I did get to see Kimya play last night, after I had visited a flat in Prenzlauer Berg that I am not moving into because I decided on the other one on Danziger Straße, with nice roommates and a tiny room. I am very happy with the decision. I will move in with Philip, a singer from Austria, Franzi, who does animation, and Madelaine, a photographer interested in fog machines, who also took me to the Keiji Haino concert the other night. They are all very sweet. I chose good influence over the comfort of a big room and scenic view, and there will be an extra bunk bed for guests..!
So yes, after I had biked around for nearly an hour and was really sweaty I arrived at the place and Kimya waved me in and the guy from Tigersaw was sitting there stringing a guitar for Jason Anderson, and we all remembered the DAAC, it was lovely. Jason Anderson sang about watching clouds over factories in Ohio, and people and their girlfriends moving to Portland, Oregon. It was so familiarly American. I think I once dedicated a radio show to this anti-folksy feeling, it was called "the sweet, the beautiful United States." What in America had always felt like 'telling each other who we are,' reveling in the things we all know, really seemed like a mysterious, exotic thing when it was thrown so out of context, like how I had perceived Michigan when I first arrived there in the Fall five years ago.
Kimya was, as always when I see her, really exhausted from touring and a little distraught. I was sad that she didn't play "Hold My Hand," but I felt I would put another nail in her tomb if I would request another song, since she already talked a lot about us saving her life by not smoking. Most of her songs are very personal now, and lamenting about the world. I miss a little the irony and sad humour from "I'm sorry But Sometimes I'm Mean." Spelling things straight out the way they are can never have the same effect on you. I wish she could go back to her bedroom and discover her four-track and acoustic guitar all over again, but how will she if she keeps touring like a gypsy for years on end?
But yes. The show was like a greeting card from my sweet, sad United States.
I biked all the way home because I had missed the last train. Kreuzberg was wet with rain and the cobble stone gave me a sore ass. I called Michigan from a Turkish shop by my house and everything was fine, except the weather.