I am constantly listening to Clint Mansell's "Together We Will Live Forever." It's the departing track from the score of "The Fountain." It's classical piano music and it's washing through me like an ocean of time. Words do not suffice to describe the emotionality of those sparse tunes striking the most sensitive chord within me. It's so beautiful. I can't stop listening. "The Fountain" is a very impressive flick by Darren Aronofsky. It's about the transition of souls from one incarnation to the next. There's three storylines. In the first one Hugh Jackman & Rachel Weisz are Conquistatore & the Spanish Queen. He's about to concquer a Mayian Pyramid where the tree of life is supposed to be, a tree that awards anyone who finds it with eternal life. The second storyline takes place in the present where she is about to die of cancer and he's a doctor who's on the verge of discovering a cure for it. But he fails. She dies. In the third storyline he's bald, living on a small planet and she's transformed into this gigantic tree. They are talking to each other, but again she (the tree) dies. Writing all of this down might make it sound a little ludicruous but the movie is actually awe-inspiring. The images are mind-boggling, like paintings in an exhibition you cannot stop staring at. In the end the Jackman-character conquers his ultimate fear, that of dying once and for all. But he returns to his Conquistatore-incarnation, defeats the guard of the Mayian Pyramid and finally discovers the tree of life. He drinks its blood - and all of a sudden he becomes a tree himself. And in some spiritual sense he is finally reunited with Rachel. I was on the verge of tears myself. It somehow made me think about the so-called relationships in my life, and it made me realize that none of them was even close to something like spiritual kinship. In essence, most of my relationships were full of ego, power-struggles, cross-purposes, of course sex but ... I really do long for my share of Jack-&-Rachel. There has to be someone who carries the near-similar soul in his chest with just a different body encorpsing it. But I'm afraid I haven't yet met this person, this soul. And it makes my heart really ache and I feel guilty saying so but Georg is not that soul either. He is not. I don't feel it. There's a widening gap between us already, so I don't know what to make of him. He's already withdrawing from me. We haven't seen each other for 10 days now. He makes out that he needs time on his own. Well, I would love to be able to believe that. I would love to believe it's just that. But it's not. And I for one get away from him with each day passing by, too. Maybe there's a chance after his holidays. When he's all freshed up. A chance to get closer in a sense of entering the next stage. Because if we do not reach that stage I'd rather be single again instead of watching myself being taken advantage of. I'm too proud and too good for that. Period.

So this is it. I'm now officially a member of flat-share no. 6 in Elisabethstraße 24. New district: Geidorf. And wow, this is so much better than Scherbenviertel, I can tell you. Even though the moving and shlepping all my stuff from one flat to the other was hell on earth, it was worth the effort. Hell yeah it was. I cannot stop looking at every single corner of my new room. In comparison with the old one, it's really spacious and there's really enough room to swing a cat, or two. One area is the work area, the other one more intended for sleeping, relaxing, reading books and having other forms of entertainment ;-) I even have two lamps that are switched on & off by means of a remote control. How cool is that? Every night (so far) I spend a few minutes turning them on and off by turns. I'm six years old again. And hello: even the Spar around the corner is so much better than the one in Gries. It's a really stylish one with friendly personnel and plenty of opportunities to get things cheaper, if you know what I'm saying. Just kidding.

Last week I spent my days back in Linz where I was as lazy as it can be possibly get. Most of the time I spent reading at the Donaulände, meeting friends & acquaintances in between but actually I wasn't too keen on being among too many people. I needed those days in solitude. Talking for hours on end with my Mum was the only purposeful occupation. The rest was just a gigantic ego trip. Fuck you all. I'm not there. This isn't happening. And it did me a world of good. By the way, being pampered in Hotel Mama was great for a change, too. But now I'm back in Graz, having no real clue what to do, bar my play. Although I found some inspiration in Linz I'm still not exactly where I stopped but it'll hit me pretty soon - of that I'm sure.

The other thing is ... Georg & me. I think we're on the right track. I was a little bit disappointed that I kind of had to shove myself down his throat in terms of 'hello, it's you asshole that made me come back earlier' but anyway ... yesterday, I was at his place for the very first time. So far, we've spent time at my place only. So this was interesting for a change. His flat is as chaotic as he is himself. In the beginning I just sat there, having a zig and watching him buzzing from left to right and up and down. I could've spent hours just watching him doing a zillion things at the same time. He's so funny; at the most when he doesn't even want to be funny. He should become a comedian. At least I would burst up laughing all the time. Kissing him, touching him, being near him was awesome. When we were cuddling up together I instantly knew what I was missing during my days in Linz. Feeling for someone is gracious. By God, it's the one thing worth living for.

Wow! Uni is coming to a close and things finally get easier by the day. The official schedule is over but I still have to learn for the oral exam in Latin, plus I have to complete my term paper in literary studies. The main corpus is already drafted and written; just some re-structuring and polishing to be done, and then I'm out for three months. Oh, how I look forward to that. Can hardly wait to relax, be a lazy-bones and do basically nothing. Sounds stupid but I really look forward to reading some of MY books again. Not books that uni requires me to read and analyse but books that I want to read of my own accord. Take Kerouac, for instance. Or Burroughs. Or Chbosky's 'Perks of Being a Wallflower.'

The last three weeks were really crazy. Despite all the learning and classes coming to a close, I had a really good time partying. And I got to know someone. And I don't mean just SOMEONE. His name's Georg. He's 25. Pisces. And works for an ad company. We chatted for like 10 minutes on the internet and exchanged numbers. It was the Monday afterwards when I was waiting at the tram station, and there was this ridiculously handsome guy passing me by. I was like 'Fuck me if I'm wrong but didn't the two of us wanna make out?' Seconds later he was hugging a girl and I was like 'Nice daydreaming!' About two hours later I got a text message by Georg inviting me for an 'EM beer,' as he put it. As I was feeling totally spontaneous on that very night anyway, it took me about merely ten minutes to get to the Central where we met. Now guess who was waiting for me there?! Of course, Mr. Handsome from the tram station. I was like 'Holey moley, where'd my knees gone. I can't feel'em. Where'd they gone?' And call me a narcissist but I instantly had the feeling that he was kind of 'gone,' too. We joined a group of drunken bastards all staring at the screen. Germany vs. Austria. Guess who won? No don't. That's not important. What is important, however, is that while I was talking and being really funny and charming (I really was), Georg kept staring at me. I swear to God if he hadn't had ears his smile would have reached until his forehead. I remember the first minutes he was barely uttering any sound whatsoever. He later told me that with our 'tram incident' he was already hoping that I would be 'karma_police,' that I'd be that guy he was chatting with on the internet. So here I was. After the match we had a few more beers at the Parkhouse chit-chatting about everything under the sun. For the whole time, I was already sensing this complete and utter attraction. Later we went home together and when we crossed the Mur-bridge I just threw caution to the wind and kissed him. Right there. In the middle of the bridge while people where passing us by. But I couldn't possibly care any less. All I could care about, however, was him. His lips. His beard. His hair. His ... alright, stop it. That's none of your business ;-) but hang on, there's more to come. Busloads of stories already ...

I'm feeling quite confident as of late. Despite all the exam hysteria and the fact that I'm still facing 8 exams and one term paper that is not yet quite ready. But still, I found this new flat-share in the Elisabethstraße which is basically like in front of the campus. And I am happy with that choice. Both my flat-mates are med students, girls that is. My room is huge, one of this really charming old buildings with a height of roughly four meters. The loggia is super, the kitchen is awesome ... it just seems to be the perfect place for me. Kathi is one of the girls. As far as I can see, she's a great person. Warm-hearted. Funny. And listening to FM4. No-one listening to FM4 is basically a bad person ...

Don't ask me what's going on (again) between me and Michi, but there is something going on - actually. All of a sudden, we're in contact (again). All of a sudden, I remember what I felt for him in the past, which is basically just a major crush. But seeing that this guy won't back off my mind since February might mean quite something. Let's face it. I kind of fell for him in a way that no-one else in the past couple of months made me fall for. Not even close. I mean, this is something more than just the initial "enthusiasm." On Friday I compiled a CD for him and got this idea to write a story along the songs that I chose. I entitled it "A Story Told In Songs," which is in essence a really cheesy and corny love-story, like taken from a really bad romantic gay movie. But somehow I liked the story, and I know, I really do know that Michi is in for that kind of stuff big time. I mean, hello?! He's possibly one of the most romantic guys God ever put on this earth. So I put it in the mail along with my JAWS-story (which I promised him months ago) ... and, well, let's see ... I know that there's going to be some reaction. And again, who knows?! Maybe we'll hook up on Saturday at the Rosy clubbing. I'll somehow have to coerce him into going there. I'd love to dance with him, since he is supposed to be that great a dancer. Something's different this time. I still smile whenever I think about him. I still have those really profoundly dirty and bad thoughts, like total-fuck phantasies in some phone booth and whatnot. But I'm not obsessing right now, more like 'whatever happens, happens anyway.' One thing's for sure, having someone like him as your friend, like friend in a relationship-kind-of-sense, must be the most enthralling and joyous things I can imagine. But as I said ... I'm not obsessing here ;-)

just got home from the regular walk at night. five minutes after me my flat-mate returns home as well. stone-drunk. the european cup is to blame. instead of joking or conversing, what does he do? nit-picking. according to him the smoke wanders out of my room and into the floor outside. so he demanded me to have the door closed. I was like 'alright, boy. I think you forgot to take your pills!' Of course, I said something else and watched him staggering back into his room. Dude, I need to get away from this crazy street with its crazy residents. And I will. Soon.

Anyway, what's really important is ... Michael and me, we were text-messaging for most of the day. I sent him a poem one of my cousins wrote. Really cute and astonishingly wise for an 11-year-old. Then Michi said he'd gonna go out for a walk, reclaiming his energy (he strained his foot at the lake). I knew instantly that I wanted to go for a walk, too. But of course I didn't tell him. I was kind of hoping that - if fate has it - we'd stumble on each other anyway. And of course, I could've told him so we could have met on purpose. Call me crazy, but I think it way more romantic believing in a coincidence that would make us cross our paths some way or another. We did not meet. But still, the walk was good. Refreshing. As is mostly the case when it's soon after it stopped raining. In a way, I think it sort of exciting to have the certainty that there's someone out there. Somewhere. Longing for the exact same thing as you are. Feeling the exact kind of void that needs to be filled. Somehow. Somewhere. Isn't that an uplifting thought? To know that you have the best part still in front of you? I really do think so. And I don't necessarily mean that with regards to Michael. More on a general level. Whoever you are. Wherever you are. We'll meet. Come hell or high water.

By the way, Siobhan Donaghy's 'Overrated' makes for a great walk-on-your-own-at-night-song. The feeling is indescribable.

migraine - the malady of the truly gifted. today I feel like 80 or something. out of sorts. anyway. another incidental chat with the "lightworker." an interesting character. told me something about the tree of life. and conflict management seminars that he's leading. a self-appointed guru? well, let's see. michael and me, we're actually talking again. and I mean talking. without picking on each other. his questions subtly hint at a possiblity of starting anew. we were talking about his lawyer in Cologne and that this guy is close to find out his secret combination (typical Michi language). Anyway, out of the blue he said he'd rather have me get his secret combination and I was like ... hm, yeah, ähm ... don't know. I said that I'd love to but we both know that he don't love me, which kind of set him off track, conceding that he don't know the first thing about himself. He's all zig-zagging along. Nothing concrete - but he knows that I'm not in for that. Shit is, he's an adorable guy. He's got those rare eyes that have this boyish charme, but still he's as male as it gets. It's the combination of qualities that seem to contradict each other that I find so utterly attractive. And he's sensitive a lot and he got this gigantic heart. Not literally. He deserves to be loved. I told him that I really do hope that the lawyer soon finds out how to twist him round. But why did he say he'd rather have me do that? How can someone make a philosophy out of saying the one thing and meaning the other? He's been like that since I got to know him. Cheeezuz. I asked him about his address - one of the rare things I do not know about him. I'm gonna send him something. Not to get into the game again, just something I wanted to send him a long time ago. Fuck. Next Saturday's gonna be Lexi's party and Michi's gonna be there. Three weeks ago I wouldn't have wanted to go there - because of him. Now I can't go there cause Lexi and me are sort of crossed. Maybe I should go. But I'm not the one who's gonna apologize to Lexi. He insulted me. He was crude. Not me. Can anyone tell me why the majority of gay men is so overly complicated? Is there an answer to this question?

Today I got hold of some James Newton Howard tracks. Among them the theme for the Unbreakable-movie. Absolutely gripping stuff if you listen to it on full volume. Just creeps up your spine and then stays there till the end. I remember the movie with Bruce Willis and Sam Jackson. How we disliked that film when we saw it at the premiere. None of us could make any sense of that film. Years later I came to realize that in essence it is one of the best Hollywood products. The anti-hero coming to terms with his fate and his prime weakness. Duality is life. There's no good without evil. And vice versa. They need each other. Like binary oppositions. Fuck Derrida ...

as an afternote:

Of course, Thom's Mum and I were talking on the phone. She even wrote my a very lovely e-mail. She called to thank me for the Radiohead-album I sent her along with a copy of JAWS-magazine. It didn't take long before she started crying and stuttering how taking the story was for her and that she always was and always will be grateful that I'd been sent to Thomas, that's exactly how she put it. And then I couldn't help but let go. I was so totally overwhelmed with this overkill of emotion and gratitude. So we both cried on the phone, no longer able to articulate any distinct sound whatsoever, basically sounding like two new-born apes. And then she cried and laughed at the same time. "You know, it took me two fucking dictionaries to understand what you were actually writing. So, it's either because the first dictionary was crap, or your study fees already pay off." We both broke into this seemingly infinite peal of laughter. Believe me, this was so heart-rendering and did both of us a world of good.

Come to think of it, there's this woman of 43 years of age listening to Radiohead all of a sudden. And she's like 'Oh, we gotta listen to the lyrics. There's a hidden meaning.' How grand is that?! Of course, she does that so as to get a grasp of what Thom was going through. But still, so many good things have come out of this whole story. I gained an entirely new family. All of a sudden, I've got another mother, and Thomas' two brothers (David & Lukas) and his stepfather and his cousin Michael who's one of the very best and gracious human beings I've ever met, and his uncle etc.

And now I'm going out. Have a pint with Simon & Lisi. Take care.

Today is a somewhat funny day. After five consecutive hours of translating a manual I decided to do something on the spot. I had a look into the web, found an ad for a flat at Färberplatz, called the girl and an hour later I visited a share-flat for students. Weird thing, I already knew I'd not be interested. Not for real. But the flat was awesome. Huge. Stylish. Friendly atmosphere. The girl was from Spain, totally naive but mercurial and all puffed up. I just loved talking to her, trying to avoid dialect and speak proper German instead. Of course, my efforts didn't last longer than ... roughly 34 seconds and a half. She had a hard time understanding me, so we switched to English. Funny enough, her English was even worse. Nonetheless, I kind of fell in love with her. Gotta be awesome to live there. Right where it's at. Gonna be seeing another flat on Monday. This time I am interested. And I hope I'll get it. It's anything but cheap but I'm tired of thinking about money. The guy had lots of photos on the net, so I've got a pretty lucid picture of what the flat's gonna be all about. And here's the really likeable part: I'd live with two med students. Female. Call me crazy but I imagine living with girls is way easier. No beer cans to dump. No cleaning table to draw up. No farting. And no beard hair all spread over the bathroom.

Yesterday I had another session of therapy. I just love my therapist. She's gorgeous and I felt right from the start that there would be nothing I could not talk about, which actually is the purpose of having conversational therapy, ain't it? We had a laugh when she admitted that I tend to confuse her thoroughly. She doesn't yet know which drawer to put me in. Is he an 'all-brains-person' or an amalgam of mixed-up emotions? I wish I could help her in that respect. But then, where'd be the fun part of it? Fact is, I'm doing this in order to damage the Austrian health system, costing them plenty of money for basically nothing serious. I'm convinced after the fifth or sixth session she's gonna send me home telling me to not think that much. And that's it. But still, there were two things that really hit me. When she asked me who'd hug me when I was sad, I said that I don't have someone for this task right now. Not in Graz. Realizing this hurt a great deal. The other thing is ... we talked about my entire family and the inter-relationships bla, bla ... and then she surmised that it might very well be that I'm not the group-person just because of that lack of family grip and that maybe my mother had been too much of a reference person throughout my entire life. Thus, I'm way better in face-to-face communication than group-stuff. She also made me aware of the fact that there actually is something like a generation gap at university, since it's proven fact that 7 years of difference already make for an entirely new generation. So this gives me a new punch line whenever I feel bored amongst my colleagues "see, I don't care about your stuff. And I don't have to. I'm not part of de-generation X" ... I'm fairly confident that things will improve as soon as I'm in the 2nd Studienabschnitt where the really talented and ambitious folks remain and the rest has resigned to AMS. The funny thing is, I have a certain hunch that there's some guy at uni who's even older than I am. I wonder how 'integrated' he might feel ... the thing is, I feel absolutely integrated. I have always been the communicative guy. And there are some people I really appreciate. I think there's some friendships under construction. But sometimes I just miss a broader connection. I'm just too personality-ridden. That's today's diagnosis.

To wrap it up ... there's this headline one of the guys I'm chatting with uses right now. Goes like this "if people only talked about the very things they could relate to, the ensuing silence would be insufferable." ... I somewhat like that line. Sounds edgy. And true. Like it or not ... people talk too much. Talking is overrated.

In a perfect world Thomas and I would be sharing a flat in Graz. In a perfect world we'd be seeing each other on campus day in and day out. In a perfect world we'd share new friends. In a perfect world he'd get boozed up and I'd lead him home safely. In a perfect world we'd cook crappy stuff while listening to Radiohead all the time. In a perfect world we'd take the first tram in the morning where he'd blow me; a whole tram just for the two of us. In a perfect world I wouldn't feel like seeing his spirit in every other corner in the street. In a perfect world I wouldn't have written about him; I wouldn't have poured my heart out in a student's magazine that couldn't possibly be any less significant. In a perfect world I wouldn't be writing none of this in the first place ...

I just felt like writing something in memory of Thomas. Today's the day. June, 5th 2007. Exactly one year ago. I'm sure he's well, sitting on some crappy cloud, smoking pot and writing along with Sarah Kane. He'd better be, or else I'd "phone" him. I actually wonder what a kind of play the two of them are drumming up right now. The celestial stage all propped up with this imaginations and her dialogue. I don't feel sad. I'm just afraid of his mother calling me today. And I know she will, since this is THE day. I don't know what to tell her. I cried so much, griefed so much, told the story over and over and over again. I'm done. I was done couple of months ago already. I don't have any intention of being scared for the rest of my life. I refuse to be scared. And I refuse to feel guilty. I refuse to ask 'Why, me?' As Thomas said, there'll never be any sufficient answers. Some things just are. Realize it, or go on torturing yourself. I opt for the realizing part. The embracing part. Peace. Love. Empathy. Let go of me, there's nothing else I request. Just let go. Lord fanny, set me free ...