Midnight Sunset

Joensuu, Finland. July 13, 2014.

See that thing in the background?

That's right - it's a sunset. There's nothing special about it, if you overlook the date and location of this picture.

But we don't overlook anything in here.

So, when do you get to see a sunset in Finland at this time of the year? Somewhere around 12.15 am, probably - right after you've finished your 75 minute headlining set at Ilosaari Rock festival.

If you excuse me, I'm gonna cuddle up in bed and cry.

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Guess someone's still bitter about the 40 minute set Sabbath squeezed their 'special guests' into? Well, you're guessing it right. 

...or you would, if I had taken the time to sit and write down about my adventures in Essen - which I still haven't done, mostly because I'm a lazy piece of shit.

But here's one little spoiler I just gave you.

The European summer festival tour is almost (if not already) over for Alice, and, after another Canadian leg they have left, touring for this album should be over as well. It seems like I won't be able to catch them at a proper show on this tour, after all (guess it's too late for a rushed-up trip to Canada? LMAO), so the only thing I've got left is hoping that the next album they release will be every bit just as awesome as Dinosaurs (which is rather probable)... and that they'll still play Phantom Limb, Hollow, Stone and Voices on their next tour (which is not so probable).

It can't take more than two or three years anyway (don't think they'll be staying off the road all that time, though - they'll probably keep coming back for the festival season, like all bands do)... not a big deal LOL

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Anyway, Essen was still worth the trip - I won't deny that.

In a curious plot twist of fortune, I happened to stumble upon this on my Facebook timeline precisely this morning:

'Danke Schön Essen'

'Danke schön Essen'... how sweet is that?

It totally melted my heart away, and even made me forget about my Sabbath-related bitterness... for a couple of minutes.

I know it's obviously not the actual band doing it, but it's still a nice gesture in their name, and I really appreciate that :)

It's also nice to see that the arena looked much less empty from stage than it did from where I was sitting - takes one demoralizing factor off LOL

Unfortunately, my section got cropped off the picture. If it hadn't, you'd probably be seeing my huge red cowboy hat from here LMAO

You can still see the cheerful weather, though... :'D

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Thank you, guys.

I really hope to see you again sometime... in more favourable circumstances :)

Too Good To Be Real...?

I almost had a heart attack when I saw that afro hair in Metallica's YouTube feed. I caught a glimpse of it in a corner of the screen for just a tiny fraction of a second, and yet I knew what it was straight away.

James Hetfield and Lars Ulrich interviewing Alice In Chains for almost forty minutes. Forty fucking minutes. That's an album-long Hell of an interview. And it happened - back in 2009.

Some things seem too good to be true, and this is obviously one of them.

It seems so good, in fact, that I can't possibly force myself to listen to it, because just the idea of it makes me way too nervous and scared.

Perhaps I'll find the courage to finally do it at some point in the next few days or months.

Or perhaps I'll never listen to it, just because the idea of what this is could turn out to be better than whatever the actual thing is for real, if that makes any sense.

Of course, there is also a chance (and it's not a small one) I would absolutely love it... which is also dangerous, because I don't think my body could take such an overdose of good stuff.

Whatever the case, I'm definitely not ready to go through this just yet. At this point of my life, I'm perfectly happy just knowing that this happened and that I might eventually get the chance to hear it... if I ever feel morally prepared.

You might call me paranoid, but for me people are like Japanese sweets: I'd rather see them on picture and fantasize about how delicious they are than try them and discover they taste of azuki... or something worse. Yikes.

In fact, I see the world like a huge minefield. Underneath every thing I don't know there might or might not be a landmine waiting to blow my whole world away. The more I appreciate someone, the bigger chances are the landmines are on their field, so I take very small steps and enjoy every breath of life... because I know it could be the last one.

If you thing that's exaggerated it's only because you haven't taken a walk with me down Tokio Hotel lane. I've blown so many limbs on that field I'm barely a human being anymore. And yet I'm still alive, which is already something. And the good thing is I'm no longer scared of going down there, because, even if there are still a few landmines left unexplosioned, they can't possibly hurt me anymore. I'm a bulletproof cyborg - like the fucking Robocop.

But we're still stepping on virgin ground with Alice, and I want to enjoy the trip as much as I can before things start getting ugly. That's if they ever do. But they always do, eventually. You just have to hope you'll be able to get back up and keep walking. 

That's pretty much the story of my life.

Quoting Metallica...

Landmine has taken my sight
Taken my speech
Taken my hearing
Taken my arms
Taken my legs
Taken my soul
Left me with life in Hell 

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Here's the actual video. Hit play at your own risk, but don't give me any spoilers.

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I realized today that I've been a fan of Metallica for ten years now. TEN solid fucking years, y'all.

It's been ten years since I first heard S&M and said "YEAH MAN". Ten years arguing with fans and haters alike about everything related to this band; struggling to play their songs with bandmates who apparently disliked them (like I could possibly take that in consideration LOL). Ten years since I first heard that record and decided I wanted to sing like James Hetfield... which I finally sort of achieved... even though none of you are here to hear it because you all suck.

Yes, I'm telling that to you - the guys not reading this; my firends.

You all suck.

Just so that you know.

Me wearing my Some Kind Of Monster T-shirt during a school trip back in 2004. Time really flies, man.

It's A Hard Business

I got nothing and no-one in my life
So how can I lose again
Got my feet in muddy water
But I'm gonna find that road again
So I'll be taking care of business
'Cause I know what I'm looking for
Oh I've been working every hour God gives to me

 But I still see the same closed door

...

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Now who does that lyric remind me of...?

SO*CAL

End of 2011, BTK App. Bill Kaulitz is standing in front of the camera with his iPhone in his hand, while wearing a Southern California cap. 

The symbolic value of this image is indescribable.

He's probably supposed to look cheerful, but instead he displays a weird facial expression that's impossible to trace... just like the reason he's wearing that cap in the first place.

Was he wearing it as a sign of love for his new land? Or was he wearing it as a bizarre form of silent protest that only he could understand? Perhaps it had just been given to him by his handlers and he was forced to wear it with advertising purposes. Or perhaps, at that point of his existence, he was too dead inside to even care.

Or was it just Photoshop all along? Given the size of his head and the apparent absence of neck, it's the most probable thing... but, at this point of my existence, I'm too burned-out to even care.

Thankfully for us, this is the closest thing we've ever had to a Bill Kaulitz mug shot. The only real difference is that, instead of holding a placard with his information written on it, he is holding that goddamn iPhone that displays the cover art for his (and his brother's) one-year sentence of LA imprisonment. 

It's all there. Everything you need to know, in one single image.

If you look underneath the So Cal cap, you'll see there is still a hint of eye-liner around his eyes (apparently, he kept wearing it during his first year of reclusion, before he stopped using make-up completely); still a hint of beauty underneath all the layers of LA mud.

Strange as it might seem, there was a certain feeling of presence in a few of the App's first shots (manipulated or not) that quickly started fading away, just as the people who starred in them kept drifting away from reality and into non-existence. That's probably the reason why those few first pictures still hold a strange kind of iconic value that was impossible to recreate in all subsequent Ebel-shots. He might own their words and their history, but he can never replace their souls (not that their fans need them, anyway). Even at their most damaged, their spirit was still a flame. But this room has been cold for more than two years already.

Now that I can finally see through the pain, things are becoming increasingly blurred in my head. I have a hard time preserving their memory; seeing them as living things while they are only existing as ghosts. Their history starts feeling like an ancient myth; a collection of hardly believable events that never happened in our conventional reality. What's left of their tortured bodies decomposes into legend, as the memory of all the dirt we had to dig through (and I say we because we did it together) during all these last years becomes the distant echo of a nightmare; the horror of LA fades into grey, as the reality of their existence inevitably disappears from my reality.

All of a sudden, I find myself able to dig through the paparazzi material that used to send me into panic attacks and heavy paranoid trips back in the day. Perhaps it's because now I know how much of that (and to which degree) was an act in front of the camera; perhaps it's because I'm no longer as emotionally dependent on them as I used to be. Perhaps it's because I've grown so used to living without them existing in my life I can't even imagine how things would be if they actually returned.

And, as I accept the fact that I might never see them again (or that they might not be the same them the next time I see them), I'm left feeling a strange kind of peace... and I just don't know how to feel about it.

I haven't given up my hopes for them. I guess I've just grown used to things being the way they are.

That's probably what happens when you've finally reached the stage of Acceptance.

...

California, I'm fine

Somebody check my brain

Depression? What the fuck is that?!

Easiest way of curing birthday depression.

Suddenly, being 25 doesn't seem so bad anymore ^^

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Farewell, real world. I have no plans of seeing you again in a loooong time.

Up Till Dawn With Alice

Up till dawn with Alice

Just my headphones and I

Up till dawn with Alice

Just Rotten Apple and I

...

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Only three days left before my birthday. 

Am I ready to turn 25? Hell, no. Absolutely not. 

I'm so not-ready I'm just about to suffer a severe atack of Brian Kinney Birthday Syndrome... again. Only it keeps getting worse every year. I didn't mind turning 24 so much... it's a cool number. But 25... man. 25 is a quarter of 100, and that shows just how bad it is.

And don't get me wrong: the fact of having survived on this Earth for 25 years is nothing to get depressed about - that's definitely something to celebrate. What is fuckin wrong is turning 25 having achieved fucking nothing in your whole fucking life; having given up almost everything other people consider a life because of your commitment to your cause and still having (almost) the blackest future perspective imaginable, despite all the efforts you'vealready fucking done. That is what really sucks.

Doesn't sound very cheerful, heh?

Well, I'm sorry. That's the fucking world we live in. 

If you don't like it, you could help me try and change it instead of sitting there doing nothing, growing increasingly numb to everything and everyone around you while your brain escapes to easier places.

But hey - who am I to judge you, anyway? I only feel at peace when I'm plugged into Alice. 

When the early hours of the morning come and we get back together I feel like I can deal with pretty much anything, and all the bullshit that torments me becomes insignifficant, and suddenly everything makes sense.

If onlly we could make it work in the real world...

Seattle, I think we've got a problem.


PS. Yup, I was actually referencing Connor Maynard with that one. That's 100 points for elite pop culture knowledge LMAO

Alice In Chains

How much more literal do you want to get?

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I wish Spotify's AI realized what a huge understatement it's making when it tells me: "You've been listening to Alice In Chains." 

Yeah, right...

If Spotify really paid to artists depending on how many plays they get (which I absolutely do not believe), the guys from Alice In Chains could soon be building their very own international airport on my plays alone LMAO

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Anyway, I'm sorry, Spotify - I'm not going to start listening to Jane's Addiction just because of that.

Instead, I'd recommend you my very own cover of... well... In Chains.

Guten Morgen, Zimmer!

Good morning, room! :)

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Less than a week left for Christmas, and I'm anything but thrilled. Right now, all I can think about is that we have a Christmas dinner to organize, and an epic amount of cleaning to do. If I was disciplined enough, I would have probably already started cleaning one thing a day, but I just CAN'T do that, so, in the end, I think we'll have the typical last-minute-cleaning frenzy. It's a family tradition of sorts ;)

As it's already been happening for the last five or six years of my life, I don't really feel like Christmas is coming. I've never been a fan of Christmas, as a concept. I sort of liked it, back when I was a kid, because I could skip school for two weeks, and because everything was covered in pretty lights. But I guess that's the kind of Christmas magic that fades as you grow old. 

We don't even have our Christmas decorations out yet, and, with the fierce gang of kittens we have at home this year, I'm afraid to even think about how we're going to stop them from tearing our Christmas lights and toy Christmas tree to pieces... but I guess we'll think about that later.

The only thing that reminds me of how threateningly near Christmas is is my festive blak & gold nail polish. I'm wearing it this week, as a rehearsal. It blows my mind to thing that, in just another week, 2013 will be over. Was it a good year? Hell, no! But it was certainly better than 2012, and that's already something. 

Anyway, it's still too early for this sort of year-end analysis...

The thing is I'm still dreading my family Christmas dinner, and that's pretty much it.

At least, I hope that we won't be touching the subject of Catalan politics, because the last thing I want is to spend my evening arguing with Catalan nationalists. But, then again, I don't even know if my aunt & co. are still in that league or not, so we'll just see what happens.

The good thing is I'll get to listen to my specially curated Christmas playlist: five hours of awesome music (NO TRADITIONAL or cheesy Christmas songs included) I associate with my concept of what a magical Christmas atmosphere should be. I'll try to keep my mind focused on that, as I prepare myself to get done with another year. 

There's still a lot of work to do, so I have to get going.

Good night, readers. Try not to dream of Simon Cowell's terrifying man-boobs ;)

*Song included in my Christmas playlist*

Der Anfang

Hello, readers old and new.

To those of you who already know me, this will probably come as a big surprise. I bet you did not expect me to get back to such an anachronistic format as the personal blog is, but here I am... once again. I'm here and I'm going to keep writing, because that's what I do... or at least a big part of it. And even if the big-data-oriented Internet 2.0 doesn't favour this form of expression, I'm going to keep on doing it. 'Cause that's what I fucking do. 

The intrusive big data collectors we've come to know as 'social networks' are not going to last forever. Art is. In every possible form.

I've kept myself away from writing - REALLY writing - for more than two years now, and the reason for that - aside from the changing internet demographics - is that I've been dealing with depression. That's right, my old friends. You might not have noticed that, if you've been reading my tweets, because that's what we all do in twitter: we smile and we pretend to be moderately satisfied, because that's the way Mother Google wants us to feel. But not anymore. 

I'm so tired of not being able to express myself as the person I REALLY am, I just can't take it anymore.

I'm tired of being tired.

I'm bored of being bored.

I'm sick of being sick.

So yes, I've been depressed for the last three years - more depressed than I ever thought I could be -, for so many reasons I can't even begin to explain them here... but don't worry - you'll find out, eventually. During these dark years, I've seen all the things I believe in shattered. I've seen all my hopes destroyed. I've seen the people I love and admire being slowly deprived from everything they were, stripped from every little bit of human dignity they had left, forced to go through the most humiliating experiences I could ever have imagined, confined to the most miserable forms of existence; robbed, enslaved and outraged; reduced to a sad ghostly projection of the people they used to be... and my own spirit slowly dying with theirs. I've seen the light of my world extinguished. I've lost my faith in freedom, my faith in humanity, my faith in life.

But here I am... still. And I'm not planning to give up anytime soon.

As you might have already noticed, I'm writing in English now. I don't think that matters too much, though. I've always liked twisting languages a lot, and that's definitely not going to change. 

I don't even know how many of you - my loyal old readers - are still left here to care about whatever things I have to say, but we'll find that out along the way. We created great things together. I hope we can do that again.

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To those of you who don't know me yet... I'm sorry - I sort of forgot you were there. It's hard to explain who I am or what this blog is about at this point. The only thing I can tell you is I'm NOT writing about fashion (I have another blog for that). I'm NOT writing about cosmetics. I'm NOT writing about cooking. And I'm definitely NOT writing about lifestyle.

This blog is just me, in my purest form of expression - nothing more, and nothing less -, so be prepared for some potentially explicit content, the occasional swearing - whenever the fuck I feel like it -, polemic themes, unedited raw emotions, lenghty autobiographical tales, scary journeys through the depths of my psyche, exhaustive analysis of the cultural reality, pieces from my everyday life, picutres of beautiful androgynous people, endless love for Germany and the Germans (not all of them LOL), countless Simpsons references, Japan, cats, an insane amount of music, mindblowing absurd and, if my spirit ever gets back to form, even uncontrolled fangirling. We'll leave that one out for now, though.

Welcome to The Deadly Fetishes.

Enjoy it... if you can.