KRAUTROCK.

My friend told me about this awhile ago in London. I’ve just watched it now.

It’s a pretty neat documentary on a music movement in Germany after the second world war that went on to influence a lot of things in music and art.

Whenever there’s a movement there’s always a group of over the top activists. Some truly great intelligent people. Fools using it to their own gain, and a million jumbo hot dogs hanging on with a head full of something, drugs, or something even worse, nothing…and drugs, their minds like stress balls, waiting to have a fools intensity squeezed into them. But I suppose that’s anything on some sort of grand scale. Hell, even within some high school clique. Or a group of hot shot ball room dancers, or big headed ballerinas, trying to balance all that bravado on those toothpick legs atop those pointy aristocrat toes.

For the most part, whenever there is a large group it is comprised mainly of Nimrods.  But even Nimrods can move to the right rhythm and in the right direction……..to the edge of a cliff and right the fuck off.  This doesn’t really have anything to do with the documentary, so I will move with the swiftness of an eagle and the wisdom of a snail, back into my shell.

Its six parts, but youtube pulled the fawkin audio on the sixth and final part. But its still good. As far as documentaries on certain time periods or movements go, the last part is always the least interesting as the movement becomes a parody of itself and the core of it either moves on or burns out. And do you really need some twit to summarize everything you’ve just seen for yourself anyway. So fuck part six. Even though I wish part six was there. I have a real love/hate relationship with part six, its a volatile one. I’m hungry for it, even though I know I don’t need it. I love you part six.  I need you part six.  I despise you part six.

(I wrote all the above before watching the documentary, and it really couldn’t be further off.  Fuck yah.)

Sometimes I’m overcome with coincidences, sometimes in large groups.  Tonight has been one of those nights.  In the middle of watching this documentary I had a rhythm in my head, as i sometimes do.  Different things usually bring it on, documentaries on music is a real cause.  The rhythm went And i kept repeating, Piss, piss, gonna a have piss, piss piss, yellow yellow, ahhhh piss, piss.  Over and over with some variations but equal intensity.  I don’t know why that kept going in my head, I was heading to the bathroom, I had to rattle the cage, take a number two, that probably had something to do with it. Certain words take on a hypnotic rhythm sometimes.  Its like a beautiful insanity and you can never quite capture it again.  So I sat down and opened a book of poetry sitting on top of the the toilet.  I turned the page and the title of the poem was simply PISS.

After I finished this documentary I checked my email.  I get a thing called word a day where a word is sent to your email, it comes at about four am each day with a definition and origin.  The word was kapellmeister, of German origin and meaning the director of a choir or orchestra.

I lay down, but I could not sleep, my large window to the outside with the blue blinds in front of it sits right above the head of my bed.  I have a basement apartment, so half way through the center of the window is the ground where the grass grows and the people walk and the buildings rise.  A perfect place for a diabolical criminal to come waltzing in, steal my computer with all its work, burn my life alive.  I couldn’t help but think something was out there.  Something staring at me.  Some sort of supernatural force.  It was four thirty and freezing.  My head was already weighed with dumb thoughts about the future, the present leading into the future.  The hopelessness, my inevitable doom.  How everything I did was pointless.  How all the things I wanted to do would probably take the next six years.  And by then I would hate them.  And how would i ever grow if i was stuck on this old shit that i cant even do.  I cant take working for people, I hate that even more then this.  Why am I whining like a fucking newborn, why work hard towards things I don’t want.  Whats the fucking point and where do you get a gun.  And at that, how could I even afford one.  Its only going to get harder and worse, I’ll only have more obligations that I cant possibly fulfill.  How could I ever support myself and how everything was going to collapse around me.  I owe so much.  Thinking about it all in a sort of lazy helpless depression with no real goal of acting upon the only sensible solution.  And when there is a problem you must entertain all thoughts to find the right solution, and only a fool wouldn’t entertain the idea of death.  All these thoughts that could be put into something more constructive, physics, devices to read the minds of cats, they have the answers stored in little pockets at the core of their brain stems, all this energy wasted on nothing.  All these thoughts And on top of it, this supernatural thing out there mocking me.  I couldn’t bring myself to look out that window.  The panes rocked in the wind.  Finally I could take no more, so i slowly pulled the blinds back.  I kept expecting some person in a mask with a crow bar to be smiling at me.  Or some creature with the head of a vampire bat, nine feet tall, crouched down just waiting.  The blinds came back, and there sitting calmly in the wind a little tabby cat.  He just looked at me, then let out a little meow.  I said hey baddie, you scared me half to death. I tried to open the window to let him in out of the cold, i had some tuna in the fridge, I figured we could hang out, talk things over you know.  But he took off.  Probably one of the neighbors cats locked out.  I kept checking for him in the night, but he had better things to do.  And so did I, my thoughts gone for a little bit at least. I wrote this, more wasted time upon myself as that tabby runs around the streets with all the answers at that stem of its brilliant mind.

(I speak with the seriousness of a revolutinary voodoo priest with a blossoming side job as a stand up comedian with stage fright.)