Public transportation #1 At the bus stop

Saw an elderly woman with snow white hair smoking in the bus stop where we've been having 'Smoking forbidden' signs for a few years. She looked a bit like Patsy in Ab Fab, and was obviously enjoying herself, though it was not her who was smiling. I was, and she dropped the unfinished fag, as I passed her, and left the bus stop in a sec. Don't know if it was me smiling like that at her 'passion crime' that made her do so, or she just felt like what she wanted to do was done. Anyway she made me smile for a long while.

The Lake

The lake spread olive in the trees,
all silent, and all alive, and all alone
A bay rather with stones at its door,
where the big river enters and leaves

Some frogs singing their tunes in threes,
while all living things turn green like melon
And as my foot goes another step forth,
a dragonfly appears from among the leaves

Sun at the waving water spreading its light,
inticing with the promise of warm fire
A moment as you turn on the pear,
as if it will have happened to appear

my diary

It's been a time of looking back and around. For something new, something different. And while searching for a very old copy of a little book that contains some tales of the 1001 Arabian Nights, instead I found a diary I started to write seven years ago. At the first page there is a poem I added a year later. It goes like this.

You are my diary
I'm writing every day
You are my memory
recalling all I say
On my own
I'm nobody, you see
All this time alone
I am all but free
(October 2, 2006)

the Almighty's eyes

This has long been overdue, and I've been wondering what to add to make it complete since it's impossible. So, this is just a moment of it all, and we can come back to it any time. To this moment or any other.

I saw an elderly woman with snow white hair smoking in the bus stop where we've been having 'Smoking forbidden' signs for a few years. She looked a bit like Patsy in Ab Fab, and was obviously enjoying herself, though it was not her who was smiling. I was and she dropped the unfinished fag, as I passed her, and left the bus stop in a sec. Don't know if it was me smiling like that at her 'passion crime' that made her do so, or she just felt like what she wanted to do was done. Anyway she made me smile for a long while.

the Sandman

This I've told my best friend (a Norwegian guy), and he said he was quite sure it was so in his friendly cynical way, and that I might earn a lot with this story, suppose I'd find the right publisher. Well, this doesn't matter - apart from the fact that it means he can tolerate me this much -, but it is important to me like it's been a big help any time before whenever I was reading about the Dreamlord and his family. Now and then I thought it was easier to read these comic books than other books, and that was the reason why I read them again and again. But reconsidering it, it was easier to take life as it came, in their reflection.

So, I have just finished reading the Sandman comic series again, much of it still on my mind. And one day soon afterwards, while we were playing yatzi (a Norwegian name for dice poker game) with my Mom, I turned on the radio, and they were talking about the Sandman, and that the next folk song would be about him, played by a Norwegian band.
Then the next day when getting a bit bored by a long book, I switched back to a Norwegian short story that was left unread from a collection I'd started before. And there you go, one of the two main characters, who was going mad, mentioned the Sandman by different names (Norwegian, Danish, and German) as he couldn't fall asleep, and wished so much he finally was able to.
Then one night soon I couldn't fall asleep and when I finally was halfway toward it, it suddenly came to me that the big white face with empty eyes like an ancient Roman statue that I'd seen as a child, and which was covering the door of my bedroom, after I woke from a nightmare where evil witches were trying to destroy me, could easily be the face of Dream himself. As it was not evil in any case - I can still recall this -, but more like staring at me or more like through me or maybe into me, with his great big wondering eyes, and still standing there like a protection filling the gap of the entrance, and not going away even after I'd closed and opened my eyes several times, and my Mom was already sitting by my side trying to console me.

And so I recall all the dreams and daydreams whether about future plans or simply wondering through possibilities and wishes. I remember Death, too, calling in one night when I was still not ten or maybe just reached that age, and I couldn't handle her message, or the other way around, I knew very well the meaning of it, but simply couldn't grasp the infinity or maybe the inevitable and final, unchangeable state it was about. I got so frightened that she left the same instance. Also the many times spent with the Lady Delirium who always helps to forget about the cruelty of this world, or doesn't she? And those heart-throbbing and heart-breaking moments when sweet Desire made me wish and then wish again that I'd never done so. Just like the several visits I received from Despair; sometimes she'd stay for months or even years, it seems, and all the inexplicable things she made me do. What would I be without them, how could I survive and accept all the things in life? It's an endless story, the very same way as they are endless. So they never leave us alone just like we need them all the time.

the end of civilization

On the train the guy sitting next to me said to his friend 'or when they were burning books...' and was thinking a few seconds while I - already feeling a bit sorry for not going on with my book that I was still reading on the underground train - felt an urge to help him out, and suggest Fahrenheit 451. However his friend said the Inquisition, and I thought, yes that was one of the many examples indeed.
Then the guy finished his sentence 'When they're burning books that's the end of civilization'. And I thought 'Look around, this is the end of it all, you can read as many books as you want, it's much closer to total control over your mind and what you're wishing for, because now they can influence you better than any time before to want what they want you to want. Instead of wishing for something you can choose free, and dream it for yourself by yourself. This is when it becomes a quasi-civilization with the fakest ever freedom you can think about.'

the free folks

I love to stand in the bus stop at night when my shift ends at ten, and feel the cool air and smell the different trees and bushes. There's a few of them around. Such a relief after having been withered all day long in the office, and trying to keep alive with the aid of fans and air-conditioning but turning them off again and again as they're not the real thing anyhow.
And when I'm waiting out there in the night I can understand why we started to fill up the darkness with funny creatures of our fantasy. One of these days or nights I thought I saw something strange walking there in between the trees. But it was only a couple looking for a place to pee or something else to do. And they didn't sound anything strange, just like people can sound... So in a way I see why some of us prefer to see different creatures instead.
But then in a few minutes I saw a shooting star crossing the velvet sky, and I felt glad again. It's more like a flash on the retina, or like a memory. It's happened and gone before you could realize it. And some say stars are distant and cold. Well, I say they can twinkle to make darkness less dull and they fall for you even if you don't wish.

and the devil may be here

Just like I don't think it does any good when people see all the shit on telly mixed together - action, comedy, horror etc. - and the commercials (well that's good for those who sell things), the same way I don't feel like working as a telephony agent does much good when you have to sound the same under all circumstances, and keep "professional" (I don't believe those who use this word too often would know what they're really talking about). It makes me, at least, feel kind of l had my holiday this year, I was paid my monthly salary so I could pay my bills, I had my days off this week, and I had my coffee in the morning. But if I'd have a bigger health issue again when it would take another few years of treatments and operations, I just don't think I'd be up for all the experimenting once more. Then I'd rather be gone for good... for better or worse haha. Or maybe it's just all the traveling to and back from work when I have way too much time, and only my own company.

a caricature

It's a funny thing, how dreams work, how your mind works. I was just thinking about this the other day. How much I love to sleep right because I can dream then. And I must admit I love my dreams to bits and pieces. Even if they're nightmares. After all it doesn't mean they become less interesting. Maybe on the contrary.
Dreams are also like a good meal or movie. You need to collect all the necessary ingredients before you get the full taste or picture. Now I'm also reading the Sandman comic books again about the Dreamlord and his adventures. That might help with the mixing of the ingredients. At least I'm sure it does influence me. Especially so, as there was a lot about a nightmare there, the Corinthian.
I visited the Leprosy Museum in Bergen about a month ago. And I was quite certain when I saw those illustrations about the patients that they would cause me nightmares. Seems like it took some time. It was only last night that there was a familiar voice in my dream, that came from a completely distorted face. It was all but a roughly scaled bulb with a hole in the middle of it for a mouth.
The funniest thing of all was that the person this voice belonged to, posted some photos on facebook about an exhibition that opened last night. I knew about the opening, but had no idea at all that this person would be there. I wasn't even thinking about her for a very very long time. So it was just as much a shock to wake from that nightmare and to recall her voice coming from that horrible thing, as to see the photos today...
I mean she was the missing link I didn't even know about. Then suddenly she was there in my dream, and so turned up in reality. I mean she's not even a friend of mine on facebook, but one of the artist's whose exhibition opened yesterday. And there are so many people in that company I know both of them from.
Why exactly her? And how come she turned up in my dream right now before I saw her photos? So peculiar.

Through your kitchen window

In the backyard I saw a grey cat prying, well-fed and healthy fur
He seemed like sinking in the lawn while trying to fade and blur
Then I discovered what he was hypnotizing, a magpie above his head
The cat took but one further step toward it, and playfully the bird fled

Del, it's okay

I haven't thought about it like that, that it only takes getting used to it. Of course, that's the way it can only go in many cases when everything else is out of your reach. Then you just have to accept what's given. Though you might feel itchy and maybe bitchy about it, but then time helps you to get over it.
Still, this condition got even the condition self worn. As she put it "You don't want my name. Trust me. You really don't. Sometimes I don't want my name. And I'm sort of used to it by now." And how much time it took for Delirium to get accustomed to not being Delight anymore? How much can it hurt to make you feel you're not hurt anymore?
Then you can't think anymore. Or maybe you just don't want to. Don't want to think or remember. Because it doesn't help. Also, you feel free to feel okay then. You can have some moments of fun. Oblivious, yet being yourself more than ever before. This might not free you completely, but can make you believe it momentarily.

the Almighty's mouth

Which is best? Doing your job as good as you can, behaving yourself, and being friendly, so you show an example, a way for those around you. Assuming this way they can be happy or feel good. Or just being and letting them be. Maybe reading their optional futures in the cards, the tea leaves, whatever. Or pursuing to convince them one way or another to follow someone else's example. By giving them an example through your own life that's supposed to reflect for instance, God's life when He walked this Earth.
These are different ways which also leaves you feeling differently when you don't seem to succeed. When your colleagues, neighbors, family members or the people whom you believed to be your friends let you down. Even when you've tried to give them your best, doesn't matter based on what conviction. Maybe you did so simply because you saw they had a troubled time, and wanted to cheer them up. But you can't always succeed. Yet you can always try.

the Almighty's ear

Some days ago while hitting the tube my good old paranoia hit back suddenly. It's an overwhelming feeling that others can read my mind. Not because they care and are interested, but maybe for the simple reason that all of our minds are in common use. So in a way it would be the same how those creatures in the Bodysnatchers movie communicated. However in our case there could be some truth in this, after all we're all connected with each other somehow, and also with the Creator of all things. And just thinking about how He might feel hearing our thoughts all the time... Now that was a rather saddening and sobering revelation.

jitters

When you're told something will happen, but no time
does it mean then that it will happen in no time?
And when you can't help feeling that you have no time,
just watch a movie and note I'm changing the title :o)

Je repars à zéro

Long long years can pass

before you turn back to something

Then you reach for a compass

made of your own memories

("je m'en fous" pour le chien)