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Every morning I wake up and say to myself: It is just another day, just 24 hours, you have to go through. I don't know exactly when I began to give myself this daily peep talk – or why. It sounds like a mantra or a list, one learns at one point or another afvænningsprogram, but I'm not in Anonymous Anything-any time, although you could get the impression, when reading some of the shit they write about me. I have a life, as many people probably would sell a kidney to experience just moments of. But I still need to remind myself that a day is something, briefly, to assure myself that when I got through the day yesterday, so I also through the day today.
This morning, after my usual morgenmantra, staring I at the minimalist digital clock on hotel nightstand. It is 11:47, which is somewhat near dawn for me. But the front desk has already called two times to wake up, followed by a polite but certainly the sum of our manager, Aldous. It may well be that this day is just a day like any other, but it is densely packed with appointments.
I must in the studio and recording the last few guitarspor to one or another of the internet version of the first single from our latest album, which has just come onto the street. It is total humbug. The same song, a new guitarspor, a few vokaleffekter, and so you must rather buy it. "You are damn well going to have to milk everything you can out of a song in these times," as the suits from the record company is so excited to remind us about.
After the study, I have a frokostinterview with a journalist from the Shuffle. These two agreements are located at each end of the spectrum, my life has come to represent: To play music, which I really love, and talking about playing music, which I really hate. But it is two sides of the same coin. As Aldous is calling for the second time, kicking I finally the quilt of me and grabs the pilleglas, which stands on the bedside table. It is something anxiolytic, I must take when I feel tense.