Midnight in Harlem Swamp Rags intro with Little Martha live 10:23 mins with the Tedeschi Truck Band—I am flying! My Spotify ‘Discover Weeklies’ are sending me into different universes since I started to travel musically around with you for a bit. What a treat!

And here you are in all your glory: the handlebar moustache, the middle-aged hairline, and the three-piece suit. Behind you, the full moon; to your right, the astronaut launching from your shoulder into outer space; and a white dandelion in your jacket’s buttonhole to the left. The wolf-man at the height of his powers, grinding the universe to his liking and enjoying the playful freedom of a happily married family man with a shady past and a garage band to keep boredom at bay and the money flowing. A mythical creature, not truly known but also not unknown—the fully formed rock star.

I am roughly at the age you were at the release of your second Grinderman album. Life, for me, has settled into more predictable patterns; language has become accessible again, and I find my way through my chosen environment without knocking my head or my knees every five minutes. I have my own colourful past, and I am grateful for the comforts my established middle-class life offers. Am I a mythical creature? I hope not! I chose to walk away from such options when I left Japan and settled for a job in a call centre in Munich instead of trying to shape-shift into the more obvious and exciting options. For one, I wasn’t ready, not fully formed and still too broken. And I wanted to grow into an honest life, whatever that means. I had to do my pretending, my own faking it as I went along, but I grew into a conservative life as you might want to put it. I am here now, not truly known but also not unknown to my surroundings.

I am taking great care with this painting, since we generally take great care with our lives once we have something to lose, someone to stand by and protect, to grow with, and to love.

Yet, where to go from here? I just listened to Roberta Flack singing “I Told Jesus” for the first time. The song is just as terrifying as Nietzsche’s ‘From High Mountains - Aftersong’.

Muyi is off to church, and I am heading to the garage: lips, hands, and dandelions. Lips, hands, and dandelions. Lips, hands, and dandelions. My mantra for the day.

Happy Easter!

Cordula