Friday, 27 June 2008

There is something peculiar about today, as though I am being led down street after street that are somehow bricked off at the end, as though each one is a cul-de-sac whose ending was hidden from view until that ending was reached. Essentially nothing is being finished today, and I am spending a long time travelling roads that have already been visited once before.

Tiredness prevails, the second night of drinking till small hours – these accidental sessions are becoming a real habit, one that I’m enjoying. I even had my first cigarette since arriving in Berlin yesterday and thankfully didn’t enjoy it. Still the evening was spent in great company drinking red wine and eating fresh salads covered in beet and strawberries. But I think the tiredness is an antonym to productivity, which is worrying before tonight’s performance.

Cloudiness is a regular sensation when I am writing though, and usually produces a favourable weather, a storm of hours in which ideas are finally committed. The clouds are from too much concept and too little organisation – the novel awaits and slowly the people are forming. There are four voices – the confessional first, the blank narrative, the third person descriptive and the folk tale. The ideas are slowly becoming centralised around two photographs and the game of constructing narrative takes place before the reader’s eyes.

Music seems to be dominating much time, or at least the efforts around music, those of promotion and management. I have a few gigs to play (but not enough), some words are spreading about the new album and some potentially interesting collaborations afoot (my aim is to work with an orchestra of sorts). This city allows all I feel, too much. There are three gigs I’d give my grandmother’s teeth to go and see tonight, and not one of them is the gig I am in.

So, Berlin treats me well. The weather has turned a little, threatening with spots of rain and blusters of wind but the true nature of a city, its people and architectures are becoming increasingly familiar. We see streets, we see people and we cannot always distinguish between the two.