Ah, Berlin Through The Eyes of My JFK to Tegel Journeybeauty...

A couple weeks back, I think when I was flying home and then maybe even in recent stretches, this girl got me thinking about the psychology of attraction and why we work or why we don't...why we're inspired or why we're not. We sat next to each other on an airplane from New York to the much aforementioned German city and things happened. Most were real, some were probably invented, but things happened. We traded info and were going to paint town at some point and then it never really happened. I think she sent me an e-mail about Halloween and I sent one back and then didn't hear anything. I was out to dinner one night before I went out and I sent her a text to come meet me and didn't hear anything and something appeared in me. I say this without hubris and in full truth - I don't often get rejected. Usually it's me and apologies and some beautiful thing disclosing herself on the corner of a busy street and my uttering incapabilities and apologies over and over and over. Some of them shed a tear there or when they leave, or slam doors, or tell me to grow up and fuck myself in no particular order. I'm not making fun of any of this - I know how dire the straights of love are to navigate, and I think it's why I so, so rarely even think of fucking with that kind of force. But this girl was different - or maybe what was different about her was that it and she would have been my ideal in that moment - a foreign city and beautiful girl for 4 days and then lots of these: ???????? Maybe that's not universally appealing, and that's something I'm learning too - that everything universally appealing to me isn't necessarily universally appealing. Anyway, the point - it's obvious I'm still learning to move through it with grace...life and rejection. Looking back, I'm not sure where the attraction fell, in the girl or in her refusal of my advance. In her case, it felt like an 80/20 - because she was as curious in the first 6-8 hours as any girl I've met.

For whatever reason, I got an e-mail today...just a little while ago. Berlin feels like ages ago. It was very sweet, said whatever people say when they either misplace or bypass an e-mail. Very sweet. She sent me this video and so it's going to post. Feels very nostalgic to me and probably anyone else on the plane that day. Also very ships passing. Love it. This girl defines the tag "girl" on here. Darling. We hold that up here, always.

My Lady In Red...

This post has been removed by Team Burn.

Durban...

This post has been removed by Team Burn.

Friedrichstrasse And Then...

I was just walking the city, fucking freezing because it's cold and again, I wander and float, often directionless and blind until things work out and I wind up where I'm meant to be. Not long ago, I had to get to the Gitte Weiss galley by 6 to rap with a woman I know through another woman that used to cut my hair before I started doing it myself and not paying 70 dollars - even if she was an artist with it, which she was. Now she comes to my spin classes, told me I had to go see Gitte. I told her I would, and made it sometime around 530 and we talked about the town and the things I had to see before I go, in the time I have left. The location was in a beautiful and elegant part of town and I tried not to take too much of her time, this incredibly kind and warm woman, maybe 50's, telling me about when to go out and to never rush it - that the good times don't start until well after 1. If I didn't have a date tonight, I would have taken her and her husband out, at least to dinner, made them tell me more about their lives and thanked them for their brief but memorable hospitality.

The following is a piece that caught me - a diagram of the human body we sent up or drew on one of the Apollo shuttles to explain to aliens what we're all about - made entirely of IKEA furniture. The implications are heavy and clever, the piece so beautifully constructed...

I had to say goodbye though, because like I said I've got a date with a German girl, so kind I'm not even going to talk about how beautiful she is. In spite of what you might think of me, the former trumps all. Always.

I met her today in Hackecher Markt so she could give me the ticket before running to get her hair done - because I think she's in the show and I think it's going to become very red. I honestly have little idea and it doesn't matter. All I know - she's looking out for me and taking care of me and pulling me along and that's not an easy thing to do - to step out of the tight lives we live and say stick with me you'll be alright. Fuck, the thought of it. She's better than I would be, I'm almost certain of that...and makes me want to commit to being better. Tonight, I get to be someone's American boy and I'm excited about that. I plan on honoring her for that. The place were going is supposed to be pretty infamous for Berlin and once her show is over, we'll stay or go and it won't matter and we'll see. I am free and things are right.

John is still sleeping somewhere across town. This behavior is pretty par for the course. He blows it out the first night, gets a little too deep and then rallies late in the game for night 2. I'll see him tonight, sometime in the 1's or 2's and he'll be sinister and he'll have plans to bury everything in our past with something epic and present. It's a lot to live up to, a lot. I know it, he knows it.

Things could be worse.

Easy...

The first point of order was to check in, to snap ourselves to life with pixie dust and then move through the city, everything, to eat it and consume Berlin. I had seen good bits of it but not enough. I told him we were going to go through my process, the way I take on a new city before the story can arrive. We walked and he bitched. We listened to people on the streets, watched the way they moved, observed their manners, the way they looked at us as we passed. Everyone looks at us as we pass. We are a hurricane on four legs, just moving. When Durban got cold, we stopped for a drink somewhere pretty and then moved on. When we got hungry, we stopped at an Italian place off Charlottenstrasse because John said look they've got big candles. There we drank wine and ate and met the owner of the joint and Durban just talked and talked with the guy. Endlessly. When I look in John's eyes, I can see inside him...know with certainty I am looking into a maniac. There is no other way to put it. John Durban is a maniac. He's unstable and moving and distrusting and brimming with acid. Often, I wonder what others see. I'm not sure why we work but we do, maybe because I see light in him where others see darkness. There is light, I'm sure of it, whether he will admit it or not.

From dinner, we moved. Bar to bar, stop to stop - every subway and stop in Mitte and beyond. We got cold often and stopped to drink often, talking the world, our next play, chasing beer with whiskey. Once we were walking straight, Durban began to get in the mood to grab a gal. He asked me if I wanted to wing him, spoke of the girls in Berlin to be all beautiful, something in their eyes. We met pair after pair starting sometime around midnight. Thing about Durban is that he's very discriminate, meaning that if he picks a pair, they're going to be worth it - at least superficially. For me the process is easy. Durban takes care of everything really, the approach and all that then comes. At some point, he looks to me and finds out which one I prefer and then takes the other...because 99 percent of the time, it doesn't matter to John. We're both particular but in a lot of surprising ways, I am more so...because I don't have an addiction like John. I don't need to have it, sex doesn't rule me like it does him. Last night, something was going on. John was having problems. He's been having problems ever since what happened happened - one foot in if at all. It meant that right out of the chute, we met two crazy young Berliners, 19 and 21 and taut and fiery. John pretended he was an American boy and they fell in love with us and I didn't need it but the older of the two took my hand and kissed my cheek for no reason and made me want her terribly. I was ready to leave, to see their apartment and her bed when I looked to John and saw him pulling back, walking out of the bar. I followed him and told my Girl I'd be back - because she had won me. John was walking fast and away down the street. When I caught his steps, he started spitting exactly they weren't right...not for me not for you. Then he said don't worry Burn I'll take care of you I'll take care of you.

We moved on and around, beer and shot, beer and shot, meeting girls meeting girls. Dozens of girls. Every time we approached we'd win them. Every time, like whatever we are and whatever we project together is impossible to resist. It just happens. It got stale for me real quick. I couldn't stop thinking about the Girl I left behind, the first girl. If I fall in a night...which I rarely do and realized I might have, there is no chance I'm going to fall again. After the 3rd pair, we were just going through motions. John would bark and I would be quiet and precious and sweet and they would do anything to take us around, to show us their town...anything we wanted. At the exact point, for seriously 6 pairs, John would bail and walk out of the bar, storming even, and I would excuse myself and catch up with him and say something like you know there's obviously some poison shit going on inside of you right now. He told me he knew and that was all he said, all that needed to be said. We were drunk, fucking drunk and it was after 3. My skull was pounding and my heart was failing and I felt like everything I had left was about to drain. I told Durban that I was going to bail on him...knowing it was what he needed. He stopped, stood in the middle of the street and started turning in the darkness, blowing breath from out of his insides, so amused by it...seeing his steam escape. Then he said exactly, alright Burn alright...I'll be on tomorrow. Then he turned and walked away into the darkness.

UPDATE ------> DURBAN SPEAKS, LINK RIGHT

John Durban Arrives...

Much unlike the end of the world, with a bang, not a whimper. He saw me standing on the balcony from at least a block away and began belting, fucking belting, hat on Burn...get it on motherfucker.

I haven't seen John for a long time. So long, I don't even want to talk about it. We both knew that truth and spoke words without speaking when he showed up at the door and said give me something to get me started I need a shower. That's where he is while I'm typing, occupied like a small child. We're gonna grab a bite and then let the night take us away. I told him we're going to need a new chapter and that it might have to come from tonight and that that is a huge fucking responsibility but that I'm up for it. Of course he was too. Every quarter day John Durban lives could be a chapter.

He was supposed to come in last night or at least claimed that he was going to try. It was absolutely a show he wanted to see. We don't have all of the same tastes, but Muse certainly floods both our canals. Still, I wasn't put off by his absence. In fact, I knew he wasn't going to come. He's been reclusive since the incident, even though some time has passed, so when I went alone, there was no surprise. Not at all.

Today he sent me a text and I told him not to because it's expensive when bouncing from the states and through whatever provider is swiping me out here. I told him to write me in an e-mail, not thinking about who I was dealing with...

H / i / B / u / r / n (slashes denote separate texts)
Are you serious? Stop
Yeah, okay / I didn't make it / are you there? / please don't ignore me / I'm fragile
Motherfucker!
I read / It looked good / Those boys can play / Sorry / Again
Alright cocksucker text me. Drinks on you.
Drinks always on me
You're coming?
don't know
Alright dude...
tone! that's a tone. why do you have a tone?
You should come.
You should talk
Halloween. I met a girl on the flight from NYC.
what's she do?
Fashion, runway.
Yeah?
Has 6 friends, same bill, edge beauty the cast type.
My type
They want to get righteous for Halloween.
Coincidence! so the fuck do I!!
You coming?
I always was. For you not them. Though I look a little false now.
Your MO. When?
7, already in the cab.
Alright.
Do you really think we need another chapter?
Yes. Maybe 2. One more push and they'll publish.
Let's make her famous / the city / maybe a pair of dames, too...

Better...

For Now, This One's Pretty Good...

Sometime After 5 AM...

After going to bed at 1 and feeling like I had slept perfectly for days, I got up and went for a run. Today, I went west and went for 6 songs and then turned back, all Killers, set on shuffle. I shot steam with every exhale and in spite of things I've been through over the past few days, my legs felt strong, voracious. My breath was easy. I felt unstoppable and this is how it has to happen for the rest of my life. The TV doesn't work so I read books. I have no friends so I talk and wander and explore. I have no fear so I am fearless. There's an energy charging through me now, in this new city...in every new city from now until I no longer have the urge to do this. I am growing, exponentially when I chase these things and knew this when I booked the ticket a month ago, knew of its coming necessity - of all the reminder a trip like this provides. I need adventure to survive. I need growth to survive. It's easy to forget, to get comfortable and stable in the lives we live. To tuck away and be safe and just fucking hang on. There's a bloody red tattoo inked onto this right wrist of mine - reminding me to suffer, suffer in my pursuits - reminding me I don't need to be understood by anyone but myself.

Gets me by.

Muse - Berlin O2 Arena - 10/29/09...

I woke up at 430 Berlin time, before my alarm, wondering who and where the fuck I was. Seriously. I felt like I was going to die so I turned to drugs, resurrection in the form of 15mg's and was on my feet in no time - or at least in anticipation of being back on my feet in no time. In the morning I had eaten some bizarre form of yogurt Haribos and that was it so I crossed the river and found a small Italian place with a table by the door...

I ordered house made penne with prawns in a lobster cream sauce and a small margherita pizza and a Warsteiner. Half-way through the beer I started to feel my guts, shooting - like all that I was going to be was coming to life. It would have happened without the drugs, sure...I just don't know to what extent, and I don't know how exhaustion would have played its hand. The night was too big to leave things up to chance so I didn't. By the time the food came, I was rolling and starving and all I wanted to do was devour it so I did. Incredible. One of the better meals I have ever had - absolute comfort. I was reading the map and memorizing the subways and squares and parks like a machine and the waitresses were softening to me because I am who I am. I started to ask them how to say things in German, maybe telling them I loved them for teaching me, for bringing me along, for giving me such incredible hospitality while all the while thinking I'm on drugs I'm on drugs I'm on drugs. They sat down at my table and we talked because it was slow and because I am who I am and I promised them I would return. Of course I would return. Of course I would never forget them. Of course. The more oncoming of the two told me I could walk to the O2 and that made me very excited, crossing town in 20 minutes while relying entirely on myself and my feet and my toes, knees, heart, eyes...my brewing fucking insanity.

The streets were cold. LA has thinned me in too many ways. My guts were pumping and I was thinking about all the small things it took to land me in this town - alarms to shuttles to flights to flights to hotels to maps to millions of things I wasn't even capable to comprehend. It was too much and there was still so much that would need to happen - like getting a ticket to the show I flew in to see. When I got there around 7, it happened quick. Face value from will call, floor - exactly and all I was looking for - something like 50 Euros. I told the will call girl that I loved her. She blushed.

I was standing about 4 rows from the gates when they, the band, came on. It's been a while since I took something in from the floor. The people surrounding were all German, everyone, naturally and surprisingly, and one out of every 3 was wearing a Muse T-shirt. Amazing! Concert T's and they didn't give a fuck about it or to know any better. Exactly where I wanted to be...right in the shit.

I can't really say what it was like. We all have a form of art that for a lack of better words simply speaks to us. These guys so simply speak to me...but with blazing force. The motherfuckers in the crowd surrounding me were crazy and rabid and I left the show wearing a jacket soaked with sweat. It was exactly what I came to see, exactly what I came to feel -- everything and then the drop in Cydonia to close. Every human should experience a moment like the one I caught before they die. I'd speak of it, but to speak of magic is to kill it. I'm certainly not here to do that.

Berlin...

I don't think I'll ever get tired of the feeling behind getting on a plane and falling into a daze for hours or days and waking up in a very different country in a very different part of the world. Last time I came to Germany, I remember it being somewhat scary and overwhelming. It was Munich for Oktoberfest and it was the second stop on my tour and it just felt so foreign. This time, the feeling is different, like I'm catching it in stride, like any town in the world I want to be mine can instantly become that. It's cold here, and drizzling, and the colors are beautiful, so fucking beautiful. I came to check into my room and my hands were so cold, I couldn't hold a pen...like that. It looks like this...

I haven't slept in days and my eyes are caving into my skull. I didn't sleep on the plane because I sat next to a Girl who is in town for a runway show - we picked her up in New York. I don't like to talk much on planes or in life, but we started talking and never really stopped. Beautiful girl. Model. Dark. Funny. Precious. She was on the plane with an entire staff of girls in town for the same show - flown in from New York. She was afraid of turbulence and for stretches, I wanted to kiss her or hold her hand because of it and for the sake of neither of us forgetting that flight. I didn't - can't assume the entire world behaves in the manner I do all the time. Instead, we agreed to meet at some place, at some point...out on this town. See what's what, fall for a couple hours or days or never see each other again. I prefer to make life behave in such a manner.

It's one or something in the afternoon here. I have to make my way over to the O2 at some point, or to some ticket broker at some point to get this Muse ticket. Of course I don't have it yet. I'm exhausted but fueled, oh so fucking fueled. I just spent the last 2 hours wandering the city on foot, waiting to stumble upon my hotel or the street of my hotel before I stopped to buy a map...so I've seen a lot. I don't care why I do the things I do anymore and have instead learned to accept them and myself. This city feels heavy to me, beautifully and romantically and tragically heavy and I'm floating through it. I need to sleep but I need to wander, I need to walk, I need to see what's out there. And when the legs start to give and there appears that tired ache behind my eyes and my beating heart tells me to stop to fucking stop to take a fucking breath, I compromise on something that looks something like this...

And press the fuck on.

Aha, A Letter From John Durban...

In the morning, sometime around 5, super shuttle is going to come and take me away to New York so that another airplane can take me to Berlin. Durban has been living in London for as long as I remember, and though he can be absent for good stretches of time, he does come back when due. His words, not as eloquent as mine, go something like this...

Burn - so Berlin, of all places when you come to my side of the world. I understand the obsession with Muse, they can kick, but the last time I was in Berlin, I think I got in a lot of trouble. I was in jail, maybe, and someone told me I was the devil's son before they told me to never return. Wherever I go, someone is always telling me to never return. It hasn't happened in a while, and I suppose they call this growing up, but I'm fucking sick of it so you better come with your hat on motherfucker. With your hat on.

I'm bringing a stack of books from Frey to Burroughs to Bukowski and enough lift me drugs to power though anything that days of deprived sleep and hours and hours of cross world flying can take out of me. And then of course, there's whatever JD decides to bring to town. Look out.

Floor to ceiling. We're gonna paint it.

Wild Things...

No, not Neve Campbell pouring champagne across Denise Richards and giving me awakening. This was something else, that book from when we were kids or parents about a boy who wears pajamas and gets transported to this wild land with wild and amazing creatures. That. Holy shit, those creatures were amazing, maybe one of the most amazing things I've seen on screen in a long time - and the music was so great. Really. And I haven't walked out of a movie in a long, long time. I did for this one -- but it wasn't necessarily because of the movie - as I'm sure one day I'll learn to respect it. I don't know what kind of mood I'm in these days to make me do such a thing - but I just remember feeling like I was having an episode there in my seat as this world was unfolding and nothing was happening and all of this wild magic was going to waste. I read great books sometimes - books that someone has told me were great, epic, life-changing and I'll get through 100 pages if even that and drop it because if it hasn't connected, it won't. Movies, I don't ever play like that but last night was a different story. It was failing me and I don't know why. I kept on having these visions of riding down dirt trails going 100 miles per hour on a pedal bike and hitting a stump and flying over the handlebars and rolling and tumbling and smashing and destroying and wanting it like a mad craving. I wanted to leave the theater and get in a fight and not fight back and just get beat up. I was so still and have such intolerance for it. Sometimes, I don't know what to do.

In 5 days, I leave to go to Berlin. Maybe it's my body prepping to fly all day and night, twice to go to some new and live city and paint it like a motherfucker in a blitz of 3-4 days. Maybe I've been writing some vicious shit and it's starting to get to me. I don't know. Sometimes when my crazy leaves, I get bored and wish it back. When it's here, I'm not saying I wish it away, but it can be a lot. Timing isn't everything but it's a lot of things. I think I need to think about all of this.

My Empty Words Were Growing Far Too Tiresome...

I've been walking around lately telling people something exactly like, well I'm far too good looking and far too charming to ever pay for any lodging in any city outside the confines of Los Angeles. I only say this because it makes the burden of having little money less of a burden. My intolerance for stillness is absolute and I haven't done anything to bury it for a long, long time.

So I decided to do something about it. Last week, I bought a ticket to Germany to land in town the day Muse lands. The boys are playing at the O2 in Berlin on October 29th and I'm gonna crash it. You can only talk so much shit about taking off and chasing something in a faraway country for a weekend for so long until you become full of shit and I can't ever let that happen. Sometimes, I get stuck waiting for a boat to come in before I get out and do the things that move me in this world and I'm ashamed to admit that because it's cowardly. I can't ever let that happen again. I wont ever let that happen again.

Berlin On My Mind...