Tone (or the fileshare).

I have a simple idea (which shall, of course, become part of my Seven Draperies hodgepodge) which involves 11 notes – a simple melody in A melodic minor. This arresting (!) melody shall be played on mandolin and accompanied by a bass guitar which throughout a few simple variations will match the mandolin’s rhythm 70% of the time (though the bass notes shall be counterpoint). At one point there will be an ostinato during which the mandolin will play the melody repeatedly.

In the background I envision sustained electric guitar notes.

This seems like a simple beginning. I just gotta write the fucker and teach myself to play it flawlessly. I suppose my adherence to mandolin practise shall assist with this.

My workmates scratch themselves. The sound flits into my ears from my front, from my back, and from my left side. Three scratching workmates. The one behind me cracks his knuckles then emits an overly forced sounding cough while the one before me sneezes, covering his distorted maw just in time with cupped hands. The keys of my laptop click in unison with my thoughts. It’s a simple day full of sensory input usually ignored. The small click of the joints on my glasses as I straighten them even sounds monstrous to me.

I am floating in a haze. The mist is thicker from where I have come and thinning en route to my destination. Destination or Way Station. A percentage of me is already gone and this portion annexes more and more of my persona day by day. I like it.

There are no footprints left in the fog.