There was no music and for some reason this really changed the dynamic of the whole weekend. It was also to be the first of many differentiating time threads and thoughts. I have been thinking about whether to write a rant or an extremely positive piece and mostly I am tired of old conservative white men complaining about their privilege. That was my weekend. Old white men complaining.

There was no sex and this was equally as disappointing, but I did see my friends on Sunday for a hot pot meal and learned that my Thai previously barren friend was pregnant. This makes me really happy because she was really happy. I was also thinking a lot about teaching and perhaps too much. Will play a show here soon also and found out that my bag drama had come to a close which meant there was no more ranting to happen with the bully of my ex. He was now out of my life and it made me question whether I was so into the dj. Was it the dj or the friend or did I just miss intimacy? Hopefully, there will be more music of all of these kinds shortly.

There is a funny thing that happens when you cannot communicate. Well I would not necessarily consider this the humorous kind of funny. But rather a sick funny that I care not to laugh at because I remember my ex calling me a clown as he honked his nose and giggled that same word because it was that same horrendous giggle. Who does that anymore? Repeating people in a high pitched tone that sounds nothing of the sort of the original person? A man child. That is who. So social media has become a haunting hunting ground for misconceptions and considerations. The problem with perception is that especially with dealing with another country, little to no English, and on top of this no education, one also has the ability to alter reality to their perception. While I understand some of this happens to everyone, bullies take this to such a degree that any possible sort of common understanding is impossible because they literally misinterpret the lines of your speech so that while I gently and emotionally say “I care about you” and mean it, it could come across as “I care about fucking your house neighbor on the weekend”. I am not over exaggerating. And who knows what these German mistranslations in his tiny mind actually said to him. The word, again, back to this mother thing was that he hated the curse word “mother fucker” which I use quite liberally I admit at times for emphasis on my feelings of being distraught. The literal translation of this as me calling him a man who fucks is mother is ridiculous, and while I have explained this so many several several times, it really does not help anything. Because I know this to even be true with someone translating from what I say to him which is why I lost one of my good friends which is something that I will also go into later that I am still angry about. So yes even with pictures and body language and tone of voice and well everything, communication was not possible. To complicate this further we now have his gang trying to translate me and my favorite member of the gang: Google. Who knows what Google has been telling me all of these past months. As I said before I can never tell who is actually speaking because I can never place a tone of voice. This is beyond problematic. Especially in negotiations and compromise and ultimately: empathy.

It was Friday evening … come play for the first time I had just spent the past week learning how to become a kindergarten teacher. The kids were sweet the staff were nice. I was accountable because my friend took the same bus in the morning so I felt like going to work was quite okay because it was a type of social thing as well. Friday however was nice. Friday was to be the first time I would play play since the ex boyfriend who misunderstood me constantly because he could’nt understand English broke my hand because he was pushing me and I threatened to call the police. The same one who has my journals and for some reason insists on making it as difficult as possible and is holding them ransom with the speed freak who has the dog and the son watched by social services while I helped her rearrange her room again and again and again. But I was homeless in Germany without any of my supplements and I had also infact become a sort of weird psycho alcoholic who was scared to death of her boyfriend. The whole mess was an unraveling snowball that strangely always worked itself out. So yes now I had become a kindergarten teacher. A sleepy kindergarten teacher in fact, but never the less a new career change perhaps I hadn’t decided yet. So yes after I left early to go to immigration and get my stamp extension so that I could begin work and hopefully get a new passport soon, I finally made it back home then managed to feel prepared to use my hand with music for the first time since I left Bangkok the second time. Still don’t know how I could have possibly thought that this mismatch would fit together, but here I was with a functional thumb not the same, but yes now one centimetre shorter. Practice was excellent. I had not played in about six months so the amount of endorphins was such a beautiful rush and my body felt safe and comfortable remembering what I have grown to love as a beautiful gift beyond myself. As well as spending time working to others in music without words is another act I love. That was almost taken away from me by this same man child who when I spoke to him was most upset that my mother told him over the phone to leave me alone. To a man child with little education and a closed life I found out that this gang mentality described quite a lot. He really could not think any other way we had completely different logic and while his friends described him as complicated I found him immature shallow and frankly not very intelligent. That is not to say that I didn’t not care about him at all points. I however think I was trying to solve a redemption that was attached to a German DJ that I had followed out to Munich for the first time and this second painter could not really compare. Strangely enough however he really thought that I was worked up over him to such a degree I cannot really describe. He tried everything to hurt me to make me miserable to abuse me turning the whole story on its head. But he could not really ever hurt me to the same degree as others had in the past because I honestly did not love him.

So back to the music, it was very nice and chill and there as a person I hadn’t seen in a while that was nice we played, smoked a little and then went out for some beers. At first he seemed distant and told me that he had a friend staying with him, but then he asked me over and by tomorrow it was lets do some ecstasy and have sex all day. It was really amazing. I wish I could do that every day. I will go into more detail about the sex at a different time I just sometimes have to take a step back and examine the balance in my life. Thankfully back to work with the children has a good effect of putting things into perspective with my dull dumb ex who I am convinced has people type for him because he could not possibly be so stupid. And a friend I have never freaked out with who has a long distance girlfriend in some type of open relationship. Whose affairs come across as sexy in a strange way but I am fine with because at least he does not break people’s hands and then go parading across the room in a stumpy tattoo giggling like a child as he calls the cops and his mother. There is something seriously wrong with this individual. When I first arrived to back to Bangkok I also slept with another old friend who has a girlfriend as well and it’s quite strange. Being such good friends with these men who I care about but cannot see myself as their girlfriend. Maybe I am getting to the point where I am finding it hard to see