Fragments of the author's conscious mind in the past quarter of a century II
*brosir* Það er alveg ótrúlegt að vera kominn hingað aftur. Stundum líður mér eins og ég hafi aldrei farið. . þegar maður situr hérna virðist manni, já, ég veit það ekki, eins og fortíðin hér og nútíminn, við. . hérna. . núna, renni saman – tveir angar mismunandi tíma teygi sig yfir allt sem á milli er, og sameinist. . hylji millitíðina. Þetta er bara alveg ótrúlegt.
- Manstu, sumar nætur gátum við ekki sofið, og læddumst hingað niður. Settumst á gólfið, hérna einmitt, og horfðum út um glerið. Út á vatnið. Manstu ekki.
* Jú. Ég man samt ekki hvenær eða hvers vegna við byrjuðum á því. Hvernig okkur datt í hug að þetta myndi vera eitthvað sem við hefðum gaman af.
- Nei, það er rétt. Ég man það ekki heldur. Við gerðum þetta samt. Oft tvær eða þrjár nætur í röð. Við áttum svo ekki í nokkrum erfiðleikum með að sofna eftir að við fórum aftur upp. Við sofnuðum meira að segja nokkrum sinnum hérna niðri, á gólfinu.
*hlær* Ég man líka tilfinninguna. Við sögðum ekki orð, bara sátum og störðum. Þessi algjöra þögn.
- Nema hvað stundum gátum við heyrt hina strákana bylta sér í rúmunum fyrir ofan.
* Ég öfundaði alltaf Benóný af því að vera í herberginu sem sneri að vatninu. Hann hefði getað gert það sama og við í sínu svefnleysi, nema hvað hann gat setið í rúminu, vafinn í sængina, og bara horft út um gluggann sinn.
- Ég hefði samt ekki viljað sleppa því að læðast niður. Það fól í sér ákveðið ævintýri fyrir mann.
* Og vatnið er þarna enn. Jafn fallegt og það hefur nokkru sinni verið. Ég saknaði þess alltaf. Alveg frá því að ég fór héðan hið fyrsta sinni.
- Dreymir þig það stundum?
* Stundum. En oftar hugsa ég um það á vökunóttum. Það er líka oft sem ég ligg með opin augun í rúminu, og læt hugann reika til tímanna hér. Ég rifja upp leikina, dagsverkin, og matartímana. Ég hugsa um fóstruna, og ykkur strákana. Stundum, milli svefns og vöku, lét ég mér meira að segja detta í hug að drífa mig hingað uppeftir, og þá væruð þið allir hér enn. Óbreyttir. Ennþá munaðarlausir litlir strákar sem lékuð ykkur saman við vatnið. Þið kæmuð hlaupandi á móti mér, og fögnuðuð mér. Þið mynduð allir hafa munað eftir mér, saknað mín. Og ég myndi setjast hér að, gerast vinnumaður fóstru. Búa hér, með ykkur. Allt eins og það var. Fáránlegt.
- Nei. Ég myndi frekar segja skiljanlegt. Allar mínar bestu minningar eru héðan.
* Dreymir þig vatnið?
- Mig dreymir þetta. Þöglu stundirnar með þér, starandi út á vatnið.
*lítur á hann* Er það?
- Já, mjög oft. Hérna leið mér best. Stundum vonaði ég að við næðum ekki að sofna, svo við myndum læðast saman niður. Oft hélt ég mér vakandi, og vonaði og vonaði að þú myndir rísa úr rekkju og koma að rúminu mínu til að sjá hvort ég væri sofandi. En oft heyrði ég að þú sofnaðir, heyrði það á andardrættinum. Fólk andar á ákveðinn hátt þegar það sefur. Reglulegri andardrættir, og ákveðnari. Ég heyrði það alltaf strax. Þá lá ég oftast svefnlaus í töluverðan tíma áður en ég sofnaði loks líka. En ég fór aldrei einn hingað niður. Ég vildi alltaf hafa þig með mér. Ég held ég hafi alltaf saknað þín mest. Meira en hinna. Og vatnsins. Þú varst besti vinur minn. Og sennilega sá vinur minn sem hefur gert hvað mest fyrir mig, bara með því að vera til staðar í minningunni. Kannski gerir fjarlægðin fjöllin eitthvað blárri en þau eru, en minningarnar um okkur hafa alltaf borið með sér einhvern óhlutlægan læknamátt.
* Við deildum náttúrulega ansi sérstökum tímum hérna. Öll dvölin er sveipuð miklum tilfinningum. Söknuði, gleði, von, björgun – að ekki sé minnst á tilfinninguna sem fylgdi því að vera á endanum slitinn burt frá ykkur og húsinu, og vatninu. Samband okkar strákanna hvor við annan einkenndist að sjálfsögðu af huggun. Við höfðum allir misst, og fundið heimili á ný. Fjölskyldu. Hvor í öðrum – og fóstru, og bóndanum. Auðvitað hlýtur minningin um kærleikann hér að fylla brjóst manns af góðum tilfinningum. Líkt og draumur.
Sálarflötur minn er jafn grár og sléttur og þessi gata fyrir neðan mig. Búið að malbika yfir allt sem gerði hann áhugaverðan. Ég hef engan karakter lengur, mér þykir ekki vænt um neitt, ég hef engar skoðanir, mér finnst yfirhöfuð ekki neitt.
Stundum sit ég og allt virðist umvefjast þoku. Fólkið sem fer hjá allt í kringum mig verður andlitslaust, og nær útlimalaust. Svífur hjá eins og vofur. Fer hvergi, svífur bara um, stefnulaust. Öll hreyfing verður óraunveruleg á þennan hátt. Þetta er ekki eins og í draumi, því í draumum mínum er allt raunverulegra. Í draumunum er heimurinn eðlilegur. Í draumum er ég sá sem ég vil vera. Strákurinn í næsta húsi. Þessi með pabbann sem fer í vinnuna eldsnemma á morgnana og kemur heim fyrir mat. Og mömmuna sem vinnur úti hálfan daginn en kemur heim rétt eftir að ég er kominn úr skólanum. Þar á ég systkini, eitt lítið, eitt eldra. Við erum fjölskyldan sem fer ekkert fyrir sökum hversu eðlileg við erum.
Þannig er draumurinn. En í veruleikanum er ég úrhrak. Lítið fífl sem veit ekkert. .
Ég á ekkert. Ég fer ekkert, en er á sama tíma hvergi. Ég vil ekkert. Ég kann ekkert. Meira að segja bekkurinn sem ég sit á skammast sín fyrir það. Þó svo að útlimalausu vofurnar í kringum mig virðist ekki gera neitt, nema svífa stefnulaust, þá er ég viss um að þær hljóti að fara lengra en ég. Að þær geri meira en ég. Að heimurinn hafi meiri not, og sé stoltari, af þeim en mér. Ég sinni ekki því sem heimurinn þarf því ég veit ekki einu sinni hvað það er sem heimurinn þarf. Ég hlýt að lifa eins og sníkjudýr á heiminum, því ég anda að mér súrefni hans og drekk vatnið hans, en er bara til og gef ekkert á móti. Ég er vanþakkláti ormurinn þó svo að það sé alls ekki það sem ég vil vera.
En ég er áttalaus, kunnáttulaus, tilgangslaus. Ég reyni að finnast ég ekki bera ábyrgð á þeim mistökum sem tilvera mín hlýtur að vera – en það reynist mér erfitt.
Ætli þetta verði ekki óskipulegust[u skrif] sem þú munt nokkru sinni lesa. Ég komst að þeirri niðurstöðu, þegar ég velti fyrir mér hvernig ég færi að því að hrinda [þessu] af stað, að best væri að leyfa sér að rita [þetta] í afar frjálsu tjáningarflæði, og að í gegnum þessa fyrstu tilraun næði ég svo fullkominni stjórn á pennanum – yrði fær um að skipuleggja skrif mín betur eftir að hafa upplifað vinnuna við heilsteypt verk.
20. október.
Ég sit í kofanum þar sem ég dvel meðan á námskeiðinu stendur. Ég sit við borð sem svo hugvitssamlega hefur verið komið fyrir við gluggann, sem snýr í átt að ánni – sem virðist renna í gegnum Hellu. Ég er alveg á árbakkanum. Stórkostlegt. Hefði vart getað hlotið betri dvalarstað. Það er ekki nóg með að áin sé í sjálfri sér gullfalleg – heldur vill svo til að veðurfar og loftslag gerir það að verkum að dalalæða svífur yfir ánni. Það er lág þoka. Silkislæða yfir svæðinu. Ég elska andrúmsloftið sem skapast. Blankalogn, svalt í lofti, og þoka sem nemur við jörð. Stillt eins og nóttin.
Ég reyni að henda reiður á eitthvað eitt einstakt atriði sem ég get svo tekið fyrir – en mér reynist það erfitt. Líkt og ég geti ekki nálgast upplýsingarnar í augnablikinu. Kannski þokan úti fyrir hafi smeygt sér inn um eyrun mín og kastað móðu yfir hugsanirnar.
Minn eigin skilningur á kenningunum er góður – hárfínn. Inni í mér líður mér eins og ég muni ekki eiga í vandræðum með að tileinka mér þær. Ég bara kem þeim ekki í orð. Það er of margt, of mikið. Ég vil skrifa, tjá mig – túlka skilning minn í eigin orðum og deila honum með öðrum. En eitthvað hindrar mig í að beita huganum hnitmiðað.
En leiðinlegt – þokan hefur gufað upp. Breytt um form. Hún er alla veganna horfin. Og mér þykir það miður.
Kæra frænka.
Samkvæmt minningum mínum, en þær eru allt er ég get reitt mig á að hafi skrásett fortíð mína rétt, var alltaf mikið ævintýri að gista heima hjá þér í æsku. Og ævintýrið heldur áfram. Í dag kitlarðu þolinmæði manns með aggressívum athugasemdum, ögrar manni með rökföstum skoðunum, og kórónar samræður með síðasta orðinu.
Stefna kvöldsins:
Kynda undir þann loga er fyrir flöktir
Vera sjálfur samkvæmur mér sjálfum
Opna mig og bjóða innfyrir
Taka því sem mér er fært sem gjöf
Storka óöryggi með einlægni
---
Gagnvart viðkomandi:
Kasta ljósunum á svið það sem gerir fært
Að leika mann sjálfan
Og leiða uppklappið
Ég hef ákveðið að fagna nærsýninni. Það hjálpar mér að hluta til við að sætta mig við heildarhlutskipti mitt, en sú er ekki ástæðan ein og sér. Nærsýnin er hjálpartæki. Meðfætt hjálpartæki. Náðargjöf örlátra gena gallaðra foreldra. Það tók tíma að læra að beisla eiginleikann sem gjöf, og nýta mér hann á jákvæðan og uppbyggjandi hátt – en það tókst. Nærsýnin hjálpar mér við skriftirnar. Hún auðveldar einbeitingu. Hún leysir upp skarpleika og útlínur andlitanna kringum mig, og þar af leiðir að þau verða óraunverulegri. Fólk verður að skrípafígúrum, og ég hætti að taka það alvarlega. Þá hættir það að búa yfir þeim mætti að trufla mig, ég leiði það hjá mér með nánast engum herkjum. Ég er slíkt ofurmenni með þennan hæfileika, því aðeins ofurmenni geta með hugarorkunni leyst upp lífræna hluti. Vald mitt er ótvírætt!
If you lack life force – daimoku; if you lack clarity – gongyo; if you lack conviction – study; and if you lack joy – teach others.
“Að biðja Gohonzon afsökunar á því að hafa rógborið Lögmálið með fylgni við óæðri kenningar er upphafspunktur þess að rétta af lífsástand þitt.”
..Herra Tsuji
“Einlæg iðrun mun jafnvel uppræta hið harðgerðasta karma, að ekki sé minnst á hið lausgerðara”.
..Nichiren Daishonin
17.09.02.
Ég hef aldrei verið nógu fær í dagbókarskrifum, þrátt fyrir að vera þrusufær í að skrifa nær hvað sem er annað. . svo lengi sem ég er ekki að reyna að ramma inn raunveruleikann að þá stoppar penninn ekki. Sennilega eru það fordómar í mér gagnvart raunverunni, en mér finnst hún ekki nógsamlega spennandi – nema þá kannski á þeim tímabeltum í lífinu þegar maður er ástfanginn, eða sorgmæddur sökum mikils missis. Þá opnast einhverjar flóðgáttir og maður getur endalaust blásið rituðum orðum sínum lifandi tilfinningar í brjóst – að er virðist.
Já maður. . en, þar sem að þetta er mjög sniðug hugmynd að þá get ég varla látið vera að eiga hlut í heildinni, þannig að ég ætla að reyna að koma einhverju raunverulegu í orð.
Í dag líður mér einsog ég sé ekki á leiðinni neitt. Ég vakna á morgnana, og það tekur mig óratíma að slefast á lappir. . dagurinn hefst vart fyrren á hádegi. Svo sinni ég skyldum dagsins, og enda daginn uppi í rúmi, nær engu ríkari og lífmagnsvolti fátækari. Ég hef engan titil, enga stefnu; týndur í hnausþykkum gráleitum hversdagsgraut.
Hvernig stoppar maður svona ósjálfrátt flæði, og fer að hafa áhrif á það hvar maður er staddur? Einhvern veginn hlýt ég þó að bera ábyrgð á stöðu minni í dag. . þær afleiðingar sem ég lifi eru af eigin orsökum í fortíðarmókinu einhvers staðar, ekki satt? Vænlegasta lausnin er þá líklega sú að einbeita mér að orsökum dagsins í dag. . því afleiðingar þeirra hlýt ég þá að lifa í framtíðinni.
Já, þetta er skynsamlegt: góðar orsakir í dag, góðar orsakir núna!
..æ ég vona bara að afleiðingarnar séu ekki lengi að koma fram. Annars morkna ég úr tilgangsleysi. .
25.10.02.
Einhvern tímann minntist ég á að tilveran væri sjaldan jafn spennandi og þegar maður er ástfanginn. . þetta er afar rómantízk hugmynd, og þegar maður segir þetta að þá virkar þetta mjög jákvætt. En því miður eru víst fleiri hliðar en ein á öllum málum – og þá ekki síst tilfinningamálum.
Það er t.d. hægt að uppgötva of seint að maður sé ástfanginn, og því fylgir nær óbærilegur sársauki. Kannski upplifði ég þessa krísu vegna þess að ég hafði aldrei þekkt ástin áður? Ég taldi mig hafa kynnst henni. . ég var þess fullviss. En svo hittir maður persónu sem kemur eihverju annarlegu af stað inni í manni. . maður fyllist óöryggi, en samt gleði, maður er þakklátur, en samt er maður ekki tilbúinn að höndla allt sem gjöfinni fylgir; maður klúðrar því á sama tíma og maður telur sig vera að gera rétt. . þegar svo er unnið úr tilfinningaflækjunni kemur í ljós að það sem maður kastaði frá sér var það sem maður þráði mezt. .
og ef maður í örvæntingu sinni hleypur til og reynir að laga það sem maður skemmdi, er það að sjálfsögðu of seint!
Er þetta ekki lögmál þess að lifa?
To whom it concerns.
[ ... ] I have read considerably about Jacques Lecoq’s work, and about the training offered at your school. It so happens that the ETA programme at Rose Bruford College, a demanding physical theatre programme, is partly influenced by mr. Lecoq’s methods. On the ETA course we intensely study the methodologies and theories of the influential European practitioners; these include Lecoq, Grotowski, Artaud, Brecht, Stanislavski, Barba, and Staniewski. We get the chance to discover within ourselves which methods we want to look at in depth, and develop our own philosophies of theatre.
I want to benefit greatly from my European placement next year, and I know that the work done at the International Theatre School is the sort of work I want to learn more about. This is why I am taking a chance to write you this request.
I am extremely committed, and driven by a deep passion for theatre. I am punctual and hard-working. I do not speak French, but I am unafraid to declare that if the International Theatre School would be willing to allow me to join their programme for three months, on the condition I could understand French, I would make every effort to learn the language to any possible extent before January.
If required I can provide excellent recommendations from my teachers at Rose Bruford College, and/or from other people I have worked with.
I realize that the International Theatre School does not share an exchange agreement with Rose Bruford College, and I should inform you that I am contacting you out of my own initiative. I believe anything is worth a try, and since this could be a great opportunity for me, I want to rather have sent you this request, than forever silently wonder what your response might have been.
With my deep respect. .
In this essay I will look at Lorca’s El Público, and discuss how through the creation of a surrealistic world, its characters, and a practical approach to it in the theatre, we are able to touch on an abstract reality, that may in fact be truer than our rational perception of reality. I will begin by looking at some of the characters [ ... ]
To elaborate on the idea of surrealism, the English-Icelandic Encyclopaedic Dictionary explains it as being a form in art and literature, owing some influence to Sigmund Freud’s (1856-1939) psychoanalytic theories, which draws on the sub-conscious (dreams as an example) and expresses it with eccentric shapes that may not be set up in a rational context.
What we see, or read, in El Público are layers of personal metaphors. Lorca is expressing something, and obviously we may not be able to understand everything he was thinking at each moment of writing the play. We see only the signifiers he decided to leave us with [ ... ]
[B]y applying the surrealistic form, and giving his sub-conscious and emotive associations shape in his play, Lorca allows us to connect with him on an immediate level. By making our own sub-conscious associations to his depicted signifiers, discarding logic for immediacy, we meet Lorca in that sphere of mystery. A dimension of true humanity, of a universal identity that can not be rationalized.
..k(elskar)H
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Life is beautiful.
Being at home is so important for my well-being.
I have been able to meet and spend time with many of the most important people in my life, and have also been lucky enough to meet and enjoy time with my extended circle of amazing friends and wonderful new acquaintances.
I should be spending more time studying, doing work for Uni
Fuck it
I don't care all too much
I care more about time with the people
I will leave some time for study
but it can not
under any circumstances
take too much of the time I have away.
This may be corny stuff to read
Perhaps I might interest my readers in some highlights
Where I've been and what I've done
I started this life-saving holiday off
by being picked up from the airport by my best friend
We then went off together to a concert
along with one of the gems that have entered my life this year
The concert was beyond words
such a beautiful couple of hours
Antony and the Johnsons
in an intimate venue
with these great people
WoW
Later that night
my very first night here
(what a beginning)
I ran into the arms of my boyfriend
a moment that I had anticipated for so long
And in his arms I have pretty much stayed
ever since
I was reunited with my little daughter
she's a 3 year old angel
from which I have been separated the bigger part of each year
since her birth
by the Atlantic
My best friendess graduated
I am very proud of her
she stands at cross-roads
a feeling I know all too well right now
I have spent some time at my favourite cafè
always feels good to return there
share a cup of coffee or chai with friends
and see the familiar faces
and feel the familiar atmosphere
That blessed cafè is my only real incentive
for study
it is my place of study as it functions to attract me
Then, just yesternight, I partook
in a sweat-loss ceremony
I do this as often as I can
every time I am here
It was wonderful
a cleansing of mind and body
a session of prayer
a return to the womb of the Earth
giving oneself to the Earth
and breathing nature's fire into one's body
is like nothing else
I love it
I crave it
There were moments of total and utter peace
during the sweat-loss
when I just lay there in Earth's embrace
exhausted but oh so happy
and felt overwhelmed by my life
how lucky I am
how protected
how full of life-force
how important my life is
filled with friends
filled with family
filled with hope
filled with passion
loved
in love
happy
calm,
..k+H
Being at home is so important for my well-being.
I have been able to meet and spend time with many of the most important people in my life, and have also been lucky enough to meet and enjoy time with my extended circle of amazing friends and wonderful new acquaintances.
I should be spending more time studying, doing work for Uni
Fuck it
I don't care all too much
I care more about time with the people
I will leave some time for study
but it can not
under any circumstances
take too much of the time I have away.
This may be corny stuff to read
Perhaps I might interest my readers in some highlights
Where I've been and what I've done
I started this life-saving holiday off
by being picked up from the airport by my best friend
We then went off together to a concert
along with one of the gems that have entered my life this year
The concert was beyond words
such a beautiful couple of hours
Antony and the Johnsons
in an intimate venue
with these great people
WoW
Later that night
my very first night here
(what a beginning)
I ran into the arms of my boyfriend
a moment that I had anticipated for so long
And in his arms I have pretty much stayed
ever since
I was reunited with my little daughter
she's a 3 year old angel
from which I have been separated the bigger part of each year
since her birth
by the Atlantic
My best friendess graduated
I am very proud of her
she stands at cross-roads
a feeling I know all too well right now
I have spent some time at my favourite cafè
always feels good to return there
share a cup of coffee or chai with friends
and see the familiar faces
and feel the familiar atmosphere
That blessed cafè is my only real incentive
for study
it is my place of study as it functions to attract me
Then, just yesternight, I partook
in a sweat-loss ceremony
I do this as often as I can
every time I am here
It was wonderful
a cleansing of mind and body
a session of prayer
a return to the womb of the Earth
giving oneself to the Earth
and breathing nature's fire into one's body
is like nothing else
I love it
I crave it
There were moments of total and utter peace
during the sweat-loss
when I just lay there in Earth's embrace
exhausted but oh so happy
and felt overwhelmed by my life
how lucky I am
how protected
how full of life-force
how important my life is
filled with friends
filled with family
filled with hope
filled with passion
loved
in love
happy
calm,
..k+H
Friday, December 09, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
YAY! this is fun..
a drunken entry
Just came home from a wild party..
well, wild .. at least festive
It was great
Me partying away with my classmates whom I won't get to party with for a while now
coz I'm a going home baby!
which is fantabulous .. I'd discard partying any day for going home
But tonight was great fun
Fancy dress party -
which in English refers to wearing costume
- I'm not too fond of that sort of party to be honest
Why? you ask..
nosy bastard
what's it to you anyway
Well it's coz I am relaxed
and hate making a fuss about general partying
I just wanna be able to show up
as I'm dressed
with a bottle of whatever and party away
which I sort of did tonight
I haven't a collection of costumes
but it so happened I had a couple of items from the performance of next week
my freaky eyes
and my make-up-for-teeth
and this is what I put on
as well as a tight t-shirt (my trademark) as it suits me
A drunken me is a rather affectionate me
and I enjoy it
As generally my affectionate side is only drawn forth by certain individuals
with whom my love I share whether sober or drunk
but
unhealthy as it may be
for a lot of others my affection doesn't come as easily
and alcohol seems to set that side of me free
it's a side of me I enjoy
which I wish was more present
more often
So tonight I shared my affection
told my friends what they meant to me
hugged
kissed
complimented
and then I did all that
once again
with meaning
It feels good
I'm glad for it
Coz in turn
the others
open up
as well
Great fun
I'm knackered
and drunk
and vulnerable
'tis only 6 days away now
less than a week
Homeward bound
and gagged,
..kH
a drunken entry
Just came home from a wild party..
well, wild .. at least festive
It was great
Me partying away with my classmates whom I won't get to party with for a while now
coz I'm a going home baby!
which is fantabulous .. I'd discard partying any day for going home
But tonight was great fun
Fancy dress party -
which in English refers to wearing costume
- I'm not too fond of that sort of party to be honest
Why? you ask..
nosy bastard
what's it to you anyway
Well it's coz I am relaxed
and hate making a fuss about general partying
I just wanna be able to show up
as I'm dressed
with a bottle of whatever and party away
which I sort of did tonight
I haven't a collection of costumes
but it so happened I had a couple of items from the performance of next week
my freaky eyes
and my make-up-for-teeth
and this is what I put on
as well as a tight t-shirt (my trademark) as it suits me
A drunken me is a rather affectionate me
and I enjoy it
As generally my affectionate side is only drawn forth by certain individuals
with whom my love I share whether sober or drunk
but
unhealthy as it may be
for a lot of others my affection doesn't come as easily
and alcohol seems to set that side of me free
it's a side of me I enjoy
which I wish was more present
more often
So tonight I shared my affection
told my friends what they meant to me
hugged
kissed
complimented
and then I did all that
once again
with meaning
It feels good
I'm glad for it
Coz in turn
the others
open up
as well
Great fun
I'm knackered
and drunk
and vulnerable
'tis only 6 days away now
less than a week
Homeward bound
and gagged,
..kH
Monday, November 28, 2005
Busy at Uni
and when I'm online I spend that time chatting
time flies - I'm loving it
This is my second to last week of term
Full-time attendance and availability is the demand these days
Which basically means I am at Uni all day
every day
even Saturdays
Our productions are developing sufficiently
It is interesting that we are working with such a free structure that rehearsals almost feel wishy-washy
that something is always missing
and there is an essential element missing
the audience
for the form we work with the audience is central
Full force will only kick in in performance
So much awaits me at home
so much to look forward to
so much
Will be doing no work apart from schoolwork during Christmas break
all my time devoted to the things I look forward to
my family
my friends
my schoolwork
and
my incredible lover !
So much to look forward to
so much
'tis only 12 days away
'tis only 12
'tis,
..kH
and when I'm online I spend that time chatting
time flies - I'm loving it
This is my second to last week of term
Full-time attendance and availability is the demand these days
Which basically means I am at Uni all day
every day
even Saturdays
Our productions are developing sufficiently
It is interesting that we are working with such a free structure that rehearsals almost feel wishy-washy
that something is always missing
and there is an essential element missing
the audience
for the form we work with the audience is central
Full force will only kick in in performance
So much awaits me at home
so much to look forward to
so much
Will be doing no work apart from schoolwork during Christmas break
all my time devoted to the things I look forward to
my family
my friends
my schoolwork
and
my incredible lover !
So much to look forward to
so much
'tis only 12 days away
'tis only 12
'tis,
..kH
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Hello everyone
Was browsing the Internet and stumbled upon my b*log
Thought: Why not give it a bit of substance
Hasn't been fed in a few days
My poor malnourished b*log
I am so happy
I'm shining like the sun
Had such a great night
Recharged my fading batteries
Fully charged again
This might end up being the best weekend I have had this winter
It surely is up there in the top 3 already
The magic of loving someone
..kH
Was browsing the Internet and stumbled upon my b*log
Thought: Why not give it a bit of substance
Hasn't been fed in a few days
My poor malnourished b*log
I am so happy
I'm shining like the sun
Had such a great night
Recharged my fading batteries
Fully charged again
This might end up being the best weekend I have had this winter
It surely is up there in the top 3 already
The magic of loving someone
..kH
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Long time no b*log
Time is flying thank goodness and kindness and different positives
But on the same note the stuff that I anticipate passes quickly too
I waited ages for yesterday night
and it passed in a flash of 3 hours.
I can't wait for next week
but that will pass as well in a flash of a few days.
I can't wait for Christmas break
even that will pass in a flash of a few weeks.
Can I slow my lifepace down when I want to
and speed it up as needed
Can I reserve the right to do that please.
Can moments and a precious few hours be frozen
please
can it
please
pretty please.
If there can indeed be a Daylight Saving Time
can there not also be a Joyous Moments Preservation Time
eh
huh
can't there
eh
*sips peppermint tea*
For class yesterday we had to individually prepare short pieces devised around the notion of love.
That's mine pretty much :
Three chairs. A table.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is holding hands in bouncing castles.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is choosing to commit.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is to need someone as much as you need your air.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is running toward each other in big fields.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is meeting mid-way, compromising.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is owning someone, to be unleavable.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is knowing! the first time you look at someone.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is when you've gotten to know someone very well, and trusting with all your heart.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is being desired to the point of total submission before one's feet.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is cruising on a boat in Venice.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is discovering that Venice is actually quite filthy, and not caring coz you laugh at it together.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is fucking someone so hard that you forget you're anywhere else but in their body.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is forever!
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is not limited to any one, but can extend to a few people at any one time.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is physical, it's appetite!
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is that only one!
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is hard work, with wonderful rewards.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is a fucking mess.
kH rises. Moves to front of table. Speaks > Of course my love is infinite and extends to you all. However, time is not infinite and thus I will randomly draw a name from this jar, a name of one of you with whom I will share a piece of my profound love.
kH draws a name from jar. Speaks > Would . . . approach the table please.
kH shares a piece of his profound love with . . .
END
From Sidcup with love,
..kH
Time is flying thank goodness and kindness and different positives
But on the same note the stuff that I anticipate passes quickly too
I waited ages for yesterday night
and it passed in a flash of 3 hours.
I can't wait for next week
but that will pass as well in a flash of a few days.
I can't wait for Christmas break
even that will pass in a flash of a few weeks.
Can I slow my lifepace down when I want to
and speed it up as needed
Can I reserve the right to do that please.
Can moments and a precious few hours be frozen
please
can it
please
pretty please.
If there can indeed be a Daylight Saving Time
can there not also be a Joyous Moments Preservation Time
eh
huh
can't there
eh
*sips peppermint tea*
For class yesterday we had to individually prepare short pieces devised around the notion of love.
That's mine pretty much :
Three chairs. A table.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is holding hands in bouncing castles.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is choosing to commit.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is to need someone as much as you need your air.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is running toward each other in big fields.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is meeting mid-way, compromising.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is owning someone, to be unleavable.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is knowing! the first time you look at someone.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is when you've gotten to know someone very well, and trusting with all your heart.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is being desired to the point of total submission before one's feet.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is cruising on a boat in Venice.
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is discovering that Venice is actually quite filthy, and not caring coz you laugh at it together.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is fucking someone so hard that you forget you're anywhere else but in their body.
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is forever!
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is not limited to any one, but can extend to a few people at any one time.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is physical, it's appetite!
kH sits on chair ONE. Speaks > LOVE is that only one!
kH sits on chair TWO. Speaks > LOVE is hard work, with wonderful rewards.
kH sits on chair THREE. Speaks > LOVE is a fucking mess.
kH rises. Moves to front of table. Speaks > Of course my love is infinite and extends to you all. However, time is not infinite and thus I will randomly draw a name from this jar, a name of one of you with whom I will share a piece of my profound love.
kH draws a name from jar. Speaks > Would . . . approach the table please.
kH shares a piece of his profound love with . . .
END
From Sidcup with love,
..kH
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Leave your name and
1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavour of Jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first/dearest memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
If I do this for you, you must post this on your b*log or journal.
1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavour of Jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first/dearest memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
If I do this for you, you must post this on your b*log or journal.
I made a decision tonight.
Was drinking some Rosè
contemplating.
B*logs will become important
historical
documents
for future generations
I believe
so b*loggers go on!
keep at it!
no matter how mundane
no matter how personal
no matter how trivial
keep at it
at it
The decision is this
I will start documenting my life
in letters
the truth
the whole truth
and nothing but the truth
so help me
The way I have felt things
the way I have seen things
the way I think about things
documented
in letters
hidden
away
away
until the day I
move on
die
Then the letters will be left
to whomever cares about me
the most
at that time
the truth
the whole truth
and nothing but the
so help me
I am still young
25
a perfect spot
from which to document
clearly
the earlier days
and then I will keep on
regularly
all will be documented
my people
my love
my kinky
as well as my altruistic
and my selfish
and my rational
feelings
and dreams
and thoughts
and impressions
The milestones
the touchstones
the events
the moments
the all
the everything
every
thing
A lifetime
of work
a lifetime's application
a detailed account
of the actualI
every bit
every significant
and not-so-significant
piece
of my life
This is my legacy
my all
my self
And whomever the recipient
of the document
is
will have full control
and right
over its distribution
or its demise
Interesting to start
documenting before
one's life has
reached its peak
will this document matter
will it prove important
significant
or trivial
We shall see
at the end
of the process.
Decisively,
..kH
Was drinking some Rosè
contemplating.
B*logs will become important
historical
documents
for future generations
I believe
so b*loggers go on!
keep at it!
no matter how mundane
no matter how personal
no matter how trivial
keep at it
at it
The decision is this
I will start documenting my life
in letters
the truth
the whole truth
and nothing but the truth
so help me
The way I have felt things
the way I have seen things
the way I think about things
documented
in letters
hidden
away
away
until the day I
move on
die
Then the letters will be left
to whomever cares about me
the most
at that time
the truth
the whole truth
and nothing but the
so help me
I am still young
25
a perfect spot
from which to document
clearly
the earlier days
and then I will keep on
regularly
all will be documented
my people
my love
my kinky
as well as my altruistic
and my selfish
and my rational
feelings
and dreams
and thoughts
and impressions
The milestones
the touchstones
the events
the moments
the all
the everything
every
thing
A lifetime
of work
a lifetime's application
a detailed account
of the actualI
every bit
every significant
and not-so-significant
piece
of my life
This is my legacy
my all
my self
And whomever the recipient
of the document
is
will have full control
and right
over its distribution
or its demise
Interesting to start
documenting before
one's life has
reached its peak
will this document matter
will it prove important
significant
or trivial
We shall see
at the end
of the process.
Decisively,
..kH
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Faithful readers of non-Icelandic origin
forgive me
I realize my last entry was almost entirely in Icelandic. I claim the right to do this from time to time, as it is much more natural for me, anyway, to speak and write in Icelandic, than it is for me to express myself in English. And truly, to be brutally honest, sometimes I just can't be arsed to make any communicative sequences in English. It's a great language, but it is tiring. This is true. I have now spoken English fluently for many years, and I have spent a number of years in countries where I spoke more English than my native language, and I find that an hour of speaking English is more exhausting than three hours of speaking Icelandic. I wonder why this is? What is it about the nature of these languages that explains this?
Okay, I am now officially an Apple Mac user, I proudly announce this. I am still learning and getting to know the new equipment, but it looks better and feels.. right. No idea. Maybe I've just decided to feel that way. But I chose to move from PC to Mac, for some personal reason that isn't quite clear to me.
Perhaps I have just been told too often that Mac Makes Sense, but whatever the real reason, I am happy with this.
Yes I am still at college. Why wouldn't I be? Did some of you read my mind while I had doubts?
Suddenly the college is flooded with boys and girls of the same private orientation as my own. The first two years of college it didn't really seem as if there were that many of us. This year, however, Rose Bruford College is queerer than it has been for years.
Calls for celebration, we'll party the way only WE know how to party (well, only WE and some uninhibited individuals of different orientations). Get the lights people! Here we go ..
What else.. day off today. Yay, that tickles my pickle. I'll finally have some quiet time - for homework!
Oh, and I just built a cottage in Italy. I share it with only one.
---
Now, I wanted to share the following with you. It is guidance for the day, I think it is an important encouragement:
OCTOBER 27
"Whether we regard difficulties in life as misfortunes or whether we view them as good fortune depends entirely on how much we have forged our inner determination. It all depends on our attitude or inner state of life. With a dauntless spirit, we can lead a cheerful and thoroughly enjoyable life. We can develop a "self" of such fortitude that we can look forward to life's trials and tribulations with a sense of profound elation and joy: "Come on obstacles! I've been expecting you! This is the chance that I've been waiting for!"
..Daisaku Ikeda
Preparing for A Journey Through Other Spaces,
..kH
forgive me
I realize my last entry was almost entirely in Icelandic. I claim the right to do this from time to time, as it is much more natural for me, anyway, to speak and write in Icelandic, than it is for me to express myself in English. And truly, to be brutally honest, sometimes I just can't be arsed to make any communicative sequences in English. It's a great language, but it is tiring. This is true. I have now spoken English fluently for many years, and I have spent a number of years in countries where I spoke more English than my native language, and I find that an hour of speaking English is more exhausting than three hours of speaking Icelandic. I wonder why this is? What is it about the nature of these languages that explains this?
Okay, I am now officially an Apple Mac user, I proudly announce this. I am still learning and getting to know the new equipment, but it looks better and feels.. right. No idea. Maybe I've just decided to feel that way. But I chose to move from PC to Mac, for some personal reason that isn't quite clear to me.
Perhaps I have just been told too often that Mac Makes Sense, but whatever the real reason, I am happy with this.
Yes I am still at college. Why wouldn't I be? Did some of you read my mind while I had doubts?
Suddenly the college is flooded with boys and girls of the same private orientation as my own. The first two years of college it didn't really seem as if there were that many of us. This year, however, Rose Bruford College is queerer than it has been for years.
Calls for celebration, we'll party the way only WE know how to party (well, only WE and some uninhibited individuals of different orientations). Get the lights people! Here we go ..
What else.. day off today. Yay, that tickles my pickle. I'll finally have some quiet time - for homework!
Oh, and I just built a cottage in Italy. I share it with only one.
---
Now, I wanted to share the following with you. It is guidance for the day, I think it is an important encouragement:
OCTOBER 27
"Whether we regard difficulties in life as misfortunes or whether we view them as good fortune depends entirely on how much we have forged our inner determination. It all depends on our attitude or inner state of life. With a dauntless spirit, we can lead a cheerful and thoroughly enjoyable life. We can develop a "self" of such fortitude that we can look forward to life's trials and tribulations with a sense of profound elation and joy: "Come on obstacles! I've been expecting you! This is the chance that I've been waiting for!"
..Daisaku Ikeda
Preparing for A Journey Through Other Spaces,
..kH
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Fragments of the author's conscious mind in the past quarter of a century I
Við upphaf þessarra skrifa, sit ég í upphækkuðum stól, húki yfir þeirri stóru eyðu sem þessi [skrif] mín [eru], með kertaljós í hægra horni sjónsviðs míns, og glugga við enda borðsins gegnt mér, en get ekki með nokkru einasta móti einbeitt mér. Ég veit ekki hvar hornsteinn frásagnarinnar ætti að vera; hvar hún hefst eða hvenær, eða hvernig í ósköpunum maður leggur uppí torfarinn leiðangur aftur í tímann með það fyrir augum að safna saman öllu þessu markverða sem er hvati þess að maður er að bagsa þetta, og koma því frá sér á skipulegan hátt.
Ég reyni að rifja upp atvikin, og setningarnar, og umhverfið, og um leið og ég kemst í snertingu við eitthvað af þessu fer allt að hringsnúast inní mér. Hjartað fer í hringi, hæga og óskipulega, rétt eins og það sé ölvað af tilfinningaspíra. Mér verður næstum ómótt, get í rauninni ekki greint hvort það er hjartað eða maginn sem er að snúast svona. En það er akkúrat þessi tilfinning sem verður endanlega til þess að ég er að reyna að festa söguna niður.
Þessi hringekja inní mér, sem ég á svo erfitt með að ráða við, eða koma frá mér, knýr mig til að reyna að segja frá því sem kemur henni af stað. Ef mér tekst það, ætli hún stoppi? Er það raunverulega það sem ég vil? Vil ég losna við hana, því er hún ekki sjálf staðfesting þess að sagan skiptir mig máli?
Við kynntumst fyrst í gegnum veraldarvefinn, ekki satt? Eða, nánar tiltekið, í litlum prívat heimi staðsettum á einum þræða hans. Þú varst fyrir löngu orðinn miklu færari en ég í að plokka svona þræði, og ferðast um veraldarvefinn semog aðra vefi. Þú varst orðinn mjög fimur í því, og hafðir gert þig heimakominn í öðrum heimum víðsvegar um þræði vefjarins, áður en þú steigst fyrst fæti inní heiminn okkar.
I was very happy to receive your letter, and thank you for the picture of Antony. I now have two – the first one came with the [initial] information I got about [him]. He looks like a very handsome boy, and I’m sure one could say the same of the whole family :)
Yes, I live in Iceland, a country far away from yours, and you may not even have heard much about it [ ... ] I am 20 years old, will be 21 in October [ ... ] I might even include original stories in my letters from time to time – merely for your, and hopefully the kids’, enjoyment :)
I work with kids a lot over here, I work at a mental hospital for children and adolescents [ ... ] When I heard of SOS – Kindendorf [at work], I was very interested in being a part of such a wonderful movement, and having a godchild in a foreign country surely is a rewarding experience :)
En þegar ég opna augun aftur er ekkert breytt. Við sitjum enn og kistan er á sínum stað. Ég er ennþá með óþægilegan náladofa í rassinum, og mamma rígheldur enn í hendina á mér. Hún heldur helst til of fast, og mér finnst að hún sé ekki að þessu til að hugga mig, heldur sé hún að ríghalda í það sem enn tilheyrir gamla lífinu. Það eina sem helst óbreytt.
Hún er ekkert fremur tilbúnari að takast á við þetta en ég! Ætli hún átti sig ekki á því að ég er breyttur frá því í síðustu viku, að ég tali ekki um vikuna þar á undan.
Voice over cont’d. Alex stops the car, standing on a viewpoint of the city. He makes his way into the city. Ill-shaven, depressed, has been aimlessly driving along in his convertible (Ford Mustang). Has decided to stay awhile.
What is the first thing he does in the city?
“Þér eruð stuttir í spuna
Á eftir þessu gæti fylgt heil RUNA
Af margvíslegum móðgunum – ég gef
Þér dæmi: Neih, sko þetta nef!
Hann rekur það í botn á hverjum bolla
Svo vöknar hann á nefbroddi og nösum
Hann verður að drekka úr HIMINháum glösum
Og undrandi: Nei, þetta ER ekki þúfa eða hóll
Né hæð né hnjúkur. Þetta er Tindastóll!
Hnýsinn: Hvað ætli’ann geymi inní þessum hólki?
Eitthvað sem hann leynir fyrir fólki?”
Ég sit í lest, sem liðast taktfast áfram ... lestarvagninn er tómur, ég sit hér einn, sem hæfir rólyndisstemmningunni vel. Vagninn er að einhverju leyti upplýstur, en nóttin á samt greiðan gang inn. Mér finnst hún fylla mig, ég síg ofan í sætið og ég get á einhvern dularfullan hátt fundið fyrir hverjum teininum sem lestin rennur yfir. Þá kemur vægur hnykkur, og líkami minn dansar með. Hann danglast með hverri hreyfingu vagnsins ... sem aftur skröltir í takt við alla hina vagnana sem gera hann að lest.
Svo kváðu guðir þeir:
Lát manninn skilja
Leyf ei rangra vegu villu stíga
Hald um það er lífið skóp
Virt sé hverfis-um mannsins minjar
Heiðri skal til halda
Líf sé litið ljóssins lugt
Hugum beina upp-við á
Lát sé samsté
Lát sé hópsté
Lífs ei samall-ein sté
Mánans mátann metið
Lífsljóss rótarrann
Minjahverfis neytt sé
Virt sé mannasköp
Dear Miko.
I hope this letter finds you well. I doubt this will reach you before Christmas, as I’m writing this rather late. The Postal Office declared that all packages to the western states of the U.S. had to be sent by December 7th [ ... ] I’m in bed, believe me or don’t, as I’m experiencing insomnia for the first time in a long while. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in bed a whole night without being able to fall asleep, but I tell you it’s horrible. It’s quite a torture to just lie still, trying not to think of anything [ ... ] My school is out for Christmas [ ... ] I hope I did good, at least I didn’t have much trouble with anything. . but maths. Oh, maths! Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl. Maths are, and always have been, my worst subject. And I have a great teacher too – she’s so good at maths that she has trouble explaining them [ ... ] she does not understand why we all just sit there, glass-eyed, and scratch our heads. Why are they teaching us such complicated mathematics? I mean, I was good at maths while they were normal and made sense [ ... ] But now maths have just gone insane. They’re actually teaching us how to draw and make pictures out of formulas. We get lines, and circles, and triangles, and Us. . why would you ever want to make (2x – 13) + (4x – 7) = 36 into a circle? When in life is there ever going to be an incident or a situation when this kind of knowledge is useful? Honestly! A man is dying in front of you, begging you to Heimlich the peach right out of his throat, but all you manage to accomplish is: “No, um, sorry man, I don’t know how to – but I do know how to turn a funny looking maths problem into a circle.” Yup, you’re going to be the man of the hour there. .
Ljósin kvikna
kalt herbergi
sem bráðum er hitað upp
af tuttugu smáverum
mér og ykkur
---
Ég er hér
þú ert þar
en augu okkar mætast
Ég býð þau velkomin
með sjálfkrafa gestrisni
Varir stutt
Augnabliks heimsókn er heimsókn samt
---
Við hverfum
eftir sitja lestur og hlustun
Hún er ánægð, drottningin
Við erum prúðasta hirðin
ég og þið
---
En einbeitingin flöktir
bíður annarrar heimsóknar
hundraðogáttatíu gráða snúnings
Þú ert kyrr
Smá got!
ég tísti
Augnabliks heimsókn er heimsókn samt
---
Andskotans bjallan!
Andrúmið slitnar – við birtumst
Út úr musterinu svífa
tuttugu smásálir
við og ég
---
Þú tilheyrir aldrei hópnum
svífur einn
virðir fyrir þér blómin
Ég er girtur inni
þrái að komast undan
Smá gola vindir höfði þínu við
Augnabliks heimsókn er heimsókn samt
---
Í sterkari hviðu er jörðinni þeytt undan fótum mér –
Augna – tillit
vegna bliks í laufi
þeytt heim – að dyrum
sókn í vörn
er einskis virði
Í annan heim – að bera beinin
í sókn um þráða hvíld
ligg samt með opin augun – er ég dey
---
Minningin frýs
á ellefta vetri síðan þá.
Ath. Mikilvægt að detta ekki inn í sögu eins og lesandi!
Hvernig eyddi persónan síðustu viku fyrir sögubyrjun?
Aðrar uppl: T.d. hvað gerir persónan þegar hún er reið? Hrygg? Hrædd? Æst? Hamingjusöm?
(með höndum, andliti, búknum)
Ath. Átök þarf að sýna frá fleiri en einu sjónarmiði til að gera þau trúverðug.
Fagurfræðileg fullnæging: þegar höfundur nær að festa eitthvað (tilfinningalega upplifun) í verk sitt.
I have a secret. A secret that I only confess to the shadows. I guess you could call it a dark secret. I’ll whisper it. Could you hear it?
My secret isn’t safe with anybody. Not even me! Sometimes I feel bad about it, sometimes I feel proud! [ ... ] It’s something that crawls within me, forever hidden in the depths of me.
[ ... ] stórt orð,
merkingin svo endanleg eitthvað. Í fyrstu stamaði ég alltaf á d – inu. Þetta orð er svo sárt að taka sér til munns þegar það þýðir eitthvað. Þegar merking þess vísar til ...
Geturðu ímyndað þér að horfa í augun á ástvini og stama þessu ... reyna að segja það varlega, á réttum stað á réttri stund.
Brosir maður? Grætur maður? Orðar maður skilaboðin með flatneskju? Uppgerðu hlutleysi? Horfir maður yfirleitt í augun á viðkomandi ástvini?
Hvernig eru viðbrögð hennar? Afsakar hún sig fyrir að hafa hugsanlega ekki heyrt rétt? Verður henni orða vant? Heldur hún augnsambandi? Hlær hún? Andmælir hún og vonast eftir að vita betur í móðursjúkri afneitun? Brotnar hún saman? Réttir hún fram höndina í ástúðlegri samúð? Strýkur hún manni um kinnina og ... fer strax að syrgja?
Sennilega verður maður þó fyrst að kyngja þessu sjálfur áður en maður fer að upplýsa aðra um staðreyndir málsins.
Hvernig verður mín minnst? Hvernig vil ég að mín verði minnst? Vel, að sjálfsögðu. En hvernig? Hverjir vil ég að minnist mín helst?
Þegar ég sá þig fyrst rankaði ég við mér eins og af svarthvítum draumi. Ég hafði ekki hugmynd um að veröldin hefði verið í þessum gráa lit, fyrren þú tókst þér stöðu í tilverunni og skreyttir hana þessum ótrúlegu litum. Ég hafði unað mér vel í grárri og tilbreytingarlausri tilverunni, því ég var illu vanur. En þegar allt fylltist lit, varð ég óöruggur og elti uppi grámann hvar sem hann sást.
Þetta var saga sambands okkar.
Ímyndaðu þér fugl. Einu sinni á 1000 ára fresti, flýgur hann að stærsta fjalli í alheiminum, sem er á endamörkum hans. Þessi ferð tekur 1000 ár. Þegar hann er kominn brýnir hann gogginn á fjallinu, og flýgur síðan aftur heim. Þegar fuglinn hefur brýnt gogginn svo oft á fjallinu að það er orðið að engu, þá er liðið eitt andartak af eilífðinni.
Ókunnugur: “Það er svo margt sem býr bakvið augun í þér. En hvað er það?”
Ég veit það ekki einu sinni sjálfur. Ég hefjú margsinnis heyrt að í augum mínum miðjum sé pollur einhverskonar sem gefi til kynna að undir yfirborði hans sé mikil dýpt. Djúpur brunnur einhvers sem ég hendi ekki reiður á. En ég finn fyrir því. Brunnurinn hlýtur að liggja niður í innsta kjarna minn, því ég get ekki komist í nálægð við innihaldið nema á einstökum stundum. Við einstaka aðstæður. Ég á það til að finna fyrir því sem í dýptinni býr þegar ég hlusta á tónlist. Ekki alla tónlist. Það er bara sum tónlist sem nær að koma hreyfingu á það sem er þarna á kafi í mér. Þá fer ég að sjá myndir, og ýmislegt sem venjulega eru bara tilfinningar taka á sig sýnileg form. List virðist kalla þetta fram. Ákveðin málverk, ákveðin tónverk, og ákveðnar sögur. Og skriftirnar eru raunverulega bara tilraun mín til að hræra í þessum djúpa brunni og sjá hvað í honum leynist – en hvort ég næ stjórn á því sem upp kemur, er engan veginn víst.
“Þegar ásetningur þinn breytist, mun allt byrja að leiða í þá átt sem þú kýst. Samstundis og þú ákveður að þú munir vera sigursæll, umbreytir hver taug og sérhver fruma líkama þíns sér í þágu sigurs þíns.”
..Daisaku Ikeda
Kæri ...
Þó að ég viti kannski ekki nákvæmlega hvað maður segir við einstakling sem tekst á við erfiðleika á borð við þá sem þú tekst nú á við, þá dettur mér í hug að aðilar með meiri visku en ég hef sankað að mér geti komist nærri því.
“Ef slæm veikindi gera vart við sig hjá þér, ekki verða reiður eða hatursfullur. Ekki verða sorgmæddur eða vorkenna sjálfum þér. Í stað þess, skaltu loga af von og fyllast tilfinningu um hlutverk þitt á grundvelli trúar öllum stundum, og viðhaltu miklu viljaþreki. Manneskja sem gerir það getur unnið bug á veikindum sínum, og getur gert baráttuna við veikindin áhrifameiri og jafnvel uppörvandi ...
“Þegar þú skýrlega setur þér fyrir sjónir sigursæla niðurstöðu, greypir hana í hjarta þér og ert staðfastlega sannfærður um að þú náir henni, mun heilinn viðstöðulaust vinna að því að láta þá huglægu mynd sem þú hefur skapað rætast. Og, með þrotlausu átaki, mun sá sigur verða að veruleika. Þú ert sjálfur skáld eigin sigurs.”
..Daisaku Ikeda
“Vonin er förunautur styrksins og móðir velgengninnar. Þau okkar með djúpstæða von búa yfir náðargjöf kraftaverksins.”
..Sydney Bremer
“Hugrekkið er ekki aðeins ein megindyggðin, heldur birtingarmynd hverrar dyggðar þegar á reynir.”
..Clive Staples Lewis
Take that with you *hoppar í poll*,
..kH
Við upphaf þessarra skrifa, sit ég í upphækkuðum stól, húki yfir þeirri stóru eyðu sem þessi [skrif] mín [eru], með kertaljós í hægra horni sjónsviðs míns, og glugga við enda borðsins gegnt mér, en get ekki með nokkru einasta móti einbeitt mér. Ég veit ekki hvar hornsteinn frásagnarinnar ætti að vera; hvar hún hefst eða hvenær, eða hvernig í ósköpunum maður leggur uppí torfarinn leiðangur aftur í tímann með það fyrir augum að safna saman öllu þessu markverða sem er hvati þess að maður er að bagsa þetta, og koma því frá sér á skipulegan hátt.
Ég reyni að rifja upp atvikin, og setningarnar, og umhverfið, og um leið og ég kemst í snertingu við eitthvað af þessu fer allt að hringsnúast inní mér. Hjartað fer í hringi, hæga og óskipulega, rétt eins og það sé ölvað af tilfinningaspíra. Mér verður næstum ómótt, get í rauninni ekki greint hvort það er hjartað eða maginn sem er að snúast svona. En það er akkúrat þessi tilfinning sem verður endanlega til þess að ég er að reyna að festa söguna niður.
Þessi hringekja inní mér, sem ég á svo erfitt með að ráða við, eða koma frá mér, knýr mig til að reyna að segja frá því sem kemur henni af stað. Ef mér tekst það, ætli hún stoppi? Er það raunverulega það sem ég vil? Vil ég losna við hana, því er hún ekki sjálf staðfesting þess að sagan skiptir mig máli?
Við kynntumst fyrst í gegnum veraldarvefinn, ekki satt? Eða, nánar tiltekið, í litlum prívat heimi staðsettum á einum þræða hans. Þú varst fyrir löngu orðinn miklu færari en ég í að plokka svona þræði, og ferðast um veraldarvefinn semog aðra vefi. Þú varst orðinn mjög fimur í því, og hafðir gert þig heimakominn í öðrum heimum víðsvegar um þræði vefjarins, áður en þú steigst fyrst fæti inní heiminn okkar.
I was very happy to receive your letter, and thank you for the picture of Antony. I now have two – the first one came with the [initial] information I got about [him]. He looks like a very handsome boy, and I’m sure one could say the same of the whole family :)
Yes, I live in Iceland, a country far away from yours, and you may not even have heard much about it [ ... ] I am 20 years old, will be 21 in October [ ... ] I might even include original stories in my letters from time to time – merely for your, and hopefully the kids’, enjoyment :)
I work with kids a lot over here, I work at a mental hospital for children and adolescents [ ... ] When I heard of SOS – Kindendorf [at work], I was very interested in being a part of such a wonderful movement, and having a godchild in a foreign country surely is a rewarding experience :)
En þegar ég opna augun aftur er ekkert breytt. Við sitjum enn og kistan er á sínum stað. Ég er ennþá með óþægilegan náladofa í rassinum, og mamma rígheldur enn í hendina á mér. Hún heldur helst til of fast, og mér finnst að hún sé ekki að þessu til að hugga mig, heldur sé hún að ríghalda í það sem enn tilheyrir gamla lífinu. Það eina sem helst óbreytt.
Hún er ekkert fremur tilbúnari að takast á við þetta en ég! Ætli hún átti sig ekki á því að ég er breyttur frá því í síðustu viku, að ég tali ekki um vikuna þar á undan.
Voice over cont’d. Alex stops the car, standing on a viewpoint of the city. He makes his way into the city. Ill-shaven, depressed, has been aimlessly driving along in his convertible (Ford Mustang). Has decided to stay awhile.
What is the first thing he does in the city?
“Þér eruð stuttir í spuna
Á eftir þessu gæti fylgt heil RUNA
Af margvíslegum móðgunum – ég gef
Þér dæmi: Neih, sko þetta nef!
Hann rekur það í botn á hverjum bolla
Svo vöknar hann á nefbroddi og nösum
Hann verður að drekka úr HIMINháum glösum
Og undrandi: Nei, þetta ER ekki þúfa eða hóll
Né hæð né hnjúkur. Þetta er Tindastóll!
Hnýsinn: Hvað ætli’ann geymi inní þessum hólki?
Eitthvað sem hann leynir fyrir fólki?”
Ég sit í lest, sem liðast taktfast áfram ... lestarvagninn er tómur, ég sit hér einn, sem hæfir rólyndisstemmningunni vel. Vagninn er að einhverju leyti upplýstur, en nóttin á samt greiðan gang inn. Mér finnst hún fylla mig, ég síg ofan í sætið og ég get á einhvern dularfullan hátt fundið fyrir hverjum teininum sem lestin rennur yfir. Þá kemur vægur hnykkur, og líkami minn dansar með. Hann danglast með hverri hreyfingu vagnsins ... sem aftur skröltir í takt við alla hina vagnana sem gera hann að lest.
Svo kváðu guðir þeir:
Lát manninn skilja
Leyf ei rangra vegu villu stíga
Hald um það er lífið skóp
Virt sé hverfis-um mannsins minjar
Heiðri skal til halda
Líf sé litið ljóssins lugt
Hugum beina upp-við á
Lát sé samsté
Lát sé hópsté
Lífs ei samall-ein sté
Mánans mátann metið
Lífsljóss rótarrann
Minjahverfis neytt sé
Virt sé mannasköp
Dear Miko.
I hope this letter finds you well. I doubt this will reach you before Christmas, as I’m writing this rather late. The Postal Office declared that all packages to the western states of the U.S. had to be sent by December 7th [ ... ] I’m in bed, believe me or don’t, as I’m experiencing insomnia for the first time in a long while. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in bed a whole night without being able to fall asleep, but I tell you it’s horrible. It’s quite a torture to just lie still, trying not to think of anything [ ... ] My school is out for Christmas [ ... ] I hope I did good, at least I didn’t have much trouble with anything. . but maths. Oh, maths! Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl. Maths are, and always have been, my worst subject. And I have a great teacher too – she’s so good at maths that she has trouble explaining them [ ... ] she does not understand why we all just sit there, glass-eyed, and scratch our heads. Why are they teaching us such complicated mathematics? I mean, I was good at maths while they were normal and made sense [ ... ] But now maths have just gone insane. They’re actually teaching us how to draw and make pictures out of formulas. We get lines, and circles, and triangles, and Us. . why would you ever want to make (2x – 13) + (4x – 7) = 36 into a circle? When in life is there ever going to be an incident or a situation when this kind of knowledge is useful? Honestly! A man is dying in front of you, begging you to Heimlich the peach right out of his throat, but all you manage to accomplish is: “No, um, sorry man, I don’t know how to – but I do know how to turn a funny looking maths problem into a circle.” Yup, you’re going to be the man of the hour there. .
Ljósin kvikna
kalt herbergi
sem bráðum er hitað upp
af tuttugu smáverum
mér og ykkur
---
Ég er hér
þú ert þar
en augu okkar mætast
Ég býð þau velkomin
með sjálfkrafa gestrisni
Varir stutt
Augnabliks heimsókn er heimsókn samt
---
Við hverfum
eftir sitja lestur og hlustun
Hún er ánægð, drottningin
Við erum prúðasta hirðin
ég og þið
---
En einbeitingin flöktir
bíður annarrar heimsóknar
hundraðogáttatíu gráða snúnings
Þú ert kyrr
Smá got!
ég tísti
Augnabliks heimsókn er heimsókn samt
---
Andskotans bjallan!
Andrúmið slitnar – við birtumst
Út úr musterinu svífa
tuttugu smásálir
við og ég
---
Þú tilheyrir aldrei hópnum
svífur einn
virðir fyrir þér blómin
Ég er girtur inni
þrái að komast undan
Smá gola vindir höfði þínu við
Augnabliks heimsókn er heimsókn samt
---
Í sterkari hviðu er jörðinni þeytt undan fótum mér –
Augna – tillit
vegna bliks í laufi
þeytt heim – að dyrum
sókn í vörn
er einskis virði
Í annan heim – að bera beinin
í sókn um þráða hvíld
ligg samt með opin augun – er ég dey
---
Minningin frýs
á ellefta vetri síðan þá.
Ath. Mikilvægt að detta ekki inn í sögu eins og lesandi!
Hvernig eyddi persónan síðustu viku fyrir sögubyrjun?
Aðrar uppl: T.d. hvað gerir persónan þegar hún er reið? Hrygg? Hrædd? Æst? Hamingjusöm?
(með höndum, andliti, búknum)
Ath. Átök þarf að sýna frá fleiri en einu sjónarmiði til að gera þau trúverðug.
Fagurfræðileg fullnæging: þegar höfundur nær að festa eitthvað (tilfinningalega upplifun) í verk sitt.
I have a secret. A secret that I only confess to the shadows. I guess you could call it a dark secret. I’ll whisper it. Could you hear it?
My secret isn’t safe with anybody. Not even me! Sometimes I feel bad about it, sometimes I feel proud! [ ... ] It’s something that crawls within me, forever hidden in the depths of me.
[ ... ] stórt orð,
merkingin svo endanleg eitthvað. Í fyrstu stamaði ég alltaf á d – inu. Þetta orð er svo sárt að taka sér til munns þegar það þýðir eitthvað. Þegar merking þess vísar til ...
Geturðu ímyndað þér að horfa í augun á ástvini og stama þessu ... reyna að segja það varlega, á réttum stað á réttri stund.
Brosir maður? Grætur maður? Orðar maður skilaboðin með flatneskju? Uppgerðu hlutleysi? Horfir maður yfirleitt í augun á viðkomandi ástvini?
Hvernig eru viðbrögð hennar? Afsakar hún sig fyrir að hafa hugsanlega ekki heyrt rétt? Verður henni orða vant? Heldur hún augnsambandi? Hlær hún? Andmælir hún og vonast eftir að vita betur í móðursjúkri afneitun? Brotnar hún saman? Réttir hún fram höndina í ástúðlegri samúð? Strýkur hún manni um kinnina og ... fer strax að syrgja?
Sennilega verður maður þó fyrst að kyngja þessu sjálfur áður en maður fer að upplýsa aðra um staðreyndir málsins.
Hvernig verður mín minnst? Hvernig vil ég að mín verði minnst? Vel, að sjálfsögðu. En hvernig? Hverjir vil ég að minnist mín helst?
Þegar ég sá þig fyrst rankaði ég við mér eins og af svarthvítum draumi. Ég hafði ekki hugmynd um að veröldin hefði verið í þessum gráa lit, fyrren þú tókst þér stöðu í tilverunni og skreyttir hana þessum ótrúlegu litum. Ég hafði unað mér vel í grárri og tilbreytingarlausri tilverunni, því ég var illu vanur. En þegar allt fylltist lit, varð ég óöruggur og elti uppi grámann hvar sem hann sást.
Þetta var saga sambands okkar.
Ímyndaðu þér fugl. Einu sinni á 1000 ára fresti, flýgur hann að stærsta fjalli í alheiminum, sem er á endamörkum hans. Þessi ferð tekur 1000 ár. Þegar hann er kominn brýnir hann gogginn á fjallinu, og flýgur síðan aftur heim. Þegar fuglinn hefur brýnt gogginn svo oft á fjallinu að það er orðið að engu, þá er liðið eitt andartak af eilífðinni.
Ókunnugur: “Það er svo margt sem býr bakvið augun í þér. En hvað er það?”
Ég veit það ekki einu sinni sjálfur. Ég hefjú margsinnis heyrt að í augum mínum miðjum sé pollur einhverskonar sem gefi til kynna að undir yfirborði hans sé mikil dýpt. Djúpur brunnur einhvers sem ég hendi ekki reiður á. En ég finn fyrir því. Brunnurinn hlýtur að liggja niður í innsta kjarna minn, því ég get ekki komist í nálægð við innihaldið nema á einstökum stundum. Við einstaka aðstæður. Ég á það til að finna fyrir því sem í dýptinni býr þegar ég hlusta á tónlist. Ekki alla tónlist. Það er bara sum tónlist sem nær að koma hreyfingu á það sem er þarna á kafi í mér. Þá fer ég að sjá myndir, og ýmislegt sem venjulega eru bara tilfinningar taka á sig sýnileg form. List virðist kalla þetta fram. Ákveðin málverk, ákveðin tónverk, og ákveðnar sögur. Og skriftirnar eru raunverulega bara tilraun mín til að hræra í þessum djúpa brunni og sjá hvað í honum leynist – en hvort ég næ stjórn á því sem upp kemur, er engan veginn víst.
“Þegar ásetningur þinn breytist, mun allt byrja að leiða í þá átt sem þú kýst. Samstundis og þú ákveður að þú munir vera sigursæll, umbreytir hver taug og sérhver fruma líkama þíns sér í þágu sigurs þíns.”
..Daisaku Ikeda
Kæri ...
Þó að ég viti kannski ekki nákvæmlega hvað maður segir við einstakling sem tekst á við erfiðleika á borð við þá sem þú tekst nú á við, þá dettur mér í hug að aðilar með meiri visku en ég hef sankað að mér geti komist nærri því.
“Ef slæm veikindi gera vart við sig hjá þér, ekki verða reiður eða hatursfullur. Ekki verða sorgmæddur eða vorkenna sjálfum þér. Í stað þess, skaltu loga af von og fyllast tilfinningu um hlutverk þitt á grundvelli trúar öllum stundum, og viðhaltu miklu viljaþreki. Manneskja sem gerir það getur unnið bug á veikindum sínum, og getur gert baráttuna við veikindin áhrifameiri og jafnvel uppörvandi ...
“Þegar þú skýrlega setur þér fyrir sjónir sigursæla niðurstöðu, greypir hana í hjarta þér og ert staðfastlega sannfærður um að þú náir henni, mun heilinn viðstöðulaust vinna að því að láta þá huglægu mynd sem þú hefur skapað rætast. Og, með þrotlausu átaki, mun sá sigur verða að veruleika. Þú ert sjálfur skáld eigin sigurs.”
..Daisaku Ikeda
“Vonin er förunautur styrksins og móðir velgengninnar. Þau okkar með djúpstæða von búa yfir náðargjöf kraftaverksins.”
..Sydney Bremer
“Hugrekkið er ekki aðeins ein megindyggðin, heldur birtingarmynd hverrar dyggðar þegar á reynir.”
..Clive Staples Lewis
Take that with you *hoppar í poll*,
..kH
Monday, October 17, 2005
H.K. Maksenseer,
Northling was a peculiar creature
that would inflate or deflate
'ccording to what he was fed
an altruistic egotist
a paradox
that withstood
yet yielded to
being led by circumstance and players
in the grotesqueness of life
- the voluntary antonym of strife -
the inner truce of which
was but a shattered piece of glass
glued together by naïveté
a regular purple carcass
a decomposed reflection of weaknesses suppressed
a sad but true portrayal of: a (bal-)loon obsessed.
A northwas peculiar creatling
inthat dewould flate or flate
toccording hewhat fedwas
anal tistruistic ego
paradoxa
withat stood
yieldyeted to
byled circumbeing anders playstance
in grotof the lifesqueness
- of Anton Volunym thetary strife -
inner theof trucewhich
a buttered pie of glasswas shace
togethered by naïgluveté
a purpular regcarcle ass
a supposed decompressed weak offlection renesses
ad: AA loon obs. (-lab) buttrayal portrue ofsessed
Sensemaker,
..kH
Northling was a peculiar creature
that would inflate or deflate
'ccording to what he was fed
an altruistic egotist
a paradox
that withstood
yet yielded to
being led by circumstance and players
in the grotesqueness of life
- the voluntary antonym of strife -
the inner truce of which
was but a shattered piece of glass
glued together by naïveté
a regular purple carcass
a decomposed reflection of weaknesses suppressed
a sad but true portrayal of: a (bal-)loon obsessed.
A northwas peculiar creatling
inthat dewould flate or flate
toccording hewhat fedwas
anal tistruistic ego
paradoxa
withat stood
yieldyeted to
byled circumbeing anders playstance
in grotof the lifesqueness
- of Anton Volunym thetary strife -
inner theof trucewhich
a buttered pie of glasswas shace
togethered by naïgluveté
a purpular regcarcle ass
a supposed decompressed weak offlection renesses
ad: AA loon obs. (-lab) buttrayal portrue ofsessed
Sensemaker,
..kH
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Okay..
Here we go.
A new chapter has been opened. I try to meet it with an open mind, as one should regarding every chapter of one's life. This one is a tough one to swallow though: at about 7 this morning a quarter of a century had passed from my birth.
My lucky number has thus become: 9331
Luckier by the day.
I am back in England, back in Uni. Challenging subjects this term. Thursdays off! Off and not off, really .. there is a lot of research work involved and the work load will only increase every week up until Christmas break.
My life state is getting higher. It was pretty low the first days after my arrival to this Kingdom. But I generally do not easily accept unnecessary suffering, at least not without a fight, and so I have done my utmost to heighten my state of life. Increasing my chanting every day, and finding time to nurture my consciousness beyond curricular demands.
I have been "klukk"-ed, or b*log tagged, which basically means that I have to reveal five random statements about myself on my b*log, and then pass the "klukk" on to five other b*loggers. I herewith thus reveal the following:
1) Even though I love colors in general, my favourite color is yellow.
2) And yet, funnily enough, I have a genetic inability to distinguish differences in hue -> I am colorblind.
3) As a child I had a rich empathy for inanimate objects. I used to encourage them in word (whispers) and thought, if I witnessed people treating them in an unfair, or bad, manner.
4) I had piano lessons for a couple of years as a child, and they involved homework. I hereby confess that I sometimes lied in my homework register that I had done the work I was expected to do at home. And because I was alone at home for a big part of the day, I got away with this. (Needless to say, I don't play the piano particularly well today)
5) I once, as a child, chased my younger brother around our flat with a knife, and accidentally cut him. He bled.
I have not made up my mind as to whom I will b*log tag, many of my b*logging acquaintances already have carried these out, so my "klukk"s will have to wait.
Happy birthday to me? Fairly.
Older and wiser,
..kH
Here we go.
A new chapter has been opened. I try to meet it with an open mind, as one should regarding every chapter of one's life. This one is a tough one to swallow though: at about 7 this morning a quarter of a century had passed from my birth.
My lucky number has thus become: 9331
Luckier by the day.
I am back in England, back in Uni. Challenging subjects this term. Thursdays off! Off and not off, really .. there is a lot of research work involved and the work load will only increase every week up until Christmas break.
My life state is getting higher. It was pretty low the first days after my arrival to this Kingdom. But I generally do not easily accept unnecessary suffering, at least not without a fight, and so I have done my utmost to heighten my state of life. Increasing my chanting every day, and finding time to nurture my consciousness beyond curricular demands.
I have been "klukk"-ed, or b*log tagged, which basically means that I have to reveal five random statements about myself on my b*log, and then pass the "klukk" on to five other b*loggers. I herewith thus reveal the following:
1) Even though I love colors in general, my favourite color is yellow.
2) And yet, funnily enough, I have a genetic inability to distinguish differences in hue -> I am colorblind.
3) As a child I had a rich empathy for inanimate objects. I used to encourage them in word (whispers) and thought, if I witnessed people treating them in an unfair, or bad, manner.
4) I had piano lessons for a couple of years as a child, and they involved homework. I hereby confess that I sometimes lied in my homework register that I had done the work I was expected to do at home. And because I was alone at home for a big part of the day, I got away with this. (Needless to say, I don't play the piano particularly well today)
5) I once, as a child, chased my younger brother around our flat with a knife, and accidentally cut him. He bled.
I have not made up my mind as to whom I will b*log tag, many of my b*logging acquaintances already have carried these out, so my "klukk"s will have to wait.
Happy birthday to me? Fairly.
Older and wiser,
..kH
Friday, September 30, 2005
My summer holiday is over. I leave tomorrow, back to Uni.
I do not look forward to it, at all actually. This, the wonderful summer and fall, has been a chapter of my life that is hard to close.
The following entry is quite simply a tribute of thanks,
to the people that made this summer so unforgettable.
The tribute is in Icelandic, so non-Icelandic readers forgive me please, but even if you don't speak Icelandic the entry should nevertheless be mostly understandable. It's very simple, it's just THANKS
...
Takk Hoffý, Haukur, Palli minn E., Hreiðar, Díana systir, Jói minn P. (Wium), Lúlli, Jói Dan, Sævar, Búi, Fúsi, og Joeri.
Takk Gummi.
Takk Eyrún & Gemma & Ixchel & Laura, Steinunn & Gugga & Jóhanna.
Takk Siggi.
Takk mamma & amma, Arnar & Hafþór, Nonni & Heiðar, Hilmar & Beggi, Maggi Matt & Ásta, Bjartur & Blíða.
Takk Sigur Rós, Antony, James Blunt, Keane, Emilíana Torrini, Eberg, og Kurt Nilsen - fyrir "sándtrakk" sumarsins.
Takk Haffi !
og..
Takk Jens :)
Bless,
..kH
I do not look forward to it, at all actually. This, the wonderful summer and fall, has been a chapter of my life that is hard to close.
The following entry is quite simply a tribute of thanks,
to the people that made this summer so unforgettable.
The tribute is in Icelandic, so non-Icelandic readers forgive me please, but even if you don't speak Icelandic the entry should nevertheless be mostly understandable. It's very simple, it's just THANKS
...
Takk Hoffý, Haukur, Palli minn E., Hreiðar, Díana systir, Jói minn P. (Wium), Lúlli, Jói Dan, Sævar, Búi, Fúsi, og Joeri.
Takk Gummi.
Takk Eyrún & Gemma & Ixchel & Laura, Steinunn & Gugga & Jóhanna.
Takk Siggi.
Takk mamma & amma, Arnar & Hafþór, Nonni & Heiðar, Hilmar & Beggi, Maggi Matt & Ásta, Bjartur & Blíða.
Takk Sigur Rós, Antony, James Blunt, Keane, Emilíana Torrini, Eberg, og Kurt Nilsen - fyrir "sándtrakk" sumarsins.
Takk Haffi !
og..
Takk Jens :)
Bless,
..kH
Saturday, September 10, 2005
This entry is a sort of index. Below I have inserted links to selected entries, some of which are hidden deep deep down in the dustiest archives of Hansablogg, and for interested readers these can serve as wormholes toward the potential "Best Of"s (bear in mind that some entries are not isolated and you may need to scroll down to find them, the titles will guide you):
April 23 and 24, 2003
April 30, 2003
Earlier night shift period - August 27, 2003
January 29, 2005
February 2, 2005
February 15, 2005
March 10, 2005
March 23, 2005
April 3, 2005
April 10, 2005
April 18, 2005
June 14, 2005
July 19, 2005
July 29, 2005
July 31, 2005
...
All entries written in Bratislava, and central Europe, in 2005, are to be found between February 6 and May 13. Interested readers can find the dates in the archives.
Best to all,
..kH
April 23 and 24, 2003
April 30, 2003
Earlier night shift period - August 27, 2003
The infamous beginnings(in Icelandic)
January 29, 2005
People & Communication
February 2, 2005
The Perfect Couple
February 15, 2005
Valentine's Day (2005)
March 10, 2005
A Love Affair on Top of the Opera House
March 23, 2005
Bjartur's Confrontation
April 3, 2005
I Didn't Sleep for 48 Hours
April 10, 2005
Saturday Night
April 18, 2005
Spunky Meets Pètya
June 14, 2005
Hello, faithful readers
July 19, 2005
The Moments are Frail
July 29, 2005
Confessions of a Hospitable Heart
July 31, 2005
Who is Your Alter Ego?
...
All entries written in Bratislava, and central Europe, in 2005, are to be found between February 6 and May 13. Interested readers can find the dates in the archives.
Best to all,
..kH
I made an attempt at early evening b*logging, but after I had written the entry and proceeded to publish it, Blogger informed me that it was under maintenance and the whole entry was lost.
Why do I mention this and not just go on to rewrite what I had already written? Well, my b*logging pattern has for the past weeks been that I b*log at work, usually long after midnight. Devoted readers may have noticed a difference in texture and style from my entries that date back to the past winter. I started to suspect that my choice of words and phrasing might be influenced by the late hours.
Thus, long story short, the attempt at an early evening entry was intended for evaluation; would there be a difference?
There was. My early evening entry was more down to earth. However early evening has passed, and as usual this is being written at an ungodly hour of the night. So, my dear devoted readers from near or far, enjoy the same poetic spirit as you have in the entries of the past weeks, as I proceed now onto matters of. .
What? Matters of what? What matters? Do I? I do? So do you. So, do you? You do so matter. You matter so do I. So do ma. . and pa.
...
Time is of such importance to me now
it is flying by
- dying out -
and I don't have much of it to begin with
Work is killing it
prematurely.
I was unfortunate enough to sign, IN BLOOD, a contract for work duty, rue the day!, as the work has proven to cause me more trouble than I anticipated.
It eats time. My time. Time that I could have spent with the people that matter to me.
With the people at the places
that matter.
This work does not matter to me
- I confess -
at all. I am here 'cause money is useful.
Oh what a waste
especially now
when so little
is left
is left
is left
*extended echoes*
The emptiness of it all
the pointlessness
the waste
of time
of time
of time
time of
of time
that's mine
Aye the being alone and the painting of portraits in my head of what I am missing
has driven me to madness
- lucky I should be here -
madness and kinkiness of discourse
has challenged the supposed norm of perception
of which
there is none
here
- lucky then I should be here -
...
A night that matters has just barely been saved from being swallowed by work.
I was, and am still, going to celebrate the twentieth birthday of someone special this night
this very Saturday night
and work made an attempt at destroying my freedom to do so.
It didn't prevail
the battle was won
by me
by us.
Onward ho!,
..kH
Why do I mention this and not just go on to rewrite what I had already written? Well, my b*logging pattern has for the past weeks been that I b*log at work, usually long after midnight. Devoted readers may have noticed a difference in texture and style from my entries that date back to the past winter. I started to suspect that my choice of words and phrasing might be influenced by the late hours.
Thus, long story short, the attempt at an early evening entry was intended for evaluation; would there be a difference?
There was. My early evening entry was more down to earth. However early evening has passed, and as usual this is being written at an ungodly hour of the night. So, my dear devoted readers from near or far, enjoy the same poetic spirit as you have in the entries of the past weeks, as I proceed now onto matters of. .
What? Matters of what? What matters? Do I? I do? So do you. So, do you? You do so matter. You matter so do I. So do ma. . and pa.
...
Time is of such importance to me now
it is flying by
- dying out -
and I don't have much of it to begin with
Work is killing it
prematurely.
I was unfortunate enough to sign, IN BLOOD, a contract for work duty, rue the day!, as the work has proven to cause me more trouble than I anticipated.
It eats time. My time. Time that I could have spent with the people that matter to me.
With the people at the places
that matter.
This work does not matter to me
- I confess -
at all. I am here 'cause money is useful.
Oh what a waste
especially now
when so little
is left
is left
is left
*extended echoes*
The emptiness of it all
the pointlessness
the waste
of time
of time
of time
time of
of time
that's mine
Aye the being alone and the painting of portraits in my head of what I am missing
has driven me to madness
- lucky I should be here -
madness and kinkiness of discourse
has challenged the supposed norm of perception
of which
there is none
here
- lucky then I should be here -
...
A night that matters has just barely been saved from being swallowed by work.
I was, and am still, going to celebrate the twentieth birthday of someone special this night
this very Saturday night
and work made an attempt at destroying my freedom to do so.
It didn't prevail
the battle was won
by me
by us.
Onward ho!,
..kH
Monday, August 29, 2005
It is funny how incredibly I feel tonight.
I have started to suspect, in the past dozen months, that men
- at least I -
go through a kind of period every month.
We all
- at least I -
know women do.
So why shouldn't men
although not in the same way.
I think that every month I go through at least two climaxes
at the two different ends of the same mood pole.
There is a point in every month where
I feel nothing will work out and my self-image and confidence is very low.
There is a point in every month where
I feel I can accomplish anything and everything will work out wonderfully and my confidence is blooming.
Could this have to do with a kind of hormonal period?
Could this have to do with the moon and the rising and falling of the tide?
Our bodies contain a lot of water
so does the ocean
why then should the moon not affect us too.
However, even though I am quite sure I experience both extremes every month
I have not been able to observe whether there is a clear pattern of how the extremes develop through the period.
For instance, there is a difference in my mood and confidence from only yesterday.
Today I am full of energy and positivity. I am all smiles and I see in the mirror the image of something that appeals to me. Something I can almost be proud of.
Of course, to be fair, at essence
- fundamentally -
I am proud of who and what I am.
And of what I shall become.
At the moment
I see
the adventure in life,
the prettiness of my surroundings
- the awareness of which much too often lies latent -,
and feel
love somewhere in the middle of me,
Now a moment later
I still see
a hope before me,
a playful element to every task
- to every confrontation -,
and feel
thankful and happy.
There is a song, that really encases what I feel
the whole mystery of it
- puts it in a box and ties on top a pretty bow -,
the heart of which seems to correspond to the heart of my current life-state,
as good music tends to do,
sonically and lyrically,
Hoppípolla by Sigur Rós.
Apologies to non-Icelandic but interested readers
as the lyrical part of the song will prove hard for them to grasp.
Just believe me
- have confidence -
and you'll feel it.
I am thankful for this song.
So wonderful.
Tingly,
..kH
I have started to suspect, in the past dozen months, that men
- at least I -
go through a kind of period every month.
We all
- at least I -
know women do.
So why shouldn't men
although not in the same way.
I think that every month I go through at least two climaxes
at the two different ends of the same mood pole.
There is a point in every month where
I feel nothing will work out and my self-image and confidence is very low.
There is a point in every month where
I feel I can accomplish anything and everything will work out wonderfully and my confidence is blooming.
Could this have to do with a kind of hormonal period?
Could this have to do with the moon and the rising and falling of the tide?
Our bodies contain a lot of water
so does the ocean
why then should the moon not affect us too.
However, even though I am quite sure I experience both extremes every month
I have not been able to observe whether there is a clear pattern of how the extremes develop through the period.
For instance, there is a difference in my mood and confidence from only yesterday.
Today I am full of energy and positivity. I am all smiles and I see in the mirror the image of something that appeals to me. Something I can almost be proud of.
Of course, to be fair, at essence
- fundamentally -
I am proud of who and what I am.
And of what I shall become.
At the moment
I see
the adventure in life,
the prettiness of my surroundings
- the awareness of which much too often lies latent -,
and feel
love somewhere in the middle of me,
Now a moment later
I still see
a hope before me,
a playful element to every task
- to every confrontation -,
and feel
thankful and happy.
There is a song, that really encases what I feel
the whole mystery of it
- puts it in a box and ties on top a pretty bow -,
the heart of which seems to correspond to the heart of my current life-state,
as good music tends to do,
sonically and lyrically,
Hoppípolla by Sigur Rós.
Apologies to non-Icelandic but interested readers
as the lyrical part of the song will prove hard for them to grasp.
Just believe me
- have confidence -
and you'll feel it.
I am thankful for this song.
So wonderful.
Tingly,
..kH
Saturday, August 27, 2005
Now I am quite bored
.."You're beautiful, it's true"..
Friday nights are tough on the job. In the same manner as are Saturday nights. Lack of people online to chat with. Everyone out on the town. Or somewhere.
All I have is the music.
.."I'll take what I can before you leave, that is just a smile"..
And the book. I have the book. Why I haven't opened it is a mystery. Something is stopping me. Perhaps the mood. Time? It's 03:33 a.m.
.."Come on and show me that silky skin"..
It is only my second night this week and already I feel the night getting longer. It gets shorter on Sunday. More people online, in theory at least. We will see. I really should just try and get back into the book.
Reading books can make you tired. Worth the risk? Who'd care if I napped anyway? I guess I would.
.."I waited a long long time, I waited a long long time"..
The coffee available at the University Hospital of Iceland is not quality stuff. Even for an experienced consumer of coffee it is tough to swallow. But the cups here are cute. The one I currently sip from has got a picture of a baby mouse in a blue shirt airborne by a yellow balloon. The other side of the cup shows the baby mouse with his mummy mouse. Either he is yet to be airborne and his mummy mouse has just given him the balloon, or he has been saved and is being told never ever to do that again.
.."So lovely was the loneliness of a wild lake"..
There are these - weird green but almost transparent flies that wander in from the outside and I do not think I have ever seen this particular type of fly anywhere before. Only here - on my cozy shifts at the hospital hut do they decide to make their existence known. Ugly bastards - the green but almost transparent flies. Not a big fan of flies - me. Not a big fan of insects really - me. All due respect - to insects for they do serve purpose. Would never harm insects - me. Would never harm anything really - me. Is key - respect.
.."Earth come be light, mind you are free, love your surface"..
.."We live among plastic lions"..
I could go on. Forever I am sure. Typing words and connecting them to each other. It certainly murders time, brutally. Twenty minutes have disappeared without trace, so far.
.."Light become earth, free your mind, surface your love"..
I will fantasize now about events and moments to look forward to. Leaves me feeling content even if they haven't happened yet. Hope is crucial and pretty easy to mould. Sometimes I fear my entries give a rather gloomy picture of their author. Gloomier than is necessary. I am not that gloomy, to be honest with my readers. Not gloomy at all. Positive, shiny and enthusiastic.
.."Coffee's pouring out my ears, it's the only thing they have in here"..
Quotes taken from the music that has been the undercurrent of the writing of this entry.
.."And my heart stops beating"..
Chained by work but humming gleefully,
..kH
.."You're beautiful, it's true"..
Friday nights are tough on the job. In the same manner as are Saturday nights. Lack of people online to chat with. Everyone out on the town. Or somewhere.
All I have is the music.
.."I'll take what I can before you leave, that is just a smile"..
And the book. I have the book. Why I haven't opened it is a mystery. Something is stopping me. Perhaps the mood. Time? It's 03:33 a.m.
.."Come on and show me that silky skin"..
It is only my second night this week and already I feel the night getting longer. It gets shorter on Sunday. More people online, in theory at least. We will see. I really should just try and get back into the book.
Reading books can make you tired. Worth the risk? Who'd care if I napped anyway? I guess I would.
.."I waited a long long time, I waited a long long time"..
The coffee available at the University Hospital of Iceland is not quality stuff. Even for an experienced consumer of coffee it is tough to swallow. But the cups here are cute. The one I currently sip from has got a picture of a baby mouse in a blue shirt airborne by a yellow balloon. The other side of the cup shows the baby mouse with his mummy mouse. Either he is yet to be airborne and his mummy mouse has just given him the balloon, or he has been saved and is being told never ever to do that again.
.."So lovely was the loneliness of a wild lake"..
There are these - weird green but almost transparent flies that wander in from the outside and I do not think I have ever seen this particular type of fly anywhere before. Only here - on my cozy shifts at the hospital hut do they decide to make their existence known. Ugly bastards - the green but almost transparent flies. Not a big fan of flies - me. Not a big fan of insects really - me. All due respect - to insects for they do serve purpose. Would never harm insects - me. Would never harm anything really - me. Is key - respect.
.."Earth come be light, mind you are free, love your surface"..
03:52 a.m.
.."We live among plastic lions"..
I could go on. Forever I am sure. Typing words and connecting them to each other. It certainly murders time, brutally. Twenty minutes have disappeared without trace, so far.
.."Light become earth, free your mind, surface your love"..
I will fantasize now about events and moments to look forward to. Leaves me feeling content even if they haven't happened yet. Hope is crucial and pretty easy to mould. Sometimes I fear my entries give a rather gloomy picture of their author. Gloomier than is necessary. I am not that gloomy, to be honest with my readers. Not gloomy at all. Positive, shiny and enthusiastic.
.."Coffee's pouring out my ears, it's the only thing they have in here"..
Quotes taken from the music that has been the undercurrent of the writing of this entry.
.."And my heart stops beating"..
Chained by work but humming gleefully,
..kH
Friday, August 26, 2005
I am really tired
Back at work after precious time off
The week off is now a memory of something that tastes of freedom
Even though I fully realize that I am just as free now as then
Just feels different
All my days are one long night
- 05:45 a.m. -
The time in between working hours
is only a pathetic attempt at life in daylight
Days are digested by the merciless work schedule
what is spurted out is only a resemblance of day
- a couple of hours, maybe three -
Oh five forty seven.
In just under three hours
I head off
to home
to bed
to empty bed
empty life
Sleep only to stay awake during work
is work then the cause for sleep or sleep the cause for work
- 05:50 a.m. -
I have been institutionalized
and I never even noticed.
Tickedy tock,
..kH
Back at work after precious time off
The week off is now a memory of something that tastes of freedom
Even though I fully realize that I am just as free now as then
Just feels different
All my days are one long night
- 05:45 a.m. -
The time in between working hours
is only a pathetic attempt at life in daylight
Days are digested by the merciless work schedule
what is spurted out is only a resemblance of day
- a couple of hours, maybe three -
Oh five forty seven.
In just under three hours
I head off
to home
to bed
to empty bed
empty life
Sleep only to stay awake during work
is work then the cause for sleep or sleep the cause for work
- 05:50 a.m. -
I have been institutionalized
and I never even noticed.
Tickedy tock,
..kH
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