Hva skal jeg si. Jeg plages av ujevnt humør og biter meg i fingrene. Jeg har smale lepper, briller, rund nese og lutende skuldre. Jeg ler litt rart og tenker sakte over ting.

Joda

På treningsstudio og løper på tredemølle. Tenker at hvis jeg bare løper fortere kommer kanskje de 20 minuttene til å gå fortere også, men det gjør de jo ikke. Det har gått 07.18 minutter, det har gått 07.36 minutter, det har gått 07.42 minutter.
Jeg kommer hjem, setter meg i senga. Hvis jeg begynner å løpe fort, kanskje kommer han hjem snart. Han gjør ikke det. Det har gått 14 dager, det har gått 14 dager, det har gått 14 dager. Snart er det i morgen og jeg vil sove fram til neste uke.

Katter

Hjemme i jula titter man ut av vinduet for å se hva som skjer, og det er skjærene som terger katten. Snart skal vi ha en katt her i byen også, hvis alt går bra.

Jeg har en fin ferie, jeg skriver to eller tre sider hver dag, jeg føler meg flink, som om jeg endelig blir brukt til det jeg skal brukes til. Jeg elsker å tegne, og det er mye vanskeligere, mye mer slitsomt og mye mer irriterende og skrive. Men det er så mye mer spennende også, litt som om jeg er verdt mer nå.

Hm?

I was taking down some postcards I’ve stuck on my wall because I wanted to redecorate and a piece of my wall came off. Maybe I can just paint it white or something.

Listening to Devendra Banhart always makes me sort of tickly in my tummy.

Jul

Jeg hadde mareritt om alienzombier. De kom fra månen (selvfølgelig) og viste seg å være vanskelige å hamle opp med. Jeg okkuperte et hus og gikk ut med balltre.

Jula er preget av: Store middager, fyr i ovnen, at vi er fjorten stykker som snakker tre språk og til slutt vet vi nesten ikke hva som er hva, den er preget av å være mett, å ha på ullsokker, lese bøker, og av at han ikke er her. Han har vært borte i over en uke nå, og han skal være borte to uker til. Nord-Norge skylder meg én.

En museumsvakt i klesskapet

Å se på mørket om morgenen, å spise julelefse med brunost, å drikke te og si ahhhhh etter hver slurk fordi det er så varmt.

For tiden utforsker jeg klisjeer. Den siste uka har jeg: 1 blitt grundig skremt av min egen skygge, 2 veket tilbake i frykt for et skjelett som sto bak en dør.

Pam pa dam, da da dam. Yeah yeah yeah!

Desember

Det er mørkt lenge før jeg kommer hjem, snøflakene henger under gatelyktene og beveger seg ikke.

På skolen:
Den plutselige og overveldende følelsen av at noen tror på meg, og jeg blir varm overalt.
Hjemme:
Tenk at stemmen din høres ut som en grønn lampe, sa jeg.
Du er rar, du, sa han og smilte.

Jeg leste ut Darlah 172 timer på månen i dag, og jeg ble så skremt at jeg skvetter i gangen og det er utelukket å besøke stua alene. Det skal ikke mye til for å gjøre meg redd, en skarve zombiefilm eller ungdomsroman gjør susen.

I går lagde jeg salat med blant annet soltørkede tomater. Denne så ut som en sommerfugl, eventuelt et størknet hjerte.

Nå drar jeg

Når det er kaldt legger jeg hendene i bløt i vasken, trekker inn varmen som en zombie som spiser hjerne (entusiastisk).
I går fikk jeg gå gratis på Nationaltheateret for å se En Vanlig Dag I Helvete. Under stykket, i en av de stille delene hvor skuespillerne lå på gulvet, hvisket en dame høyt til en annen Jeg får ikke så mye ut av det, og jeg kunne se Ole Johan Skjelbreid le opp mot taket. Jeg hadde lyst til å snu meg mot henne og si: Men det gjør jeg. Jeg trakk ordene opp i meg, som varmt vann, som en zombie som spiser hjerne (entusiastisk). Etterpå gikk jeg gjennom Slottsparken og kjente frosten oppover strømpebuksene, tenkte på hva Tor Ulven hadde å si om trærne (for ikke å si om steinene). Ikke at det betyr noe at jeg tenkte på dette, men det var det jeg gjorde. Trærne i Slottsparken er noen av yndlingstrærne mine, og når jeg er så trist at jeg ikke vil vite hvem jeg er lenger, da går jeg dit og ønsker at jeg ble en av dem. Granen i skogen uten oppvåkning, O, var jeg bare et koma i skogen, uten oppvåkning.
Men jeg behøver ikke å være et koma, ikke nå, ikke ennå, ikke på lenge. Og i kveld skal jeg på julebord.

Bytte språk

Jeg burde skrive oftere her. Jeg burde skrive oftere, generelt. John Cage spiller sitt preparerte piano for meg, P forteller at han trakk tonerekkene opp av en hatt under konserter og viste at alt er tilfeldig. Jeg lar alt være tilfeldig. Jeg lar meg selv sitte oppe og tegne om kveldene i stedet for å skrive, jeg holdes våken om nettene av noe annet enn bøker, han er myk mot fingertuppene. Jeg har ikke noe å si lenger, ikke fordi jeg er lykkelig og derfor ikke trenger litteratur for å tre inn i en mer harmonisk verden og føle meg hel etc, langt i fra, jeg bare lager andre ting akkurat nå. Ting som ikke er bygd opp av ord. Og jeg forteller meg selv unnskyldninger og sier at det er greit, så lenge det går over til ord igjen en gang. Kanskje til neste år.

Men det går bra

Jeg sto opp om morgenen med han som kanskje er kjæresten min, og da vi sjekket valgresultatet på dagsavisen.no sa jeg "Yes! Gi meg fem!" noe han gjorde og etterpå kysset han meg.
USA har valgt sin første svarte president, jeg får lov å kysse verdens søteste gutt så mye jeg vil, og seinere på dagen, i gangen på skolen, fikk jeg vite at farmor har kreft i begge nyrene.

Jeg lurer på om dette skjer fordi jeg har kommet på besøk så lite i det siste, er det derfor hun har blitt syk, er det egentlig min skyld? For da jeg bodde hjemme og kunne beskytte henne med å drikke te og å snakke om arkeologi, fuglenes interessefelter og debattinnleggene i Aftenposten, da var hun ikke syk, da gikk hun rundt i hagen og lukte, da dro hun på båttur nedover Seinen eller til Schleswig Holstein for å se på utgravinger, da sa hun: Nu laver jeg en kanne te, og så setter vi os i haven, eller hvad?
Jeg kommer til at savne deg når du flytter, Frøydis, sa hun for tre år siden.

Av og til knyter alt seg skikkelig hardt sammen rundt meg, men det går bra, det meste i livet egentlig er bra når man bare tenker over det. Hun tar det visst ganske rolig, man kan leve lenge med nyrekreft. Hun sier at noe skal man jo dø av likevel. Og det er helt sant. Noe skal man dø av. Bare ikke akkurat nå, ikke dø nå, vær så snill. La meg komme på besøk og drikke te noen år til først.

Et forsøk på å holde ting oppe

Jeg sover for lite disse ukene, våkner og kjenner øynene krølle seg, drikker kaffe. I går holdt jeg på å begynne å grine på mørkerommet, da det bare var jeg som var igjen for å framkalle bilder. ”Din farmor ligger på sjukehus,” var alt han fortalte meg og jeg visste jo ikke hva det skulle bety, skal hun dø nå, tenkte jeg bare, er det nå hun skal dø.
Jeg besøkte henne på akuttavdelingen i dag, pappa kjørte meg dit, jeg drakk mer kaffe, spiste druer og mango, og vi snakket om Egypterne og Assyrerne. De var pussige, de. Hun viste meg den svenske utgaven av Krig og Fred som hun endelig har tid til å lese. Hun hadde fått den av farfar, lenge etter at de var skilt. Jeg viste henne bildene jeg har lagd til skolen, og da jeg ikke hadde flere bilder igjen fortalte jeg henne om den søte gutten. ”Han er veldig, veldig søt,” sa jeg.
”Det er sånn det skal være det, Frøydis,” sa hun og pappa kom og hentet meg, kjørte meg hjem og jeg vet at hun blir bra igjen. Alt blir bra igjen.

Back from London

I think must be the best trip to London I have ever been to. It was even better than the one in 2004, which is the year I compare everything else to. I think I liked the British museum best, or maybe Tate Modern. Or wait no, maybe Saatchi Gallery. Or maybe the nights we spent in the hotel rooms with beer and Fernet. My head is filled with all the things I saw and all the things they made me think, I liked all our discussions and all our nonsense. I liked the London weather, cold, but warmer than Norway. I even got to visit Viv and Alexis in their wonderful home, filled with birds and dinosaur toys and Daleks.





The boy came to visit last night and in a couple of hours I’ll go to Rockefeller to the Calexico-consert. Everything is good.

:)

Jeg lukker øya rundt alle vinduene i bakgården, jeg er ikke redd, jeg er spent, jeg er helt rolig. Helt rolig. 

Earrings

I bought these buttons and turned them into earrings. I like them, so I wanted to show you. In two days I’ll be in London with my class, and we’ll see so much art that my eyes will hurt. I’m so excited it’s like drinking coffee.

Varmt

Herregud, dusjen om morgenen er som en slags kjøttetende plante. Man kommer inn på badet og dørene står åpne, og selv om man prøver å holde seg unna surrer man liksom inn i den likevel, dørene lukker seg og man står der i en evighet, blir oppløst i vann.

Ballongtid

Jeg skulle filme to ballonger i dag, det var noe jeg forsøkte å finne ut av. Jeg hadde lagt festet to papirballer til dem så de ikke skulle forsvinne opp i taket, og lagt hvitt papir over gulvet, og mens jeg prøvefilmet, for å teste bare, kom en Tom Waits-sang opp i shuffle. From a window across the lawn I watched you undress sang han, og etter hvert begynner den hvite ballongen å flytte seg mot venstre, lenger og lenger ut av bildet,
I watched you as you disappeared synger den oransje ballongen,
I watched you as you disappeared
I watched you as you disappeared
og det er bare en skygge på veggen igjen av den hvite, den dupper opp og ned, danser.

Søndag

Trikken er midlertidig innstilt et sted mellom Birkelunden og Olaf Ryes plass. Jeg har ikke paraply så jeg blir sittende, med våte sko, og pannekake fra ostebutikken i magen. Marthe har allerede fargelagt dagen, Skip James synger om sykehus, og jeg ser på vannet vaske gata rein for høstblader og sigarettsneiper, eller i alle fall samle dem i store pøler av regn og rusk, bytjern mellom husene. I could be right, synger Skip James i øret mitt, and then again I could be wrong. Men jeg kan ha rett, tenker jeg. Jeg kan jo ha rett.

Lapp

Knut sendte meg en lapp i timen mens vi tegnet krokki. Den var fin.



På fredagspilsen i dag kom det bare folk som gikk i 1c i fjor, ingen andre fra hele skolen. Det var nesten som en slags reunion, stas.
I kveld drikker jeg te, hører på jazzopptakene av Jack Kerouac og leser bok.

Fra morgenen og utover

Våknet klokka fem i dag da det var helt mørkt og stille ute. Jeg sto opp og satte meg i vinduet, fulgte med på det grå som kom seilende. Timer seinere gikk jeg langs våt asfalt og hørte på soundtracket fra Darjeeling Limited, et gult blad festet seg til skoen min og ville ikke av. Jeg hadde det så fint at jeg nesten kom for seint, lufta snakket om vann, men jeg rakk å komme fram før regnet begynte.

Pappa har kommet hjem fra Kina igjen og vi skal ut og spise. Han sa han skulle kjøpe te til meg der borte.

Tagging

Det er ikke så ofte jeg tagger, men når jeg først gjør det er det med post-it-lapper eller tape. Jeg er ganske snill sånn sett.



(dette er fra den danske filosofen Knud E. Løgstrup, om noen lurte)

Nice

I made tomato soup from scratch. I think it’s the autumn, it makes me want to make soups and apple cakes and such. And mountains of cinnamon rolls.



I got this wonderful package from London yesterday. There were beans, an expandable flannel with a Dalek on and a book in it. It made me really happy, all of it, but especially the cats in the letter and the little animal on the envelope.

I don’t know what more to write. I like getting up in the mornings. I like going to school. I like coming home again. I like this:

Too much work

I was walking up Hegdehaugsveien after work, listening to my iPod. It’s cold in the evenings and when I crossed Parkveien there was this silhouette in the window, way up the building, sitting in the windowsill. Just then the sound of the violin turned from being a thick rope to a fishing line that cut my throat and I started crying for no reason at all. I quit soon enough though.

I don’t sleep enough and I’ve got sand in my eyes. I should leave for outer space! Vroom vroooom.

Weekend

My mother, aunt, cousin and I visited my grandmother last weekend, she lives way up in the middle of Norway/nowhere. I got up before the others and spent the foggy mornings writing in the kitchen.
We went up to the cabin one of the days. We ate waffles and they told me there were llamas in the woods, but I didn't see any.

Man I love autumn. The way my nose gets red and the air smells faintly of fire. The trees are so beautiful I wish I could become one, soon dormant beneath the snow.

Eggs

I made coffee for breakfast this morning and decided to be late for school. I like long mornings with loads of space for thoughts and staring wistfully out the window and such.

This guy came in at work yesterday he only spoke french and italian, so we spoke french. I discovered I remembered a lot more than I thought I did, and then he asked me to go to a café. He was nice and all, but I still gave him the old lie about my really jalous boyfriend. I’ve used this imaginary boyfriend as an excuse so many times now that I’ve almost gotten to know him, his name and his habits and stuff. When I finally go insane you’ll hear me muttering to him, asking if he could make me a cup of tea.

I found loads of eggs on the street yesterday. I’m not sure what exactly they were doing there, they were just hanging around, really.

Puste gjennom nesa

Det er kaldt om morgenen, når vi koker egg til frokost legger dampen seg over vindusglasset så det ser ut som tåke. Det er høst og vi har lagd kakao. Jeg venter på at uværet skal komme og gjøre hodet mitt rent.

Something else

"If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, as an artist, I will answer you: I came here to live out loud."

Émile Zola

I'm usually more than content with living quietly, but sometimes, just sometimes you know, I can hear the drums.

I got up 06.15 today, I woke up and couldn´t fall  sleep again. It was grey and cold and I had fish soup for breakfast. I like early mornings.

Butoh

This is so beautiful. I want to dance like this.

It's raining and

I wanna know why there’s so much
silence

Is this growing up and learning how to be realistic?
I’ve got so much time on my hands, I should use it to make something amazing.

Trees

Åshild came on a surprise visit today, she brought some sveler with her and we ate them with butter and sugar on top. It made me happy, people should come on surprise visits more often. Especially if they bring tasty food!

Anne and I took a walk in Frognerparken afterwards, and I looked at the trees. They’ll go all yellow and orange soon. I really love trees. I love the colours, the size, the shape. They’re beautiful. If I ever become a super hero I want to be the Tree Woman. I’d fight super villains and global warming by occasionally turning myself into a tree and stand very still; breathing, drinking water with my toes.

Movies and notes

I went to Cinemateket with Ihra Lill today, we saw Dead Poets Societey. I haven't seen it in years.
I thought: Don't do it don't do it, but he did. And afterwards when they were standing by the winter lake I thought he was going to scream, but all he said was: it's beautiful. And it was.

On my way home I wrote a note to someone and put it in what I hope was the right window. I felt brave then, I did.

The library (:

When I went to the library yesterday I got a bit worried when I had to walk on a red carpet to get in. But then I heard music and walked upstairs where Now We’ve Got Members were having a concert! It was wonderful and very unexpected and that is one of the best combinations of things, if you ask me. Deichman is 75 years old, that’s what they were celebrating. I knew that, but not that which day it was.
They even had a bar where you could buy drinks called Jorge Luis Borges and Samuel Beckett.


Then I borrowed Bande À Part, which I’ve wanted to watch for a while, so I did, when I got home. I liked the dance they did in the café.

These pictures of me

I found some old photo albums when I was home. Look, I used to be really cute once.


And now I see why I feel so at home with this haircut. I must have had it like this for most of my life, no wonder why I always come back to it after cutting it differently.

Still green

I’m visiting my family, and when I woke up there was fog in the garden, it hung from the trees like apples. After a while the sun broke through and we ate breakfast outside. The chickens has grown bigger, they came when we called.

Work

I was attacked by the army of dead customers! It hasn’t been this crowded at work since Christmas I heard, everyone was asking for something, wanting something from me all the time. But I’m not letting it ruin my mood, they’ll have to try harder next time.

Yeah

I was happy today even before I woke up. I had this really good feeling during the last minutes of my sleep and when my eyes opened, when they did, I knew this day would be great. After breakfast I curled up in the open kitchen window to absorb some D-vitamins and read Hässelby (it’s good, you should read it too).

Despite my bed recently turning in to a parody of a bed, and despite that the dust in my windowsill is creeping in like someone else’s depression, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m really happy with my life. I live with my best friends, and when I turn the lights on in the kitchen after having watched There Will Be Blood with them in the living room I see the brownies that we made (with extra pieces of chocolate inside) and I see the leftovers from dinner that we made together and I see the bottle of wine and I can’t think of anything that could have made me happier right then than this kitchen – messy, but it can stay like that, at least until tomorrow. Just this relaxed and immense feeling of my life being here with me.

Why I'm not donating blood

I had an appointment to donate blood this morning, and I asked them if I could be weighted first because I knew I’d lost some weight (not on purpose). It turned out I’m 48 kilos (their limit is 50) and the nurse became really rude and told me loads of times to eat more meat. I expected them to tell me to come back when I had put the kilos back on (because I most probably will), but she just kept on asking why, and she didn’t believe me when I said I’m not one of those girls who goes on diets and stuff. And then she banned me for five years. Banned! Five years! I want to caps lock that. It’s almost like Blodbanken is some sick forum on the internet or something. I don’t know. It was just too weird.
Then they gave me 50kr for showing up and I donated them to help treat cancer, helped myself to some of their free biscuits and apple juice and walked out the door. Goodbye Blodbanken, see you when I’m 26 then! :/

When I got out from the hospital the sky was like a watercolour painting, grey all over with hairy brushstrokes. Then the rain started. The heavens opened, you know, it was that kind of rain. Small rivers down my face, my glasses full of water, it was the best thing ever.

Chocolate!

I have troubles falling asleep lately, and in the mornings I wake up with a start.

Caroline came over with a box full of chocolate. Look! It’s 1,5 kilos of chocolate! :D :D I can’t get over it.

Autumn

Yesterday was the first day of autumn, I could smell it. It was those autumn-ish smells, like the smell of the cold, that smoky feeling in the air, of leaves curling up, giving away their chlorophyll.

I’m restless and tired, maybe I’m giving away my chlorophyll too. Anyway, Anne and I took a long walk today before making a salad for dinner, I liked that. And Badly Drawn Boy has like two songs that are really incredibly good, I’d forgotten.

Breakfast!

Butterflies

Down to the right, in a corner, I found this when I was wiping the dust off the bookshelves at work. It made me happy to find it, that kind of happy you get when you find something strange, something to ponder for a while. Why do insects have such strange legs, is something to wonder about. What is this one called in Latin, does it fly during the day or the night? And why did it choose to die down to the right, in a corner, at my job? That’s something to wonder about too.
When I was in Tanzania my dad and I would catch butterflies and put them in jam jars. I remember the very first one we found at the embassy, it was sitting on a red column, the first day we were there. It was huge, it was a moth not a butterfly. And later, I would run around outside our house with a net to catch them, but they were too fast for me, I was five years old and would chase them as if they gave me the answer to something I hadn’t asked about yet, not at that time.
I’ve still got an old cigar box where dad used to store scalpels, cotton wads and needles, it smells of tymol poison. Every time I open it the smell rises up, making me dizzy and I’m in Africa I’m gone I’m…

Oppfinnelsen av Frøydis

Jeg trenger ikke folk til å fortelle meg hvordan han er og hvordan han har behandlet meg, jeg vet det selv og visste det hele tiden. Det er bare det at det er ingen sammenheng mellom å vite og det å slå opp med ham, det tok lang tid før jeg klarte det. På grunn av redselen for at det egentlig var meg det var noe galt med, at jeg ikke prøvde hardt nok, fordi jeg var forelsket i ham uansett og var glad når vi hadde det fint.
Og nettopp dette er kjernen i saken, at også jeg, Frøydis S, er like mye kjærlighetens narr som alle andre, at selv om jeg vet, fortsetter jeg å håpe. At jeg kan finne meg i og godta alt for mye.
Det er dette som er meg. For bare noen år siden trodde jeg at jeg var uskyldig og ren, at den store kjærligheten ikke kom til å gå fra meg den gangen, at man spilte med åpne kort og at hvis man mente alt godt ville man unngå å bli skitten.

Bøker?

Boka jeg har lånt av Linn er slitt og lukter av støv og gamle ting, musikken til Anna Ternheim smaker av høsten 2007 da alt skulle få begynne på nytt. Det er solformørkelse ute.

Seinere var vi på Oslo Mekaniske Verksted og det var vanskelig å ikke pille på alle bøkene, men jeg kan kalle det en yrkesskade. Mot slutten av kvelden spurte jeg mannen bak disken om jeg kunne få kjøpe en av dem. Han lo omtrent som en hund og sa jeg var den første som hadde spurt, og at jeg selvfølgelig kunne få den.

Batman!

Simon, Caroline and I saw The Dark Knight yesterday. Afterwards I invited Caroline to visit me in my kitchen for a while and on one of our papers we drew batman figures. She created such masterpieces as Batman in a Hammock With Drinks and Slippers, and also The Joker Kitten.

Sun

Now that it’s summer it’s so light outside, from early morning till well into evening. When I walked out of the door this morning I thought I had stepped right into a zombie nightmare; there were no sounds, no people, no cars, only this brightly sunlit street. I turned my head and saw this creepy guy on a bench.

I leave my window open at all times, I want to suck these rare summer days into my skin.

These are from Denmark:



Our house




Tasty food



Tree at the beach where I hung my stuff so there wouldn't be too much sand in them.

The doing

My feet hurt again, pink and red they make creaking sounds in my mind, but I haven’t got the money to fix them. I’ve read four books in quick succession, written a hundred useless words and decided I disagree with Kant’s reasons for helping people out.

I’m like this huge open door that I need to fill with something.

Stranda

Jeg har brukt en tåpelig stor andel av livet mitt på å være redd for å gå til legen, fordi jeg tror de vil mislike meg når jeg ikke har blitt frisk for det de behandlet meg for sist gang. Men i går endte legen og jeg opp med å diskutere south park mens han skrev ut resept og det var egentlig ikke så verst.
Etterpå var det stranda på Nesodden og bringebær i hagen.



Jeg skriver, jobber, skriver, spiser pai og drikker likør. Dette er alt jeg gjør. Jeg er slank, sterk (dette kunne jeg brukt til å være sint på deg) og merket av sola: Jeg absorberer alt og lagrer det i en gyllen flaske innenfor ribbeina.

Stuff

Stadig disse nederlagene. I går våknet jeg med vissheten om at romanen min er håpløs, hjelpeløs. I dag slitt meg gjennom jeg vet ikke hvilket utkast av kapittel to, til den siste samtalen da jeg nesten ga opp. Her revnet språket, hele romanen var ved å gli ut av hendene på meg.
Jeg merker denne motstanden i meg hele tiden, som en kattetunge. Jeg har egentlig lyst til å skrive noe helt annet, noe mørkere, saktere, men denne fortellingen har opptatt meg for lenge til at jeg kan gi den opp nå. Jeg har jo akkurat fått taket på den.

Litteratur stuff

eg reagerer på ord og setninger litt som med mat. Når jeg leser et ord eller en beskrivelse jeg synes er vakker spiser jeg den opp, assimilerer den inn i meg. Stopper opp i lesingen et øyeblikk for å dra alt jeg kan ut av det, før jeg fortsetter.
Det er det samme med dårlige setninger. Jeg kan sammenligne det med denne situasjonen: Å sitte og spise nøtter som er lagt på rekke bortover én og én, og for å komme videre til neste er man nødt til å spise den som kom først. Så da sitter man der og spiser, og plutselig merker man at det smaker skikkelig vondt i munnen - det var en dårlig nøtt - og man har lyst til å spytte den ut, men vet at hvis man gjør det kommer man ikke videre til den neste.
Når jeg leser en dårlig setning smaker det litt vondt i munnen, men hvis jeg skal videre i boka må jeg jo spise alle setningene, også de dårlige, jeg vet det. Så hvorfor har jeg så vanskelig for å svelge for tiden?

I går natt drømte jeg at jeg var Leonard Cohen.

Leaving, hah!

I’ve watched both No Direction Home and I’m Not There with a short interval and am developing a sort of Bob Dylan obsession. A man who resembled Dylan only without the curls came into my shop the other day. I imagined our fiery romance.


I’m leaving for Denmark tomorrow. Train through Sweden and then boat to the island where we’ve got our summer house. I’m looking forward to the train ride, to stare out of the window and watch how the landscape is moving and not I. And I’ll read my new book, whichever one that will be. I’ve got five to choose from.

I’ll meet my family there and talk with them in Danish, we’ll get up late and eat breakfast forever. Maybe go down to the cliffs and swim. I’ll try to write as much as I can, at least finish chapter three and begin chapter four.
And in the evenings we’ll eat huge dinners, Greek-style, and it will be brilliant.

Mostly red

I want to be somewhere that is not here. Instead I just sleep, write and try on my new clothes.

End

So. I broke up with my boyfriend, got briefly back together with him again and now it’s over. Finished.
Sometimes I wonder if this relationship has been anything but a pile of hurt, but I’ll try to remember the good things.

Tree

The tree

I’ve worked for a week now, I enjoy working in a bookshop. Even unpacking deliveries and pricing them is alright because it’s (mostly) books and then I get to read all the blurbs and get an idea about them, and afterwards find out where to put them. There’s something that just feels good about putting books into shelves alphabetically. I like to stroke my fingers over them, to feel their square backs and straight lines against my hands.
And I like selling them, making sure the books go somewhere where people can read them. I try to see if people match the books they buy. Sometimes when they don’t the person ask to get them wrapped and then I know why.
In-between this I write. It feels good.

Yesterday I hung out with Maria, and she helped me climb a tree I have wanted to climb for ages. Just when I had got up there So Long Marianne was being played loudly from a window across the street. These two things have nothing at all to do with each other, they just happened at the same time.

Skrive

Jeg sitter her og skriver, klokka er over tolv og jeg tenker, dæven nå skriver jeg bra. Det er sånn det burde vært hver dag. Jeg skriver inn kapittel en og to på pc. Det er fantastisk, det er berusende. Jeg burde stoppe snart, det er for gøy, det er for raskt, for lett. Jeg kan ikke bare kjøre racerbil, da glemmer jeg hvordan det er når jeg må kjøre trillebår igjen i kapittel tre.

Dune

I’m ill, and I don’t want to eat anything. Yesterday I ate a whole chilli pepper because I thought it would help but I didn’t notice anything. Every time I cough it’s… uh, it’s really gross.

Anne and I watched Dune yesterday. It would have been completely impossible to understand anything they said, or to deduce from their actions what was going on if I hadn’t read the books when I was fourteen. Every quarter of an hour we had to press pause so I could explain to Anne what happened and why. I sorta liked it anyway. Half the crew of Twin Peaks was in there (plus Sting!), and when the floating assassin needle tried to kill Paul Atreides / Special Agent Dale Cooper we could say stuff like: Look, it’s Windom Earle in disguise.

Earrings

My mother gave me these earrings on Saturday. They remind me of aubergines.




When I was small I used to look through my mother’s jewellery, they were shiny and I coveted them with the greed of a child. These earrings made on my impressionable mind an imprint as if this was the very idea of earrings, you know, in the Platon sense of the word.
I saw them again when I was helping her dressing up for a party, and she gave them to me. She said she didn’t like them anymore.

Æsj

Hvorfor er jeg bare sammen med idioter som ikke vet hvordan man har en kjæreste? Det er ikke som om jeg ber om mye, alt jeg vil ha er å få høre at du faktisk har lyst til å være kjæresten min, at det hender du setter pris på at jeg er der. Faen.

Wow

Yesterday I won the student price for our semester task at school. I was surprised and my hands shook. I didn’t even know this price existed.

A lot of people came up to me afterwards and told me how much they liked it, that their hearts hurt a little. There was even one woman who cried. I think I liked that the most, to see that people liked something I made.

Jolene, Jolene
I'm begging of you

The Giant Killer Spiders

Today was another day too hot to wake up early. I tried to read The Great Gatsby in bed but instead I just kept falling asleep again having nightmares about the giant killer spiders From The Dawn Of Time. I didn’t like them very much, they killed me in the bath tub.

But look at my dinner! Trout with salad and sprouts. So tasty! Afterwards I ate half a Pakistani mango and it was glorious.

Night

I like walking around in Oslo during the night. The smell of flowers is almost sticky, it’s so much more prominent than during the day. I remember we took a stroll in Slottsparken after midnight and we sat down in the grass, I bent backwards, put my head down. It was so soft, I almost fell asleep, I felt warm.
And I remember the bench where we watched the green light in the window opposite, and the sound the leaves made outside my window yesterday, just as I was thinking about that time you know, when the sun came bursting out of the glass ceiling at the station and I remember everything, everything. This is a happy feeling.

green and purple

There’s always this feeling of not being good enough. Not as or for the others. I can’t do anything right, it always turns out awkward or just downright embarrassing. Even if it’s just trying to say a sentence I stumble over the words and hurt my knee before I reach the other end.

benkpress

Da jeg var på Elixia forrige lørdag og hadde løftet bare stanga i benkpress, var jeg så sliten etterpå at jeg ikke klarte å løfte den av meg igjen. Så jeg lå på ryggen en stund og kjempet med stanga som lå på magen min til en mann kom bort og sa: Trenger du hjelp? og løftet den av meg med én hånd.
Dét er en fordel med treningsstudioer, man trener alltid med en sterk mann ved sin side.

Movements

Some time ago I borrowed a book from Benedicte called Omon Ra by Victor Pelevin. And on one of the first pages I read something that struck me as true.
“When humans are very small (and maybe also in death?) they move in all directions at once, and it can therefore be said they don’t exist. It’s not before they gather around one movement they get what we call a personality”
(this is translated from the Norwegian sentence I only have in my memory, from what I read translated from Russian, so it’s not correct in any term)
And I’ve thought about it, that a personality is one movement or more, towards something new, something else, the same. I think my movement began in the red sofa, beside my uncle when he taught me how to read. I remember how intoxicating it was, how free and powerful I felt when I broke the code, when I understood the secret. It was only to put the sounds after each other, and there! by themselves they became words.
Most of what I’ve done afterwards have sprung out of that moment in the red sofa, of the freedom the words gave to me, the one who reads, who writes them. It was there that the movement in my personality began.

Food and sun

17th of May was wonderful. It’s been fifty years since last time 17th of May was this cold, it even snowed. But I took some of the best people with me to Nesodden where we cooked food. Afterwards we ate all we could, and then we laughed loudly. That was nice.

Tomorrow I’ll take a walk around Torshov instead of being at school. We’re doing our final assignment thing and I’ll take pictures for reference. I cross my fingers for sun.

Books and chocolate cakes

I bought this book because I’d been staring at it in the antiquarian bookshop for ages. And now it’s mine! Oh, look at it, it’s so beautiful!




We’re having a party today, so I’m making a chocolate cake soon, because that’s what I do before parties. Yay!

I blame the sun

Yesterday I suddenly and quite unexpectedly became a member of a gym. There was this man behind a stand, and there was so much sun, I had drunk coffee and the sun was in my eyes, it was everywhere, I just didn’t manage to say no!
So I went there today and tried out pilates because my physiotherapist says I should do that anyway, and it was ok.
Afterwards I ate waffles and chocolate ice for dinner, because that’s the sort of thing I can do now I’m all grown up.

Zombies and soup

Look at the soup I made entirely out of random things in the fridge!



I dreamt of zombies again last night. It's not a weekly happening anymore, but still more often than I would like. This time they gave me earrings and told me I played a vital part in their religion.

Thought

Sometimes I think about the fact that I can actually say things like: Once, when I was on the Trans Siberian Railway – I think we’d just passed the Chinese border, moving through the dry and grey brown mountains with the dust from Gobi still clinging to the windows and our skin – I met someone who told me my voice sounded exactly like Miranda July,” and it would all be true.

Fish and coffee

I’m in a really good mood today. The air is full of sun and my headache is all covered in this layer of ice coffee going YEAH WOOOH YEAH and it’s pretty nice.

Pleuronectes platessa or whatever is my new favourite fish.

Visiting the family

I mentioned to mum and dad that I had been to the Threepenny opera, upon which we all simultaneously began to hum Mack The Knife while making dinner. It was like… I don’t know what it was like. It was nice.
After dinner (rice, salad and homemade minced steak made of the deer our neighbour had shot) I sat for hours in the sun drinking tea with my grandmother. The cats were running around, and so were the hens. I played the piano even though I’ve forgotten how.
My youngest brother had caught lots of flatfish (rødspette to be exact) and he gave me one of them.



In five minutes I’ll fry it in butter and eat it.

:)

Hello, my name is human. I like ice cream and sun on my skin, I like tasty food and to have my back scratched. Cats have warm fur now, I like spring.

Kurt Weill

We saw the Threepenny opera in New Norwegian, I liked it a lot. And then we started to talk about that time I dragged Anne and Ida along to see September Songs – The music of Kurt Weill.

the toes

Lately I’ve been trying to stand on the toes on one foot with my eyes closed while brushing my teeth. Someone at the ballet academy said it’s good for you, but it’s really annoyingly difficult, even when not brushing my teeth.

chocolate

Our teacher gave us chocolate, cookies and Russian tea while discussing our paintings today. It was nice.

I’m unemployed again because my cinema closed down in march. This means I’ve got lots of time, and I use it to write, every day. It’s satisfying, but I don’t get any money.

China

We saw pandas and drank tea at teahouses.





In Kunming there were this Stone Forest with lots of weird shaped rocks with stories to them, I loved that. And they had dinosaurs at the museum.





Dinosaurs are so weird.






Mmm, food :)