Rote Armee Fraktion
Rote Armee Fraktion“Our little group has always been and always will until the end”
Nirvana, ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’***“Dressed in red and silver, she evoked the sounds and imagery of fire engines as they tore through the streets of New York, alarming the heart with the violent gong of catastrophe; all dressed in red and silver, the tearing red and silver cutting a pathway through the heart. The first time he looked at her he felt: everything will burn!”
Anaïs Nin, A Spy in the House of LoveEnsslin shocks with photographic clarity, without the fade. The portraits came as a pair, and I wonder where Baader is now; forgotten, tossed in a drawer, burnt. They paired him with Meinhof, a hack, but it was not her who started the fire. Sirens rouse him, yet this time, unusually, her trumpet flares, not mine.I turned ‘Crucify’ up loud and left the room. Face exact between his shoulderblades, hidden from view each time he turned away. He didn’t notice the lyrics, never listened to my songs.What I remember are the colours, the Technicolor greens and blues and the pure gold of the sun. I ran off on bare feet, gathering wild flowers and scrub, and they played indulgent parents with a contemptuous look. Lying in the grass, I told him I’d never forget, took the pictures in my mind. First he ran to Paris, then Vienna; Sinfonia Concertante meant nothing to him, and means nothing to her. Salzburg defiled, Schoenberg for show.We talk about Teutonicism and the boy I like laughs at me, with me, at me again. Three years later, Todesspiel, glancing at the paper to see the smile I adored and the news that he is dead. My east, my west; two compass-points drop off the map. Der Deutsche Herbst begins.***“I put new people on a pedestal, worshipping them for their surprising kindness to me, for their benevolent notice. How many silver-plated statues have I erected, only to humanize them as I grew to know their vulnerable frailties?”
Sylvia Plath, Journals 1950-1962“I’ve made for you a pedestal that lifts you higher up the harder I try and knock you down”
Meanwhile, Back In Communist Russia..., ‘Blindspot/Invisible Bend’Julia. A disapproving look, impressions in the pub. Darkly beautiful, although she wouldn’t agree. We were the party girls who never partied together, who only spoke when everyone else had gone home, leaving us drunk and alone and never knowing how much we cared. I remember the windswept night on Abingdon Road when she pressed her lips together and ran. Accused of acting, I agreed, forgetting how many times that had been levelled at me. She stood by me through it all, and, more difficult, she stood by me when he lied. Now, the link between us severed, and only each other left. I want to make it work.Ros wants to meet, and the thought of socialising again, of making real friends who could stay, is momentous as ever. Drifting further into solitude, simply not capable of “getting on with strangers in a manner that only comes naturally to the completely cretinous”. Like JDC, losing the patience to pretend I care.Emily. I was never good enough for her. It was her words, those incredible words about bondage and a mother’s apron strings, when she cut away Plath and let herself fly. Kyra, and a page with her name. She’s everything I dreamed, the goddess behind my eyes, but he tells me I’m obsessed and, already, it’s ruined. I withdraw, defeated again.So touch sensitive, so second-rate. My rock’s too far away. Katherine, my goddess, my soul.
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose leaves
The way I feel today - 10 July 2004
Just seventeen - 17 March 2004
Roads to freedom - 25 February 2004
Confessions of a failed self-harmer - 25 February 2004
Manchester, united - 25 February 2004