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“I would like to..”
“You cant!”
“I think…”
“You´re wrong!”
“Possibly…”
“No chance!”
“Maybe if..”
“Don’t try to be smart!”
“With luck…”
“Silliness!!”

“Well, I’m glad we got that sorted.”
“You’re welcome!”

It’s amazing
Im actually living in a world of form!
No one will believe your fish of truth unless it is presented in the shape of a known trout or cod or…possibly the really big ones should come in the shape of a whale…not the hammerhead though…we don’t quite believe in a strange animal like that. Unimportant if it is really true cause it’s still…a difficult shape to grasp. As they said back in the old and wonderful days of long gone: “truth is beauty and beauty is truth” or as we could say it today: “what i come to believe must look like that which I believe to be true already…. or at least close to it and not to unfamiliar or I will simply close my eyes, my brain and my mind so I henceforward can swim along the path of order and meaning in the great ocean of potentiality.
Noone ever got rich from philosofishing…shite!

Im confused.

Im not sure what about. More in a general state of confusion than focusing on anything specific.
And some might feel like smiling in a dry and half cynical fashion now, so please get it over with right away!
Confusion as a lifestyle or maybe just a philosophy of life?! its a beautiful thing being surprised about everything…really..I think.
Of course focused, knowledgable, efficient and fireproof people are far more succesful and rich and,,,and,,,and stuff than I but still
The quietness of a moment when I’ve forgotten who I am, am supposed to be.
Being confused isn’t necessarily an infliction, except for those who are not….
I think, for now, i’ll just trust the world to roll this little leaf the right way round
It’ll be all right…

Mit gulv og jeg er som gamle venner: vi lever relativt uafhængigt af hinanden, har hver sit liv og støder nu og da på hinanden, hilser og opdaterer.
Det bekymrer mig nu og da at jeg ikke bliver begavet med en overvældende lyst til at gøre rent, rydde op og organiserer mindst en gang om ugen. Jeg er jo trods alt kvinde. Der burde være nogle gener et sted som sprang til, en biolgisk opvågnen til dåd, et eller andet. Ligeledes sker det at den tanke hopper ind i mit hoved at “Hvad må folk dog ikke tænke når de ser mit hjem!”, men så bliver den mødt af et støttefast demokratisk argument som minder mig om at vi lever i et frit land og folk må tænke præcist det de vil, så længe de ikke nødvendigvis agerer på det. Desuden har jeg endnu ikke fundet hverken den intellektuelle stimuli eller den fysiske udfoldelse i at bringe orden til dette materielle kaos sammenlignet med den instant gratification der opnåes ved at sidde og læse en god bog og drikke en kop the, cykle på min magiske cykel, grille i baghaven eller stene til afsnit 400 af min yndlingsanime.
Denne manglende lyst til vedligeholdelse bringer mig til at tænke på hvor heldige vi er i vort samfund i dag at de fleste mennesker er selvvedligeholdende. Se bare på hvor få kvinder der skal have penge til voksning, Gucchi tasker, fedtsugninger mm. De tjener dem faktisk selv! og hvor mange mænd er i stand til at lave mad, betjene en vaskemaskine uden hjælp og købe tøj som passer sammen…det sker endda de kan skifte bleer..hmm, hvilket er mere end jeg kan!
Nå, men lyspunktet er at opvasken er taget og skraldespanden tømt.
Jeg glæder dog mig stadig til de gør det uden min hjælp…

This is the time of year when the weather is shapeless. When all can be warm grey, freezing bright or sneaky cold. This is the time when thoughts have room to shape themselves. Out of my head and up towards the sky. Sounds poetic and silly, but you should try it.
The world is undecided, everything is waiting. In a short while the sun and what passes for a Danish summer will take over and we are forced to be happy wether we want to or not. At least until we have grown used to being alive again and unexplained happiness disappears.

This is what’s on my mind right now:

If you cant say something that states a point which is important to you
If you’re not opening your mouth to compliment something good, positive, beautiful or fascinating.
if you’re not trying to help a friend (after seriously considering what he/ she needs and not what you think they ought to get)
If your not even opening your mouth to voice the incidental thoughts that weave through your mind with no aim and little importance to anyone.

Then

Shut

UP!

I don’t want to hear you excuse your self and ditch your self. I don’t want to listen to your litany of what you can’t do, what you are not, how much talent you lack and how fat you are.
I don’t want to engage myself in a socially acceptable, gentle and never ending rain of slight ironising selfbeating. A thorough strategy for tearing down your self esteem if ever you had any to spare.
I will not believe your excuse that this is just for fun, that it’s not that bad, that it’s my lack of humor which is the problem.
I refuse to consider you less than a person with potential. I will restrain from judging you for your overweight, your incapability of drawing a straight line, your small A-cup, your lack of topmarks and the fact that you can’t spell perfectly.
I still like you, I still enjoy your company, I still want you to be here.
…just shut up for a while.

It’s a stronger and stronger realization to me how colour is like e.g human beings. Nothing exists without context. You might say that Bahktin could have philosophied about the world of colour as well as communication and thought.
No one colour is anything to us unless it brought its friends along, and depending on which friends we will form an opinion of the colour.
If you understand the psychology of colours it is within your powers to create a Utopia or even a Dystopia if the fancy takes you, which it has many.
I wonder if the same motives have moved people within art as within society.

Jag har fået en hat!

Ok, faktisk er det en hue. Den er stribet, hvilket er første clue på hvorfor jeg er forelsket i den. Derudover er den helt almindelig, blød, mørk, diskret (bortset fra at striber altid liver lidt op) hvilket for øvrigt er meget sigende om dens forrige ejermand.

Det er en god hue!

Når jeg tager den på får jeg strithår og mine ører spidser til. jeg vokser lidt nedad uden at skifte højde, store smilehuller fylder mine kinder og lige pludselig er jeg i en helt anden by. Husene læner sig mod hinanden som gamle damer der sidder på en bænk, eller står og kigger tænksomt men venligt ned over vejen. Vejret er gråt men med en duft af brændeovn, kakao og et løfte om hygge. Hver regndråbe har en snert af fyrskov og mos med sig og folk begynder at smile når man kigger på dem.

Det er altid et godt tegn når man har fået en hue der sådan viser sig at have magiske evner, men jeg tror kun det sker når man virkelig holder af nogen.

Jeg har mistet min humoristiske sans.

Lige pludselig forsvandt den forbistrede luskepeter ud ad bagdøren og ind ad fordøren trådte fru Patetia Storladen i sin bedste kjole.

Nu har hun gjort sig godt til rette, sat sig på sofaen, kommenteret mine manglende planter og overtager mit frie liv. Et liv som jeg holder ganske meget af men som, i øjeblikket, lader til kun at bære ekkoet af hendes dybe, brede stemme. Hun elsker at udtale sig til folk med et strengt og lige blik, fyldt med verdens visdom (som den gamle tante jo nok har) men som gør mig så pinligt berørt når hun taler, fordi hun aldrig lytter.

Her er hun også med, ser mig over skulderen for at se om jeg staver korrekt og bruger de rigtige tillægsord. Hvad jeg skriver er hun ligeglad med, så længe man ikke griner deraf. Jeg håber hun snart rejser og lader min humor flytte ind igen. Den var noget lettere at leve med når sandt skal siges…..

As a passive anarchist you float through life and time. Not unlike a raindrop in open space (pretending it wouldn’t freeze or split or anything like that). A raindrop, anyway, floating, experiencing, watching all the while your being shaped into an infinity of shapes by the more aggressive surroundings, no shape staying with you as more than an echo once changed. Chaos rules in this vast emptiness where silence and ease are the main emotions.
Then Raindrop hits the world.
The gravity of structure pulls you out of Eternity and into Action , out of Anarchy and into Shape and before you know it you splash against the window of a passing truck and the hard, brutal world forces you to fight back, to become part of this cold, structuralised, directionalised, up-close reality of choice and challenge. Before you know it you’re flat between the wind and a hard place, forever changed, forever dying, always watching the stars from whence you once came while loosing yourself in an ocean of same.