between us

a thousand miles
more than five years
a thousand smiles
and so many tears

norske skog

Det var ikke den beste natten før det skjedde. Mor ble veldig syk om middagstid, og vi kunne ikke bestemme hva var det som gjorde det, eller hva var best å gjøre om det. Det var bare mer ironisk siden mor var på en såkalte helsedag hvor hun var sjekket for forskjellige helseproblemene tidligere i dagen. Resultatene var ikke bra, men de viste ikke noe problem med magen hennes som virket å gi henne en veldig vanskelig stund senere. Iallfall kunne hun sovne endelig. Og kanskje årsaken for at jeg hadde denne rare drømmen var ikke bare det at jeg leste en norsk bok, men også at jeg hadde fokus nok til å oppleve det mens jeg fortsatt å lese det.

Jeg kan ikke huske at jeg kjente det var faktisk en drøm mens jeg drømte. Kanskje det var for godt. Men da måtte jeg tenke litt til å forklare på norsk hva var det som skjedde, våknet jeg likevel. Usikkerhet? Ikke nok selvtillit? Iallfall reiste vi med buss i stor snø da kom bussen til stopp mens den prøvde å kjøre opp en bro. Vi var enda over land med taket under oss, da vi steig av og forsøkte å finne snarveien til jobben. Plutselig glidde vi ned på takene og samtidig prøvde å ikke falle ned. Etter at vi tok noen ganske severdige manøvrer, befant vi oss på en liten gård omringet av små trehus. Så gikk vi inn hva som virket et skur men det var faktisk et verksted.

Jeg tror at jeg forsto bare der at vi var i Norge. Så etter at jeg tenkte i noen minutter, begynte jeg å forklare til menneskene der hva var det som skjedde. Det virker morsomt nå å huske at jeg introduserte meg og sa at vi kom fra Ungarn. Viser det noe mer enn at jeg tenker på nye intervjuer hvor de kan sjekke min norsk? Jeg tror det. Uansett av hva var det som skjedde, vi hadde overlevd det og klarte å gå til å få hjelp og veiledning. Jeg kunne også snakke for oss med beboerne i et fremmedt land. Jeg tror det er et tegn av økende selvtillit med å snakke norsk og kanskje med å finne en ny jobb også.

Victory vs. Visitors

Found out last night that the old Jewish man in a movie whom I'd been thinking for many years now, says Shalom to the Nazis entering the room with machine guns, is actually talking to extraterrestrial invaders. The rest is correct but all this is happening in the TV series 'V' I saw as a kid. That face and scene had stuck with me without me remembering the circumstances it all took place under.

Though the story has a parallel to things that happened during the world wars, and I guess, not only by coincidence. It's about totalitarianism and how the propaganda, nice on the surface can completely deceive people's mind. Or in many cases make them fear so much those who they think are on power that they rather surrender and even give up those around them to save their own lives.

Also the glass containers with thousands of human bodies in them that resistance spies see on a spaceship have obviously affected scenes, for instance, in The Matrix where people were used as energy source the same way. On the other hand it resembles a lot of all that happened in concentration camps where creatures with a human appearance (I just wouldn't call them human) were collecting people and experimenting on them, thus causing them endless suffering and pain, and evidently killing many of them.

The visitors in this TV series also decide to use human shape and first behave friendly with the earthlings in public to reach their goal easier which is to get all the water from this planet, since they ran short of it. In 'Signs' the aliens who don't bother using a camouflage, come to harvest mankind and they can be destroyed by water. In 'The Man Who Fell to Earth' it's only one friendly and secretive alien who arrives to get back a whole lot of water for his deserting home, but is found out by Earth-men and through a series of experiments is made into one of us while his spaceship gets destroyed. I can also recall the Tommyknockers where the visitors take on the bodies of the locals to hide and to take over the place.

The queue is quite long, nevertheless the story goes about us all the time. How we abuse each other and the planet we live on. And in 'V' when they come to take this old Jewish man, he leaves his family with the message 'If we don't help each other, we haven't learned a thing'.

Norwegian Wood

It wasn't the best night before it all happened. Mom got very sick by dinner time, and we couldn't decide what might have caused it, or what would be best to do. It was just the more ironic since the same day she'd been to a so-called prevention day attending different kind of health checks, X-rays and so on. The results were not too good either, but didn't refer to any issue with her digestion that seemed to cause her a very hard time later on. However she could go to sleep in the end, and maybe my strange dream was caused by not only reading on in a Norwegian book, but also focusing on it enough to kind of living it while getting on with it.

In my dream I don't remember to have realized it that I was actually dreaming. Maybe that's a good sign. But then when I needed to think a little bit while explaining what happened in Norwegian, then I woke up... Uncertainty? Ikke nok selvtillit? Anyhow, we were traveling by bus in huge snow, when it had to stop while going up on a bridge. We were still above land with roofs below us when we got off, trying to find out how to get to work the soonest from there. All of a sudden we were sliding down the roofs, at the same time trying not to fall off. Then after a few quite impressive movements we were in amongst small wooden houses closing in on a little yard. So we stepped into what looked like a little shed and turned out to be a workshop.

There, and I think only there I've realized that we were in Norway, and so after a few moments thinking, started to explain to the men there what had happened. Funny to remember now that I introduced myself, and said we came from Hungary. Does this reveal more than just me thinking about new interviews where they might test my language skills? I do think so. No matter what happened we've survived and succeeded to get as far as asking for help and guidance. Also I could speak on our behalves with the locals in a foreign land. I take it as a sign for growing self-confidence when speaking Norwegian, and maybe in my job seeking, too.

a liveable life is a pretense

Been a while now since I had that brainstorm right before I could fall asleep. Then it all came to me so clear to the smallest details, all my feelings and reasons. By now most of it got lost, only had a few thoughts jot down the next morning. It was about why I have started this blog, what was it I've been trying to express here. Since then I was very lucky to get in touch after long long years with friends who helped me a lot to talk about it, well about myself.

The blog itself changed, too. Not so dark, the header photo less horrible; hopefully reflecting my own feelings. I have also chosen a different title to it. Originally it bore a Ray Bradbury short story's. A time travel, but also a travel into the human soul, with its hopes and fears. What would you change if you had the chance. Specially if you could see the consequences beforehand. Not to mention, would that make it any better. I like a lot this kind of sci-fi; more like a study on us mankind and an opinion on our societies and achievements.

The site name resembled my job, referring to the many years dealing with computers at a multinational company; Man Eating Machine. At the same time it was a tribute to the Grace Jones song Corporate Cannibal she made with Brian Eno. A bow to both of them, as well as to their way of talking about the topic. It says it all about commercialism, empty lies and lives coming true through them. Inequalities in artificially created and regulated social systems lacking any sign of updating its views according to changes in it.
Whereas in technical self-developing systems the creators and rulers rely on the laws of nature. However the laws of economics and jurisdiction seem to be so far from that successful self-balancing world. Actually the law cannot help the one who needs it most. Eno put it as 'Culture is everything we don't have to do' but then we don't have to live like this either.We could act by nature not only in biotechnology, or the arts, but in the everyday life, even if it sounds idealistic.

I worked for 3 years at an IT service desk, most of all because it pays reasonable. It was not my dream job; answering 40-50 calls a day, documenting everything, while also trying to fix the issue within the shortest time. I don't think I'm a robot, but this job got me close to turn into one. One of the most frightening things was not the job though, but the feedback. Once a customer said 'hallo?!' after I introduced myself, following the official script, for the manieth time that day. So I asked if she could hear me at all - she thought I was an answering machine. I'm looking for something more human; a job where I can help people more directly, and go less into technical details. Of course, that's not easier at all, but very different.

Now my blog and me the writer are called the same name; heathen. It refers to what I'm thinking about most these days even if only subconsciously. All my searches and trials to live a life that makes me feel real. Something that reaches beyond a job to earn a living, things that have to be done a daily base. Also a solution and a help to prevent more mistakes. Instead a guidance I can trust because I believe it's coming from love and care.

in this lonely crowd it's always time

It is a funny feeling turning forty and realizing you have basically not changed a bit. But at least you can see it clear now.

...can you. I put the above down only a week ago or so, and then found a friend from fifteen years ago. So the next two paragraphs are quoting what I told her about myself, maybe as a conclusion of what I started to think about when writing here the first sentence. Also an afterthought of an evening what I spent with a new friend.

The most interesting in it all is to find that I'm not a bit different in the very ego, and I'm not sure if I wonder whether that's good or not. As it seems like that entity, myself, is developing in many different ways, or call it gathering experience, but still stays the same essence. And it is so very different in each and every person, but is sharing one thing: a yearning and searching for the ultimate answer that fills in all the missing parts.

I guess this is my way of looking for God in all the diverse communities and various religions; it's a never-ending story. And it is so, because I don't dare to look for the answer in myself. This is more or less how I felt last night on that Shabbat ceremony and the family-like dinner afterwards. I think, the reason is that I know exactly how serious it is to answer a call so overwhelming. In a way that holds me back from giving in, fearing I might lose all I have now. Even though I know I have nothing in the whole wide world, but this chance.

A few days ago I met a friend (after long enough time so she could have born a baby almost one year old now) who told me she loved her plants, so she wouldn't want to get rid of them when moving, and would rather give a key to her place to a neighbor so they could water them if she needed to go away for a while. Actually what stroke me was the way she put it. She said these were her plants she loved, so she wouldn't leave them there or sell them when she'd move, but would want to take them with her, wanted the same plants to be around at a new place, too.

I remember I've always wondered when heard that people gave name to their plants, if there was something wrong with me not being so attached to them. I loved plants and flowers, but for me they could be substituted. Their loss didn't mean much to me, no matter what way it happened. When the cat who moved in with us for seven years, had to go, it was certainly much harder. Still I tried to keep the event or the fact of his irreversible absence away from myself, instead keeping his memory alive and laugh at all the fun we had together. Much later when I settled some fish in a tank, mortality showed faster and in a more aggressive way. They used to attack each other now and then, and though I experimented with all the knowledge I could gain, to keep them there for the longest possible time, I didn't succeed very often.

I could go further and talk about friends, and also about how much I dared to show love, being afraid of becoming too vulnerable, so that I couldn't bare the consequences. Maybe that would sound strange to derive it from my relationships with other living things. However a friend I'm missing now, probably because she told me that she needed to tear out faraway friends from heart, she taught me to give away with love the most valuable things I had to people I thought I loved. For me books, talking to me as if letters from faraway friends, used to be of inestimable value. And I could learn to give them away, and if you'd think I could always find them again, some were really old or editions out of print. Anyhow, then it meant more to think of the stories in them, and specially why it was exactly that friend I had given them to.

I think this all goes back to how I turned from a wild child into a so-called introverted nerd at an early age. Could a flashback of a half empty home, a missing dad and brother lead to a feeling of such uncertainty of what's real and what's fantasy that one can relate then from then on, to everything in his life the same way. When searching for explanations, and finding the acceptable reasons hurt too much. I guess within the books and through them in other people's lives and sufferings I found a way to understand the reason why. I have also found much more valuable things, too, that helped to search further beyond what a family event would mean for me. So I daresay I'm glad I found more people to help me to see what could cause my dad to act like he did, for instance, when reading his mum's diary about the world war.

At the same time all that brings up even more questions about people in general, the reason that can turn us into something so empty that we can cause such feelings to each other. Why we need to act superior trying to prove something or because we all felt at one point abandoned and valueless. I believe understanding this, and what's more accepting it without anger, or becoming/feeling indifferent, but with love, is only possible by accepting the only one who could become superior to all by completely humiliating himself and letting himself be hurt by becoming totally abandoned of all love. And accepting such a limitless and unconditional love takes humility that can be only provided by someone who went through all this. Why does this sound scary to me.


Story Sample - The Lonely Crowd: A Study of the Changing American Character

Silver Screen - Provenance & Providence (The X-files, Season 9)
Song Selection - David Bowie: New Angels of Promise

Lion City

I was offered an exceptional chance to go for a business trip to Singapore, for the invitation of our customer to train their new resources who takes over our job. Of course, I accepted it, though it was a very tight schedule: I arrived late Sunday night, and left next Friday night. However I was still hoping to make it a tourist visit in the evenings. The offices were very close to the airport, just one station from it with the MRT, the monorail train. Here you see the Spaceship Enterprise-looking roof above the station. No, it's not me trying to look like Grace Jones with her extreme hat wear. To the right it's the huge building of the Expo with constant sales offering 50% bargain on even high-quality electronic products.

The Quincy hotel where I stayed at was a 1-hour train ride from work. So I spent a lot of time traveling in between each day, and felt like getting back from work to my room for a shower and to change clothes. As the country is almost by the Equator, and surrounded by the ocean the temperature is always close to 30°C, and the air is very humid. One day I took my shorts and a T-shirt with me to work, so that I could change there, and make it faster to head for sightseeing. Unfortunately the monsoon-like rain started in the afternoon, and went on into the evening. This is Quincy.

I haven't bothered to take any pics of it. Might be so because we had some misunderstanding about settling the bill. When I checked in after a 16-hours flight, I told the receptionist this was a business trip and the company paid for the room. When I showed her the confirmation number she told me they had booked the room through a web site, but had not paid for it. So I had to give her my own bank card to be able to check in. The next day I told about this to the company, and then the whole week was spent chasing my own money which was kept as deposit by the hotel. It is actually still not released, as for some reason, they waited for me to check out, and only then put the deposit on the card the company provided them on my second day there.

This is Esplanade Art Center with different cultural events each day; theater plays, movies, exhibitions, dance shows from all over the world. The roof (once again something extravagant) forms two halves of the local durian fruit. The company made sure on my last night that I got to see something of the city, and took me to the Marina Bay, one of the most famous sights. This is where Esplanade is located along with many other important places, and breathtaking architectural wonders. The newest one is the Sands Hotel offering luxury accommodation, shopping, dining, world class entertainment, and casinos. The whole place is built by an amazing design, the towers forming waves and supporting an enormous ark with palm tree avenues on it.

We spent the dinner open-air right by the bay, so we had a view on the gorgeous Sands Hotel, and all the skyscrapers on the other side. The cuisine is just as mixed as the population bringing here their culture and food, and sharing it all in their new home. We could choose from Chinese, Thai, Indonesian and Indian; different kinds of sea food, vegetarian and also Western food by which they meant Mexican at some places. Anyhow we had marinated crispy chicken wings in soy sauce served with mixed rice, some beef and chicken BBQ with a variety of dips, devil fish (or similar to that) pieces roasted and served on bamboo bed covered in some very spicy sauce, and shrimps in cereal coat. Oh and don't forget the local Tiger Beer! :-D

I really loved that the streets were kept clean, you felt safe even late at night in any parts of the city. It takes a strict government to fine even people spitting chewing gums in the street, but it works. The locals and also those like most of my trainees, who just moved there, were very open and friendly. Tax is very low, and the economy is growing full speed. Public transportation and food is very cheap, and the MRT is built to take you basically anywhere in the city. I would definitely go back if I'll ever have the chance again, but next time as a tourist spending my whole day discovering the place.

Starlight, Moonlight

There at the very edge
where all your hopes lay
there you get a glance at the past
of unthinkable distances

And so you become the future
for all of them who came to see
so curious and trustful
from faraway galaxies


Story Sample - 

Silver Screen - Sein und Zeit (The X-files, Season 7)
Song Selection - Harold Budd & Brian Eno: Not Yet Remembered

Fjelltur

Hjembyen min ligger på et flat land. Det er ingen fjell der og ingen sjø heller. Så begge dele har vært og skal alltid blir noe uvanlig, ubegripelig og vidunderlig for meg. Jeg har reist til mange steder i verden og likte best å være ved havet. Der føler jeg så rolig og samtidig vil jeg dra borte på vaiene. Jeg blir nyskjerrig hva ligger der over vannet, men jeg blir også rolig når jeg ser på det endeløs vannet. Kanskje på denne grunnen ble jeg mer fortryllet av store vann enn av fjell. Men det kunne være sånt fordi jeg hadde ikke vært i høye fjell tidligere. Jeg pleide gå på fjelltur i området rundt Budapest og noen ganger i Mátra og Mecsek.

I fjor sommer var jeg på besøk hos en venn i Bergen. Sammen tok vi toget til Upsete, en fjellbygde hvor vi leide en hytte. I området gikk vi på fjelltur, selv om været skiftet ganske ofte og det regnet hver eneste dag. Vanligvis kunne vi gå rundt ett av fjellene i nærheten av hytta hver dag. Men en dag var det bare opp og ned et fjell. Det varte meget langt sånt også. Jeg husker at vi fulgte en bekk og vi kunne ikke bestemme at vi skulle krysse den eller fortsette på den samme siden. Småblomster og andre vakre detaljer engasjerte oss også mange ganger.

Etter vi gikk over massevis av motbakker, sto vi ved siden av et stort vann. Det var islagte enda i ende av juli, det lå så høyt. Det straktes lang mellom fjelltopper og vi kunne ikke se hvor stiene svang frem. På himmelen så vi noen mørke skyer komme, og det ble sent også. Likevel snudde vi, siden det var umulig å finne ut hvilken retning vi skulle fortsette fram. Da gikk vi rett ned i den samme dalen hvor vi hadde kommet opp fra. Når vi så opp mot fjell, fikk vi øye på tykk tåk som kom ned plutselig. Var vi opp der enda, kunne vi ikke se ingenting og finne tråkket ned heller. Til slutt fant vi veien tilbake til hytta i regnet som startet rett da.

Iallfall jeg skal alltid huske denne usikkerhet som jeg følte når vi var opp der ved siden av det islagte vannet. Det så hemmelighetsfult og farlig ut og samtidig som om det innbød oss å oppdage hva finntes rundt det. Jeg så på alle retninger da vi sto der og plutselig forsto at vi kunne lett blitt mistet, gikk vi bare tilfeldig noe retning. Og senere hvis vi prøvde å fortsette i tåket og måtte finne veien ut, hadde det blitt kanskje altfor vanskelig. Jeg vet jo at min venn er veldig god ved å gå i fjellene, fordi han vokset opp i et slikt området. Allikevel var jeg sikkert veldig glad å gå nedover i dalen bort fra tåket og miste sjanse for dette eventyret.

Qu'ran

Dette er navnet på de helige skriftene i islam, på engelsk. Jeg vil skrive om en sang med den samme tittelen. Det er fra en plate laget på den samme måten som noen sanger på min favorittplate Low. Brian Eno hjalp med verkene på Low mens David Bowie (komponist til Low) var optatt med personlige saker. Det skjedde så at en dag når Eno var alene i studio, brukte han en lite del av piano spill. Faktisk det var den lille sønnen til manageren, som klimpret der, på instrumentet. Stykken da ble brukt som grunnlag for en hele sang. Det hørtes ganske eksperimentelt ut og Eno trodde at det kunne bli brukt som en instrumental del på albumet. Derimot når Bowie kom tilbaket, sang han noen ord i tillegg, som ikke var på et ekte språk. Men det passet veldig bra med melodien, så ble det brukt, og sangen ble særlig populær og brukt i mange dokumentarfilmer.

Noen år senere jobbte Eno med David Byrne fra bandet Talking Heads, som Eno hadde samarbeidet med før. Da brukte de denne teknikken igjen i studio, bare omvendt. De fant religiøse sanger og radioprogrammer fra forkjellige land, og etterpå lagte de musikk til dem. Sangene ble valgt fra album lagt i tidligere år, noen av dem var afrikanske gospler, og andre var tatt fra arabiske sangerer. Tittelen til albumet kommer fra en roman av Amos Tutuola, nigeriansk forfatter. My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (Mitt liv i åndenes skog) handler om en gutt som opplever utrolige eventyr i åndeverden, mens han forsøker å unngå fra slavehandlere. På en sang brukte Eno og Byrne lyden av muslimene som leste fra Koran.

Jeg hadde mitt første eventyret i den muslimske verden omtrent femten år før, da besøkte jeg broren min i Eilat, Israel, og sammen krysset vi gransen til Egypt. Vi fant en sjåfør på den andre siden, som kjørte oss gjennom ørkenen ned til en by ved det Røde Hav. Vi har reist en god stund, og det begynnte å skumre, da stoppte føreren plutselig, steg av bilen og åpnet motortoppen. Ingen snakket for noen minutter, og jeg ble sikker at vi kunne ikke fortsette. Broren min kikket ut av bilvinduet og sa til meg ’Det er Ramadan. Nå spiser de bare når de kan se på den første stjernen på himmelen.’

Ti år senere jobbte jeg i Tel-Aviv, og nesten hver fredag spaserte jeg langs kysten til Middelhavet etter jobb. Jeg likte best å gå til den gamle bydelen, Jaffa. Der kjøpte jeg en stor kopp iskaffe, satt ned i skyggen til trærne, og leste eller bare sa bort over havet. Det var i nærheten av en moské, som fintes bare noen skritt borte fra favorittplassen min. Det var skrevet ved døren at denne var samlingplassen for muslimene for å lese Koran. Da begynnte muezzinen å synge, løpte alle kattene som gikk der i alle retninger plutselig. Men det gjorde jeg ikke. Det minte meg på denne sangen, Qu'ran.

Jeg hørte sangen første gang når jeg begynnte å samle plater og kjøpte den opprinnelige versjonen med Qu'ran på. Sangen måtte ble flyttet fra albumet fordi det er mot islam til å ha musikk i bakgrunnen når de leser fra Koranen. Så noen år senere når jeg fikk tak i CD-versjonen, ble jeg veldig overrasket og trist til å finne ut at det ikke inneholdt sangen. Jeg hørte den opprinnelige sangen også. Faktisk det var ikke en sang som vi tenker på det, men muslimene messer vers fra Koranen. De gjør det på en så taktfastlige måte at det høres ut egentlig som en sang med sin egen melodi. Da Eno og Byrne lagte passende musikk til det. Jeg mener at Qu'ran viser hvordan to ganske forkjellige opprinnelser kan bli brukt sammen så bra i musikk, derfor ble det en av mine favorittsangene.

and there's nothing I can do

Recently there were so many undecided plans in my life based on all the half-promises jobwise, and otherwise. Also the waiting after the many applications, with no answer (yet). Which, surely doesn't mean it made me stop or give up hope, at all. I'm still going on with my daily job research, asking friends for advice and tips. And if something available then I take my chance, keeping ears and eyes open for everything.

Still time teaches me, as usual, the lessons of patience and perseverance. At the same time it seems like while I'm trying my best, something is waiting for me there at the end of all the search. So it makes me feel like I can lay back metaphorically, thinking all is predetermined in its own way, so it will come along the corner.

There you go, I jot down this log, and my boss called that now it's a 100% that we get one month bonus contract for July, and that I'll travel to Singapore for a week to train those who take over our job there. Then while I was typing this very sentence got a call for an interview about a job where I could use my Norwegian.

It was kind of striking to receive this Sandman book Taller Tales, and read all the funny tales about recurring dreams, black and white or colored ones, after I've tried to put here my guessing of these things recently. They just finish off all of it with such elegance on a few pages with great artwork, and joking about it all the time so leisurely.


Story Sample - Richard Cowper: Custodians

Silver Screen - 
Song Selection - Beach House: Norway

a change in the weather, a view to remember

Maybe it was because of the sudden heat that I had this little colored dream. Some very beautiful small butterflies were sitting motionless on top of thin stems, as if they were flowers. It definitely had a kind of enchanted feeling about it all, like in a folk tale. The cacti simply seemed to be very small, the size of bonsai trees maybe smaller. The whole scene was so dreamlike even for a dream, as if we went to an exhibition and saw it all as a painting. Or behind glass, like a terrarium.

There was someone else there for sure we talked about the view with. I checked in my modern book of dreams that butterflies mean I live for the moment, and don't care about the future, while flowers mean that I am longing for care and love. Though wild flowers that these looked like means a healthy and good love. While cacti shows that I don't think anyone would understand me so I'd rather not tell anyone a word.


Song Selection - Mercury Rev: Butterfly's Wing

how could they explain how I feel

I recall how I started to write things out of me, soon after I'd stopped drawing. Blogs, poems whatever felt like came handy. I had to be in the mood for it. Drawing could take more time, or if not so, at least a different attitude. There's something common in them then. The way you let it flow, and somehow make its own way as it comes true. But then how can even a thousands words give back as much as a few features.

 
It must be similar to how the cavemen used to catch the moments of hunting in their colorful paintings. Thus making it successful and real. Just like I felt many times when some of my sketches became so alive that it made me think I have really created someone. I have to admit sometimes I've even destroyed the paper being afraid of calling someone, something to life unwanted. Strange as it sounds, but it's true.


Story Sample -

Silver Screen - Milagro (The X-files Season 6)
Song Selection - School of Seven Bells: Half Asleep

5E7EN

"And the pale child Bakkalon will tear at you, and Naa-Slas feed upon your pain, and Saagael on your soul." Does Gaiman refer to the pale child Bakkalon when he writes about the Sandman? Could Naa-Slas be Despair, and may Saagel be Delirium? Do his heroes anything to do with the Seven in Martin's stories?
"Even when we are most alone the Seven are always with us. I have seen Despair in the eyes of the rats. Dream comes when the shadows are darkest, and sometimes Delirium attends him."


Story Sample -  George R. R. Martin: The Lonely Songs of Laren Dorr

Silver Screen - David Fincher: Seven
Song Selection - David Bowie: Seven

words are useless, especially sentences

I wonder if we ever really remember what we heard in our dreams. Were they the exact words, meaning that we interpret them when we wake up. Do we really communicate in our dreams with language as we use it awake. Or is it some kind of much older form when you see the meaning much clearer without pronouncing it, that would eventually change it.
It's like empty promises. You'd rather not say it will be or can be done, but do so if you have the chance. Also Eno's lyrics, like dadaist verses before, show that words can sound nice and melodious, but mean nothing at all. Just agreed symbols, like their written forms, the letters. Only a way trying to capture what's beyond them.


Story Sample - Bill Willingham: Soul Food

Silver Screen - Lawrence Kasdan: Dreamcatcher
Song Selection - Suzanne Vega: Language