Sömn
Det sover en väldigt vacker man bredvid mig på vagnen.
Hans ben är varmt.
Hans huvud faller om och om och om igen.
Hans ben är varmt.
Hans huvud faller om och om och om igen.
Spelhelg
Nu är det sällskapsspel galore i kollektivet. En samling pratar strategi och pakt och en läser sagor om forna arabvärlden. En fin Filip pratar småländska och pappa Ragnhild och jag är som två småsyskon som bara är i ett hörn. Vi har spelat Backgammon också. Jag vann! Det är så fint i kollektivet. Jag trivs. Idag träffade jag den spanska pojken också. Han är också fin, och sårad. Inte av mig. Han sårade mig. Någon sårade honom i sin tur. Mycket sår. Fram och tillbaka. Vi kanske kan bli fina vänner.
Sagor för scen
Jag har börjat formulerat en tanke. En liten vision om ett projekt. Ett nytt, mitt. Sagor på ett golv. Några vänner, några obekanta. Det är för framtiden.
Hem
Nu sitter mamma och mamma (aka Marie och Gustaf) och spelar Mario Kart och jag väntar på Josephine. Hon den där långa kvinnan som inte varit här i min nya kollektiva tillvaro än. Hon är alltid fin. Igår dansade jag på maskeradkalas som jag trodde skulle bli platt men visade sig vara en fantastisk parad i masker och fantasi. Det var väldigt lyckat. Jag dansade sönder mina skor och gick frysandes hem genom vinternatten. Hem till en Gustaf i köket och värme over flowing.
Intensiv kärlek
Att vara kär en dag. Intensivt. Sedan få besked om hans kärlek som riktad åt en annan. Det kändes så bra. Nu vet jag inte vad jag vill. Han är fin. Han är svår att förstå. Han har svårt att förstå. Förstå hur han påverkar sim omgivning. Rakt ner i gatan. Dit for jag. Jag vill bara hjälpa honom. Min barmhärtighetsklocka ringer. Jag vill inte träffa honom mer. Min svartsjuka klingar. Han skulle bli en så bra vän. Det är jag övertygad om. Jag vet inte om jag kan...
Rolig halvtimme blev en och en timmes väntan.
Jag var på ett rep idag. Roliga halvtimmen med uppvärmning skulle börja ett, jag var där tjugo i två för att möta ett lunchmöte om vårens produktioner. Blev informerad om att repet blivit framflyttat till två. Det är andra gången jag inte blivit sagd att saker ändrats. Andra gången av tre möjliga rep. Jag väntade på kontoret med té och kofta som behövde ompyssling. Repet började halv tre. Jag kände mig lite hjälplös i skaran. Skådespelar-Mia kom till undsättning och sa att hon minsann ska ge mig rätt information. Lättnad. Jag fotade lite med min engångskamera också. Om en vecka får jag resultatet.
I morgon ska jag träffa en pojke. Från Spanien.
Bon Nuit.
ZOOMBIIEE!
Vi, vår lilla familj i mitt nuvarande kollektiv, tittar kollektivt tillsammans på The Walking Dead (!!). Jag är pappa och mest lättskrämd. Ragnhild också pappa. Hon tycker om att spika. Det gjorde hon i morse för att väcka mig.
Idag har varit en dag med tillbakablickande. Det började igår kväll. Ett tänkt kort besök på Agnes blogg blev ett långt. Resultat; otrolig skuldkänsla. Ett försök till försoning. Jag får vänta.
Landet för länge sedan
Igår kväll kom jag tillbaka till landet för länge sedan. Jag tänker nu att ett högt huvud inte längre är något värt. Jag vill tillbaka. Vet inte om det går. Jag skrev på ett hårt vykort med metallstärkta hörn - kanske så det ska klara färden, vad vet jag - om hur ledsen jag är. Ett steg. Kanske blir det bra igen.
Molgan
I have for a long time had my mind set on me having a creative profession in the future. I see myself as talented but still unexperienced. That makes it hard for me when I sit down and try to make something of my own. I am a true perfectionist and quite hard on myself. I want things to be perfect the first time I do it. My realistic brain tells me this is complete madness. Almost nothing is good at the first attempt. My unlogic mind always gets the last saying though, because when I sit down to write or sew, or whatever, I always feel I'm bad at what I'm doing. Not a good thing when what you want to do takes practice and for me I don't want to continue unless I'm satisfied with what I create. Do you see the problem?
I always have thoughts flying around in my head and lately I've been thinking a lot about how I should get myself out of my bad circles. When analyzing my behavior I realized that in my imagined world I am always confirmed, praised and appreciated for what I do, which gives inspiration to continue creating. In the real world I know that everything I (or anyone for that matter) do is not perfect and presentable, but that is not what is important in my stage of creating. Now it's not important what I create, but that I create. I need to find routines and work methods for my creation.
That's when a thought crossed my mind. In Sweden there is a children's book character named Alfons Åberg. My thought is not about him but about his imaginary friend Molgan which exists in Alfons head. I think I need a Molgan. An imaginary friend that always likes what I create. It's not the whole solution to my problems, but from now on I will never be alone when I create. I will have some kind of figure next to me that encourages me to continue creating, cheers on me in hard times and always gives me good reviews. Maybe it won't function as I want it to, but it's at least worth a try. Maybe it will at least give me courage enough to start show what I create, and that itself is a huge step for me.
Still listening to Joanna Newsom. Now I've listened to it for 100 hours.
Have One On Me.
On Tuesday last week Joanna Newsom's latest album was released. Have One On Me. In one week I have listened to it for forty-two hours. That is six hours per day. It consists of eighteen songs spread over three discs spanning two hours. It's as magical as music can get.
'81
'81
Have One On Me...
Spring.
Before I felt quite bad. Now the spring is here and everything feels a little bit better. It brought a sore throat though. Joanna Newsom, tea and a cool breeze. My future is still very uncleare. Will I feel at ease? Berlin or Gothenburg? Good question...
Joanna Newsom. It can't get any better.
Joanna Newsom. It can't get any better.
Orchids.
Today I realize the orchids in my apartment are a quite good metaphor.
In November, when Agnes and I moved into our apartment, the two orchids were in full blossom. One with white petals, one with pink. The white one had only one flower but the pink was flourishing with several beautiful blossomed buds. As time went, in December the petals of the orchids started to fade and fall to the floor. In matter of weeks almost no petals were left. The only tiny hope of a new blossom was two small buds on either flower. When we came back after Christmas all petals had fallen off, leaving two bare branches and the two buds.
Two days ago the I noticed the buds had grown. They had grown so much they almost burst. Now they have begun to open. If I would have watched the buds intensively just today, I think I actually would have seen them expand and open up. It goes so fast. Just a week ago they were solid, almost rock hard, shells that showed no signs of living what so ever, whereas now they are soon ready to be shown at a fair for the most beautiful flowers on earth.
What I saw this as a metaphor for was simply Agnes' and my relationship since we moved here. The flowers of the orchids have been very synched with how the relation between us has been. We noticed quite fast that it wouldn't last and that it was fading, just like the petals. It didn't become any better after Christmas and January was everything but good. Now, though, we have moved on from a bad stage and I feel that it has begun to grow towards something better. Something more beautiful. I hope we can blossom like orchids in time. Maybe not as astonishingly fast, but as beautiful.
In my ears I have tonight heard Zoë Keating and Joanna Newsom.
Berlinale, 100216.
Yesterday was an interesting day in my Berlinale history. The second day of films for me and I was hurrying to my third film. I was a bit stressed because I only had fifty minutes between the films and had to ride the U-Bahn a bit to get to the CineStar cinema. I came, ran to the toilet and went into the theatre. Before, when I had booked the tickets to this film, 'Amphetamine', I had gotten the image that it would be a small salon with a small audience. When I entered though, it was a completely different scenario. It was a huge theatre packed with people. But not only people, it was a lot of cameras as well. I was a bit surprised and thought that it might be a premier, and I was happy to be there. When things started though, I noticed it wasn't what I thought it was. I had wound up at the award ceremony for the 'Berlinale Shorts'. At first I thought it might have been a combination of the award ceremony and the movie I was to see and I thought 'OK'. The jury was introduced by a super lovely host and the mood was sparkling. I haden't planned on seeing any of the short films so I didn't know much about the films or the film makers they were talking about, but it was a blast anyway. The first two awards were independent organisations who gave and then there was the silver and gold bear to be presented. The silver bear went to an Israelian film and the director was shocked over winning. He claimed his price, stumbeled a nice 'Thank you, I Love you!', placed himself in front of the journalists, brought his price forth and smiled like a kid in a candy store. Then the gold bear was to be presented. The motivation described a perfectly presented, seventeen minute long film with only one take. The name was presented, but I couldn't really figure out what they said. I hear something with 'bank' but that was all. Everyone started clapping and the director and producer stepped on stage. He, the director, started talking and in an instance I heard. The accent. He was deffinetly Scandinavian. I thought Swedish, but I wasn't sure. My excitement started growing. I noticed I got a bit warm, almost nervous. I quicly looked through the program to notice the film was 'Händelser vid Bank' ('Incidents by a Bank' in english) from Sweden. A second later i realized it was Ruben Östlund's film and I got so happy. I think it was because of the fact that I knew who the director was and because the film was from Sweden. Now I was the kid in the candy store. Ruben gave a speak about 'Buffy the vampier slayer' and a Russian film maker (I didn't really hear, I was too psyched). Then the producer stepped forth. She thanked all the people from the production team and the sponsor and then dropped the bomb that they had developed the film together with Backa Teatern (The Backa Theatre). If I was happy before, I could have died a happy man after that. I felt like I was a part of the whole happening. Both from being there, but also because grew up only hundreds of meter away from that theatre. I couldn't have made a better mistake to go to that ceremony.
After the ceremony they screened the films that won and I laughed so hard to 'Händelser vid Bank'. See it if you get the chance. I walked out of the cinema really happy.
I later realized I had gone to the wrong cinema, not the wrong room, but the wrong cinema, wrong building. I am surprised they even let me in with my ticket. It was for a completely different film. I am happy about mistake though. Really happy. I will never forget. I hope...
Snow.
Today I'm making a pie for a little diner with the old class I had here in Berlin. A bunch of nice people. Maybe not the ones I call when I need to see someone, but they are fun to be around. One of them, Mona (her real name is Mona-Lisa), invited Agnes and me to New York City (!) and the Mercedes Benz Fashion Week in September. I came to heaven a bit when she said that. Maybe we'll go, maybe we don't. I would love to go to NYC, but maybe a little while further ahead. I have a fixed idea that I'll move to NYC to settle down in around 15 years when I have roamed the earth and found out how it really is for a time.
In Berlin:
I live alone now. It's quite and very predictable. Just the way I want it. Agnes and I realized we weren't really compatible for a 'living together-situation'. We have different needs that we want to be put first and at the same time none of us want to compromise. So hereby, I live alone. Yesterday I had Martina and Jonna (my two absolutely best friends here now) over. Jonna baked cinnamon buns, Martina watched '30 Rock' and cooked diner when I was cleaning the whole apartment. It took a while since it hasn't been cleaned in almost two weeks and in an almost miraculous there seems to somehow spawn sand in our hallway which spreads to both my floors in an instance. It needed cleaning. I cleaned. And then I decorated the first floor with myself (and my belongings).
I can stay in the apartment until the end of March, as I know now. I think I might be able to stay longer, but that's another story. By then, as of now, I'm thinking of going back home to Gothenburg again. I have felt a huge lack of my dearest friends, I miss you much. I haven't really felt that I've had anyone close, more encounters that you meet have a fun time with, but that you do not really call back again. I really need the comfort of knowing that there is always someone to call and meet whenever I need it. Now I have Jonna and Martina. I also have Marielle, but, sadly, she is leaving for Helsingborg on sunday.
Jonna and Marielle were both in my class. Jonna is from Gotland and Marielle from Skåne. Two lovely girls I know I will keep in touch with. We got that connection quite fast where you feel that you actually can talk about whatever and they understand. It doesn't happen often (as I've realized here), but you like it when it does. And it just so happens that they are Swedes as well. Maybe it's because we Swedes think alike that we seem to connect. The language, of course, too, but we have the same cultural background which think is a big part and beneficial.
Martina and I knew each other from Gothenburg, but as we agreed on; we hadn't been this close if it wasn't for Berlin. On monday we went to IKEA and spent a whole afternoon there. It was really fun. We laugh very much together. Very appreciated.
Now the pie (a spinach, leek (purjolök) and feta cheese one) is in the oven and I shall prepare for the day. Before the diner party we're having a small 'Weeds' marathon at Marielle and her friend Lotta's apartment.
Music today: Norah Jones' album 'The Fall'.
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