got a call from across the sea
at half past two in the morning
woke me up from my dreams
the voice said

she's gone to sleep
she's gone to sleep

now a voice from inside my head
at half past two in the morning
kept me up from my dreams
the voice said

in all these years
where the fuck have you been

put the straw on the camel's back
at half past two in the morning
break it down on the ground
the camel said

i'm goin' to sleep
i'm goin' to sleep

about time to whine

sometimes it is just too much. doing something that i find completely not engaging is just way too much, at this time of the year. ask me to do that during winter break and i will probably not mind at all, just to kill time and keep myself from slacking too much.

it's like an audience saying 'i think it is interesting' and then at the same time throwing an apple in flames at me when i'm juggling a 3-ball shower with heavy rocks. i cannot handle it. not even if it is just another ball. the apple is just going to distract me from the rocks. imagine that, rocks falling on my toes, apple setting me on fire and i'll see you on the dark side. i guess that is interesting indeed.

it's like an emperor saying 'i know you aren't born to do this but i still want you to, because i think it is interesting for you' and then asking the court musician to extract gold from bronze.

i wonder how i am going to make it right.
i kept telling myself it is gonna be alright.
it's gonna be alright, gonna be alright.
cause when i say it's gonna be alright, it will always be.
but maybe this time i've lost my magical power.
maybe this time the snow came too early.
maybe this time it is just not gonna be alright.
maybe this time i will find out i have just been pretty darn lucky before.
or
maybe it's really gonna be alright again.
at least i hope so.

actually i'm too tired to whine properly.

She will if i shine.

Characters:
MOON
STAR
PYROMANIAC- a grotesque figure with red and grotesquely long left arm and leg but lame [or even missing] right limbs, the right half of the face scraped off.

Stage directions in [ ] can simply be ignored, but they are not necessarily to be taken literally

STAR: “On every thirtieth day of February...”
MOON: My diamond how I dance I know well and there is no such date even when I leap.
STAR: There was a spark in my head, on that day “... how a sun doth shine, the diamonds shall too.”
MOON: I wish you knew how to blaze the blazes you wish for.

MOON chuckles and laughs, about to kiss STAR on the lips but just when their lips are about to meet she leaves
[A fierce meteor shower is seen hitting STAR after MOON exits but he does not seem to be affected by it]

STAR: I shall glow as a thousand suns glow just watch me watch me.

PYROMANIAC appears [lava leaks from the right side of PYRO's body as he speaks]
[By the time they finish the following exchange their pathways should have drawn a pentagram on the floor- PYRO walked the double circle and STAR walked the 'star']

PYRO: My crazy diamond you are the one and the time has come.
STAR: Come make me shine.
PYRO: And your beauty will be mine.
STAR: Never never never my love my moon.
PYRO: It would not be fair if I receive nothing in return.
STAR: Perhaps perhaps my own beauty?
PYRO: If she will love you still.
STAR: She will if I shine.

PYROMANIAC embraces and caresses STAR with passion yet tenderly with his left arm and grows a right arm and a right leg and STAR is glowing and glowing as the caressing happens [and PYRO repeats softly from now on in different rhythms and pitches: Das Feuer liebt dich]

STAR: Scorching am I I am scorching. Shining like how a sun should. My love come feel my heat... heat...

STAR burns to a lengthy death with eyes wide open, dazed and amazed with the right side completely burnt

STAR: (a silent scream before he drops dead)

Dead Silence

One can hear MOON dancing at the same time [maybe a slow tap dance]

MOON: I wish I knew how to dance the dance he talked of.

MOON dances and keeps on dancing desperately until her feet bleeds [and wears away to nothing but two bloody lumps] and collapses

The end.

i could have ended my life right now, right here. but i have a darling to look forward to. that is probably the only thing which is holding me back from it.

the feeling of detaching from your own physical body. it makes you forget the present and sulk in the imaginary. the third arm is ticking slowly, maybe not so slowly but regularly. a river flushes right in my face and i am not sure if i want to see that. twenty times twelve characters have passed and people still think i do not belong to the character i am supposed to belong to. maybe somebody picked me up and picked me up again by picking a birthday for me. artaud was a virgo too but apparently he was not that much of a virgo either.

talk about self-destruction. one destructs every day. destruction is construction essentially. tear down a building and a random yet interesting ruins of debris is constructed. destructionism and the theatre of nightmare. the theatre of destruction. no. müller has gone that direction. so did einstürzende neubauten. theatre of nightmare that is. self-destruction. everyone is destroying oneself everyday. just by living. one lives and what will the end be? death. certainly. i might know nothing but i know everyone has to die. some day. some sooner and some later, while some wish it could be later and some wish it could be sooner.

aber warum? warum bin ich nicht verrückt? och oder... oder warum bin dich nicht?
wer ist, und wer ist nicht. wo wisst? ich weiß nur dass ich dich lieben.

that is what keeps my box hopping. yes, everyone destroys oneself just by hanging on and staying alive and i am doing it too. but why, why do i have to be human and not just a cheetah or hyena? it must have been boring for a statue of helen standing up there all day and not able to seduce anyone really. poor helen. nobody cares about the classical beauty helen anymore and everyone wants to be as slim as a bamboo. bloody ridiculous and no desire to go further.

about time to put myself to sleep.

another step into a new stage of life

in less than a month i will move into my new place.
in less than a month i will be done with the first half of my second year.
in less than a month i will be leaving for a while.
in less than a month... so much work to be done in less than a month.

in less than a month i will be hopping into yet another brand new stage of life.

something should be done in preparation.

our hair contains our memories. my hair remembers flying from hong kong to amsterdam to oslo. my hair remembers how it gets permed into a mini fro. my hair remembers all the 10 hour bus rides between flekkeland and oslo. my hair remembers my roomates and friends in both years. my hair remembers the 3 trials of dreadlocks which had to be aborted with metal forks. my hair remembers how pierre got angry with the class during operation dayswork and stunned all of us. my hair remembers how much fun we had doing the 18+ version of the wizard of oz while scratching J.Lo's scalp when i dashed offstage totally intoxicated. my hair remembers winters. my hair remembers depressions and is still remembering. my hair remembers nokia very well. erschwil too. my hair stores all the memories from 3 and a half years ago, the last time i had a real haircut.

something should be done in preparation as i said.

i have decided to partly say a final goodbye to flekkeland, after making sure that my hair carries too much memories that i could have stored in my head. or maybe i have finally categorized flekkeland as a distant memory, distant enough that i no more have the need to retain certain features of those days in order to remind myself of the days- in fact i have never totally accepted it is indeed distant already. not even during going back there and saying the supposedly final goodbye.

using a grotesquely big pair of schipp-schnapps i released myself from hanging too tight on the memories of flekkeland. but some part of it cried, 'hold!' and i listened. i figured keeping the concentrates of the distant memories of the past 3 and so years on my back would be a delightful compromise. today i carry memories as far as the beginning of my last year in flekkeland on my sides right above my shoulders and behind me down on my back i retained everything, in addition to relocating the once so close memories next to my blue cocoon and label the new place as a distant memory.

something was done in preparation after all.

but i wonder if it looks any different at all-

in fact the carriers of my formal proximal memories still lie silently on the floor, curled up into a tiny ball fighting the autumn chills. from time to time i still pat my little black cat which is merely as big as my two fists put together. so tiny yet so much weight. so much weight and so much weight it used to have.

and now i carry the weight deep in my skully secret garden next to my blue cocoon in order to free up spaces for the future, the exciting new stage.