Ne Me Quitte Pas
Writing from my brother's computer. I'm in the south of France at my parents' place. Feels very strange to be here. I find myself in 'my' room and it feels like I'm still seventeen, skipping school and about to go play guitar with dready friends and smoke pot on the beach. But then I realize all of this has drifted from my hands. As I have written to one of my friends today it reinforces the feeling that I often get, that I don't really belong anywhere too. I feel at home but not really. Home is where the heart is. Mine is scattered all over the world.
I was strong enough not to cry in front of my Mom yesterday (not easy), for we had this sort of 'talk' about what music meant to me, and why I stuck with my shitty job, being aware that it completely sucked. I tried to tell her about how music saved my life especially last year. I should tell you guys about this neverending story first.
I'll sum it up and be really brief, I'll try to spare you details. I came to Paris two years ago for the sake of someone who dumped me two months after that, three days before my b-day. It was an intense sort of story, just like in the movies, just like in classics you read in college. On the moment it was terrible but now I feel kinda grateful to him for doing so and we have good relations, we even had jam sessions together recently. Anyway, I had never really written songs before I knew that guy. I wrote my very first song on a sleepless night that preceeded his birthday, a month after we had broken up, and it ended up being his main birthday present along with Leonard Cohen cds and other material things. Since then I've been able to write songs, sort of, even though I've never written anything for Katzenjammer apart from very few texts.
After going back to Mom and Dad's a while to try to fix my situation mentally and cry in Mommy's lap so-to-speak, I decided that I'd go back to Paris. Out of masochism perhaps, out of loving the city mainly. I squatted friends' places, was living the basic Parisian way of life with little boredom, go-to-work/take-the-metro/go-to-sleep/party-on-weekends-eventually. I was going to goth parties from time to time and that's where I met her. We had met because she had musical projects with my ex a few months ago but never really talked to each other. I saw her in this party in the middle of romantic-looking long-haired girls wearing lace and cheesy guys in Manson shirts. We chattered nicely and decided that we'd go for coffee and see each other from time to time. Since then we never really parted.
She was to become a nice friend first, and then it would really blossom as the amazing friendship I had perhaps lacked because when I think about it now, nothing compares to it. She was to become my soul-sister. We were sharing the same tastes in music and hard things buried in the past to cope with, different experiences but similar bruises. When we were going out together people would ask if we were twin sisters, which was kinda ironic because we were born on the very same day if not the same year. I had moved to her place and we were sharing the flat, we had set up musical projects together as she had bought a digital piano which really did sound like a real one and had this advantage to handle plugging headphones in at 4 am when one felt like playing.
She had to go back at her parents' place at some point, a few months after we had met, for a decent period of time, so I kept her flat and was on my own. It was both an awful and wonderful time to go through. I had a shitty job (I never really had a good job anyway but that's another story), which consisted in hanging up the phone at nine am and spend the whole day being shouted at until seven pm (hurray for phone operators). So my daily routine was basically: wake up - go to work - spend a shitty day - get back home - eat a lil something - play piano till late in the night - go to sleep.
I was getting back home, taking off my clothes, preparing tea, eating a yoghurt or something, putting my packet of cigs and an ashtray next to the piano, white sheet and a pen, putting the headphones on and playing piano until 3 or 4 am. And then sleeping. And then waking up at seven and doing the same.
Her piano saved my life. If I hadn't been able to play it I'd probably gone really easy or gone back to my parents' place, or even done something worse. I would first cover songs I liked, cheesy 80s pop songs and other random stuff, awkwardly, on my own, stumbling on the keyboards like a child, as I was never taught music ever.
Now you know what I tried to explain to my Mom, I tried to tell her about that period of time. She never really understood, and thinks I only like to over-act and show off (I do over-act at times but it's just part of a character I think).
So yeah, it's very strange to stand here. I tried to call 'her' yesterday to see if we could meet as she sometimes has things to do not far from my hometown. She first replied that she should be available on Sunday, things like that, let me know how it goes.
And as I woke up today I noticed I had received a text message later in the night from her. It would say that she wanted to be honest with me. Too much time without talking about unsaid things had passed, she said that as much as she cared for me our story would now belong to the past, with its good and painful things, that she needed to go ahead in her life. Which I completely understand and respect, after all I want her to be happy. But still. I feel like being trapped in a loop of time, just like when I was in Paris two years ago, two days before my birthday, facing this shit right in the face. I just feel like I've been dumped by the love of my life. I feel empty and full of too many thoughts all at once, sorry for the cliché. And the weather is supernatural. The only thing I want at this second is a piano to put my hands upon.
I wish I could talk to Judith/Alice whatever her name is at this second and share this with a cup of almond or Christmas tea, and have a long talk. Don't know why, but this is the sort of moment when random thoughts come to mind and for some reason I felt close to her today, which is kind of paradoxical because we hardly ever know each other (we've never really talked apart from the Dresden Dolls forum, that's too bad). I've been playing the soundtrack to 'The Piano' too this afternoon and I was strongly thinking about her.
Here I am, writing from my brother's room, watching through the window. There's this icing cold steam that the sea exhales. Everything around is drowned in a thick white fog as if it was the end of the world. Houses look like they're swallowed by clouds and erasing from my memory, as tears slowly well in my eyes again. I feel strangely upset and yet kinda peaceful. I hear birds tweeting, kids have just stopped playing in the street. Spinning this beautiful piano theme from the American Beauty soundtrack, it popped up at random in my playlist half an hour ago. Sounds appropriate. I know there are plenty of good things in my life, and people that love me, and concerts yet to be given and seen and new songs to be written, and the Brigade that makes me feel so warm. But I'm still here, aching at this second. Feelings are waltzing inside of me and I'm sitting on a chair watching.