torsdag 15. oktober 2009

In my life
why do I smile
at people who I'd much rather kick in the eye

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
but heaven knows I'm miserable now

søndag 27. september 2009

mandag 14. september 2009

mandag 9. mars 2009

thursday, january 29th

i've been feeding my mom's friend's cat for about three days. her friend is out of town, so he is paying me to do this. today, while i was walking on the little path that leads to his house, i was listening to neil young. i was wearing my grandpa's knitted sweater, my uncle's red scarf and my big brother's black leather backpack. the snow had left the ground, my shoes were dry. the grass straws cracked as i walked over them. the weather was too good to be in the end of january. when i got to the house i had to stop. i got a really great feeling, just looking at it. i've been there many times before, but this time it was different, there was nobody there but me. the house has plants growing on the wall, all the way up to the top windows on the third floor. a big, blue wooden door, with concrete stairs leading up to it. the white paint is starting to peel off the walls. the garden so sealed from the rest of the neighbourhood, with naked apple trees that had been covered with snow all winter. i went inside, where the cat was waiting for me. i filled up his plate of food, and his water bowl too. i walked into the livingroom, filled with almost nothing but books and old records. the cat followed me with his eyes, while i looked around, took out some of the albums and put them back again.
i went outside, and locked the door. i walked through the garden, and sat down on the top of this hill that was there. i lit a cigarette. this is the house i want to live in, i thought. when i grow old. with a grey cat, old records and a winecellar, i could sleep, read, listen and grow old there. maybe even try writing something.
then i thought of you. and how i'd like to take you there, and show you the garden, the trees and the cat. and i thought of how you would probably like it too, and that you would agree. and that we would sit down on the top of the hill, in the garden, and share a cigarette, while talking about the records we would play, the wine we would drink, the things we would do.

mandag 9. februar 2009

memory

a lot of the time when i'm walking somewhere or when i'm just waiting for someone, i'll see something and i get all these ideas in my head. for example, it will start snowing, or the clouds will float away from the moon just as i am watching. a lot of the time it's words, sometimes drawings too. it really bugs me, because when i get home, i can't seem to remember what i was thinking. and even if i do remember, i can't really seem to get it on paper the way i want to. it just sounds stupid, although in my mind it seems okay. i guess i'll just have to try enjoying the things that happen when they happen. maybe it's a good thing that i'm not able to put it into exact words. the moon is always going to be beautiful to me, so i guess it doesn't really matter if i write it down. i guess i just feel the need to express it, or save it somewhere, it would be terrible to forget.

søndag 1. februar 2009

writings

tommorow i'll wake up with a vocabulary and knowledge of the things that appeal to you, the things that you like, the things that you want me to talk to you about, the things i want to talk to you about as well. still i can never know it by heart. i will always need some kind of script to cheat with, it seems like i can never be what you want me to be. still, i had a dream about you last night, you walked in to the party i was at. i sat there drinking my wine quietly. when i saw you, you did not see me, so i pretended i did not see you either. but i did. and then i woke up, in my friends room, lying on a matress on the floor. warm by the dream of you, cold because i knew it would never come true.