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In the shadowplay, acting out your own death — knowing no more
As the assassins all grouped in four lines, dancing on the floor
And with cold steel, odour on their bodies, made a move to connect
I could only stare in disbelief as the crowds all left.
Ian Curtis (1978)
Damn. My mobile phone's alarm is bleeping loudly. But my eyes are closed. Remain closed. Opening my eyes and moving my arms seems impossible. But the noise coming from my phone is splitting my head apart. My thoughts slip away to hours earlier... me having too much vodka and too little cocaine. Ich bin neun Meter gross und alles is unforstelbar. I guess today I stopped growing by six. With an immense effort, I get up and stop the alarm. Everything in my room is dark. Except for the tiny, red light on my turntable where an old Coil record spins around. In the bathroom I check the clothes I am wearing: black, tight jeans; dark blue shirt with the word Slut in red printed on it; tight, black velvet colbert. My black hair hangs down in my eyes. A pity no one can see the black lines I've carefully drawn around my eyes. After taking in a line of cocaine and a can of Smirnoff Vodka (never absent from my fridge), I feel much better. And that is cool, because tonight is gonna be a long one. I grab my discman, cocaine box, money, and I head for the underground. The night is still hot. In the distance I can hear the noise coming from Hallmackenreuther. I press Play on my discman and enter another world. Cologne by night is beautiful but frightening. Especially with the right amount of cocaine, vodka, and music. " ...the dance floor / On the move / A closer dancer keeps moving on / Never to touch. Always need / Getting closer over here." With every step I make I feel better. Greater. The cocaine is definitely working just fine. Instead of taking the underground, I suddenly feel the urge to take a cab. Minutes later I get a bit anxious, because the cab seems so sultry and the driver is playing electronic music that sounds like Drexciya but has tremendous melodic layers of sound that make me wanna cry. I don't want that to happen, so I ask the cab driver what the music is. My voice sounds weird. I can't understand what he is saying.
1:04. I am there. Somewhere half-way between Cologne and Düsseldorf. The club is crowded with people. I feel terrible. Toilets. Two lines of cocaine make the dance floor look different. This is my domain. I start dancing. Moving my body. My arms and legs seem to have a life of their own. With the groove as their master. It doesn't matter if I close my eyes or not.
5:32. I don't know the girl next to me. We are in a cab moving toward Cologne's city-centre. She is all dressed up. Heavy makeup, but still nice. Very tall, even a bit skinny. Dark outfit. Dark hair. We kiss passionately, but I feel nothing. Her apartment looks neat. Gispen furniture, Soundlab turntable. We undress and she walks to her stereo. Instead of putting a record on, she pushes the start button of her CD-player. Which pisses me off somehow. We start kissing again. I don't like it. I need cocaine but dare not to leave her now. I am afraid of her. My eyes closed, she's coming over me, the music is present in every vessel of my body. I... "I love water on my skin / I love to lean against the wind / I love to walk alone at night / I love the city lights / Because I am lonely, but I'm not the only one... You don't know me / I love to dream of love / I love talking to myself." She is moaning. I feel an explosion of excitement somewhere in me. But it seems too distant. The colours behind my eyelashes turn black. I am floating away. Emptiness is mine.
http://www.kindamuzik.net/recensie/closer-musik/after-love/1643/
Meer Closer Musik op KindaMuzik: http://www.kindamuzik.net/artiest/closer-musik
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