Away from the vampires

On my way with who else, Jack Kerouac and Jean-Paul Sartre, I’m reading, dreaming and longing for freedom on the train. Away.

The night before, I went out with Mr. K and Rusty. Mr. K is an eternal doubter and optimist rolled into one. He goes for what he wants like a Ferrari, but when the time comes, he questions everything, just like his numerous relationships. Very complex, in other words. He studies film to score with actresses, and while he clearly succeeds in convincing the women at the academy that he is super talented, things go wrong shortly after. But under that mask he is an incredible neurotic with a super soft core, which is why Rusty and I like him so much. At the same time we feel a little jealous of his adventures. But anyway, in response to the movie about Dracula by Robert Eggers, we wanted to see the original again, and it was playing at the film museum. This 1922 Nosferatu, a visually and frighteningly orgasmic gem, blew us away once again.

After the movie we had to drown our thirst, if only to drink away the disappointment that 1) we wouldn’t be able to make something like that ourselves and 2) a director adapt now for the second time (counting Herzog) that early version to his own vision, before we could even think about it to do it ourselves. So last night we didn’t drank blood, but other juices. Still, I’ve had enough. I wanted something else. No alcohol, but real warmth, without the feeling that I would become addicted to the other person, like a vampire.

Towards the end of the night, we ended up in a nurses’ faculty bar, thinking we would have a better chance of scoring some female beauty there. We were apparently not the only ones who thought so, because the party was mainly attended by men. I think the nurses were either already in bed or studying hard. The bass-heavy music pounded loudly and seemed to bombard my head like Molotov cocktails. I felt in a deep hole for several weeks and this didn’t help.

The happy music clashed with my mood. Sexism crept in, misery reigned, old rituals were thriving. Until I had had enough of it and decided to continue the night alone. Mr. K stopped me from leaving and after a short but intense conversation with him, who apparently has some sort of depression killer in him, I went back into the ‘temple of doom’, pretending to have fun.

Rusty was already lying ragged on the bar and sleeping off his drunkenness while pints of beer were passed over his head. I sat beside him for another hour. Mr. K managed meanwhile a hook up with one of the few nurses there and winked at me when I signaled that I was leaving. He understood, as long as he saw that I wouldn’t do anything stupid. He, who had processed a tragedy in his own way, made it clear to me, time over time again, how much he missed his brother and that he would beat me to death if I jumped.

Indeed, it was pointless, even less pointless…

On my way to the sea on the intercity. A place where I can find some peace. Trees glide by, with the occasional phallic symbol violating of the peaceful surroundings by gray mass in the earth.

“It is now a quarter past one,” an old man with even thicker glasses than me talks to his watch, no, the thing talks to him. All the while a little monster is sitting in front of me, groping his girlfriend. She gently shakes her head ‘no’, he doesn’t look up, he listens to his loud techno music and continues to rub under her blouse, to the rhythm of the music. She now pushes him away roughly.

I give him an angry look; he looks back with an ‘it’s-no-concern-of-yours’ expression. The man with the watch gives him a look too. He lets go of her, she takes out her cell phone and pretends nothing has happened.

I close my eyes. I don’t feel like going into this any further. I wake up around noon. There is no one sitting in front of me anymore. Finally, alone, I can smell the sea. I take my backpack, inside my books, a swimsuit and a large towel. Away from the city. Seeking harmony in nature. I am the madman on the run. I send you my regards and hope for better weather.