Saturday, 12 November 2011
Friday, 11 November 2011
November Cleaning: going through pictures at the computer, and marvelling, laughing and sighing at lost times
Having an inventory day today, kind of a clear out day. I have so far gone through my entire massive email inbox, which took hours cause it awoke so many memories. So many beatiful old emails, so many painful ones, happy ones, sad ones, goddamn angry ones (yes one or two, believe it or not). So much braveness and littleness and well, yeah just a lot of everything as is customary with me in da HOUSE!
Then I started looking through pictures I have saved at/to the computer out here, and there was a LOT of random stuff, this is just a small selection...
Then I started looking through pictures I have saved at/to the computer out here, and there was a LOT of random stuff, this is just a small selection...
A picture of two of my bestbest in the world friends; Mr. Kimbles and Jessface, us three (my arm included) in our most customary poses; with blush in hand and happy smiles. Oh yeah, and at Mahiki...
Well this is an interesting one. I met this Jakobstadman after Juthbacka Marknad, and he was so proud of the doll he had purchased (in his pocket). It was an odd night which got just a bit odder when we went out to smoke and he happily posed with the doll, as I said I just had to blog about it (he agreed to it) Love the randomness!
Just bloody brilliant! 'nough said! From the net of the inter
Oh Eccleston, massive crush on you always and forever! just look at the noooose!
The wonderful and talanted Malin Ahlin's work. Visit her website on:
Buy some prints, they are amazing in real life too! (even better, and they are goddamn good already on her blog!)
Hahahaha, I LOVE IT!
A picture I made for my two darlings Kims and Jess, a blue and rainy monday morning(:
Susan Sonntag in a bear suit!! It is just soooo good!!! <3
rubberface Anna
Stockholm 2010, when I met so many lovely people! hej hej Linda, Miina och Daniel! Hej hej a-k med gul rosett!
hahaha, only with Michelle! But this actually has a normal explanation. This drunk guy was a dick all night, kept touching Michelle even though both she and I swore at him and told him to dissapear, so when we left and he was drunkenly having a nap at a car we decided to have some objectifying fun of our own (note; we did not actually touch him, only airhump him! with all do respect Sir!)
yes, I gave blood!
No explanation needed- B.E.A.U.T.I.F.U.L
Summer 2010: Sofia and I were pink/purple, and I had short hair and skinny arms
summer 2010, our old balcony
<3
Hej Alex!
Non Smoking Update: almost 24 hours without nicotine now and still going (kinda) strong! Woop woop never thought I could do it!
Thursday, 10 November 2011
so soft and yet so hard
This makes me both want to cry and laugh and giggle and pinch and hope and dream and oh I'm scared but I don't want to stop feeling these big red hot loving angry crazy feelings do you know what I mean? YOU do, but only you know who I am talking to, and I hope you are reading but don't tell me you do because it's a secret but just call me ok? I hope soon and tell me that if you are going to be scared you want to be sometimes scared with me or by my scared little side cause we are all scared. Me the most I think. I promise I will make you loved up scones anytime you want, and you can come and rest by my fireplace whenever the world spins too fast around you and all my poetry is about you if that is what you want
Cause I think it could be so beautiful
Study in Angry Lips - pink tulips and black&white (pepper&salt)
Me and Clint Eastwood have definately got one thing in common; we have both understood the point of growling when angry with the world, it is very rewarding and healthy!
This is my inspiration and hero:
Also, I will let you in on a secret; I have not smoked in....about....14 hours! (that is off course why I am up stupid o'clock after only about two hours of sleep.. my poor nicotine deprived body is upset as hell - but I am ignoring the craving so far at least! good work girl! Clint would be proud!)
Ballongporr kära läsare, ballongporr is the shit!
Favourite thing today;
(it's just amazing that the first you tube video I found when looking for balloon videos is a porn balloon video! what ARE the odds??)
Since the start of my blog, one person has found their way through cyberspace to my blog by searching the key word 'ballong' (balloon) in swedish. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT!
(Also, 4 (!!) people found my blog searching key words 'porr noveller' (porn short stories) - haha they got a bit of a shock didn't they- getting feminist and queer polemics rather than porn!)
I adore stats. And cognac it seems. Interesting shit
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
yeah yeah, the concept of Anger is the theme of the day - Deal with it!
My general black and red mood of the day has made me think about anger as a concept, everything which is created and blossoms out of anger.
I have always liked angry things really...
I've always been a sucker for big strong metallic vessels of any kind that has the ability to destroy (massive ships, concrete mixertrucks, trucks of all kinds, tarmac flatteners, big missile planes [not what they do, only how they look]), but also on the same time has the ability/potential to create new things and improve the world - bring safety, new infrastructure, safer roads, quicker ways to travel to your loved ones.
Anger is in so many ways constructive, where else would all the revolutions, big societal changes and eruptions come from? I highly doubt that women would have been given the right to vote when they did if they would have stayed at home, happily and quietly knitting along and humming a sexist tune. And would the church have admit that Women actually maybe just about have a soul? Highly doubtful.... (So thank you Sisters, Foremothers and also brave men who refused to swallow the gender stereotypes, norms and shit any longer!) Nor do I think todays South Africa, America... would be what it is without the Black Movement, the anger and hurt and humiliation made that revolution and movement as strong as it was/is. Us nonstraights would probably still be illegal, insane, sick and just god damn despicable if it wouldn't have been for all the brave Women, Men and Inbetweens who said 'Enough is enough!', went out to march, to build their own rainbow families, to shout, to become politicians (thank you Harvey Milk), to become Mothers and Fathers of happy tolerant kids, become singers, authors, artists - Who all had one ambition: Change the world or create a new one which is more tolerant, loving, understanding, simply a better place to live in.
PUNK - has likewise had a massive big throbbing place in my heart. It was the thing which saved me when I was about 13 and a poor little lost gangly girl who never got asked to dance (cause she was taller than alll the boys, and not as pretty and blond as the pretty girls). I was so close to chosing something destructive, like anorexia (yes I believe you chose it, Im sorry if I offend anyone), selfhurt or trying to fit in to a structure created by society which would have meant that I would have starved myself, shaved every corner and centimeter of my body, dressed in too uncomfortable shoes and clothes, probably sprained my ankles in too high shoes, killed my hair with peroxide and ammoniak, done stupid stuff with boys that I wasnt ready or really wanting to do, started drinking and smoking and doing drugs to try to be cool. Cause that is considered NORMAL teenage behaviour, and it makes me SOOOOO ANGRY!!!!
Instead I chose to become a feminist, a vegetarian, everyday activist and punk at heart. I was able to channel so much through punk music and punk culture- anger at society, gender norms, teenage longings and teenage cravings and teenage expectations, anger at not being 'part', not fitting in. Expectations expectations expectations, from everyone, teachers, society, my own gender, the other gender. Always being the other, the other, the other. Never being IT. But taking the right and duty to be IT. To be an Subject rather than the constant female object.
To me dressing in black, leather (ok I dont do that as Im veggie, but vegan 'leather' and demin works just as well), safety pins, big f*cking boots, angry slogans is Subjectifying yourself. Saying to yourself, others and the world at large; Big finger up to YOU! I define myself, look at me, Im so odd you can't even try to think I'm normal and that I fit in. Cause I CHOSE to not do so. I chose to not swallow the shit you're feeding me, the stereotypes, the gender norms, the age norms and expectations. You will look at me and shake your head, but not because you are objectifying me, but because I force you to look at me, I am both subjectifying and objectifying myself at the same time. ON MY TERMS!
So, the anger is a strenght, a driving force and a friend. It makes me aim all the hurt, sadness, sorrow and feelings of inadequacy outwards and at the world rather than inwards. I have a terrrible tendency (as a 'proper' vata) to meet all challanges with the thought 'what did I do wrong?'. Never, 'how did this person/the world/the society/this ideology hurt me, and Why?', or 'how come people/stuff hurt me/want to hurt me?'. So I channel inwards, become selfdestructive, punish my stupid inferior body by not sleeping enough, drinking too much etc etc etc, INSTEAD of actually looking at the pain, where it's coming from and why I allow it to happen. time after time.
Therapy is probably the best and most sane choice I have ever done in my life. And it was mine, sprung out of my own need to heal myself and love myself. I would warmly recommend it to EVERYONE, no matter how sane or harmonious you feel. It is such an eye opener, makes you develop so much as a person and human being, and make you realise what is important and how you work as a person. Obviously this only works if you have the right therapist for you,and the right form of therapy. Luckily at my first go I found jackpot on both aspects. My therapist and I just klicked, and also the fact that I had to do all the work! No diagnosing, no home assignments - I just 'had' to talk (well I could have been quiet, but I bloody well paid 50 euro for an hour so I was going to get my moneys worth, economic as I am) and talk and talk to this person who knew nothing of me, my history or my background.
Having to rationalise every single little thing you say, and explain them to a stranger so that they will understand, will give you the biggest mindblows if you are just open to it! I often left feeling totally wrenched after an hour, cause I had had too many aha experiences for one hour. It's like you would have lived in a daze all your life, and all of a sudden you start realising what is you, how you tick and why you act and don't act the way you do. It is mindblowing but exhausting! The biggest realisation I have had lies in my own very well trained selfdestructivity, how I have fed and fuelled it at least all my teenage and adult life. Not always very visibly, but sometimes very visibly. That it has taken form in a crippling perfectionism, extremely high self expectations, manipulation of the body in form of sleep depravation, food deprevation, excessive poison (alcohol, nicotine, caffeine, sugar etc etc...).
And realising that has given me the power to admit my problems, my weaknesses, and moving on to accepting responsibility and potential to change them. Cause only when you are aware of your problems can you change them. You can go on and blame the world, your upbrining, your parents, your teachers, your society etc etc - BUT ONLY WHEN YOU ACCEPT THAT ONLY YOU CAN CHANGE YOU will you be able to actually get some changes made - become kinder to yourself, and stop chosing things in your life which makes you unhappy.
That said I am in no way claiming I am a finished project. Oh far from my friend. I will be working on myself for the rest of my life.Not to become perfect, but to become the kindest and wisest version of myself, a person who accepts and loves themself - and thus can accept and love others. And some days its easier, Im nice to myself and chose not to allow crap, and some days I am worse (especially when I am sad) and aim all the shit things that happen/has happened inwards and allow them to mean that I am a lousy horrible person who is not worth anything good in life, especially not love.
All this makes me a god damn difficult person to deal with and get close to. I either give too much, try to love the world so much I become a boa constricter (or whatever....) and end up suffocating the living breath out of everything- or I don't share at all, not letting anyone come past my pansar walls, not even to peer through a window. I know that I can be super super kind and lovely to be around, but I can also be living hell. But then again, I have so many wonderful friends who stick by me in wet and dry and storm and ebb - so I chose to believe that I am becoming a more developed version of me as the years pass, and that I have more positives than negatives in my personality to make hanging out with me (and hanging on to the hurricane pace I extract) wothwile. Or they're just amazingly strong and put up with a lot of crap.
That said I reckon that maybe by 80 or so I will be selfdeveloped enough to meet someone who I will be able to let in fully into my life, and who won't be scared shitless by my enormous extremes, my need for constant attention, approval, closeness and love, my close to nonexistent need of personal space or personal time and so on... Damn I'm lucky to have my human and animal friends, Punk and Rrrriot until then!
I have always liked angry things really...
I've always been a sucker for big strong metallic vessels of any kind that has the ability to destroy (massive ships, concrete mixertrucks, trucks of all kinds, tarmac flatteners, big missile planes [not what they do, only how they look]), but also on the same time has the ability/potential to create new things and improve the world - bring safety, new infrastructure, safer roads, quicker ways to travel to your loved ones.
Anger is in so many ways constructive, where else would all the revolutions, big societal changes and eruptions come from? I highly doubt that women would have been given the right to vote when they did if they would have stayed at home, happily and quietly knitting along and humming a sexist tune. And would the church have admit that Women actually maybe just about have a soul? Highly doubtful.... (So thank you Sisters, Foremothers and also brave men who refused to swallow the gender stereotypes, norms and shit any longer!) Nor do I think todays South Africa, America... would be what it is without the Black Movement, the anger and hurt and humiliation made that revolution and movement as strong as it was/is. Us nonstraights would probably still be illegal, insane, sick and just god damn despicable if it wouldn't have been for all the brave Women, Men and Inbetweens who said 'Enough is enough!', went out to march, to build their own rainbow families, to shout, to become politicians (thank you Harvey Milk), to become Mothers and Fathers of happy tolerant kids, become singers, authors, artists - Who all had one ambition: Change the world or create a new one which is more tolerant, loving, understanding, simply a better place to live in.
PUNK - has likewise had a massive big throbbing place in my heart. It was the thing which saved me when I was about 13 and a poor little lost gangly girl who never got asked to dance (cause she was taller than alll the boys, and not as pretty and blond as the pretty girls). I was so close to chosing something destructive, like anorexia (yes I believe you chose it, Im sorry if I offend anyone), selfhurt or trying to fit in to a structure created by society which would have meant that I would have starved myself, shaved every corner and centimeter of my body, dressed in too uncomfortable shoes and clothes, probably sprained my ankles in too high shoes, killed my hair with peroxide and ammoniak, done stupid stuff with boys that I wasnt ready or really wanting to do, started drinking and smoking and doing drugs to try to be cool. Cause that is considered NORMAL teenage behaviour, and it makes me SOOOOO ANGRY!!!!
Instead I chose to become a feminist, a vegetarian, everyday activist and punk at heart. I was able to channel so much through punk music and punk culture- anger at society, gender norms, teenage longings and teenage cravings and teenage expectations, anger at not being 'part', not fitting in. Expectations expectations expectations, from everyone, teachers, society, my own gender, the other gender. Always being the other, the other, the other. Never being IT. But taking the right and duty to be IT. To be an Subject rather than the constant female object.
To me dressing in black, leather (ok I dont do that as Im veggie, but vegan 'leather' and demin works just as well), safety pins, big f*cking boots, angry slogans is Subjectifying yourself. Saying to yourself, others and the world at large; Big finger up to YOU! I define myself, look at me, Im so odd you can't even try to think I'm normal and that I fit in. Cause I CHOSE to not do so. I chose to not swallow the shit you're feeding me, the stereotypes, the gender norms, the age norms and expectations. You will look at me and shake your head, but not because you are objectifying me, but because I force you to look at me, I am both subjectifying and objectifying myself at the same time. ON MY TERMS!
So, the anger is a strenght, a driving force and a friend. It makes me aim all the hurt, sadness, sorrow and feelings of inadequacy outwards and at the world rather than inwards. I have a terrrible tendency (as a 'proper' vata) to meet all challanges with the thought 'what did I do wrong?'. Never, 'how did this person/the world/the society/this ideology hurt me, and Why?', or 'how come people/stuff hurt me/want to hurt me?'. So I channel inwards, become selfdestructive, punish my stupid inferior body by not sleeping enough, drinking too much etc etc etc, INSTEAD of actually looking at the pain, where it's coming from and why I allow it to happen. time after time.
Therapy is probably the best and most sane choice I have ever done in my life. And it was mine, sprung out of my own need to heal myself and love myself. I would warmly recommend it to EVERYONE, no matter how sane or harmonious you feel. It is such an eye opener, makes you develop so much as a person and human being, and make you realise what is important and how you work as a person. Obviously this only works if you have the right therapist for you,and the right form of therapy. Luckily at my first go I found jackpot on both aspects. My therapist and I just klicked, and also the fact that I had to do all the work! No diagnosing, no home assignments - I just 'had' to talk (well I could have been quiet, but I bloody well paid 50 euro for an hour so I was going to get my moneys worth, economic as I am) and talk and talk to this person who knew nothing of me, my history or my background.
Having to rationalise every single little thing you say, and explain them to a stranger so that they will understand, will give you the biggest mindblows if you are just open to it! I often left feeling totally wrenched after an hour, cause I had had too many aha experiences for one hour. It's like you would have lived in a daze all your life, and all of a sudden you start realising what is you, how you tick and why you act and don't act the way you do. It is mindblowing but exhausting! The biggest realisation I have had lies in my own very well trained selfdestructivity, how I have fed and fuelled it at least all my teenage and adult life. Not always very visibly, but sometimes very visibly. That it has taken form in a crippling perfectionism, extremely high self expectations, manipulation of the body in form of sleep depravation, food deprevation, excessive poison (alcohol, nicotine, caffeine, sugar etc etc...).
And realising that has given me the power to admit my problems, my weaknesses, and moving on to accepting responsibility and potential to change them. Cause only when you are aware of your problems can you change them. You can go on and blame the world, your upbrining, your parents, your teachers, your society etc etc - BUT ONLY WHEN YOU ACCEPT THAT ONLY YOU CAN CHANGE YOU will you be able to actually get some changes made - become kinder to yourself, and stop chosing things in your life which makes you unhappy.
That said I am in no way claiming I am a finished project. Oh far from my friend. I will be working on myself for the rest of my life.Not to become perfect, but to become the kindest and wisest version of myself, a person who accepts and loves themself - and thus can accept and love others. And some days its easier, Im nice to myself and chose not to allow crap, and some days I am worse (especially when I am sad) and aim all the shit things that happen/has happened inwards and allow them to mean that I am a lousy horrible person who is not worth anything good in life, especially not love.
All this makes me a god damn difficult person to deal with and get close to. I either give too much, try to love the world so much I become a boa constricter (or whatever....) and end up suffocating the living breath out of everything- or I don't share at all, not letting anyone come past my pansar walls, not even to peer through a window. I know that I can be super super kind and lovely to be around, but I can also be living hell. But then again, I have so many wonderful friends who stick by me in wet and dry and storm and ebb - so I chose to believe that I am becoming a more developed version of me as the years pass, and that I have more positives than negatives in my personality to make hanging out with me (and hanging on to the hurricane pace I extract) wothwile. Or they're just amazingly strong and put up with a lot of crap.
That said I reckon that maybe by 80 or so I will be selfdeveloped enough to meet someone who I will be able to let in fully into my life, and who won't be scared shitless by my enormous extremes, my need for constant attention, approval, closeness and love, my close to nonexistent need of personal space or personal time and so on... Damn I'm lucky to have my human and animal friends, Punk and Rrrriot until then!
Tuesday, 8 November 2011
2 things just made me happy(er)
1. I realised that I can listen to angry music on my stereo through my headphones - thus not waking up the entire house with angry, ugly, punky or screamy polemic music
2. I realised that I will be able to listen to angry music with HIGH volume in my new home at nights, CAUSE I HAVE NO NEIGHBOURS!!!!!! Wooop F*CKING woooooop!
2. I realised that I will be able to listen to angry music with HIGH volume in my new home at nights, CAUSE I HAVE NO NEIGHBOURS!!!!!! Wooop F*CKING woooooop!
Tea bags, laptop chargers and middlefat middleaged, middleheterosexual, verywhite, rightwing politicians....
I woke up at 6AM today- feeling angry. Really angry. Almost red raging mad straight from the morning. Kinda confusing at first, tried to just stay in bed for a while figuring out why I had this red bubbling rage in my body. So I got angry at waking up at 6, even though I even took some leftover (from my nonsleeping days) herbal sleep medication before going to bed last night.....God damn body and its bone hard instincts. No wonder I have been walking around all my life trying to ignore and manipulat my body, because it's SO damn hard to manipulate! It has an iron will of its own, and trying to work against my instincts is a life project.
Going back to sleep angry is never an easy thing, so I gave up and decided to get up instead, which was possibly an even worse idea - so much in the external world to be angry at! stupid tea bag string got all tassled, it was cold and horrible in the flat, there were people there trying to communicate with me - which meant that I couldn't swear freely and air my anger. Then the tea which I had picked without thinking about it (at least consciously) was of course called 'Happy Mood' tea, which made me REALLY angry! Now even my TEA is telling me to chirpen up! SHUT UP STUPID TEA BAG!!
A calming cigarette became a fuming making me even more mad cigarette, and the balcony door was a bitch to close. The wind was cold and my ass got cold sitting on the balcony chair. Oh and yes, the god damn charger chord for the laptop was of course ridiculously hard to get into the plug socket, leading to me having to crawl under my bed to plug it in. I got dust on my top and my hoodie got stuck on the underside of the bed...
AND IT'S NOT EVEN 8.00AM YET!!!!!!!!!!!! F*ck!
I am such a recycler and horder of emotions, I feel them, intensly but often for quite a short time, and then I put them away. Stashed away somewhere in my body or psyche they lie and saturate, and then it just needs something, something tiny tiny sometimes, for them to pop up again! And it's like they always pop up with invigorated strength, like marinading inside me makes them grow stronger, juicier and spicier. Right now this anger is so well marinated it can almost walk with its own strenth to the barbaque, lie itself down and spitroast for a few hours.
There's so much to BE angry about really, the state of the world, the economy, the stupid (not all) politicians, the stupid (most) world leaders (almost all bloody middle aged, white, heterosexual, middle class, middle fat and middle or very right wing), homophobia, racism, ageism, sexism, the idea that we should use tax money for wars and corruption rather than education, the health system and our weakest society members, bigoted and old fashioned laws, the law system pretty much in its entirity - being old fashioned, sexist and homophobic, stupid religious people (not all, but the ones that carry these traits) telling me I would be a lot better/happier/holier if I only believed in THEIR god, stupid Atheists (again; some!) being so far up their own scientific arrogant asses they can't even listen to other sane/my arguments, every person who has lied to me, cheated me, led me on, purpousfully hurt me.... I can go on forever and ever and ever, cause I am THAT angry today!
If I was clever I would channel this anger (again) to something constructive, write some ranty columns (it went well last time I did, I got published!), do another collage type picture, write some angry politic polemic poetry! (Polemic poetry is by the way my new favourite-but that's besides the angry point so I'll ignore that for now).
[A polemic is a variety of arguments or controversies made against one opinion, doctrine, or person. Other variations of argument are debate and discussion. The word is derived from the Greek polemikos (πολεμικός), meaning "warlike, hostile". (Wikipedia- FTW)]
But then again, who ever said I was clever. Intelligent, yes, but clever? Very much not! I am constantly doing exactly the opposite of what would be good for me, doing things I know will make things worse, harder and more painful in the long run.. So not clever at all.
However, I might either isolate myself in the flat forcing myself to write some intelligent stuff out of this anger, or I will venture into town trying to barricade myself at After 8 with headphones, angry music and thus trying to make myself write...we will see. The pro AND con with the second suggestion is that it involves people. Those annoying, ugly, coughing, sniffling, loud, abnoxious beings that are called my fellow human beings. Yuk! What I really need today is a whole yard full of puppies, THAT and only that would make my anger melt away into sunshine and buttercups. Or a field full of friendly cows that I could stroke. Or a cat purring. Or a lil white rabbit happily bouncing around. Or Maija Maija Maija sunshine human being! I definately need to get more animals into my life...
Vem ska trösta Knyttet?
Vem ska trösta knyttet?
Tove Jansson
Det var en gång ett litet knytt som bodde
alldeles ensam i ett ensamt hus.
Han var nog långt mer ensam än han trodde
på kvällen när han tände alla ljus
och kröp inunder täcker i sin bädd
och gnällde för sig själv, för han var rädd.
Därute gick hemulerna med stora tunga steg
långt borta hördes mårrans tjut på nattens mörka väg
och dörrar stängdes överallt och alla lampor brann
hos alla stackars skrämda kryp som tröstade varann.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga ungefär:
på natten blir det hemska mycket värre än det är.
alldeles ensam i ett ensamt hus.
Han var nog långt mer ensam än han trodde
på kvällen när han tände alla ljus
och kröp inunder täcker i sin bädd
och gnällde för sig själv, för han var rädd.
Därute gick hemulerna med stora tunga steg
långt borta hördes mårrans tjut på nattens mörka väg
och dörrar stängdes överallt och alla lampor brann
hos alla stackars skrämda kryp som tröstade varann.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga ungefär:
på natten blir det hemska mycket värre än det är.
Men nästa morgon innan dagen grydde
och dimman låg kring huset grå och kall
stack knyttet ut en ängslig nos och gnydde
- han hade klarat sig i alla fall -
men ville hellre äta opp sin hatt
än stanna kvar i huset nästa natt.
Och in i dimman flydde han - snart syns han inte mer
och dörrarna står öppna och hans lampor brinner ner.
Och knyttet sörjde efteråt och tänkte, jag var dum
när jag lät regn och mörker flytta in i mina rum.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att samma dag han flytt
blev huset fullt av nya, mycket lyckligare knytt.
och dimman låg kring huset grå och kall
stack knyttet ut en ängslig nos och gnydde
- han hade klarat sig i alla fall -
men ville hellre äta opp sin hatt
än stanna kvar i huset nästa natt.
Och in i dimman flydde han - snart syns han inte mer
och dörrarna står öppna och hans lampor brinner ner.
Och knyttet sörjde efteråt och tänkte, jag var dum
när jag lät regn och mörker flytta in i mina rum.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att samma dag han flytt
blev huset fullt av nya, mycket lyckligare knytt.
Och knyttet gick och gick, men inget hände
fast det fanns fullt av folk på alla håll.
Han såg ej till en enda som han kände
för knyttet var ett mycket ensamt troll
och alldeles för blyg att säga hej,
kan jag få tala några ord med dig?
Och fyra filifjonkor körde visslande förbi
och två små gröna ekipage med åtta homsor i
och mymlan band en lingonkrans att lägga om sin hals
men knyttet gick och gömde sig och syntes inte alls.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga sanningen:
om du bara springer undan så får du ingen vän.
fast det fanns fullt av folk på alla håll.
Han såg ej till en enda som han kände
för knyttet var ett mycket ensamt troll
och alldeles för blyg att säga hej,
kan jag få tala några ord med dig?
Och fyra filifjonkor körde visslande förbi
och två små gröna ekipage med åtta homsor i
och mymlan band en lingonkrans att lägga om sin hals
men knyttet gick och gömde sig och syntes inte alls.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga sanningen:
om du bara springer undan så får du ingen vän.
Och knyttets nya skor var väldigt trånga
och kappsäcken var tung och solen sken.
När kvällen kom och skuggorna blev långa
fanns inte mycket kvar av knyttets ben,
han satte sig på kappsäcken och sa:
den är nog ändå rysligt bra att ha.
Då flög en vind från havet in med lockande musik,
en mumrik spelar på sin flöjt i sömnig sommarvik,
nån kappsäck har han aldrig haft och aldrig trånga skor,
han vandrar på den gröna äng där inga sorger bor.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet och förklara att en sång
är bättre än en kappsäck ifall vägen är för lång.
och kappsäcken var tung och solen sken.
När kvällen kom och skuggorna blev långa
fanns inte mycket kvar av knyttets ben,
han satte sig på kappsäcken och sa:
den är nog ändå rysligt bra att ha.
Då flög en vind från havet in med lockande musik,
en mumrik spelar på sin flöjt i sömnig sommarvik,
nån kappsäck har han aldrig haft och aldrig trånga skor,
han vandrar på den gröna äng där inga sorger bor.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet och förklara att en sång
är bättre än en kappsäck ifall vägen är för lång.
Och knyttet gick med trötta ben mot väster,
han var så ensam som ett knytt kan bli.
Där satt en glad hemul med sina gäster
och tände på ett stort fyrverkeri.
Varenda en bar blommor i sin svans
och inne under träden var det dans
och fyra karuseller åkte runt med spel och sång
där satt de tretton homsorna med varsin röd ballong
hemulen åt en stor blini med hallonsylt och smör
men ingen såg att knyttet kom och stod där utanför.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga som det är:
stig in och säg godafton så de ser att du är här!
han var så ensam som ett knytt kan bli.
Där satt en glad hemul med sina gäster
och tände på ett stort fyrverkeri.
Varenda en bar blommor i sin svans
och inne under träden var det dans
och fyra karuseller åkte runt med spel och sång
där satt de tretton homsorna med varsin röd ballong
hemulen åt en stor blini med hallonsylt och smör
men ingen såg att knyttet kom och stod där utanför.
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga som det är:
stig in och säg godafton så de ser att du är här!
Så gick det lilla knyttet ut på stranden
och fann en snäcka som var stor och vit,
han satte sig försiktigt ner i sanden
och tänkte, o så skönt att jag kom hit,
och lade vackra stenar i sin hatt
och havet var så lugnt och det blev natt.
Långt borta var hemulerna med stora tunga steg
och mårran var försvunnen för hon hade gått sin väg.
Och knyttet tog av skorna och suckade och sa:
hur kan det kännas sorgesamt fast allting är så bra?
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga: lilla vän,
vad gör man med en snäcka om man ej får visa den?
och fann en snäcka som var stor och vit,
han satte sig försiktigt ner i sanden
och tänkte, o så skönt att jag kom hit,
och lade vackra stenar i sin hatt
och havet var så lugnt och det blev natt.
Långt borta var hemulerna med stora tunga steg
och mårran var försvunnen för hon hade gått sin väg.
Och knyttet tog av skorna och suckade och sa:
hur kan det kännas sorgesamt fast allting är så bra?
Men vem ska trösta knyttet med att säga: lilla vän,
vad gör man med en snäcka om man ej får visa den?
Men ute i atlantens svarta vatten
en ensam flaska låg och drev och drev,
den flöt iland på udden framåt natten
och inne i den låg ett litet brev.
Det var en sorgsen text, och den var kort
och namnet hade havet tvättat bort.
Men knyttet satt och tydde ut det lilla som fanns kvar
och över hela stranden lyste julimånen klar.
”...jag är så rädd för mårrans tjut och jag har ingen vän,
jag känner mig så övergiven nu i skymningen...
försök att lite trösta mig om du är stark och snäll,
jag är ett mycket litet skrutt och det är nästan kväll...”.
en ensam flaska låg och drev och drev,
den flöt iland på udden framåt natten
och inne i den låg ett litet brev.
Det var en sorgsen text, och den var kort
och namnet hade havet tvättat bort.
Men knyttet satt och tydde ut det lilla som fanns kvar
och över hela stranden lyste julimånen klar.
”...jag är så rädd för mårrans tjut och jag har ingen vän,
jag känner mig så övergiven nu i skymningen...
försök att lite trösta mig om du är stark och snäll,
jag är ett mycket litet skrutt och det är nästan kväll...”.
Och knyttet gömde brevet i sin ficka,
det första brev han nånsin hade fått,
dessutom var det skrivet av en flicka
och detta gjorde knyttet mycket gott.
Han blev med ens så modig, stark och glad,
han tog ett kallt, men lyckligt månskensbad,
sin kappsäck tömde han på allt och satte sig i den
och rodde ut på havet i den långa dyningen,
två skor låg kvar på stranden och en hatt med stenar i
och natten var så vacker som en sommarnatt kan bli
när någon måste tröstas och beskyddas av ett knytt
och allt blir annorlunda och förtrollande och nytt!
det första brev han nånsin hade fått,
dessutom var det skrivet av en flicka
och detta gjorde knyttet mycket gott.
Han blev med ens så modig, stark och glad,
han tog ett kallt, men lyckligt månskensbad,
sin kappsäck tömde han på allt och satte sig i den
och rodde ut på havet i den långa dyningen,
två skor låg kvar på stranden och en hatt med stenar i
och natten var så vacker som en sommarnatt kan bli
när någon måste tröstas och beskyddas av ett knytt
och allt blir annorlunda och förtrollande och nytt!
På morgonen var hela himlen mulen
och stora valar blåste överallt
och mitt i havet plaskade hemulen
och hojtade: nej fy vad det är kallt!
Och knyttet sa: jag tycker absolut
att vi träffats någon gång förut!
En festklädd filifjonka åkte vinkande förbi
och sex himmelsblåa båtar med nio homsor i,
den femte homsan hälsade på knyttet som skrek: hej,
o, det har aldrig förut hänt att någon upptäckt mig!
Tänk om man finge stanna för att prata lite mer,
men vem ska trösta skruttet om jag sällskapar med er?
och stora valar blåste överallt
och mitt i havet plaskade hemulen
och hojtade: nej fy vad det är kallt!
Och knyttet sa: jag tycker absolut
att vi träffats någon gång förut!
En festklädd filifjonka åkte vinkande förbi
och sex himmelsblåa båtar med nio homsor i,
den femte homsan hälsade på knyttet som skrek: hej,
o, det har aldrig förut hänt att någon upptäckt mig!
Tänk om man finge stanna för att prata lite mer,
men vem ska trösta skruttet om jag sällskapar med er?
Nu skymta svarta berg vid horisonten
tre vilda berg där skrymt och mårror bo,
men nitton homsor fikade med dronten
och lade ut ett nät i frid och ro.
Och knyttet sa: förlåt en resenär
som undrar om ett skrutt har varit här?
Det har hon visst, sa dronten glatt, ett skrutt med trassligt hår
blev alldeles ifrån sig och sprang hemifrån igår,
men vart hon sprang och var hon finns och var hon sist blev sedd
det vete mårran, men jag tror att hon var gräsligt rädd,
och vem som tröstar henne är mera än jag vet
för jag är på semester och nu vill jag lägga nät.
tre vilda berg där skrymt och mårror bo,
men nitton homsor fikade med dronten
och lade ut ett nät i frid och ro.
Och knyttet sa: förlåt en resenär
som undrar om ett skrutt har varit här?
Det har hon visst, sa dronten glatt, ett skrutt med trassligt hår
blev alldeles ifrån sig och sprang hemifrån igår,
men vart hon sprang och var hon finns och var hon sist blev sedd
det vete mårran, men jag tror att hon var gräsligt rädd,
och vem som tröstar henne är mera än jag vet
för jag är på semester och nu vill jag lägga nät.
När skymningen så småningom sig sänkte
kom ludna småkryp fram på alla håll,
de hade bleka nattögon som blänkte
och viskade: där går ett ensamt troll,
ett ensamt stackars knytt som går och tror
att han är mycket stark och mycket stor...
Långt inne mellan bergen hördes mårrans hemska rop
och knyttet gick och gömde sig i första bästa grop,
men om en kvart flög knyttet opp och stampade och sa:
nu är jag mera arg än rädd, och det är ganska bra,
jag måste trösta skruttet, jag får inte vara svag
för hon är nog, om möjligt, ännu räddare än jag!
kom ludna småkryp fram på alla håll,
de hade bleka nattögon som blänkte
och viskade: där går ett ensamt troll,
ett ensamt stackars knytt som går och tror
att han är mycket stark och mycket stor...
Långt inne mellan bergen hördes mårrans hemska rop
och knyttet gick och gömde sig i första bästa grop,
men om en kvart flög knyttet opp och stampade och sa:
nu är jag mera arg än rädd, och det är ganska bra,
jag måste trösta skruttet, jag får inte vara svag
för hon är nog, om möjligt, ännu räddare än jag!
Nu tystnar allt, nu slocknar alla ljusen,
där sitter mårran ensam som ett berg
och runt omkring är hela marken frusen
och själva månen tappar all sin färg.
Och knyttet sa: det här blir inte lätt
för mårran är det värsta jag har sett.
Först piggade han opp sig med en arg och krigisk dans
sen högg han sina tänder djupt i mårrans kalla svans
och mårran blev så häpen att hon skrek och sprang till skogs
och på en sten satt skruttet och såg på när knyttet slogs.
Att skrämma skrutt är inte svårt, de faller lätt i gråt,
men de är ännu lättare att trösta efteråt.
där sitter mårran ensam som ett berg
och runt omkring är hela marken frusen
och själva månen tappar all sin färg.
Och knyttet sa: det här blir inte lätt
för mårran är det värsta jag har sett.
Först piggade han opp sig med en arg och krigisk dans
sen högg han sina tänder djupt i mårrans kalla svans
och mårran blev så häpen att hon skrek och sprang till skogs
och på en sten satt skruttet och såg på när knyttet slogs.
Att skrämma skrutt är inte svårt, de faller lätt i gråt,
men de är ännu lättare att trösta efteråt.
De sågo under tystnad på varandra,
ett knytt, ett skrutt. Och sommarmånen sken.
Kanhända knyttet inte är att klandra
för att han blev så svag i sina ben.
Förlorad i sin blyghet sade han:
jag skriver vad jag menar... och försvann.
Han satte sig att skriva om sin stora ensamhet
om hemulen och om snäckan som var så vit och slät
om funderingar på havet och om hur rädd han blev...
men hur han är förklarade så blev det inget brev.
Jag ber dig käre läsare, att trösta båda två,
o, skriv ett brev från knyttet så att skruttet kan förstå!
(Här har du brevpapper. Frimärke
behövs inte, man lägger brevet t ex
i en rosenbuske där man är säker
på att skruttet får syn på det.)
ett knytt, ett skrutt. Och sommarmånen sken.
Kanhända knyttet inte är att klandra
för att han blev så svag i sina ben.
Förlorad i sin blyghet sade han:
jag skriver vad jag menar... och försvann.
Han satte sig att skriva om sin stora ensamhet
om hemulen och om snäckan som var så vit och slät
om funderingar på havet och om hur rädd han blev...
men hur han är förklarade så blev det inget brev.
Jag ber dig käre läsare, att trösta båda två,
o, skriv ett brev från knyttet så att skruttet kan förstå!
(Här har du brevpapper. Frimärke
behövs inte, man lägger brevet t ex
i en rosenbuske där man är säker
på att skruttet får syn på det.)
När skruttet läst sitt brev med mycken möda
(hon hade särskilt svårt med knyttets namn)
blev buskens vita rosor plötsligt röda
och skruttet flög helt glatt i knyttets famn
och viskade: glöm bort hur hemskt det var
och minns att allt det roliga är kvar!
Jag längtar efter havet som jag aldrig har fått se
och att samla vackra snäckor är en underbar idé!
De reste redan samma natt i filifjonkans båt
och alla homsor hurrade och skrek och bar sig åt
nu gungar glädjelampor över havet var man ser,
nu tröstar vi varandra och är aldrig rädda mer!
(hon hade särskilt svårt med knyttets namn)
blev buskens vita rosor plötsligt röda
och skruttet flög helt glatt i knyttets famn
och viskade: glöm bort hur hemskt det var
och minns att allt det roliga är kvar!
Jag längtar efter havet som jag aldrig har fått se
och att samla vackra snäckor är en underbar idé!
De reste redan samma natt i filifjonkans båt
och alla homsor hurrade och skrek och bar sig åt
nu gungar glädjelampor över havet var man ser,
nu tröstar vi varandra och är aldrig rädda mer!
Cows - A Love Story
I have been very very inactive in the world of cyber recently - as some of you (one or two tops I reckon...) who actually read my blog will have noticed..All is well, there is no more serious or urgent reason than me being sligtly sick and tired of the internet, and it's mushroomlike littlesisters Blogs and Facebook. Being sick of the internet is not a great thing for a blogger - I admit. But I also believe in not blogging when you don't feel like it - cause the entries will be boring, stupid or just pointless. Or at least mine would have been. So in a nice way I have spared you from reading shit. You should all be thankful.
Had some tought things going on, and some wonderful things! Mostly wonderful actually, which is just amazing!
Faffa's funeral was last thursday, on a cold but amazingly sunny day (the sun was actually warm for the first time in a few weeks at least). It was tough. I left translating and transcribing the speach until the last minute, cause every time I tried started I just started crying. It felt unfair to faffa that I had no more capacity or strengtg or want for more sorrow in my life. I know faffa wouldn't WANT us to cry and moan and be sad, he was such a chirpy man until the very end, but then again sorrow and grief feels like the 'natural' states to be in when someone has passed.
So I was pushing away sorrow and tears - trying to escape them (once again) in frantic activity - not sleeping enough, drinking too much coffee, smoking too many cigrettes, starting too many projects but hardly finishing any of them. And then the house, I was so happy about getting and signing the rental agreement for my Sunshine House -but every time I started getting happy and giddy thughts of faffa popped up, or more correctly; thoughts about that I SHOULD be sad. Sadness is such a complex things, people grieve in so many different ways...Apparently (and not very constructively) I grieve by pushing grief away - refuse to cry the tears of sorrow until they wash over me until the point of almost no return.
That point came during the funeral, and I thought I would never stop crying. Just thinking about it makes me cry again. It was a beautiful funeral, but all I could do was try to breathe calmly, look at the sun shining through the masive windows, and try to control the tears which washed through my body like a Tsunami.
As the Tsunami came- it also passed, but leaving me superweak and emotional. So I have been in that state all last week really, weak, tired to the point that I fell asleep in the oddest places (not even going to tell you were), with stinging eyes, a cough and sniffle, and a body ache which felt paralysing come friday. I was literally unable to hold the phone to my ear on friday, cause my arm and shoulder was aching so much.
So, I took a well needed holiday - to the very exotic location of Nykarleby. A flight into sisterhood, creativity, laughter and pyssel. And damn it was good. Warmth, harmony, love to humanity, peace and well needed rest made me feel like a human being again, and I woke up this morning feeling fresh and happy.
I am glad people in my proximity undertand that everyone's grief is different. It can be respectfully calm and teary and quiet -but it can also be full of life and laughter and joy. It's the only way I can deal with all this hat has been thrust on me the last two months; loosing both my granddads, re-dealing with the loss of my grandmom two years ago, hearbreak, sorrows and a genral feeling of being....I don't know, slightly lost on the big stormy ocean? without a buoy or someone to hold on to?
BUT, more than that has happened, since LILLA O has finally been born!!! After long hard labour by my tigerstrong Big Sister she had to be helped out on Tuesday 01.11.2011! At 1.01 PM! (not kidding you, that girl is born to be a number one!). She is no longer just Lilla O, but she is Maija. The most beatiful trollchild my eye has ever seen... No I will correct myself; joint first place with Oskar & Martin, the three Stars in my life!
Maija has brought so much joy and laughter and smiles and coo's into my life again, I just have to see a picture of her and I get all goo'y inside, and warm and happy and proud and filled with love and carbonated blood! She is such a little cutemonster, and I can't wait until I can give those little sweet apricot like cheeks a peck - or stroking that beautiful square face of hers.
So, overall things are...pretty good. I would even say very good. My mood is rollercoastery as is usual, but mostly pretty sunny. AND I CAN'T WAIT TO MOVE INTO MY HOUSE IN TWO WEEKS TIME!!
Oh, and about the blog title- I do love cows! so damn much! And all I want for christmas or moving in present is this book (it can be bought from the internet, or from Allkristliga bokhandeln in jakobstad - I know I know, I only went in cause I saw the book in the window!)
Had some tought things going on, and some wonderful things! Mostly wonderful actually, which is just amazing!
Faffa's funeral was last thursday, on a cold but amazingly sunny day (the sun was actually warm for the first time in a few weeks at least). It was tough. I left translating and transcribing the speach until the last minute, cause every time I tried started I just started crying. It felt unfair to faffa that I had no more capacity or strengtg or want for more sorrow in my life. I know faffa wouldn't WANT us to cry and moan and be sad, he was such a chirpy man until the very end, but then again sorrow and grief feels like the 'natural' states to be in when someone has passed.
So I was pushing away sorrow and tears - trying to escape them (once again) in frantic activity - not sleeping enough, drinking too much coffee, smoking too many cigrettes, starting too many projects but hardly finishing any of them. And then the house, I was so happy about getting and signing the rental agreement for my Sunshine House -but every time I started getting happy and giddy thughts of faffa popped up, or more correctly; thoughts about that I SHOULD be sad. Sadness is such a complex things, people grieve in so many different ways...Apparently (and not very constructively) I grieve by pushing grief away - refuse to cry the tears of sorrow until they wash over me until the point of almost no return.
That point came during the funeral, and I thought I would never stop crying. Just thinking about it makes me cry again. It was a beautiful funeral, but all I could do was try to breathe calmly, look at the sun shining through the masive windows, and try to control the tears which washed through my body like a Tsunami.
As the Tsunami came- it also passed, but leaving me superweak and emotional. So I have been in that state all last week really, weak, tired to the point that I fell asleep in the oddest places (not even going to tell you were), with stinging eyes, a cough and sniffle, and a body ache which felt paralysing come friday. I was literally unable to hold the phone to my ear on friday, cause my arm and shoulder was aching so much.
So, I took a well needed holiday - to the very exotic location of Nykarleby. A flight into sisterhood, creativity, laughter and pyssel. And damn it was good. Warmth, harmony, love to humanity, peace and well needed rest made me feel like a human being again, and I woke up this morning feeling fresh and happy.
I am glad people in my proximity undertand that everyone's grief is different. It can be respectfully calm and teary and quiet -but it can also be full of life and laughter and joy. It's the only way I can deal with all this hat has been thrust on me the last two months; loosing both my granddads, re-dealing with the loss of my grandmom two years ago, hearbreak, sorrows and a genral feeling of being....I don't know, slightly lost on the big stormy ocean? without a buoy or someone to hold on to?
BUT, more than that has happened, since LILLA O has finally been born!!! After long hard labour by my tigerstrong Big Sister she had to be helped out on Tuesday 01.11.2011! At 1.01 PM! (not kidding you, that girl is born to be a number one!). She is no longer just Lilla O, but she is Maija. The most beatiful trollchild my eye has ever seen... No I will correct myself; joint first place with Oskar & Martin, the three Stars in my life!
Maija has brought so much joy and laughter and smiles and coo's into my life again, I just have to see a picture of her and I get all goo'y inside, and warm and happy and proud and filled with love and carbonated blood! She is such a little cutemonster, and I can't wait until I can give those little sweet apricot like cheeks a peck - or stroking that beautiful square face of hers.
So, overall things are...pretty good. I would even say very good. My mood is rollercoastery as is usual, but mostly pretty sunny. AND I CAN'T WAIT TO MOVE INTO MY HOUSE IN TWO WEEKS TIME!!
Oh, and about the blog title- I do love cows! so damn much! And all I want for christmas or moving in present is this book (it can be bought from the internet, or from Allkristliga bokhandeln in jakobstad - I know I know, I only went in cause I saw the book in the window!)
HASTA LA VISTA BABIES!
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