o n e
the scene is memory and is therefore non-realistic. memory takes a lot of poetic license. it omits some details: others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. the interior is therefore rather dim and poetic. [tennessee williams, the glass menagerie] bright and beautiful without too intensifying light, today might curve or coil in a descent of spirals downwards and i won't bother to apply emotion to the event so obviously vulnerable meaning i'll desist to feel anything about it, this day. thirteen minutes ago i held myself preoccupied in front of the mirror putting on my usual makeup which would include red lipstick, black liquid eyeliner and of course, the touching up of the eyebrows. all for no other reason than profound vanity and i guess executing small useless yet operational gestures to feel less unconscious. i have nowhere i need to be or somewhere to go tonight except my bed and put all my energy into re-reading mind lingering passages of old favorite books and fucking getting to organizing my bookshelves alphabetically since i purchased elisabeth kostova's the historian yesterday and it turns out i already have it — how endearing.
or is the word i'm looking for, curious. i'm in malmö which makes it either my second or third visit this year alone, my previous country driftings uncounted for. with february to nearly all of april having been such a dull, comatose period of time this transition happened so rapidly that i almost feel like i've No Idea how i got here which is obviously not true as i do have tingling sensation-recollections of the nausea inducing headache i battled at the time of my departure, the two loud comic book illustrators i shared compartments with and also — how i fell placidly in love with a german girl reading haruki murakami on the train from stockholm. &now i'm here once again, surprised at how much i'm liking it, despite the smothering heat and constant sun. my sister's two room mates are traveling across brazil for the next two months and so there's a sweetheart of a canadian guy living here in their place. very gregarious and fun to be around, impressively Domestic as he usually does all the cooking and serves dishes as elaborate vegetarian pizza and delicious lentil soups. in other words, he's saving all of our lives. but i'm still struggling with the sequential use of every day english, would you believe that? i'm not nearly as articulate or Fluent as i'd like to be, fuck . . . . this apartment is so big and flooding with light during the day, all the windows are kept open and seagulls are sounding in the distance. often the floors are entirely covered in paper bits and clothing sketches from my sister's frantic paper cutting in relation to her school assignments, there's a lot of commotion always people passing through and coming by at least one is in persistently good company.
t w o
one particularly attractive summer day tyler introduced me to his danish friend chanette and we purchased fruits, beer and other goods for setting up a picnic in one of malmö's bigger parks, during the walk they kept up a chipper conversation about their shared trip to africa last year whilst i soundlessly exclaimed over the greening of trees, the surrounding nature, exuberance almost blinding and retrieved still vivid mental imagery from my own visit to italy now more than a year ago. we spent several hours slacking peacefully in the sun, everything was aces until of course the fecal matters of a bird(!) came falling down from open skies and landed directly upon tyler's left shoulder and then also splashed onto chanette's hair — fucking golly, what is there to say. absurdly, a similar accident had taken place two mere days prior, only the unfortunate bull's eye happened to be my old lady purse and not a human body part. a painstaking day this one, as we were having vegetarian burgers outside a restaurant by their “pavement café” set-up with tables and chairs, and half-way through our meals we became aware of the upset shouting/gesticulations from other peripheral customers. it turned out that the benches we were sitting on had recently been painted and the paint was in fact not entirely dry which inevitably stained both CA and tyler's pants, really aggravating and i felt momentarily sorry for the poor waitress having to deal with the rush of anger + complaints, assuming her without reserve to be an Innocent.
i finally managed to arrange a coffee rendez-vous with alinah - it isn't a smooth affair to put together a friendly meeting with someone who has a baby and lives 40 minutes out of town when both parties are flat broke and Busy to nearly inflexible degrees. now she was able to show up with both her kid and her boy for a quick coffee before she'd be heading for another dinner with another friend, pleasing lovely but she appears every time looking so breathtaking&dashing that i must admit it's sort of intimidating to be around her . . . . entering the coffee shop the owner froze and then hurried up close to exclaim “ah, i'm sorry but i just.. i have to say — wow.” before staring her down in a somewhat tawdry fashion like he couldn't believe someone so young, so thin, so striking just gave birth to a child. next this very child drew immediate attention and other customers came up to “ooh” slash “aah” and another someone made the brazen choice to inquire “who's the mother? you're both such beautiful young women it's impossible to tell” : Seriously (!) &on my way home two huge, yellow trucks - one of them decorated with a sticker upon which bold letters declared I ONLY SUPPORT GAY MARRIAGE IF BOTH CHICKS ARE HOT! i guess some people are content with nurturing a certain stereotype, i guess some people do Everything to stay safe within their comfort zones, to keep themselves closed off to anything that's challenging to their unprogressive, archaic views . . . . &before all of this, live shows back home turning into long nights out, L and i once happening to the company of tim and some other male else whose name i forget. tim socializes every now and then with L alone however he has always been acting “cold shoulder”-ly or significantly reserved around me so i've always concluded he just Doesn't Like Me and since i'm not into forcing my company upon people, i've carried indifferently on. then this specific evening we ended up walking side by side through drifts by snow, discussing gender identities, sexuality, feminism and personal things troublesome pasts anxiety or depression or death. i was surprised by his honesty though of course possibly it was symptomatic to the excessive amount of alcohol in his blood, he said “thank you. thank you for saying these things.” in response to my vague telling about my somber days of youth and then “it's too bad i'm too drunk to remember any of this tomorrow.” i answered “all you need to remember is someone else has been where you are. you are not alone.” all of us were supposed to go to a trance venue thing and instead we found ourselves at heroes, literally making the entire bar dance to flogging molly, pretty wild and i skipped out on a makeout session with the words “truly, it's not exactly my thing” and at a later point this boy was seen kissing another boy : Oh yes.
confession; i think about killing myself daily. i don't think it's a “desire to die”, it's... mere curiosity. or a fascination for closures that are Definite. sometimes the trees are so green i can barely look at them and my nerves are so unkind i don't know how to think i'm excluded or involved, i'm not there. (you are so much like someone else your silence confirms what you always meant to say i don't think of you that often)
t h r e e
it's fucked up that i still haven't written about fever ray, as L and i both looked forward to this for months and it was nothing short of Amazing, just amazing. before the show we enjoyed a glass of wine with tim and parts of his family, then we were escorted into the smallest one of kulturhusets venues and i thought are the people really serious, what an insult. (that is, to miss dreijer) i had been equally looking forward to seeing the solo performance of svarte greiner - one musical part in the brilliant duo deaf center but i was let down + left in active disappointment. a tiny little glass-eyed man sitting on the stage with his electric guitar, playing it not with his fingers but with a violin bow dark loud lightless music in endless loops - fascination can only last for so long. let me underscore that svarte greiner was not bad at all, in fact he was wonderful but it was music to listen to alone, the kind where you lay down swept away by feelings of dejection, detachment and unexplained terror, whilst the music overtakes you from within long edged cuts across your mind lulling you to a deep dreamless sleep . . . . &then finally, fever fucking ray. she's notoriously famous for her heavy disguises and so entered the stage wearing a long concealing robe + a gigantic buffalo's head(!), surrounded by her crew - everyone dressed like indians from some ancient and long forgotten tribe. an incredibly elaborate and detailed show with laser lights flashing in systematic ways, differing in colour and pulsating with each beat : with her low and infectious voice my whole body shivered as my mind was kept afloat somewhere just above consciousness, an out of body experience but still you were unquestionably there. she sang almost every song from the album and i think also some new material but i truthfully cannot be sure of this. if i had a heart, when i grow up and seven remains my personal top tracks and were too those who translated themselves best in a live perspective. L and i had planned to Go Out afterwards, maybe go someplace to Dance but as the show ended we stood very still very quiet in dazed enthrallment until i said “i'm exhausted.” and she responded “me too, me too.” a couple of days later i read a partially negative review and the writer meant that it was more “theatre” than anything else. while i definitely can see where this criticism is coming from, i also think fever ray hasn't ever been supposed to be “just” music and this is naturally most obvious during a live show. because when you are there, you hear it and you see it and you f e e l it — fever ray makes every possible human sense respond, come alive. and this, is a mad incredible thing.
while my reading has been suffering, i've been subjected to several films as of late: hannah med h - i usually cannot stand swedish movies and this was no exception, the hypnotic soundtrack provided by the knife aside. but the film, a weak effort. the dialogue was above all painful, strained and staggering. the wrestler i heard nothing but good things and praises about this one, a bit too sentimental and predictable but overall fine. mickey rourke performed splendidly and from what i understand this feature has inspired to a “has-been” genre where former big names acts in pictures centered around their by now failed careers - claude van damme etcetera, etcetera. du, levande another swedish film that we watched or the others did as i caught random frames while simultaneously geeking on the computer. what i did see was either hilarious or deeply sardonic - it consisted of many small segments, one take for each shot and seemingly unrelated to each other except for the exploring of the theme Human Behavior human misery roy anderson's world is a forlorn reality, twisted satire : this film is q u i t e a stretch, unconventional, pretentious if you will. doubt with meryl streep, this woman does always deliver adequately no matter the task at hand. here she plays sister aloysius, the principle of a catholic school in the early 1960's who eventually suspects the Priest to be abusing one of the children. a slowly running and suggestive movie leaving pretty much everything for the imagination, out of all the cinema we've watched - this is the one that's been most memorable, for its quaint lines and uncertain insinuations. valkyrie features tom cruise masquerading as claus von stauffenberg with an american accent - what a piece of wasteful garbage. dreadful but i guess there's some “comical” value?
f o u r
the maya calendar & sunstorms - end of the world theories and my birthday today. special thanks to joel who was the first one to remember and congratulate(!) (if anyone feels compelled to get me for example this book as a delayed gift then please do not hesitate, ahem) we ate a big, absolutely heavenly breakfast this morning with egg benedict, juice, vegetables, fiber bread, meringuesuisse for dessert and i received a beautiful BEAUTIFUL necklace in the shape of an owl. hopefully it shall provide me with associated qualities like intelligence + wisdom. now there's the sound of rain and of tyler casually setting up a tent(!) in the living room : i've been here for almost a month although i never intended to stay this long (i'm even getting a bit self-conscious about it) and also, i have a job interview on monday. so pray for me, as if that's all i will be needing - some Holy Words...
a shame i never succeeded in finding the grave of kierkegaard, as i would have liked to gaze solemnly upon his stone in hateful sunlight a perfect ruin internal : turn my back and feel (
this is not despair
this is not