schizophrenia

Sometimes I stopped in the middle of a sentence and felt ashamed of myself. I remembered how I would sometimes talk cynical about my love just to hide how much I really cared. To protect the unnameable. Nothing wrong with that, granted, but still...It's a distinct feeling of being too weak to be true.
It's LA, man, it's something that you can't put in words. All I said, maybe that's true too, maybe that's what I really think when I am not trapped in this gigantic lost-angels-hole. But when I was driving down the black forest A5 to see my friend Silvia and the sun worked her way through the pale clouds, I couldn't help thinking that I would love to drive down the sidewalk at the beach, with the wind in my hair.
LA is for phony money oriented career suckers, sure, of course, but also for outdoor freaks (it's really just an hour and you're in the middle of mountains or the sea or the desert) and people who are content with a small circle of good friends who don't care about the rest in the city. And not necessarily oblivious to the rest of the world.
It's also a place where, as an artist, you can actually do really interesting things. It's the schizophrenia of being inbetween the dirty, gritty world of the streets and fucked up buildings and the glimmer glamour media dominated celebrity world that infiltrates the minds of millions and billions of tabloid readers every day everwhere in this crazy world.
It's a giant tight-rope dance project.
Where illusions are millimeters away from reality and yet universes away... Reality so relative, like clay waiting to be formed. Results to be sold elsewhere. Where you feel more detached from the rest of the world than anywhere else (well, THAT is a very subjective judgement) but where most of the rest of the brainwashed world thinks that it's at. Where it's different from what you think it is. Always. And where you have to confront yourself in a different way than before (DUH, true for everywhere, right?). Where you can hide from yourself just as well. It's up to you, always, in this crazy city. (well I guess...it 's everywhere that way?!)

The schizophrenia for me lies in the fact that i can't tell.
I can't take my words back. It's still the same. I still don't like it. I still almost start crying and get disgusted by my own depressed voice or attitude when people ask me how I am or like it here. I can't stand the good mood or smiles either when they are plastered on my face. It's a fucking caroussel and I am by no means in the position to say anything at all, actually. Which, of course, doesn't stop me from contemplating and rambling like I do now.
I am kind of driven by this feeling of shame that crept in, when I stopped for a second in the middle of a conversation with a ecology/economy student in one of Berlin's fantastically fucked up backhouse stairways. The light was dim and sounds simmering in the air. His hair was in dreads and his smile a beam that glued me to the steps. I couldn't move for half an hour, caught up in the cascade of words flying back and forth, weaving a story about LA and America and my life here that was just not really true. It was as true as it can be in a state of schizophrenia. It was the other side. It was, what made him say, I hope you make the right decisions and when you're back here come by for a coffee or a beer. It sounds like you should move back here.

When I finally left I felt excited and tormented in the same time. Ironically I ran into a girl from San Francisco downstairs who was in search of a place to stay. She was in Berlin and I felt home and she felt out of place.
Literally.
I can't tell. Still. I haven't been writing much about my time in Germany or the time after, here. Digestion is slow. It was hard to swallow.

And I still feel sorry for having painted such a tristesse in the eyes of my friends. LA. You aren't that bad after all. Are you.

24

I am turning 24 on tuesday. I remember how I asked myself where I would be with 23 and I am coming to a full round now, looking back, looking back and I see.

23 has been an amazing year for me, really. It has turned me inside out and upside down and everything went to pieces more than once. My life, my heart, my plans, my art.

>The direction of 24 is glooming at the horizon. It´s about time I hurry up and catch the sunrise.

Good bye

At The Dock

Sitting in the morning sun
I'll be sitting when the evening comes
Watching the ships roll in
And I watch 'em roll away again

[Refrain]
Sitting on the dock of the bay
Watching the tide roll away
I'm just sitting on the dock of the bay
Wasting time

I left my home in Georgia
Headed for the 'Frisco bay
'Cause I had nothin to live for
And look like nothing's gonna come my way

So I'm just...
[Refrain]

Look like nothing's gonna change
Everything still remains the same
I can't do what ten people tell me to do
So I guess I'll remain the same

Sittin here resting my bones
And this loneliness won't leave me alone
It's two thousand miles I roamed
Just to make this dock my home

Now, I'm just...