Comments(0) I saw you today and you hadn’t changed at all since the first day we met. You looked like you came from Hells Angels, and just woke up one morning staring in the mirror and thought “Fuck it” before you went out and bought yourself some flowers. I still don’t know your name, but I know I want to be your friends. I know this much is true.
Sincerely
The Writer
Comments(0) I visit my high school.
This is the school I made myself promise to never set my feet in again. I laugh at my stupidity and enter the school. I am met by this years Russ (I was last year - uh what funfun), red pants, white letters, people with so much hangover they cant spell their hair the right way. I am greeted by the washinglady whom I met everyday when I attended high school. She is the only one there who actually gives me the feeling of being missed. You cant really ask someone if they have missed you, because then you just remind them that they didn’t miss you. She missed me. Hah.
My friends who are now doing what I did, all look like red machines splashed over the wall. I think thats the fun. Being a red wall. I sit down and look around, thinking of my own memories from this place. And the times I shared here with my boyfriend. Strange to think about how everything started here. In this place. I talk with my friends for 2 hours, and when I leave to take the buss home - I suddenly realize that this moment, this day and this thing ; will never happen again. I’m never going back… there!
I start singing “Never gonna give you up” and the man behind me sniggers.
“You’ve been Rick rolled?” he says.
“Almost.” I answer and look behind me as the shopping center passes by. Hoppelty hoppelty hop.
Comments(1) My heart blead and I cried like they have all died. My family for 33 weeks. Now the academy is over, and I’m left with the heritage.
Comments(0) It’s the last day. The day where things end and others start. We find our lives in a suitcase, all our valuables, clothes and Stuff in black plastic bags. After 33 weeks our life is being erased from the walls, our dust bunnies vacuumed, our floor washed. All so it will look like it was when we first arrived at the academy that day in August 2007.
The first day starts now. The Play button has suddenly been pushed and rewind is only in the pictures we took. No more constantly ready to drink coffee, no more of This. This and all that. Some of us are fine with it, some of us not. We pack our life down and really see what matters the most for us. It’s like looking at body parts. My lungs in that bag, my heart in the suitcase. My brain in the box, my arms and legs in the other bags. And my air - my dreams, hopes and tears are in my handbag. I need all of this, I need it to move on, walk towards my life. I need my life.
And I need my friends. They are in my pocket.
Comments(0) 3 days left. I am supposed to clean my room, but the mess just makes me go “hrmpfrrrrr” and I move it about a little before I run away. I have promised myself not to cry, because I’m not a crying person when it comes to say goodbye. Because when you think of it, it’s not really goodbye - it is just not seeing each other every day for a little while. My life are now starting somewhere else. The comforting feeling of having another 3 years of my life planned out makes me feel safe. I like safe.
Again it’s that time of the year when my fingers become claws and wants to tear out my eyes in hay-fever pain. Its like having a constant hangover that have stopped working properly and decides to become master of the itching domain. I walk like I have something constantly stuffed up my arse, my feet never know it they want to run, walk, jog, trot or run AWAY from the pollen - so I drag my body with my feet towards some faint goal in the horizon. I call it the Eye Drops From Heaven.
Our hoover doesn’t work. I have named it Lazy Daze. It might also be suffering form the PMS Dishwasher syndrome; - (if you don’t know what that means, here is a quick on: before me and mum moved away from Oz ((really, I lived in a place called Os…), we had a dishwasher who seemed to suffer from PMS on a frequently basis. It would rumble, bleed foam, move closer to me and scream like it was eating tinfoil and falling down the stairs with a guitar up its arse. And always, always early in the morning.) - and I am honestly terrified that it will suddenly start vomiting dust and boggies instead of doing the main thing a vacuum cleaner should do. I am the Queen of my domain these days.
Tomorrow 2 days left. I promise I wont cry. I promise I promise I promise oh look a bird!
Comments(1) Yesterday I met Patty Smith in the middle of the street. She’s having a concert in Bergen and was wandering around looking. No one else except me, looked at her, and I fell into that “LETS STALK A FAMOUS PERSON” mode and ran after her. We talked a little, she signed my book - and I texted every fucking person on my cellphone. HAH!
Comments(0) I pour the water in and stare at it until the colors unfolds in the cup. I press my spoon against the bag and the water becomes even more darker. My fingers are suddenly burned. I see no use for my fingers now that they are burned so I chop them of with the breadknife. The window bursts into flames and I wake up. The first thing I say is “I need coffee.”
Tea does that too you. For the rest of the day, I bite my nails in fear of them suddenly vanishing.
Hard times.
Comments(0) I don’t know what to say or what to do when it all comes down to writing to you
I feel my words go “pat pat pat”
like a roller-coaster
going forever
She said “You can’t go to town without money, because you need it to buy everything! Beer, beer, beer…” pause
“and maybe a lift home. But thats it really.”
The pack of Camels in my purse, keeping me company
doing it’s worst
giving me heartace
learning me hope
“lets go shopping, your scholarship will cope!”
more awake then ever at 11.11
a sudden stop in life
what do I have to say?
I have no one to write to
no one that I know
who are you? Hello?
is it me you’re looking for?
oh please don’t use that Lionel shit at me
I have better things to quote
leave it to me
write a letter
to whom it may concern
but what will you answer
in return?
Comments(0) Ever since I got back from Ireland, I haven’t read any blogs except one. I have given up on writing these letters as well, because I’m into that phase where I don’t feel I have anything to write when I should. And the comments are well - another story. Miss Lucky Strike tagged me. It’s a book thing. Here goes.
1. Pick up the nearest book.
Ha. Right. I’m in the school library. This is a library with no English books what so ever. I swosh my arm behind me and pull a random book out. It’s in Norwegian. Damn damn damn. Karen Blixen, Out of Africa.
2. Open to page 123.
In the middle of the story. I have no idea what to write here so nr 3 -
3. Find the fifth sentence.
I’m translating: When he saw I stopped in front of the the bed belonging to the three new patients, he came over to me and told me what had happened to them.
4. Post the next three sentences.
I have to use my Veto card on this one. It will take me about 30 minutes to translate and write at the same time. Lets pretend it was something horrid and that the Thing should not have lifted granny up that way.
5. Tag five people.
Not much point. No one reads and I have ruined this meme anyway.
Ta.
