Paul Verlaine
For the love of Passalia (automne 1991)
I.
Her nails are penetrating my skin (I am penetrating
her). She wants me to talk to her, she wants me to say something, anything.
"Talk," she says, " it feels better when you talk."
"But I dunno what t'say!"
"Oh, just talk! Tell me how you feel, or talk about the weather, just you talk
to me!"
Still don't know what to say.
II.
I'm walking home now. It's night and it's so fuckin' dark. Soon I will open the door to my room; soon I'll meet Passalia again; her face will be cold and grey. I am going to ask her if she's dead now, but she will not answer me, I'm sure of that, and I'm so sad, so sad.
III.
It's raining all over the city (which reminds me of Paul Verlaine). World War II is over now. Screaming junkies tells me how to use more violence. River is filled with liquid heroin (and so is my brain and your brain and your cousins brain). Sex Dwarf tells us to avoid the river.
IV.
I can't sleep at night.
I can't sleep at night.
I can't sleep at night.
Uppsala jeudi le 9 septembre 1999
Still summer. Busy and poor; well, wasting my time creating prototypes for logos, kinda strange work, but anyway, ain't got nothing better to to, maybe I'll earn som cash. A nice day for cold white wine, Frascati, on the balcony, eh? Well, outta money, bad luck; but as long as I have cigarettes and coffee I'll survive, and some SEX, for sure...
Fuck City mercredi le 13 octobre 1999
Summer's back. Scanner's fucked up. Am trying to paint instead, but I don't know what to paint. Naked women and vampires, for sure, and the streets of Paris, death and destruction, blood and semen, yeah...
23/11-1999
"Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l'automne
Blessent mon cœur
D'une langueur
Monotone.
Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l'heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure;
Et je m'en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m'emporte
Deça, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte."
Paul Verlaine: "Chanson d'automne"
Fuck City samedi le 15 juillet 2000
Me so bored; take away the pain...
Merdeville dimanche le 23 juillet 2000
Still raining... Me so bored...
Merdeville mardi le 9 janvier 2001
Hm, found Joa on the Internet, seems like she's some kinda curator; she should be in my studio so I could dress her up as the Madonna; indeed, I should have done that 3 years ago, but it seems like my projects are all fucked up. Well, doesn't matter as I can't get into the studio anyway, Caroline borrowed the keys. Another Cecil, those danish cigarettes. So what's next? Phone UFS or phone Tommy about that fuckin' performance, or phone the union to tell them that I need money. Rainy january, rainy december, and me more bored than ever, and I s'pose I'll die soon if I can't get the water-lily out of my chest; and I'm not quite sure if I got the time to die yet, or maybe I'm already dead, such a pity then!!! Send money for my funeral. Checked up them all on the Internet, Francesca, Kugel, Louiza (couldn't find her, and I can't rememmber her last name, not sure she's ever told me), Dalhia (wonder if her father's the actor Antonio Passalia). Hm, should phone Ash to ask him turn into St.-Whatever, the one who didn't want to get horny, and then it's time to look for a girl with tits, wouldn't be so hard, eh?