american angel notes from amsterdam (and the old new world) – 24

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november 7, 2006

it’s election day. i am far away. how can i absentee vote online.

anyone can help?

bernie

friday, november 10, 2006, 12.53

these are my final words from amsterdam.

i am on the verge of tears. doing that throat choke thing to stop the tear flow. letting it relax. letting it go. it is all about letting it go.

my stupid heart has been broken again. what a stupid heart. what a fool for love.

“we’re saying good-bye at the inner most door.”

renate and i. this is life. the reality screams and shouts and knifes to be embraced. reality is so fucking greedy. it demands so much attention. all the time. fucking reality. reality will kill you if it’s not at the center of your attention.

i am at the airport, looking for love. my plane leaves in about 20 minutes. i will arrive in los angeles at 3:20PM. i suppose i’ll go to pasadena. but who knows really. plans are full of shit. the most important plans. reality could give a shit about one’s plans. and yet the aim is all.

i am only in los angeles for a day. i leave sunday morning for boston. for cambridge. i think i’ll call my continuing journal;

human angel notes from the old new world.

i don’t feel i can call myself the “american angel”. because that concept is now gone. perhaps i should call. . .

13.30

now on board my KLM flight. as close to not being here anymore as one can get.

“i’m going to enter the stream.”

i am on this plane. business class. it is a room that closes on amsterdam and opens in los angles.

“imagine a time in the future, when you can enter a room and sit. be given food, allowed to sleep, meet others sitting with you in the room and you enter this room in amsterdam and then leave the room in los angles. just imagine.”

i’m tired. physically and especially emotionally. so many beautiful women on this plane. just shut up.

i leave amsterdam.

i shaved my beard this morning. against ola’s sincere plea for me to keep it. i had to shave. something to do with necessity. i was going to shave last night right after the show. ola told me not to. i respected her wish. woke up this morning and was compelled to shave. started shaving and the battery died on my electric shaver. the beard too thick to shave with a razor. so i looked quite odd. plugged it into the re-charger and started packing. after a while it recharged and i shaved. something to do with being naked and not hiding. something to do with light shining from within. i never want to be attached to “a look”. i will now not shave until we open in boston. unless it seems right that i should be clean shaven to play damiel.

i have 15 days to grow another beard. and. . . go!

i am in need of sleep. just a couple hours a night for the last 4 nights. staying up until 7, 8, 10 in the morning. then sleeping a couple of hours before doing the show. taking a 15 minute nap on stage. on the pad we jump onto from the top of the caravan.

i put the ipod on God mode and sleep.

“i am now running on reserve battery power.” 4% left. life is short. all things are in need of re-charging. resurrection. a new day.

i am aching to leave amsterdam. in leaving amsterdam, i ache. And so full of faith. i believe in the pain i feel. believing in the pain, eases the suffering. i already miss talking with renate. i miss the potential of seeing her. i miss the innocence of the time with harm and her. it was in the eetcafe just over the bridge at the end of buiten oranje straat. it was in the sober morning. it was there and then that we shared the most. where our potential burned brightest. or burnt out.

i will miss fedja big. he has taught me something important for my life. i want our friendship to last and evolve. i hold tight karinna’s crystal angel in celebration and belief in romantic love.

i have come to a place in my life that i am becoming a stranger to committed romantic love. the idea of two people who choose each other freely and then sees what happens. free of outside entanglements. it is odd.

damiel’s goal is to become whole through the love of a woman. through his love for a woman. he gambles everything on it. it is not about becoming human to taste an apple. it is about becoming a man. and the play says that the only way for this angel to become a man is to unite with a woman. to make love. it is the most romantic of notions. does anybody really believe that anymore? only the innocent and the naive.

wanting to be lost in love. and yeah there’s the whole blah blah blah about not gripping too tight and not chasing the butterfly and letting go blah blah blah.

i long for this battery to stop me from talking nonsense. the flight crew now demands that i stop this nonsense.

i have 0% battery capacity. and yet i write this. . . word. and stop writing voluntarily. no one is yelling at me or shutting me up. of my own free will i stop.

friday november 10, 2006, 5:58PM, marina del rey

i’m in the living room of my manager, heidi. i am near the ocean and jet lagged. loopy. heidi gave me the lowdown on the television world. it made me tired. i am back.

i’m waiting for traffic to die down a little, before i drive my rented car out to pasadena to see my dad and paul and anne. on the plane i sat next to a man named gabriel. from nigeria. With a son named gabriel. we talked and talked and laughed and laughed.

i am back in america. i am blessed. i miss amsterdam. i am here. i miss renate. i miss fedja and the smoeshaan. i need sleep.

love,

bernie

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