Friday, 19 August 2016

totalitarian woollen hounds 2

I cough when I'm anxious, it just builds up and starts and sometimes ends up in vomit and usually I would turn on the faucet by then, it it hadn't stopped and then just sit on the floor of the bathroom, recollecting everything, not because I want to puke again, but just to calm down so that the same doesn't happen once I leave the bathroom. I have too many inner demons and possibly in a nicer world, I would tell people about them, but when it's survival and talking, I don't.

I excuse myself from other activities, because I know that tomorrow we will all go to the same supermarket and it'll be better because whoever I tag along with, they won't be lost again and asking for directions on the map, but rather go knowingly. I managed to score a window even if the room is as tiny to just fit enough the mattress and my backpack is on the end of it, everything still tightly packed and rolled to make space for the rest. I don't even feel hungry or excited, just nervous and I know that it goes from day to day and perhaps tomorrow I will be graced with something less terrifying of a mood.

I decide to lean outside the window, as I open it and stare at the passerby people, which seem to be used on what's going on in this side of Berlin. It feels awfully odd now that we're here for a brief while and in a few days we will play, making it a bit more usual and less dystopian where we just are doing what we're supposed to be doing. Plus, after the gig a little money never hurt anyone. I don't even know what to spend it on, standing on top of the mattress, wondering how little I look compared to the building and actually feeling my small frame for once.

I end up lighting a cigarette, which I had bought back in England, not shifted to German cigarettes just yet and exhaling the smoke outside, pondering a lot in how the world moves yet never changes, how everything seems to be stuck in this capitalistic twirl and only in the corners you'd see something else emerge from communism to anarchy, but even then I could only dream of a revolution on the days when I was depressed, when I was manic I would believe in everything and just lay down with insomnia shooting up my veins, telling me that all is possible if I fucking stand up and wake everyone else up.

Instead I just feel lonely today all of a sudden, but I feel like I've got enough if I just continue smoking and get food off someone for today, since I excused myself and gave some money to get me something and that should be it. I happen to be rubbish at cooking, but once I try it becomes a bit edible and that's probably enough. But when you grow up, you're simply left with the fact that you've got to survive somehow. When I just moved out, I wished there was some trust fund I had, which I could rely on, but there was nothing and I just left, hoping for a better world in London and then I just happened to run into the rest of Blyth Power, hearing about Joseph, since he was in The Mob, that caught my eye and I just went ahead with it. It seemed like a sudden change compared to politics and the air in my family's household.

What struck out to me was how people still kept in touch with their relatives and some would join up, saying that indeed there was nothing wrong with what we were doing and that this country was still in shambles and I would get confused and envious how could one even be close to parents. All I did was have fights from everything to my mom buying me leather shoes to how come I didn't have anyone to cling onto like a girlfriends with my dad and as time passed we would just see how distant we were. And that were it, I just left, allowing them not to think too much of me. But maybe it was selfish and young of me to think that they wouldn't think of me as much as they would of Sarah, because of course they would.

I leaned further out of the window, throwing the cigarette ash below and watching Alex, the guy I had met earlier walk out with hands in his pockets and a backpack, I saw him wait and stand there for a while, before teaming up with what I presumed was Wob and someone else, who I couldn't recognize from a distance, but Wob's hat gave it away and I recognized Alex because he stood there for such a good while. I pondered on him, how he had decided to come over, but I didn't think of it much, just allowing myself to go back on the mattress and stare at the cracks of the walls before digging out On The Road, decided that it would be a good choice of a novel, when it came to travelling even if it was boring me and Keroauc had written much better things.

I'd get so tired that I'd end up rereading the pages, even if it were still light outside, as summer would try to stroke our faces with every inch of sun. Even if we were here for a few days, I shouldn't be locking myself up, but I just felt far too jet lagged even if it were just an hour it felt so deviant and being elsewhere felt deviant as fuck. Eventually on my second smoke break, I saw Alex and Wob head back, leaving the third person alone, which made me ponder if they had sold them for black market organs or something. I nearly threw the cigarette on their lovely hats and hair, but it landed way far behind them, as Alex looked up and waved at me, jabbing Wob in the side, so both eventually did the same friendly gesture. I tried to recall if it were Wob who I gave the money to, but I could return the favor tomorrow if I were to take his food.

I decided that after all, I shouldn't be the one who hides in his room all day like a hermit and walked outside, waiting for them in the corridor, sitting cross legged and apologizing to anyone who spoke German to me and I couldn't say anything other than sorry, I'm English. It didn't take them long to reach the top floor, where apparently we all resided. Or maybe Alex lived on a different floor, but either way it was surely the same building, I guessed since he decided to check up on me earlier.

Eventually they both came up the stairs, which were heavily drawn on with all sorts of graffiti signs and drawings, which I was sure were here much before we even joined up. It was a heavy contrast to the rooms which were rather bare with the necessities and I recalled hearing that everyone would make sure that every adult had their own room, even if we shared everything else. And from what I understood we would share duties as well, yet to be assigned. Wob was terribly excited about learning how to make mooshine as well, which was something mentioned as we were all unpacking by Joseph.

“There's still some time to explore Berlin, if you'd like.” Alex said, breaking my daze as I waited for them to address me and we all headed towards the kitchen, as I took one of the grocery bags, thinking why did we need so much for just a few days. All I did was say a shy hello and he picked up on it, as I glanced outside the window, which wasn't even getting the memo that it's probably about time to at least get a bit darker.

I noticed Wob give a quick grin to Alex and I pondered what would there be any secrets between them already, but I didn't bother much, just asking Alex where to put the items and where was the band's shelves as he just told to get whatever. I obeyed, by just sorting the food and fruit back in the old fridge and Wob started rumming through, knowing damn well that I'd rather have a hand with cooking.

“I can cook, if you'd like.” Alex offered, before Wob got a good look at the same items he was just getting at the store and there was a brief silence of consideration.

“That's kind of you, that would be great. I'm not the best cook to be honest.” Neither of us are, I wanted to add as Wob said it, but kept my mouth shut, as if scared that Alex would somehow bite me. Then Wob looked at me, as I decided to sit by the small table with two mismatched old chairs and instead of joining me he stood there, speaking up. “I'll join you later, fellas.”
I had to stare at Wob's back as he was walking away, thinking why would he even leave me with Alex-

I remember Wob's shady grin, once my cards showed a bloke. And I glance at Alex, who makes his way through all the shelves, pondering silently on what to cook for a few people, since the rest had their own idea of what to cook apparently, it was just us three, me, Alex and Wob. Of course. I rest my head against my arm, waiting for Alex to choose a dish so I could ask him if he needs help cutting, since that's at least somehow I can't fuck up.


Such a comeback. The first chapter was written back in 2014 and I haven't touched it ever since, maybe there was an old file with something in my old computer, but I highly doubt it, so if there was I just started this chapter from a clean sheet. This story was something I was terrified to touch and probably is the thing I am super anxious about the accuracy of because I can't fucking write it accurate with literal scraps of information and this story is frankly my imagination going wild, because I just find it fascinating and I wanted to attempt at it.

Quick shout out to Placebo's Meds which somehow were the soundtrack to this chapter, which frankly doesn't make any sense, but they helped me keep a miserable mood consistantly and for Radiohead's Ful Stop which in my very unpopular opinion is the only song of A Moon Shaped Pool which caught my eye. Ful stop had given me the ending of Blue/Jacket and now the motivation to start this chapter, so round of applause for these two. I even went outside listening to Meds yesterday to keep my motivation consistant and once I was back I just sat in front of my computer, even if it was hard to write, the motivation was there. Since I'm recovering from a really bad depressive episode, all is hard and all help is appreciated.

 Either way, I was terrified of this story and still fucking am! It's hard to write because it's something I had never experienced, the closest I've had is sharing rooms with other people, but it wasn't an East Berlin squat and I'll never experience that for obvious historical reasons. Also shout out to great interviews which are available online about it, so thank you. Obviously thank you to Jamie for talking about it and inspiring this story.

When I can't write I just start describing what I feel or something which has happened to me, to make it easier to dig in and I keep those chunks going by the Kerouac rule of not erasing anything. I get anxious so easily so I start coughing, so that's where that paragraph comes from.

My headcanon was that until then Jamie well, was a late bloomer and I kind of had a relationship when I was 12, so I kind of went to dig in myself that deep to see how it felt when I didn't have any experience and stuff. So yeah.

Bipolar... pride? Something like it. Mania sucks though.

I kind of really went story telling here and squeezing everything out of my mind, so I pretty much told everything. I actually ended up writing the chunk where Jamie realizes what Wob is doing so that I don't forget to include that later, so it was a cheap trick really.

If you liked it, just send something my way, because I'm an anxiety ball and that would be lovely.

Thank you for all your support



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