January 2012
1 post
Letter to a Building
I’ll try not to romanticize: You aged, and so did I. The world moved on, like life itself Wherein nothing really stops, Except in death, or when in love. Now filling brand new cardboard boxes With yellowed books and crumbled notes On how to not become nostalgic, Time, it seems, still made A brilliant hoarder out of me. And you, I hate to say, will long Be spoken of in exactly the same way: With...
Jan 9th
1 note
December 2011
6 posts
Nettdebatter og barsamtaler
Nettdebatter er rare, og unike, sammenlignet med debatter i det offentlige rom. Ofte ligner de pubsamtaler: to eller flere parter er uenige om en sak, og sammen kaster de ulike partene argumenter frem og tilbake; debattene blir ofte høylytte (på nettet, “skriftlig” høylytte, det vil si, frekke), og ofte tyr en til personlige angrep. Men i motsetning til pubsamtaler trenger ikke...
Dec 27th
1 note
“I think of the people I know (…) and wonder which of them knows how to...”
– Hanif Kureishi, Intimacy.
Dec 22nd
Dec 22nd
Dec 22nd
Dec 16th
Dec 16th
November 2011
5 posts
Nov 24th
Nov 24th
A strange year
Summer came, as usual, spreading hope  across the town. It melted us each year, the sun - a stiff, self-conscious people as we were - we’d wait for it to come before we’d dare to undress our fears. Too nervous otherwise,  we depended on a shot of that seasonal amnesia to forget the coming winter, the trailing tracks of light-less days and all-dark thoughts wherein life would soon be...
Nov 20th
Nov 15th
What's one of the most meaningful travelling...
Sitting on the bus today, not travelling anywhere special, I suddenly felt like asking everyone I knew the following question: “what’s the most meaningful travelling experience you’ve had?” Since I obviously couldn’t ask everyone one I knew, I emailed one of my best friends, who replied, then asked me to ask myself.  This is what I wrote: “Flying to Mumbai to...
Nov 15th
2 notes
October 2011
2 posts
Advice to self and him
Tell me nothing lasts forever That there’s no guarantee That this is still the closest thing To something somewhat real Tell me this when I’m afraid Tell me I forget We’re both afraid and on our own And think we know ourselves So, I might be wrong right now But if you’d like to try Next time, tell me I’m just scared And tell me I told know why
Oct 24th
Blood love
Eroding ties, retracing lines Of argument and hurt You turn your blood loves into water To prove what you are worth But you look tiny to me now Dwarfed by your own scheme Like a child still scared of sin You revolt, yet stoop in guilt Love takes years to build But seconds to break down That is what you tell yourself To detonate the bomb Losing you is not as bad As knowing that you’ve lost The...
Oct 4th
1 note
September 2011
4 posts
Sep 17th
Sep 17th
Sep 17th
Open doors
Another goodbye is another story Though it hurts like it was life Another love’s another feeling That you don’t need to fight A question is a word of wisdom That begs to be rephrased This end, a latent metaphor Waiting to be raised Behind each closing door There’s a story, sculpted in time A Who, When, Where and How Too alive to need a Why The road to love is paved With ambivalent intentions In...
Sep 4th
March 2011
1 post
I guess what happened was the story of … many people’s lives, of how the theory falls apart when practice makes you test yourself and the boundaries you’ve set, pushing you to push yourself beyond your own ideas. Break them. Trespass them. And so – out of love, or loneliness, compassion, or a combination – you overstep your line. And it feels so much like self-betrayal, like what you’re stepping...
Mar 14th
February 2011
4 posts
Feb 21st
Feb 21st
Feb 21st
Feb 21st
January 2011
3 posts
Jan 5th
1 note
Jan 5th
Jan 5th
December 2010
6 posts
Dec 23rd
Dec 23rd
Dec 23rd
Dec 4th
452 notes
I love how indirectly you tell me that you like me, the subtlety with which you hold me with your understated thoughts, wrapping them around me, gently, as if it didn’t happen at all.
Dec 4th
“As long as a human eye is looking, there is always something to see. To look at something which is ‘empty’ is still to be looking, still to be seeing something — if only the ghosts of one’s own expectations.” — Susan Sontag, “The Aesthetics of Silence,” in Styles of Radical Will. In her essay, Sontag discusses what she calls “the aesthetics...
Dec 3rd
November 2010
19 posts
Nov 26th
THE WORLD, A HORIZONTAL HAVEN, flickering with hope. Safety in the form of hands that touch, then stroke, then hold. I dare you, do you know what you’re doing? Cause I don’t, I just love, love, adore, I roll to your side of the bed and reach for you, and you melt me with your soft and patient hands. We climb as slow as we can to the precipe of dreams and gaze down at reality, at the...
Nov 26th
Nov 26th
“Interruption, incoherence, surprise are the ordinary conditions of our life....”
– Paul Valéry
Nov 23rd
1 note
OGSÅ HAR JEG TENKT PÅ DEG, sett deg igjen i romanene, diktene jeg har lest, sangene jeg har spilt på vei til forelesning, der jeg glemmer å ta notater og dagdrømmer, dagsovner og våkner opp i sengen din, hvor du ligger med kroppen din tett inntil min, og leker med tiden og overser meg, eller overser tiden og leker med meg, og later som om du ikke har ting du må rekke du heller, ting som må gjøres,...
Nov 22nd
ENN Å VÆRE FORELSKA I LIVET DA? Å kjenne kriblingen i kroppen fra det å kunne leie hender med øyeblikkene, å holde selve livet tett, tett inntil brystet mitt, der pulsen fortsatt slår for alle dagene og månedene og årene som kommer? Aldri vil det gå fra meg, lyve til meg, krangle, gi opp. Det er det bare jeg som gjør. Og likevel så er vi er, sammen, fortsatt. Tenk hvor heldige vi er.
Nov 18th
Nov 18th
Nov 15th
1,310 notes
“A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us.”
– Franz Kafka, Letters to Friends, Family, and Editors.
Nov 15th
Nov 13th
Nov 10th
Nov 9th
Dead-end
Still driving in reverse, denying that I can’t undo the white lies that you chalked out on the sidewalk when I asked you, “Are you sure? Be honest. You don’t have a girl?” You smiled and shook your head and said, “You don’t have to worry.” There were no warning signs. There were no warning signs this time. So I grabbed my fears by the horns, heard them shriek at me before I left them, turned to...
Nov 8th
Robbers and lovers
Old poem, revised. Am I using him perhaps to reassert myself, to gain that sense of confidence, which I think I can’t afford, by getting him to pay the price of pride, on my accord? Does he spot the robber here, holding hostage all the lives that he could have sought? Or are we what he says we are: Already bleeding, both of us, hit by bullets that we bought and fired with the guns of the...
Nov 8th
Un-balanced
So close to giving up, again. I swear this time is no different. Still nonsense to give weight to how he moves, talks, relates; moves me, makes me talk. But yes, it’s relatively safe this time. He’s solid, so it seems, and I can’t deny that he tips the balance, keeps me on my toes, gives me room to spin at my own speed. And what a strength that is; to find that will to give in someone else is...
Nov 6th
SEE, THIS IS WHEN IT STARTS to get scary. This is what she means when she talks about the two of them, and how she feels that, constantly, it’s about to end. Which makes me want to flee, seek refuge in the lack of him, rather than demanding more of him than he can give.
Nov 6th
Nov 3rd
Nov 3rd