33. ILLEGAL MEANS

As I have already said, Lydia was acting as she wanted in the band. We were booking gigs, wherever she only wanted, whenever she wanted, and if she wanted. However, this situation didn't last that long. At some point Lydia called upon us and said this:

"We will cancel those shows and perform in these ones". Alright, this was nothing new for us. We knew that this was definitely going to happen. When I dared to ask her, though, why cancelling shows, she replied to me: "We'll get more money this way. We'll get away with this by paying fewer taxes".

Then I lost it and told her: "So what you suggest is steal the government".

"Oh, steal", she said in an allegedly innocent tone. "Why does the government steal citizens?"

"Which government steals from you? Norway? Excuse me, but a government like this one in Norway is absolutely honest".

"So do you prefer paying more taxes rather than following the easy path?"

Then I said: "I'd rather eat shit than cheat the government".

Lydia didn't put it off. We got into a fight and she told me she wouldn't do the show at all.

"Fine", I told her. "We're performing without you".

And this is what happened. Lydia would sing to our shows whenever she had a lust to. And the worst thing was that we had just become popular, so we couldn't afford to mess up with the fans. I remember at some point that we had an interview and the journalist asked us about Lydia. I lied to him about her having a health problem. I was feeling so embarrassed about even telling the Press about our mess. The whole situation went on like that until April when our last show in London would take place.

As I said before, Lydia would sing whenever it pleased her. However, during all this time that she was without us, I'd noticed something. She was indeed useless in the band. She wouldn't offer anything to us. She was doing solely backing vocals and, alright, these weren't so necessary. We could perfectly go on without her.

At some point, we were left alone and had an argument, so she started swearing at me. Then I told her everything I had been thinking all this time. I told her that we could really go on without her and that we don't actually need her. Everybody thinks I was too cruel to have spoken to her like that, but I was right. She was indeed a useless member. She wasn't even contributing to any composition nor would she ever sing lead vocals in songs. Were we in need of backing vocalists, we could have hired some.

Whilst I could see the disaster coming, I wouldn't do anything about that. And I think I'm solely the one to blame; starting from the fact that I lied on the press about Lydia having a health problem, so that we wouldn't get exposed to people who would learn that she does what she wants with us, to the fact that I let her ramble instead of telling her My sweet girl, do you refuse singing in the gig? Bye-bye, my darling. I turned a blind eye to the whole situation and kept waiting for the tour to end so that I could handle the whole situation.

When the tour would be over, I would manage with her. Furthermore, I'd lock myself up at home, so I would work on my next book, which might have been the darkest novel I've ever written. It told the story of a female Poet/author, who felt she needed to harm so badly people she hated, but as long as she couldn't do this in real life, she would instead kill them in her books. This means that, if she really hated someone in her life, she would write a novel in her black notebook, in which this particular person was the heroine of the story, who would kill herself in the most torturing way. If I ever published that book, it would be completely inappropriate for children! It described ways to kill yourself with pills, poison, blades of knives, ropes etc. in a fully detailed way. I would always make my heroines kill themselves in my books, however, this time I felt I was beyond any limit. And I didn't really care if someone read the book at all or if I got negative comments that I glorify suicide. I would never kill anyone in real life, for I was no murderer, however, I had whatever right to kill anyone I liked in my books. That is to do the same as my heroine, my Poet, did, whose name was written in the beginning, only when I presented her. Her name was Thaleia, but I suppose that nobody could remember it after reading the book. That was indeed my aim. That nobody would remember that her name was Thaleia, but only as of the Poet. I didn't say Dina a word about my book. She would scold me about writing once again books about authors who kill themselves, and she would be right to tell me off. However, I was supposed not to harm anybody in my book. The Poet was the one who made her heroes kill themselves. She wouldn't harm her own self. The Poet was something like my alter ego or my own self in the book. It felt like I had jumped inside the book and I was impersonated by the Poet, even though I'm aware that this is forbidden in Literature.

Since mid-February and thereafter, when Lydia was performing with us whenever she liked, I was trying to show people how important I was. I can tell I was behaving just like Lydia, in the sense that I was trying to seem as if I were something, while in fact, I was just showing off because I was truly feeling useless. And as I was so uptight, I was trying to conceal my own self-esteem issues, by taking revenge on Lydia. I wanted to show people that I was worthy and I hadn't been anything Lydia was calling me. Thus, I had to show people that nobody can reach me, as far as my playing and technique on the keys is concerned. That's why every night we would also play Tarkus by Emerson, Lake & Palmer, in which the only thing I was doing was a show-off. Since February, though, I had started to feel severe pains in my left thumb. But I wouldn't pay any real attention to that. I kept on playing without a pause and show off to people that I'm the perfect keyboardist and organist. At night, when we were at the hotel, I also used to play with PlayStation rather intensely and passionately along with the other guys, so my hands would suffer a lot.

However, soon my thumb started aching more and more. So, I was forced to put a bandage around it, when I wasn't playing synths or organ. The rest of the guys told me:

"Ingrid, I think you should slow down with your playing. Your hands will be in real trouble".

"My hands had never had a problem. Look at them, they're magic!", I answered in a greed.

"Anyway, I think you should have them checked if you keep on feeling any pain", Dina said.

"Yeah, sure. After the tour, I'll visit a doctor", I answered.

That night, we were sitting at the hotel's balcony in Wassenaar. I was reading a Donald Duck comic book, smoking and wearing a fishermen hat in my head and I was singing Moskau Moskau.

"Look at you", Dina said laughing heartily. "This is a 25-year-old rock musician who's still pretending to be a hippie".

"Woodstock never dieeeeees!", I said aloud, stretching my arms above my head. Then, Dina burst out laughing.

In the end, we all gathered on the balcony and we were discussing. I had promised to everybody, especially to myself, that after what happened with Lydia, I would be honest. This doesn't mean that I could talk about my sufferings out loud, however, when asked, I wouldn't hide anything nor lie. We started discussing people's real worth, not due to their achievements, but due to what they are as human beings and personalities. Then, the discussion moved to my hand's situation, because it was obvious that everybody had been alarmed by my immense pains.

"I'll be completely honest", I replied. "If my hand wasn't functioning as well as it does now, this would be a total devastation to me".

"Or you would keep on living your life by accepting that situation", Vivian said.

"No", I said. "What those two hands can do, that is play music and write, is everything that gives me a worth. Nothing else can ever make me be worthy".

"It's Lydia the one who made you believe that bullshit about yourself, Ingrid", Dina said.

"Well, but she had been right at that point, even though she was swearing at me and was making me feel a completely worthless person. I don't think I'm worthy to do other stuff. I can't anyway do anything else rather than that".

"Excellent. I really admire your self-esteem", Vivian said sarcastically.

Then, I looked at her and said to her face: "I have low self-esteem and I don't have the lust to look my fucking face in the mirror".

The others remained in silence for a while and then Vivian said, in a beckon:

"That's a very honest answer".

"I promised to be honest with everybody and above all with myself. I can't keep on hiding behind my finger anymore", I replied.

"Even though, I believe that you feel kinda better this year".

"I do. Even though, I always have a fucked up self-esteem. Music, theatre and writing, all help me feel important somehow. That I'm doing something which gives me an authority. That this way I become.....someone".

"That why, in case your hand is ruined, this would be for you....."

"If anything ever happens to my hand, I'll grab a knife and kill myself", I said.

While touring in Germany, I got a phone call from my sister, Johanna. In the beginning, I got a fright, because nobody would ever call me during the tour, except in case something very serious had happened.

"Johanna, is there anything wrong?", I said terrified.

"Yeah, but it's for a good thing. I'm sorry if I'm calling you at an appropriate time".

"No issue", I said. "At this moment, we are driving on a highway close to Stuttgart"

"Ingrid, I left my band", she said.

"Congratulations, Johanna. I'm really proud of you. Don't you ever phone them again. Those people only want to make you feel weak".

Fortunately, my sister understood very soon that this band would only harm her. I was glad to hear that she left, because if she hadn't, she might have become just like me, without a self or a personality, as everybody in there treated her as they wanted.

Despite our problems with Lydia, the tour went as great as ever. Our shows were marvellous and for the first time ever, I could dress myself the way I wanted, because no one would criticise my own style. At that time, I used to have long dark hair, because I had staged a play, in which I should have a vintage style. However, I kept the same vintage style in the tour as well, as I had been dressing like a 1930s actress, wearing long dresses and embroidered clothes. Sometimes, I also used to wear head chiefs and straw hats.

Offstage, we used to get really wild. I can remember that night when we'd play in Yorkshire, at the Blakey Ridge inn. We would spend the night at Bryan's place, which was located in a village nearby. On the lower floor, there was a room, whose door was broken in the middle and anyone could pass through it. We wouldn't even open that door, as our body fitted to get in that room through that hole. At some point, I went to the upper floor and I suddenly noticed that someone had left a hammer on the table. I cracked up because in my mind I connected the hammer with this scene in The Shining, where Jack Nicholson, as a paranoid, smashes the door with a hammer and gets ready to do in his wife. So, I quietly walked down the stairs, holding the hammer, and in a satanic smile, I rushed through the broken door, screaming: Here's Johnyyyy!. The rest of the guys freaked out with my sudden appearance and Vivian, out of defence, grabbed a compass that she just noticed and impaled it in my arm. Then, I started running around, still holding the hammer, and screaming with my arm bleeding. Anyway, I still have that wound from the compass.

During the next few days, Johanna phoned again to inform me about some more exciting news.: "Ingrid, I feel that I slightly start making my dreams come true".

"What kind of project are you planning to have?", I asked enthusiastically as well.

"Not really a project. Caroline from Alta and I joined forces and formed a band. Together! And next year, we are releasing our debut album".

"Johanna, that's awesome! I was also the one to tell you that you had to work with your friend. However, you should be constantly travelling to Alta or Caroline should be travelling to Tromsø, right?".

"You didn't understand. I permanently moved to Alta. I anyway....had no reasons to stay in Tromsø anymore".

"That's true", I said. "This way, you'll also be closer to Kirkenes. When the tour is over anyway, I should go to Alta's hospital".

Johanna silenced herself for a while. "Is there anything wrong with your health?", she asked.

"Nothing to worry about. I just feel a pain in my left thumb. I probably exhausted myself in this tour. I wouldn't like to go to the doctor in Kirkenes, because an X-ray might be needed".

"Then, you can stay in my new house!", she exclaimed.

"Of course!"

This is what happened. A few days later, I went to visit Johanna at her new house in Alta. Alta was Finnmark's largest town, though thousand miles away from the village. But it was a nice town, although small. I was glad to see my sister again and we were talking about our bands and the new period of our lives, that we had both started with. I confided in her that I missed Dina and how insecure I was feeling without her presence in the band.

At some point, Johanna asked me: "Have you been writing any book so far?".

I couldn't lie to her, but neither tell her about my Poet.

"I've started with something....but....I don't know if....if....it's going to....you know....work out....or....", I said in a stutter.

"And what's the plot", she asked.

I sighed and managed to say under my breath: "An author, who's feeling hate against the world and people around her".

"Oh, come on, Ingrid. Again heroines who kill themselves?".

"No!", I exclaimed. "I swear that nobody is going to kill themselves for real in my book".

"You even swear", she giggled.

"Yes, I do swear!".

That was true. In the book's plot, no one kills themselves. The Poet's heroines are no real figures in my own book but in her book.

I went to the hospital on Monday, considering that I would have an X-ray, the doctor would put a bandage on my hand and suggest I shouldn't be playing the synths so intensely at least for two weeks and that everything would be alright. When I had the X-ray, though, he said: "I'm afraid that your thumb is suffering a severe strain, due to its maltreatment".

"And how can this be treated?", I asked in shock.

"You need an operation because your thumb is swollen. If you don't have surgery as soon as possible, the risk of an ankylosis is high and then your wrist might paralyse".

"My wrist paralyses very often during sleep", I said.

"That's why you had better make an appointment for this surgery as soon as possible".

"Doctor?", I asked in a frozen way. "Do you know if the operation is going to have negative effects, concerning the hand's function afterwards? You know, I'm a pianist and...."

"I'm really sorry", he said silently. "Your future performance cannot be the same".

I opened the door and left, walking in the street, as if I'd swallowed two aspirin boxes. It was impossible that something like that was happening to me. Not to me! My greatest fear had come true. All I was afraid of in April, they ended up being my reality. My hands would never again be able to play as perfect as they once did. I was useless. Totally useless. If I had been worth about something, this was my technique on the keys and the fact that I could play as fast as 800 kilometres per hour. Now I'd lost that too. I didn't have ANY ability anymore. I was a worthless thing, a zero thing that didn't even deserve to be left to die.

I went to Johanna's place and told her the news, trying to keep my feelings to myself. However, as I had been telling her about the doctor's words, I burst into tears, cursing myself about how useless I was.

"Hey, Ingrid, it's not your achievements that make you important", Johanna would say.

"Stop with that philosophical bullshit. We've got our problems with Lydia. Now we're losing the keys too. We have just had a success with Riders of Night. Then, we'll go once again to the bottom".

"Ingrid, listen to me. To start with, what the doctor said is not that you will not be able to play keys ever again. All he said was, that your performance will not be the same as before".

"So, you're telling me that it's not an issue if I don't play perfect, huh? Do you probably consider me to be a keyboardist, who's playing in local and traditional festivals in villages?"

"Furthermore, your perfectionism is going to destroy you. Alas! Don't let success blow your mind this way. Play the way you can and let it not be perfect. You're anyway a fabulous composer. A solution could be that you can use a second keyboardist too".

"I'm afraid that my mind is completely blown away. I wanted to make a show-off that I've been the best pianist in the world and now my hands are destroyed. I'm totally worthless!", I yelled and started sobbing.

"I can't see you crying like that, ok?", my sister said. "Wash your face and let's go out for dinner to talk for a while".

"I don't want to go anywhere, Johanna. I'm going to have the operation and then go back and lock myself at home".

"As you wish, youngster".

Johanna was right. It's not one's achievements that make one become important. However, my own self-esteem didn't let me realise this. I'd never in my life felt like that before. Even during those times that I was going through this terrible personal crisis, I had still had hope, because my self-esteem was hanging from the fact that these two hands were doing miracles. But what was now left was this feeling of bitterness towards myself, that everything I was doing was totally shit.

The operation was done a few days later. When I walked into the hospital, I felt exactly like that day, when I had the abortion, back in 2020. I once again felt like I'm missing a part of myself, only that this time it wasn't something unborn, but something belonging to me, that I myself had killed.

At least I could perform in our last shows, even though my wrist was tied in a bandage. I just should take it much easier with my intensive playing.

Something positive was that during that time there were many reviews about our album and Prog Magazine named it the progressive rock album of the year. Riders of Night rose to the second position and also rock magazines started featuring reviews of the album and asking us to give a few interviews. Suddenly, the band became quite popular and that's why people in the street were smiling or greeting me, whenever they would see me. Some of them would even ask me whether I was Ingrid Sorensen by Alexandria. I wasn't bothered by them at all, except for when they would become really annoying!

Arborial Language became our best album and got positive feedback from fans. So, I had the idea that we could make a live album, so I thought I had better discuss the idea with the other members of the band. We decided to film the band's last performance, which would take place on April 14, 2021, and released that on DVD.

In the end, in April, prior to that legendary concert, I had a long discussion with Bryan, who told me that everything had to change after that night. I reassured him that there's no need to worry, that I'll handle the situation myself and Lydia will be given a lesson she'll never ever forget. But truth be told I was in a sweat at the thought that I didn't know what to do anymore. The tour was coming to a close. Soon we'd have to go to the studio and compose the next album. I wasn't planning on working with Lydia anymore. Just to think that once, Lydia, Dina and I were inseparable, like sisters.

And now we were trying to find cool ways to kick her out of the band.