This will be the last time…

-The Rolling Stones

Love that’s love not fade away.
-Buddy holly and the crickets.

Are there not little chapters in everybody’s life that seem to be nothing, and yet affect the rest of history?
-W.M Thackery.

I stay outside but live within.
-The Rollins band.

Was I better off loving people who had no idea that I was doing so?
It could last for however long I wanted.
It could be eternal if I allowed it. [I did and I still do…]
No one ever got hurt, it just drifted in its intensity, it did me a great service in longing and great prolonged bouts of sighing.

“Cheese, boredom and masturbation” as the Great Toddski would say.

That’s pretty much all you need. Amen.

So my question at large tonight is…

Is there a pre-emptive strike when it comes to getting your heart broken?

If it’s always been broken does that mean you just get another bruise?

I tell people that nothing can be taken with out your permission. Maybe I say it because I need to hear it, need to believe it.
The heart can move from the sanctity of a saviour’s hand to under the heel of their shoe with alarming speed.

Who is holding yours right now?
Makes ya feel kinda queasy huh?

I am going to go and hang with the sunset for a second.this, trying to unravel this is causing my eyes to water.

Well that didn’t help, I want to swan dive off the 9th floor more and more as time ticks on.

I feel like I am leaking here, just dripping away.
Tell you what was funny. I am overlooked all the time as in day to day life I tend to be the most socially retarded and quiet member of this band. If you have met me away from playing you know that I am telling the truth.
So, here I am living on the axis of Saint Pauli, the highest density of rock stars per capita outside of the Sunset Strip.
They walk and talk it every hour of every day, the haircuts the clothes the drinking…name it they have it down while I skulk around the perimeter in the same clothes I wore on the plane.
Behold with shock and awe.
What I am trying to say is it was great to see their jaws drop when they came to the show.

Guess that was the most that they have ever heard me talk….

Nothing like getting 200 Germans to yell “Cheers cunt!” after every song.

But back in my fucked up cranium,

Raquel calls me a misery guts and I spent 18 euros to get yelled at today trans Atlantic style.
I wonder what the hell I think I am doing trying to sustain a relationship through the folly that is my volume driven circus of a life.
This is nothing that I didn’t know all along but that little drunk sprite by the name of Hope turned up at the valentines party of my soul and danced drunk on the table, treading in the heart shaped cake, twirling her knickers around her little finger crooning “This time is different….” over and over again in my arms as I carried her to the purple limo idling in the cold, light in my arms.
Her icing coated shoe fell off in the snow.

And as she was chauffeured away I stood there under the streetlight, my breath smoking out like a drunk dragon and I foolishly threw my hat back into the ring as one does after Hope has departed and whimsy arrives by the way of natty lighting and misplaced desire.

I am going to be a teenaged cock head for the rest of my life aren’t I?

I don’t think that glamour is at a premium dating me. I can’t not do my life and I always end up loosing something. People are under the illusion that it’s not as hard to be separated if you are the one who is on the road. Which is utter shit if you are interested by the way.

Now all I do in small moonlit vans crisscrossing the continent is panic.
A right fuckin conundrum.

I nicked a packet of razors today. I have to feel something sooner or later. I met a really cool tattooist in Berlin and she is going to do the bullet hole under my chin and my neckpiece for me.

Not soon enough or enough. It never will be.

Berlin was awesome. I drove by Zoo station with my beloved Bowie crooning in my ears of being like dolphins and heroes.
Christine F man…gob smacked I was.
Miss Billie was the only feature missing for me as she carves a hot and heavy emerald path through Melbourne.

We are off to London in 2 days and then waiting to see if we have a support for 13 days in a row through the rest of Europe.
So this adds up to 10 days in England, pull an all nighter to get a plane at 6 in the morning to get back to Hamburg, swap some luggage and get on a night liner bus drive and play the 1st show that night.
Kind of craving it. Stress and all cause then I will know that I am doing something. The something that I came here to do.

Saw the final artwork today for the album, to tell the truth I had forgotten what it looked like. Seems like a million years since me and Steve sat down to nut it all out. The little girl on the back cover is my most beloved Saint Tina with her baby sister Wendy, sadly deceased. It’s a photo that I have carried around for years, I’m not even sure that she knows that I have it.

Its perfect. They look perfect to me.

Bits of my treasures all over it. Crap that I find on the ground or get given. I am glad that I got to have such a strong hand in doing this and that I got away with it. Its kind of voodoo inspired. No full sets of lyrics just bits and pieces. All the thank you lists and fleur-de-lis through the border in homage to my ink and my drowned city.

That and the autopsy cover. My favourite picture is behind the Cd.

My head is so clogged up. I am writing this at the table. At the other end Peter of Finland and Quiggs of no fixed address are doing a German lesson in fair trade of a drumming lesson. Ashley is home so I have my headphones on and cranked to the top notch to drown out his voice.

The Lemitz show was a fuckin blinder. As there is no stage I ended up bare foot on the crappy red Formica bar in a puddle of tequila with some drunk woman cooing to my foot and ruffling my leg hairs between petting the wart on my toe.

What can I say to that?

As I had a cordless mike I ran out and sang my guts out in the middle of the street. I was wearing the same rags that I had been wearing for the last 3 days and as many shows. There is a stunning point that one reaches when you know that you cant reach or drop any lower as it stands. You want to see how little you can care.

Upon walking home I passed the shop with the giant cock cake in the window. Pirates abound, as do rude Turkish men who have stopped spitting at me everytime I pass the station since I started growling at them.

I offered Ashley to people all weekend as a gift. No takers.

Over hearing nothing but German. It’s starting to make me crazy. Rest assured that I can always tell when people are giving me shit no matter what language its in.

And to all those who asked my birthday sucked fetid ass as usual.

I really can’t be fucked with this tonite. Going to run now. Sooner I get back the sooner I can have sharp things and wet white tiles. A fine reward for a not so fine person.

SF4L
Michele.