söndag 16 april 2017

26

It was a year of ripe fruits. With it followed all the usual complaints. Too much work. Too heavy. We will never get it in on time.
But of course we did. We always did.
The complaints were a river we needed to cross.
And cross it we did.
With the fruits came a new sensation. We accumulated. First it was small things. a smile here. A new tire there.
It was all I could do not to choke. Yes, the days were long, the work heavy. But heavy in an acceptable way, if you know what i mean. Heavy like the body responded, felt used, useful and needed. 

At the time my days felt fulfilling. Of course the smiles didn’t hurt either. It was a welcome relief after a rough patch. No, I rather not go into that right now.

tisdag 21 april 2015

Gosh

Oh my gosh.
Quentin seems to have fallen asleep.
Why didn't you wake him?
He is now having nightmares. About eastbloc.
I blame you.

fredag 2 maj 2014

25

There is power in repetition, he said he said. We must not strive for the narrow path, we must be the path. The voice sounded bleary and tired. Like he had not slept for a hundred days, just looking at the archi-cola landscape, laden with fresh things. I have since then stopped listening, as it will drive me insane. The things he says...like the one about the onrushing star cluster HVGC-1 was simply too preposterous. Back in those days i was still wet behind my ears. We used to jokingly refer to those parts as the uncharted wetlands. I could have gone further, i know. But somehow this spot talked to me. Something inside my core being clicked with these rocks, those shadows, the smell of coke. I have not yet regretted my impromptu decision to usher Glenn and Ava away, and strike for gold here. My gold is no fools' gold, though my scars are many and fierce-looking. At closer inspection, you will see me for what i am. The imposter. I can live with that.

Bloglovin

Me bein on Bloglovin

lördag 18 februari 2012

24


So you see it will have to be like this now. Living is a dance, where your moves decide your future position. But this is not to be confused with the misconceived conception that order rules. We create this sensation to keep panic at bay. We will do many things to avoid looking this in the eyes. We might not like what we will find. As usual the path of least resistance beams ahead, inviting as the quick fix we long for. There are times when the dancing commands our full attention. These are times of relaxation, as they block out the sun. The sun is a disk of unfathomable energy piercing most defenses. We will yield in its presence, and that is in order. Fortunately for us we are seldom called upon to commit ourselves to this degree. This is what the story of Abraham is all about. And this is something we have known, but either forgotten or denied. For we will take another step forward. The movement creates its own moment. And in the end we will die, obviously. This might not be the marker we have set it out to be. I am increasingly vague about that. It seems new things are emerging now. And they may be decoys or grains of truth. So, there is chaos, and the absolutes are not playing ball. Tough luck, deal with it. This might not change all that much, come to think of it. IT settles certain long running disputes, but simultaneously leaves the door open to new avenues needy of further investigation. This polly jean is humming into my ear, and I see wisdom there. Because I am human I will connect the dots. And where are none I will weave them. I think that is a strategy for survival. Like sharks we need to keep moving. Movement is pleasure, and it is also easy. But what when I get tired, and want to run no more? Is that to equal with death? I think not, that is a simplification. And while basically simple to the level of bonehead we are there because of the very complex. There seem to be little or no paradox in this, shed your conceptions of dualism, open your eyes. 

måndag 30 januari 2012

23


The  passing of time, do you even want to feel it. Not sure we are built that way. perhaps we have no choice but to be bruised by the hard grip. And anyway, it does not ask. We should be humbled. We should bow our heads and relent. but we usually don’t. and the bruising will get worse. suddenly you are five again. maybe thats in our makeup too. the mountains do not ask our permission, so, we seem to think, why should we? In those instances when our woes are man made, we would have a point. But in all other instances, we should relent. It is not the same as giving in.

tisdag 17 januari 2012

22

 
You must be obsessed to gain entry here. You must break the rules, disregard your safety, ignore the door, quench your thirst. In short, you have to give it up. Then you might gain entry. But there are no guarantees. It might not be what
you had in mind. This is not for everyone. and know this, once you are obsessed there is no turning back. Of course you can back off, but you cannot become clean again. This is the price. There is no shortage of candidates in spite of this.
Each morning the floor needs to be swiped. They come in all forms and shapes. They persist. As this has gone on for some time, they shrink into background chatter, part of the fabric. In short, they invisibilise. Only by their silent intermittent sighs do you know they are
there at all. So you adapt, and workaround it. For him, this became routine. Sharpening of the pen, cleaning the pad. (He liked his pad clean.) Some short minutes of looking at the poplar tree outside the window, allowing for a lost in contemplation moment.
then, mind and pencil sharpened he turned to the work of the day. Careful notetaking, details so crucial in this business.
and then, each day the same time, the knock on the door, the back of her carefully dancing the tray in. The wisp of smoke trailing as if rising from her head, but of course emanating from the hot coffee she was so graciously bringing.