the meeting place
a sad love song. somehow it makes me happy. why, I ask myself.
there’s something about the way he has written the lyrics; like an attempt to win her back. or maybe not. I do not know.
“…he struggles to sleep at night
and during the day
he’s worried she’s waiting in his dreams
to drag him back to the meeting place…”
I’m gonna say it again. dear happiness, please stay.
look how happy I look in this picture from last night. it makes me happy to see myself happy. but for how long am I gonna be just happy? I hate to say this, but here it goes;
being just happy is boring. to be more than just happy I need some chaos, some drama…yes, really!
a Turkish friend of mine once said that she is more dramatic than her Norwegian friends; yes, even though she has lived in Norway her entire life (like me) and even though she practically could be Norwegian (also like me), I think she is right. and I actually think that could be one of many reasons her boyfriend (who is a blond, blue eyed Norwegian) loves her.
“…and time would be cruel
because it is cruel to everyone…”
…they sing so gracefully, The Last Shadow Puppets…
there is a certain sense in which those experiences grow naturally into creativity and it becomes apparent that I need some drama to be able to write poems/lyrics like that.
I care if they’re happy
- Soo…Dave, do you care if your kids are Jewish?
- I care if they’re happy…
PRIME
mistaken for a stranger
the road seemed long and narrow, yet wide and open. the sidewalk was put together, piece by piece, of fragments of my beloved memories.
a girl in a white dress, sitting on a heavenly blue bench making soap bubbles, told me that everything will be ok, but only if I accept the sunflowers and the red, heart shaped lollipops along the road.
one day, she told me, you will meet someone and you will be mistaken for a stranger.
not easy to understand, is it?
I blow away
the dust
on my secrets,
wondering what
they look like.
Ever so
relieving,
they,
my secrets,
make me
want to break
through.
Count me on,
the imaginary me
(the one I have
forsaken)
says,
only to ease the
imaginary
swelling pain.
I am playing the game
of the restless,
surfing on the waves
of happiness,
waiting for the words,
the sighs
and
the heartless
to come to me.
Not easy to
understand,
is it?
evil/good
For if there was no evil in the garden, neither was there any good.
Paul Auster
let it take you
They sail light, ocean
Sail this night, ocean
Sail at light day, sail here
Filling my sleep so gently
Just let it take you
Just let it steer
Just let it take you
They sail light, ocean
Sail this night, ocean
Shimmer like gold, they’re singing
Filling my sleep so gently
Just let it take you
Just let it steer
Just let it take you
This is easy
Just let it take you
Just let it steer
Just let it take you
This is easy
Music by Goldfrapp “Let it take you” Supernature
Music video by New York Film Academy students
Girl: Linn Angelique Bjornland
Director of photography: Giovanna Badilla
Assistant director: Alicia Garcia Francisco
Written, directed and edited by: Florian Wyss
kiss me, he said. and she kissed him.
are you serious, he said and looked at her, almost as if he was amazed. yes, I am serious, she said, I have never loved anyone before. you can’t be serious, he said, still stirring at her. she looked away and thought about how hard it was to explain why she had not loved anyone so far. she lit one more cigarette and got up. he followed her, amused by the fact that she had never loved anyone before. you do not look or act like a girl who hasn’t loved before, he said, smiling. almost filthy. I know, she said, without loosing her attitude. she looked very young. she was very young.
only to disappear
dear god/goddess/mother earth/nature/universe/whatever,
I would like to know the purpose of people coming into my life only to disappear again.
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