Sunday, October 04, 2009


Muddy fields, a cold lake that has already forgotten those unrelenting summer afternoons, and all these remarkable people who represent the highest and the lowest in us all.

Fragment (consider revising).

Even Word tells me that my thoughts are fragmentary. But it is not like if I could easily synthesize everything into one simple story; it is not like teaching, that I can just force linearity and attention. There is no authority to invoke; I am simply alone here and there is really no silence to hide in. Friends who have followed me since I was seven years old, what can I say that would tell them that something is substantially new and different? How could I possibly prevent falling into those familiar patterns?

Sauna-bathing in that lake despite my cold, Morrissey on the iTunes-playlist, and all these young professionals.

Yesterday in Lund, someone told me that it was a relief then she read my Facebook-update some weeks ago that I had found a pitcher with mojito and “was now crazy drunk”. That she saw it as a hole in the armour, a comfort that I was just as human as she. Undoubtedly an eye-opener, that people can at all think of me as being that hard and unyielding otherwise. Maybe it is a thing about getting older, that one has to revise one’s self-perception.


3 a.m.

Tomorrow I have to return the rental car before noon and then work.


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