01.10.2024
I am with a group of people while O. celebrates his birthday with others. I go to his table and greet him from behind. Two of my ex-girlfriends are there, including A. Why are there always two of them. We stay up all night. I do not want to sit with the others. The next morning there is a raid on a large square. I take a bag of cocaine and a gun out of the car and throw them far into the sea. Will the police find them. Will they let me go home. The lights on the square in front of the houses go on.
02.10.2024
03.10.2024
I am with C. We are both on our laptops in the same room. She is playing a techno beat and I try to synchronise with her tempo. I walk over and try to see her BPM. The display looks old and the BPM is very high. C. runs a cable around my laptop and plugs it in; the port is old and I wonder if the cable will fit. It fits. I touch C. with my body and hope it does not feel intrusive. Then we go outside into a neighbourhood I used to visit with my parents. Now everything is empty. C. says she knows the neighbourhood from before. We walk through the empty streets.
04.10.2024
05.10.2024
06.10.2024
I am with N. We have had too much to drink. I still cannot tell her that I love her. She is lying in a bed outside and I cannot lie down with her. When I come back she has left with P. The bed is no longer at the crossroads. As I walk towards the place I already know they have gone. A bit further away I see the blue and white carpets from my flat, rolled up. I am desperate, unable to express my love and feeling abandoned. Then I see a Tesla and sit in the driver’s seat. P. runs after me and gets into the back. The car starts beeping and I ask for the key; P. hands it to me and I push it in. I say how disappointed I am — why did they leave me alone. I feel rejected and unloved. On a ski slope I start skiing in slalom. At the end I throw my skis and poles down carelessly and run back to N. She is sitting in the snow next to F. His skin looks dark and I say I am the black ski instructor, then add that it is a joke. It is a terribly desperate dream.
07.10.2024
I get feedback on the music I made for a short advert. The feedback is several pages long, written in a harsh and critical tone. I do not really understand it. I have to rework all of the music.
08.10.2024
I am with C. in the flat on Choriner Strasse. A. and K. arrive, dressed very elegantly and in bright colours. They want to pick C. up to go out. I want to stay at home. I hug A. and K. K. tells me about her parents, who are ill and have something like shingles around their necks. While she talks, she kneels on the floor; her cleavage is visible. I look at her breasts — they are smaller than I expected. I look into her eyes and wonder if she noticed. More people arrive, including P. with his parents. Everyone is dressed smartly for a street festival. If I went with them, I would wear my usual black clothes. I walk through the flat and tidy up. The old tiles on the floor are broken. I tear at my nails and look for a file. I drink a smooth red wine and want to watch a crime film later. On the balcony I look through the railing and see people downstairs as well. On the neighbouring balcony a white cloth is lying on the floor, hanging slightly over the edge. I go back inside. The others leave slowly. I do not want to hug all of them. K. walks towards me; she is thicker than I expected under her shirt. I want to cut my hair short again. I want to be alone and for C. to have fun.
09.10.2024
10.10.2024
I am playing music at an event. The notes do not sound right. There is a drum kit next to the piano. I want to leave, but Y. wants to stay. I look for N.
11.10.2024
I meet H. outside and go over to him briefly. He asks if we should smoke weed. We only eat something quickly and then I leave. He asks again: “So we’re not smoking?” I say no. He is tired from work. Later, I enter a newly opened food shop on the corner of our street. At the back there is a second shop where two men are standing. At the front I join the short queue. In front of me is a woman wearing translucent white trousers; I look at her bottom and her underwear. She leaves and will pick up her things later. On the left are bags of frozen French fries. Shouldn’t they be in a freezer. I can’t decide which ones are best. Eventually I take a bag. I glance into another woman’s cleavage. When it is my turn, I realise the shop assistant is French. I speak German, then switch to French. I ask if it is her first day. She says no, the first week. I take a nata for dessert and a pastry stick for the aperitif. I have forgotten my card. I hand her a strip she tries on the reader. I try my phone; after error messages it works. The total is over fifty euros. Expensive. Outside I see R. I walk on, not wanting to meet him. A tram passes. A small dog sits too close and gets hit, but nothing seems to have happened.
12.10.2024
I rehearse with musicians, maybe from Nick Cave’s band. We try to play a difficult chord; someone draws it in tablature. I try it on my folk guitar; no one manages it. I think I have it, but the little finger must stretch further. I play a picking pattern that sounds like Cocteau Twins. The others listen. Am I playing well. Later I have to return early to pack my instruments. A woman walks with me and says one of the teachers is carrying her old second-hand handbag. I say I would never do that. She wouldn’t either, out of fear of being attacked. Is it snowing.
13.10.2024
TUA has released a new song. I think it is very good. On the second listen I pay attention to the sound design and scene transitions. Someone expresses himself ambiguously and TUA briefly thinks he doesn’t like the song. I congratulate him. I look for a toilet, find a portable one, but keep searching because I need privacy. Then I say goodbye to TUA; we shake hands awkwardly. I am relieved that he also struggles with the handshake.
14.10.2024
I play football with Billie Eilish and Finneas. It is awkward back and forth. We are playing the World Cup final. I somehow score. I am in my old student flat. C. is there. I hold the hoover to my face; there must have been glass inside — I now have four parallel scratches on my forehead. The kitchen and bathroom lights no longer work. I talk to a former teacher — is it Albert Einstein. Inside I search for bulbs; they look like plastic preserving jars. It smells like old cigarette butts. One jar contains camomile leaves.
15.10.2024
Nick Cave plays guitar and asks which of his songs it reminds us of. I say I recognise the strong beat. Then I am with Blixa Bargeld. He wants to perform a piece with a puppet of himself. We become friends. I mix the music as we walk from room to room. At the end I have the idea that the puppet enters through Blixa’s anus as a symbol of rebirth.
16.10.2024
A. is putting on a performance outside. She wants to spray water and use a strobe light. I flick metal balls across the ground. P. asks me a riddle about his children’s car seats. I call L., who recognises my voice. H. arrives. I mistype the name repeatedly. At an exhibition we stand on chairs waiting to be let in. I have forgotten my passport and only have the old one with cut corners. The counter closes, then reopens, and I have my real passport.
17.10.2024
18.10.2024
I am with N. We are in love but not fully together. I try to hide my erection. N. scratches my back. I miss the goals on TV. She postpones a flat viewing with her boyfriend. I dance with Y.
19.10.2024
Outside at tables, I write down notes. I hadn’t noticed table numbers. A young woman tells me not to discuss it. Someone has a psychological problem. I say I studied psychology. The seats are actually toilets. I flush using a loose round button.
20.10.2024
I crawl across the floor and explain that there are three options: join the party, vote, or gather information and then choose.
21.10.2024
I want to make deposits for crypto on Scalable. I drive very fast over sand, passing parents’ rooms. I want to pick up C. Where do I make the deposit? I ask J. and put silverware on three levels into a dishwasher. Will I get the silverware back? Then I check in a large suitcase. I put something into the front pocket and close it awkwardly. I go to a kind of sauna. Food is supposed to be served. Boxes downstairs move around and smoke because they get stuck and catch fire. Everyone is waiting for the food counter with H. It finally opens. The group goes in and I go with them. A woman tells me what was said; I thank her. Inside, I don’t know where to sit. I walk on. The others are excited; everything is new to me. In a large room, A. comes towards me in swimming trunks. He is slight. I hug him with my cold hands. He asks me how I got here. I say by car. I live nearby.
22.10.2024
I am with A. and S. from The Boss Hoss. They are going to stop as a band. I play my folk guitar — a few chords from Boss Hoss — and I play surprisingly well. At a large market, I look for sweets but cannot find any. I walk everywhere, pushing through the people. There are two markets. On the way back everything is empty, hardly any people left. I run or drive very fast. Still no sweets. I am with Y. and tell N. that I cannot pick her up. Y. and I go through one exit; N. takes another behind us.
23.10.2024
24.10.2024
I go to my therapist’s house. It is on the same street where Nick lives. My therapist’s practice is on another street, also next to Nick’s flat. It is a bit messy at my therapist’s place. I don’t want to lie on the couch because it is visible from the neighbour’s house. I start working on a picture with embers so that it turns black with soot. The neighbours arrive. An Asian man says the black, burnt picture symbolises death. My therapist hears it and tells me. I speak to the man in Flemish so my therapist can hear that I speak the language; he answers in German or English. I ask whether Nick is there. He says Nick isn’t there and that his girlfriend gives him too much money. The picture is now completely black. I take a stick and draw a circle of white ash on it. Then I pour all the ash onto the picture as a circle, but it does not close properly. The therapy session is over. I gather my things; it takes me a long time to tie my shoes. My suitcases are still there. I find my two rings and put them on. There are also letters of mine. How am I supposed to get everything back when I return? My therapist waits and says he will bring the things to me.
25.10.2024
I am at a directing school with F. and V. We stand at a large table surrounded by many people. It is loud; I want to say something but no one hears me. Then it becomes quieter. I suggest they all join together and offer a production that covers everything, including make-up. As a possible name, I propose “The Young Wild Ones.”
26.10.2024
I am in the harbour and jump onto a very flat jetty — a risky jump; I should fall into the water in my trainers, but I manage to balance. A woman cannot get onto the pier because her key is stuck. I manage to unlock it. Inside, I get changed. On a counter lies a black glasses case. I ask the woman if it is mine. She takes it; then I see my own brown case with my glasses. Videos of male models are playing — they must not exceed or fall below certain body measurements. One wears a very short jumper exposing his stomach. They are known to dope. I look for my underwear. I am naked; my penis is large, and I want the woman to see me and find me attractive. I walk around looking for my underwear. My brother is there too.
27.10.2024
I am somewhere in Africa. Someone is recording sounds in a very rudimentary way. I suggest digitising them with an XY pad, but then decide it is better to leave them as they are. I stay for a long time. Someone leaves a room; another room is in front of it, both next to horse stables. In the back room there is a table with double, staggered tabletops. R. is negotiating a gig in the USA. It is about a room they should pay for us. They spend so much anyway. A. is there too. I bite off a piece of my headphones — small black plastic parts. I send R. a message so he can negotiate the cost of taking my guitar onboard. I put laundry in the washing machine and start it with the door open; the detergent disappears and water spills out. In the kitchen, a dishwasher stands on three stacked carpets. Water is on the floor. I soak it up with a sponge and bucket. I tidy up the things on the wet carpets. N. helps me; I criticise her, then realise she is doing everything right. I pick up the bottom part of an appliance. What does it belong to? The carpets are soaked — what should I do with them? If I hang them on the balcony, water will drip on the neighbours. S. is there with someone else. I ask if they want coffee and for advice. The man is funny. I still don’t know what to do with the carpets. I put one like an oversized doormat onto the back seat of a VW bus. Outside, a child in a buggy screams with a wet, red face. I worry something is wrong. I take the child out; someone watches me. I dry the child’s face.
28.10.2024
I am at a film music workshop with C. Someone plays vibraphone to create tension. Later I watch a news report about the event on my iPad. I look for myself in the audience and hope my bald head isn’t too visible. I mistake myself for a boy in the front row. The guests now play the instruments; a man in a suit plays the Bad Seeds’ drum kit. I still have time and wonder whether I should go out to eat.
29.10.2024
I make music with O. and J. I create a beat with a drum machine. The song idea is copied; I cannot play guitar well enough. Behind a glass pane is a large terrarium with a huge green insect — long limbs, leaf-like body — damaged, probably from captivity. A man opens a grave; he wants to escape prison by being taken out inside the coffin. A good idea, but he will have to stay in it longer. I read a magazine in English. V.’s name appears — I am impressed. The text explains the Trump phenomenon. I turn the magazine and see it is also in German. I want to give it to A. I go upstairs and need to pee. A round bowl on the floor is covered with cloth. I stand in rolled-up socks in a liquid — pee? Someone could come. Then the bowl is uncovered and I pee.
30.10.2024
I am in a car with my father. We are returning from a performance where I played with Jean-Claude. We call a woman who lent us an instrument and now wants to join the performance. I don’t want to take her with us; I must leave early. I want to say we don’t improvise but play composed pieces, but F. interrupts me and talks to her. It wasn’t a good argument anyway — we play in one key and it would be easy for a professional to join. We continue driving with my brother. A huge tree stands to the right, lit from below. I say how beautiful it looks.
31.10.2024
I am selling the flat on Choriner Strasse to a child for two million. That shouldn’t be allowed — the parents must decide. Had the child not signed the contract in my parents’ garden, it would have been charged with murder. A French exam: I do it correctly, but the price of two million is too high; the teacher dislikes it. I ask whether he needs my shirt or T-shirt later. I feel down. On the train back to the flat, stickers are everywhere. In the flat I kick a half lemon; it lands on a chair. Two people are there. Two linoleum floors lie on top of one another, cut out in the centre. Why? I will soon have to buy new Nike shoes. There will certainly be new models.