Wednesday, 29 October 2008

Exasperation.

Ég kyngi tári
og anda hári
minn besti vinur
hverju sem dynur

ég óska mér
nú rætist saga.


"The clouds are beautiful today", I found myself stating to my brother this morning. 

That was the end of the wonder that was this particular October Thursday. After that it's been a haze of headaches and uttermost vexation. I generally dislike writing when I'm feeling annoyed, but today I felt like screaming at times (I think I did, actually). I have to vent some of my rage.

I conveniently, first thing in the morning, stumbled upon a "documentary", which I have an aversion to calling it, on interrogation on television. I was once again reminded why I do not watch television in general. I want a documentary to present me with information new to me, to entertain with interesting anecdotes and to make me think. This one did nothing of the sort. It provoked me to the verge of lunacy with it's ways of presenting the truth to the viewer, as if it were the simplest of matters. Yes, communists are, in fact, the essence of evil. I know this now, after watching this marvelous piece of media. It really is that simple.

When my brother presented me with the offer to take a walk with him to the shopping complex(even the word itself is repelling) nearby, I couldn't refuse. Nice to get out of the house and away from the television for a bit, get some fresh air and clear my head.

Oh well. It seems, it is not enough to build these shopping complexes on every street corner, so as to make it impossible to avoid at least walking through them if you want to get around. Nowadays, people selling their completely futile whatchamacallits and doohickeys are not confined to the stores. They actually assault you in the "hallways" combining the stores (which constitute to this wonderful concept of the shopping complex) with various indisputable offers. And they wont take no for an answer.

Did I mention they've built a blockade of some form of remote-controlled-build-it-yourself-personalized-monstertrucks right in front of the grocery store? And they've hired children to run around and play with them, telling all the other children, passing by with their parents, that this car in particular is the ultimate christmas(that day of the year that occurs in two months when you get a bunch of cool stuff) gift. Since it is personalized, you have to buy every single part by itself, of course. Simple genius.

Since the brief but brutal shopping trip I've been desperately trying to unwind. The solution was an unexpected one. The wonders of television were, once again, thrown upon me, this time with rather more pleasant results. It was a documentary on Cuba, the Castro brothers, and communist martyr Che Guevara. After which, me and my brother, decided to put on the "Motorcycle Diaries". I was instantly whisked away from the discomforting reality of consumer driven capitalism.

Furthermore, I am leaving the big city for the cosy reality of small town living, only a day left and I'll be at home, alone in my apartment, enjoying my solitude. Where the television is safely locked away in the broom cabinet.

Tuesday, 28 October 2008

You Are The Bluest Light.


you'll find it
hiding in shadows
you'll find it
hiding in cupboards
it will walk you home 
safe every night 

if that's the way it is 
then that's the way it is. 

I still feel you 
and the taste of cigarettes 
what could I ever run to?

just tell me
it's tearing you apart
just tell me
you cannot sleep

and you didn't even notice
when the sky turned blue
and you couldn't tell 
the difference between 
me and you

and I nearly didn't notice
the gentlest feeling.


I am so in the wrong.

Thursday, 23 October 2008

Burial On The Presidio Banks.

I've had an underlying thought at the back of my head for some time now, which I, for reasons I've decided to sequester for now, haven't found the time nor energy to quite bring to a conclusion. Suddenly on Thursday morning, however, while I was - somewhat indecently dressed - running around my apartment in a desperate search for any form of clothing, I grasped what I had been trying to apprehend(multitasking is the key to success). 

I've always been quite the elitist when it comes to intelligence, as a character trait I've considered it fundamental. Despite being told by others that "there are other attributes" I haven't quite grasped the fact that intelligence in itself does not entail or effectuate any other attribute. Until now, that is.

What I've come to realize, both through interaction with a lot of people rather varying in kind, as well as simply meditating on the matter, is that intelligence is nothing more or less than a simple matter of choice. I've philosophized on the concept of a person having specific capacities in different aspects; about a person having social and emotional capacity, and the ability to exhaust these capacities. 

I think intelligence in fact is a capacity too. Not, however, in the manner it is usually considered or measured. Intelligence is a simple tool, that correctly used is quite the powerful one. It grieves me to say that more often than not it is not used correctly(in the greyest context possible), alternatively not utilized at all. It is also an attribute that needs to be exercised so as not to abate completely. For someone born with intelligence this entails a choice that a person born without it does not need to make. Whatever a person of intelligence decides to do with the choice is determined by other attributes.

What I've learnt is that intelligence in itself is not something to aspire for or look for in other people, but rather to search for people who have chosen to be analytical, solicitous and respectful. And I've decided to live accordingly.

Furthermore, I've embarked on a journey that is reading a book called "A Million Little Pieces", by James Frey. It will most certainly be a difficult read for me personally, but I want to see it through, I find it important that I do.

I was standing
on the surface
of a perforated sphere
when the water filled
every hole
and thousands
upon thousands
made an ocean
making islands
where no island
should go

those people
were overjoyed
they took to their boats
I thought it less
like a lake
and more like moat
the rhythm 
of my footsteps
crossing flatlands
to your door
have been silenced

the distance
is quite simply
much too far
for me to row.

it seems farther than ever before.

Stoppa mig.

men jag lever för ikväll.

vad har du gjort av dig, för dig, med dig själv?

sena nätter
tomma glas
femhundra
skjuter upp problemet
för ett tag
för stunden

vad har du gjort av dig, för dig, med dig själv?

men jag märker alla har fått nog av mig

jag lovar jag kan fixa vem jag vill
men jag blir aldrig nöjd
jag förtjänar faktiskt något bättre

för dig är det alltid helg.

Monday, 20 October 2008

Without Feathers.

"In perpetrating a revolution, there are two requirements: someone or something to revolt against and someone to actually show up and do the revolting. Dress is usually casual and both parties may be flexible about time and place but if either faction fails to attend, the whole enterprise is likely to come off badly.
The people or parties revolted against are called the "oppressors" and are easily recognised as they seem to be the ones having all the fun. The "oppressors" generally get to wear suits, own land, and play their radios late at night without being yelled at. Their job is to maintain the "status quo". 
When the "oppressors" become too strict, we have what is known as a police state, wherein all dissent is forbidden, as is chuckling, showing up in a bow tie, or referring to the mayor as "Fats". Civil liberties are greatly curtailed in a police state,  and freedom of speech is unheard of, although one is allowed to mime to a record.
Opinions critical of the government are not tolerated, particularly about their dancing. Freedom of the press is also curtailed and the ruling party "manages" the news, permitting the citizens to bear only acceptable political ideas and ball scores that will not cause unrest. The groups who revolt are called the "oppressed" and can generally be seen milling about and grumbling or claiming to have headaches. (It should be noted that the oppressors never revolt and attempt to become the oppressed as that would entail a change of underwear.)"

There is no doubt about the man who wrote the "brief, but helpful, guide to civil disobedience" above being nothing short of a genius. I want to have his babies. 

Sunday, 19 October 2008

At Peace.

This Sunday morning when I arrived at school to complete my essay, I instinctively went to the same table I've sat at everyday this week writing, working, analyzing. To my surprise I found the very same cup of cold coffee that my dear friend left on the very same table on Friday afternoon. This is actually not that odd, to be honest, but because of this discovery I was overcome by a sense of belonging. 

This feeling was mixed with thoughts on independence and solitude. When I woke up as the the light from the window hit my bed this morning, I thought to myself how delightful it is to wake up alone to a day that is in its entirety decided by me. 

Tears and fears
and feeling proud
to say I love you
right out loud
dreams and schemes
and circus crowds
I've looked at life
that way

but now old friends
are acting strange
they shake their heads
they say I've changed
well something is lost
but something is gained
in living every day

I've looked at life
from both sides now
from win and lose
and still somehow
it's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know
life at all.

Thursday, 16 October 2008

Dragonfly.

I'm back after twenty hours on the road, carrying my entire world on my back; camera, computer, music, a pen and some paper and of course, my head. Which is aching from sleep deprivation; or caffeine poisoning, which, now that I think about it, is exactly the same thing either way you choose to express yourself. A day filled with bright lights and busy, distant people. On the train home, however, I got a chance to relax. Surprisingly my mind was suddenly filled with thoughts that felt the need to be expressed, almost as if I had an epiphany.

"I have, just now this very moment, come to realize a very fundamental aspect about my writing. It has become clear to me that what I choose not to put down in words in fact speaks more loudly about how I feel than what I do. I've assumed I've chosen not to mention a single significant person in my life, not by name or otherwise, because I wanted to stay anonymous. The fact is, I now know this illusion is in fact, an illusion. I am absolutely terrified of letting people into my life, and letting myself feel connected to someone, in the fear of being hurt, I assume (rather confident of myself to keep assuming facts about myself and how my mind works, isn't it?). As if writing about these important people and letting someone into my life would entail handing them the power to control it as well. The truth is, whether I am willing to admit it or not, there are some people in this new home of mine that have affected me in one way or another. Turns out I do like people in particular, just not in general."

I can see 
it all tonight
underneath 
a perfect sky
where the universe
revolves around 
the pupil of an eye
and infinities 
stretch out
from infinities 
within
I'm a part 
of everything

am I falling asleep
is it all 
just a dream
the cars 
are like water
and the road
is like a stream
rolling down 
through the city
flowing out 
into the sea
going nowhere 
like me

when the morning
starts to glow
out in the corners
of the sky
all the people
come and go
and the time
just passes by
then I'm only
gonna see it
from the corner
of my eye
when the planet 
spins 
it sings
like the wings
of a dragonfly.

Monday, 13 October 2008

La-de-dah.

The most awful of days ended in the most perfect of evenings, and I'm back to the whimsical little being that is myself again. Went out for a moonlit walk with vivid conversation in the best of companies and grabbed some sinfully expensive (but oh so good) ice cream on the way home. 
Now that I feel completely rejuvenated I realize I need to do some rearranging of my schedule. Prioritizing mostly, I need to see to it that I do things for my own reasons and not to oblige others.

And so I am, once again, looking forward to whatever tomorrow brings.

ujonlainen, keijukainen
asioistaan vaitonainen,
kaukaa kyyneleensä kiertää,
yksinäinen, päältä jäinen,
rakkaudessa kerjäläinen,
kengät kuljettaa
ja hiertää.

hei tie, 
vie toiveista pois, 
sylistä syliin,
kunnes en enää tiedä
missä oon,
pölyillä sotket päätä,
mä oon paperisen ohut
ja mun sydän
syväjäätä kasvattaa.

hei tie,
vie mut reunalle
ja yli,
vie kauas täältä
sinne missä oon.

Sunday, 12 October 2008

Pink Bullets.

Oh dear.

I like boys
with strong convictions
and convicts
with perfect diction
underdogs
with good intentions
amputees 
with stamp collections
plywood surfboards
ride the ocean
salty noses
suntan lotion
always seriously joking
and rambunctiously soft-spoken

I like boys
that like their mothers
and I have
a thing for brothers
but they always wait
'til we're under covers
to say
I'm sure glad
we're not lovers.

Most of the time, I feel the need to curse my natural spontaneity because of all the trouble it gets me into. On the contrary, on this particular occasion I am mighty thankful for this rather childlike trait of mine. Without it I would not have discovered that it is pointless to try and rationalize, and by doing so destroying, any emotion that is present. I've been trying to figure out my empty state of heart for some time now. I did not realize that a matter of heart cannot be figured out by contemplation, which usually is my way of getting through everything. 
 

Baby steps are the key through this bafflement. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sigh.

I'm naked
I'm numb
I'm stupid
I'm staying
and if Cupid
has got a gun
then he's shooting.

Thursday, 9 October 2008

Just Like You Imagined.

Two of my absolute favourite quotes can be applied to describe this day in all its glory. The first one was uttered by existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre, the second one is from "The Roman", written by, in my humble opinion, the greatest author to ever walk this forsaken planet, Mika Waltari.


L'enfer c'est les autres.

Olen jo kyllästynyt tähän levottomaan maailmaan, jossa viisaus istuu ovensuussa röyhkeyden juhliessa.


Today I am shying away from all humankind. There seems to be no limit for people's rudeness, impolitiness and insolence. It seems to be considered more socially acceptable to resort to obscenities in order to be noticed, rather than observing and contemplating in a manner resembling what was once valued by the greatest thinkers of the world. The strive for wisdom is not, as I had dared to hope, what people build their lives around.

I am, dare I say, disappointed.

And as a consequence, for one day, I'm filling my ears with music instead of talk devoid of content.


It makes a man
out of me
you take the fun
out of me
and I've been consistent
to the fucking dream
and I've paid
my dues
just to get them
all back

I'm just a skeleton.

Tuesday, 7 October 2008

Under Den Vita Hatten.

Jag kastar stenar 
i mitt glashus
jag kastar pil 
i min kuvös
och så odlar jag 
min rädsla
ja, jag sår 
ständigt nya frön
i mitt växthus 
är jag säker
där växer avund 
klar och grön
jag är livrädd 
för att leva
och jag är dödsrädd 
för att dö.

Lately I've been gathering responsibility on my tiny little shoulders. It comes naturally to me, to assume responsibility both for myself and for others. The problem is I tend to overestimate my strength, or rather I tend to ignore that for me energy is fickle, to say the least. One of these days I might wake up to a world I don't want to live in. At that point I have no one else to blame but myself. And this time I've nothing to fall back on.

I'm absolutely petrified of the thought that this might occur at some point. For the time being, however, I still feel I can handle it.

I think I might be addicted to responsibility. I think I want to feel irreplaceable.

I'm digging my own grave.