Lament of 2006

I made this for a lecture on communication theory, postmodernist style. Surprised? You should not be. The image is inspired by the front cover of Uta Ranke-Heinemanns book Eunuchs for the Kingdom of Heaven. A fantastic book about the catholic church and its formed view on sexuality. Blimey, it's a very good book.

Now that's over with, let me tell you a frank account of this year. As every year before, turbulent. As few years containing ups and downs like you would never believe. Describing how it affected me is a process I have to use the entire year of 2007 to do. Maybe it did not affect me more than any given year, any given moment of my life - adding feathers upon feathers, gold on lead, horses on a green meadow eating drugs. Today, let me just sum it up in a very few words.

I am a serial murderer of sentiments.

When 2006 started, the woman I thought I loved had to be won back, no matter what. Veni vidi vici. Come August, another became emperor of my heart. Myself. My thoughts of what might have been. Her, the one I loved, hated, loved, hated, loved eternally. She had her birthday and my head exploded.

I got a cat. I got together with the secret thought, the may be the one. She was not. I hated myself, I said so. I am single.

May I be like a cardinal, a venial sin, a deathly trap, trapping my heart in corners, not giving me any chance, egoistic, just wanting to have power - winning without risking? Sacrificing what is me to fit into an image? Self sacrificing, egoistic love - is that love? No. I mean good, I love, I wish her to be happy.

I am me. Let me respect that.

I love you.

Self-help guide to fight sleeping disorders

USE A SLEEP DIARY. Knot down the time spent in bed and of that how much time you have spent awake, when you got into bed and the time you get out.

PART 1
1. No stimulants in the form of coffee, chocolate, tea, coke - avoid coffein after noon. It can take four weeks for this to have an effect.

2. avoid alcohol

3. no cat naps during the day

4. sleep the same amount every night

5. excercise for at least 40 minutes, get sweaty. No excercise less than four hours before bedtime

6. relax, don't stress your brain the last four hours before bedtime

7. take a very hot bath for at least 30 minutes and finish about 2 hours before bedtime

8. get up at the same time every day, seven days a week. This is really important

9. if you have to get up during night time, avoid light

10. get out in daylight as soon as you get up, within 30 minutes. As an alternative for those sleeping during daytime - get a daylight lamp and sit in front of it. This helps you sleep the following night(/day).

11. get rid of any clocks in the bedroom

12. No big meals the last 3 hours before sleeping

13. have a dark and quiet bedroom. Wear a mask if necessary.

14. sleep at 14-20 degrees. Avoid getting your body temperature high.

15. make yourself a bedtime ritual - brush your teeth, get into your nightgown, sit in a chair relaxing for 15 minutes before going to your bed

16. don't worry when in bed. If you struggle with your thoughts, sit down earlier in the evening, write down your worries and possible solutions if any.

17. do not stress about not getting to sleep. Paradoxial techniques can help - try to be as awake for as long as possible. Do not let this make you sacrifice #8.

PART 2 - control of stimuli
1. only go to bed when you are sleepy and only then

2. use your bed only for sleep and sex

3. if you don't get to sleep, get out of bed!

4. repeat number 3

5. get up at the same time every day, seven days a week

6. do not take a cat nap

PART 3 - deprivation
Week one for observation, week two you are only allowed to spend the time you actually slept in bed, but no less than five hours every night. Week three you calculate the efficiency: time slept/time spent in bed. If above 85% you are allowed to get to bed 20 minutes earlier, if not your schedule stays the same as week two. Oh yes, you are going to feel sleepy and grumpy for the first weeks.

PART 4 - cognitive therapy

PART 5 - relaxation techniques
This should be used always, no matter if you have a problem sleeping or not. Do yoga, get massage, alternative energy therapy, whatever. No stimulants that gives a false impression of drowsiness.

Mono having a dramatic outing

Mono Syllapus, now eleven, has had a dramatic evening out. Felis silvestris minimo (eleven weeks he is) met wildlife in the shape of a semi-tame vulpes vulpes, or the common red fox. Boy did Mono know how to climb!

I now think it is very wise of me to not let this little cat be out in the evenings on his own. At least not until he is a bit bigger. He is already mad, but sensible enough to jump the nearest pine when a big fox comes along. This fox is semi-tame as he was abandoned as a child and is a regular to my neighbour, which gives him a snack every now and then.

It was a real surprise seeing this fox, on the evening I first got to know of him. He came quietly and I didn't notice before Mono sat four metres up in a tree, staring wide eyed at this freak. The fox, now dubbed Even, was not afraid of me at all, but stood just a metre from me, drooling over my Sullapus. When I climbed the tree and got Mono on my shoulder, returning to the ground and abandoning the premises, Even followed us all the way to the door at home. Mono sat there, safe on the inside, staring curiously while I chatted with Even.

The next thing on the agenda will be training Even to be kind to Mono. They can be freiends and roam the woods to the advantage of both. Got to get a litter box for Even as well.

Zero

Zero emission of CO2, wouldn't that be good? No, not really. Ok then, how about trapping most of it? Sounds better. Even if it was possible to earn money on it? YES!

Conserving nature is not always a bad thing as they say. I will so much support the green movement when it gets its act together. Like Bellona. Chains, suits and papers. Great knowledge, innovative thinking.

This whole deal is about how even bishops here now are speaking of civil obedience to stop the plan of a gas power plant, due to the prospect of not all exhaust being rinsed for the first four years of it lifetime. Well enough, but consider this: no infrastructure of handling the CO2 exists, and will not be viable if not built in the right way. Sustainability, that is a good word.

The problem with CO2, apart from there being so much of it, is the cost of extraction, the challenge of final storage, and last but not the least: to get enough of it in one place. Why? Simply because CO2 is sucha valuable commodity. As our oil wells are meant to store massive amounts of CO2 (we're talking billions of tonnes), how do we put it there? And why?

We put it there from large scale extraction plants, running boats full of it to collection towers, we harness its soluble powers to vaning oil fields, shooting CO2 up our veins instead of valuable hydrocarbon gases, used to give us electricity in the same electricity plants. We run pollution free and filthy rich, help others with their CO2 troubles.

But it is a BIG project, so stop whining. Four years to get COMPLETELY pollution free electricity? You kidding me - you think that is terrible? The year 2014, quoted as that date, is not four years into the future, but eight. However, pilot projects have already started, and we might have pollution free power well ahead of 2014. And more oil and gas. We will also have some high tech, low consuming, low pollutant industries. It will make a great technological incentive towards the right direction.

There are other big challenges, but this is one solution getting away with a whole lot of trouble. Personal responsibility is what comes next. Burning sooting candles in front of the parliament makes no less pollution, that's for sure. Let us make this one for real, not another failure to see straight.

Edgar

Edgar the Elk has struck back at hunters. In Sweden, two elderly hunters have been found dead on two different locations. They were found relatively near each other and their hunters cabin. On the first man found, the police commented that he could not have shot himself.

My question is: Is there a killer moose going loose out there? Perhaps the albino running around on the border between Norway and Sweden? Is there any connection to the publicity surrounding the white moose and some wingnut ecologist? Or is it simply to very angry men gone Deliverance.

To check this out, a look on the map can place the killings on the eastern shore of Sweden, far from any Norwegian albino moose. It could be a local one, I'm sure. Hm, ok then. Maybe they were hunting eachother? Strange then that one was found a day before the other.

For more, see SVT.

Anima natura

In natura gloriam est. Or something like that. How often have I forgotten or neglected the true power of silence filled with noise easy on the ears, pugnant smells free of heavy metals, fears immediate and easily explained after a great mystery.

In simple terms, being outdoors is what you and me both are most fitted for. We might envelop ourselves in comfortable habits, under a great woolen blanket in front of a droning television set, full of blurb and praise of all man made. Be sure though, that your body will never seize to react to the fresh air after heavy rain, the changing light of the day or stop reacting to the smell of wild strawberries. No matter if you experienced any of these things, as soon as you spend ANY time in surroundings giving you those things, you will react.

Funkadelic Parliament have an album called Free your mind and your ass will follow. In essence, yes, I agree. I also believe the opposite is true - Free your ass and your mind will follow.

I am straying from my path. Let me more concise.

Light
Over the course of the day, our bodies secrete a number of hormones meant to regulate everything from food intake, alertness and sleep pattern. We are born under a sun, or rather, circling a sun giving a rhythm we cannot escape. Time define us as much as we try to define time. Seasonal anxiety disorder comes from lack of light, due to the fact that biologically we are all from equator and expects time to tick with an easily predictable rhythm. Living up north or down south, where there are great variations in the amount of light our bodies and eyes receive, the secretion of our glands comes out of whack with available goods to be delivered from the surroundings. Mistreating your body by being in an artificially lighted room when there is plenty of natural light is a not so effective thing to do to yourself.

Oxygen
We are not very happy in an office all our lives. We cannot be. Our bodies functions much better outdoors after a heavy rain, when most microparticles, dust, pollen and the like are washed to the ground. Our lungs gets a much better oxygen uptake in fresh air and our brains suddenly goes harmony. Fresh air promotes physical activity, which in its turn promotes an even more effective oxygen uptake.

Sound
Again, we are wired with a propensity to adapt to our surroundings. If you are in an environment with no or few unexpected variations in the level, pitch and frequency variations, you are much more alert and relaxed than in an enviroment full of noise. Noise is a major health hazard. Stress hormons are produced over an extended period of time and you overload both your nerveends in your ears and the ability to relax.

Ok, enough with such boring descriptions of what our bodies are able to and best suited to do. I could go on with how touching petals make you feel different than say rubbing plastic on a keyboard, or how subtle changes in barometric pressure or direction of the wind makes you feel alive, or how the pulse drops after half an hour in the woods.

I have no idea how to describe the joy I have of nature. My eyes are pleased, I feel invigorated, I feel relaxed as if I am one with everything. I am happy as in the arms of a loved one. I am more able to see nuances in colour, to hear subtle variations and to sense the mood of those I speak to when I return. Balanced, I guess that is what it makes me.

Western society prides itself on its great advances in technology and comfort. Bugger that. Technology was a matter of necessity, in order to survive in harsh conditions. With no doubt, nature have made western, or rather northern societies more adept at change than societies not having to think of tedious details like planning ahed for winter. We have just gone a bit too far, when our technolgy makes us forget how wonderful the real thing really is.

Next thing I'll write about nature will be strictly based on some story or the other, better able to describe a good experience. The mad cat Mono is sleeping in front of me on the desk.

1982?

25 years ago. That's a long time. A clown then, a clown now. A skewed smile, a skewed look on life.

I'm not sure if I was much different then than I am now. I like to play, I like to put on a face. It opens up so much. Perhaps I was closer to my friends then than now. It might be said I have a tendency yo zone out, to dream away, to make worlds where a clown is the most serious person there.

I am not yet so old that I have any reason to look back, to make any autobiography. Still, it is nice seeing that picture again. It was a beautiful august day, together with my neighbour, her somewhat nervous little brother and her cousin in the background. I remember I looked forward to seeing that cousing, totally captivated by her beauty. Maybe I did not have very vivid fantasies of what to do with that stomach churning feeling when attracted to beauty, and I cannot say I was in love. Seeing beauty just sort of made me feel good. Then as now.

What I dream of now is perhaps that life be a bit more like walking carelessly with a clowns mask, playing, skipping down the street, careless and free of worries. Life is, or should not be, just worries, work and obligation.

These thoughts might have popped up after the death of Mwalami. A few days after his death I got to know how he lived those last months, and the reason for his untimely demise. As it happens, he fell out of a tree - probably while being his usual carefree self, playing and laughing. He became unconsciuos, but seemed to get along well after a few weeks. Six months later, the night before an exam, he dropped dead. Just like that.

He continued at school. From when I helped him get into fourth grade, his first experience with school, he now was having final exams in seventh grade. He supposedly did splendidly at school. He was, according to those who lived with him, a very happy boy. As I knew him. Just those simple facts gave me great consolation. Knowing that what we struggled with, all those letters and numbers and swim strokes, did not go wasted. Yes, I choose to celebrate his life, and the life of all children finding the world exciting, strange and full of people and things to explore. No use being sad of all that did not become.

Get out and play.

Obituary

Mwalami Mtumbi, son of Mzee, brother of Adija and Bahati, went away yesterday. He became 14. How he perished or if he was content up to that moment, I do not know.

If I knew him at all, I would say he smiled all the way until the afterworld swallowed his dear memory. He was my hero, my very best friend and pride of my life. He was a funny boy who gave me great company, who listened rapt and attent, who taught me more than I could teach him. He was a student, a child never before gone to school. He who wanted so much to learn that he got everything needed to read and write and do the math quickly within three months. He showed me the monkeys, how they also wanted to play. Then we learned how to shoot straight with the bow and arrow to scare those who stole our food. Swimming lessons and sports. It is not possible to think of him without the smile popping through.

Honoured I am for having known him. I miss him. I am sad I did not get to see him again. It must not be to late to meet his family once more though. I had more friends amongst the Mtumbis than anyone can wish for. Mwalami was a very special person and I hope he lived well. Life can be cruel, but hopefully not all the way. I know those good memories I have of him and I am conviced he must have many a good moment, those moments that never fade, never becoming anything less than a feeling of utter content. Life, hope and faith. A memory lives forever.

M&Ms for facilitators

Now that Edvard Munchs paintings Scream and Madonna are recovered, absolutely not sitting with a filthy rich collector in some secluded room, M&M will have to pay out the promised reward of two million M&Ms. That's a whole lot of candy. Two metric tons actually.

David Toska, as we well remember, was one of the robbers at NOKAS in Stavanger, April 5th 2004. While the police now was in the midst of the most prolonged and extensive hunt ever, Munchs paintings were stolen by some cannonfodder August 22th 2004. The police quickly caught on, or not, and all hope seemed lost after just a couple of links. He was caught, or rather called home and surrendered himself, April 5th 2005. Convicted, he has also started talking about the network of lies, deceptions and power implicit in the robbery of Munchs paintings. If not, he has at least been dropping subtle hints through connections having ties to some reporter or the other, as his face has featured with such information now and then the last two years.

Also during the two years which has passed since the NOKAS, certain coercive tactics by the police have been disclosed to great embarrassment

On wiki I attempted to be very factual. As I don't know if that text will be there or not in a day or two in its current form, I cite it:

In 1996 he was arrested for carrying a loaded weapon in a bar in Oslo. When the police searched his home they found an MP5 sub-machine gun, explosives and tools for committing robberies. He is considered the mastermind behind the break-in at Norsk Medisinaldepot (2000), the safe-deposit box robbery at Bryn (2001), the commando-style robbery of Postens brevsentral October 27th 2003 and the NOKAS robbery April 5th 2004.

He admitted his involvement in the deposit robbery at Bryn and the Medicinal Depot, was committed, but later acquitted because of questionable motives and plausible coercion by the police. Emptying the bank boxes in 2001 brought out approximately 3 million USD, or about 20 million Norwegian Kroner in values. A security employee, by the order of the police, fed Toska with information, and so the police was said to make possible and facilitate both robberies.

The NOKAS robbery is probably the gravest example of hardened criminal activity in Norway. Never before has such brutality been evident on such a scale. The robbers got away with approximately 56 million NOK. Following the robbery the police started the most extensive investigation in modern times and focused all their forces on unraveling a hornets nest of suspected syndicate crime. Edvard Munchs paintings Scream and Madonna were stolen August 22th 2004 by three no-ones. All clues as to whom might have ordered the theft seemed to run dry after a few links and hints. Toska was arrested in Spain on April 5th 2005.

In the NOKAS-trial against Toska he and his accomplices confessed to participation in the robbery, but not to the killing. On March 5th 2006 Toska was sentenced to 19 years in prison. August 30 2006 Munchs paintings returned almost unscathed. Police refuses to say a word about where they found the paintings, nor whom they might suspect. No arrests were said to be made or any reward for tips having been paid. M&M however, pledged to pay out 40.000 bags of itself to whomever might have facilitated the rescue of Munchs paintings. Toskas face once more dove into the limelight.

The intricacy of this life of crime might explain his prominence in the media.

Please be aware that some of the information in that article was put there by fellow wikipedians. Most of the form is mine. Every date is verifiable.

More M&Ms to come?

Of course. There are circumstantial, even hard evidence of Toska being under the surveillance of the police in one way or the other since at least 2000. As in This is revolution a whole network has been threathened. Who might comprise that network is what is interesting, as surely it includes at the very least a few rotten apples within the police, or simply subterfuge. That is not conspiracy, that is just planning forward. We come well prepared with the few prominent examples of disclosed crime we have - first there was Treholt, pure espionage. Then came white collar criminals, pyramids, fraud and outright con-men. None high profile, but a few prominent hints into a deceptive net. Then violence erupted and Toska came down as first the devil and then a moderator.

Well, he might be a changed man, but boy, what have our police come to when they have known him, intimately, for the last 10 years? Without managing to take him down. I effin' don't believe it.

Politiet uttrykker i pressemelding 04.09.2006:
Politiet har ikke inngått noen avtale med Toska hva angår de forhold som er omtalt i pressemeldingen.

Pobrezinhos

Os brasileiros não prestam de jogar futebol. Brasil - Noruega, 1-1.

Brasil has never, I repeat, never beaten Norway in a football match. Poor souls.

Calm day?

Well, it seems today has seen at least some improvement. No protest against Israel firing back at Hezballah bone heads. Let's see some withdrawal then. Alas, Netanyahu expresses the following:

"...if the Arabs lay down their arms there will be no more war, but if Israel lays down its weapons there would be no more Israel." - Ynet

And he uses the Hitler card Israel itself has critisized on other occasions.

"since Hitler there has not been a leader like the Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad." (Ilan Marciano) - Ynet

Outside it rains. It rains so much I believe I have moved into a large aquarium. Needed. Now perhaps those nice chantarelle will come to a forest near me.

A day to forget

Hurrah, an agreement of seize fire has been made. Let's make the most of it and bomb some more!

When confronted with questions of guilty feelings and shame on befalf of their country when watching Lebaneese children and civilian being killed, a lot of Israelis make this answer: The whole strategy of Hizballah is to kill as many civilians as possible. There is no comparison with our professional forces having targeted Hizbollah rocket posts hidden amongst civilians.

I'll make this interjection: While Hizballah does not have rockets possible to steer, Israel SYSTEMATICALLY targets refugees, UN observers, Red Cross journalists AND make some of their most intensive bomb runs during night. Hizbollah stop firing their Katuschas during night. Hizballah does not have laser guidance, ground forces in Israel and extensive intelligence gathering. They fire and forget those rockets, while obviously giving the Israelis grievances on the ground inside Lebanon. Israel systematically targets civilians. Hizballah randomly hits civilians. While blindly lobbing stupid rockets into Israel is a war crime, intentionally hitting refugee camps and convoys must also be. Kofi Annan has never been more clear spoken in his worries of a systematic breach of human rights from the Israeli forces.

There is no comparing numbers that does any fairness to any war. A civilian casualty is still a civilian casualty, no matter if they are muslim, jew, christian, satanist, Lebaneese, Israeli, Russian, Syrian or whatever. War has the ability to make us all behave like animals. It is its nature. War is stupid stupid stupid.

One point to Israel though. Not compared to Hizballah (which should be kicked out of Lebanon by the way), but compared to US warfare. They do put their soldiers on the line early on and are willing to look their enemies in the eye. No no, not the detached politicians of course, but the lives of teenager reservists. USA systematically abuse human rights on a much higher level than Israel will ever manage. As Israel carries on, with the blessing of UN hater Bolton and Condoleeza Ricebowl, there is much to be said about the logic in politics.

Why, oh why, does Israel continue to defend their honour while targeting civilians and not the least, infrastructure not even under the control of their enemy? They have bombed Lebanon 40 years back in time. Reason: two kidnapped soldiers. No no no, this is not good enough. It is not civilised. It is an poor excuse to use fighter jets to bomb the last escape routes of innocent people to hinder a few guerillas.

It upsets me even more than the fact that I start working again tomorrow. THERE you can find an unreasonable comparison, like comparing a small, tiny in fact army with the might of a nuclear power with its superior force. With power comes great responsibility. When you are so much bigger, why bomb gasolin stations, hospitals, bridges, water and power plants indiscriminately? Hizbollah is not weakened by this, quite the contrary. They gain the support of the ones who are bombed by the, by now, common enemy - Israel. Heart shattering is what it is.

Shame on you, murderers! And if you ever call me antisemittic, your words fall on dead ears. Keep your religion and don't mix it with this. Even orthodox jews protest this war. Speaking of history, I understand you have a long tradition of neglecting UN resolutions, including setting of borders, punishing civilians for the acts of suicide bombers and so forth. Carry on, brave and proud.

One word: Qana.
Two words: Human rights.
Three words: Be very ashamed.
Four words: Get out of Palestine!

Israel, you are the new South Afrika. Apartheid is what your game is. Tear down the wall, let the people free.

Imperialists bork bork bork

Looking into a sky filled by soot, cries and the booms of yet another rocket, bullets, grenades and the splatter of blood. This does not make for a well adapted society. Generations will carry forth a mass induced shell shock, dynamite strapped against their waist - because that is how you expect differences to be solved. By weapon, not with useless words hitting dumb ears.

Jostein Gaarder, you know, the dude that wrote Sophies World, have caused quite a storm here in Norway by his poetic, nearly prophetic style, condemning the state of Israel in its current form. Dagbladet, a leading tabloid, printed a satiric drawing of Olhmert as Goeth in Shindlers List, standing with a view to an extermination camp. That made some people a tiny bit mad.

So, what is the point? Only that I find nothing controversial about expressing a view, however upset you might be. Critique of Israel, their current politics, ties to the USA and abhorrent behaviour in a senseless war - does not make antisemitism. As we would critizise any state or organisation, we have every reason to shout words of condemntation at actors willingly, easily and that with no regret target civilians. What likenesses there might be to the nazi period, where jews were targeted and condemned to inhuman torture, death and betrayal of everything holy are easy to see, exactly because it has happened to one of the involved parties in this current crisis.

I think it is shell shock. When six million of your fellow beings walks as ghost in the machine, you are doomed to have a hundred years of solitude. It is not possible to look away from this past and be reminded of what can happen if you do not, or cannot, stand up and oppose those that wish you harm. It is not strange that Israel every since the war has developed a tendency to behave as its worst enemy. Bitterness fades slowly and sometimes sorrow finds anger and focus it towards your neighbour in a form that we that stand outside cannot understand as anything other than apartheid, slaughter of innocence, xenophobia, rage, animal behaviour.

This is not about jews, it is about how a state carry forth. Religion is a backdrop, as is history and the amalgam of culture everything is. Israel is so much more that the religion of jews. You don't have to be jewish to be an Israeli. But it does seem a prerequisite to be an orthodox jew if you have a tendency to occupy Palestinian soil. As it is a prerequisite to be a fundamental muslim if you want to die the death of martyrs. And I who thought that was the priviledge of sexually frustrated catholic monks. Better leave religion out of it. But if you do that, what else is left of the Middle East? Oil? Oranges? Nuclear weapons? (How come they are called wmds in the hands of terrorist states like Iran, while in the hands of Israel they are necessary if never admitted??

Go fuck yourselves, all you who thinks caricature, critique and flaming words are antisemitism. Go fuck yourselves, all you who thinks caricature, critique and flaming words are worth a jihad.

Gråtåke

Som suverene nasjoner har Norge og USA rett til å stake ut sin egen kurs. Nasjoner må velge med stor forsiktighet hvor deres sterkeste bånd skal knytes, fordi spesielle forhold krever seriøse forpliktelser innen energi, ressurser - og noen ganger må man ofre, sier Whitney. - Benson K Whitney, Dagbladet

Wikipedia anbefales for biografi i korte trekk. Han er fra Minnesota. Han er utseksaminert med magna cum laude fra blant annet Vassar, et av Seven Sister universitetene i USA. Seven Sisters er syv universiteter, opprinnelig kun for kvinner, i motsats til Ivy League for menn. Vassar er det mest prestisjetunge av alle de syv, stiftet i 1861. Det har et uvanlig stort bibliotek. Dets grunnlegger døde samme år som Foucault, den amerikanske presidenten James Buchanan, Möebius (forøvrig etterkommer av Luther) og Rothschild, 1868. Velstående og sosialt beskodde har lenge sendt sine sønner til Yale og sine døtre til Vassar. Dette er menneskene som klør hverandre på ryggen og utformer mytiske dollarsedler i sin egen ære. Main Hall på Vassar er tegnet av James Renwick Jr. 1865 var også året da en annen bygning Renwick tegnet, Smithsonian Institute, ble skadet i brann og store verdier gikk tapt.

Det jeg sier kan synes tatt ut av luften, urettmessig, spekulativt fremført og forflatende. Likeså fremstår ambassadørens tale som en tale om tap og lidelse, i motytelse for å ha en storebror som ser en. Vi har så enorme ressurser, sier han, at vi har enorme forpliktelser å ivareta. I økonomiske termer, selvsagt. Det er noe ved formuleringene som virkelig ikke kan oppfattes som annet enn trusler fra noen som vet at de små vet at de vet at vi vet at de naturlig gitt er større enn oss. Det er en ære å bli truet av USA. Vi skal føle ydmykhet overfor den som har støttet oss så mye i det 20. århundre. Men, ikke om jeg ønsker å gi noe til noen som ønsker monopol på forpliktelser.

Enhver kropp har til plikt å være noe utover seg selv. Vil verden i sin helhet og mangfold, være bedre tjent med nok en bananstat under USA? Jeg bare spør. Kan en tvile på logikken i ordene? Aannet enn at de fanger i seg selv og gir ingen åpning for dialog. Monopol på fortolkninger, samtidig som en roser sin neste for å være moden til å lytte på storebror og derfor ukritisk forplikte oss. Det blir litt som å signere på et blankt ark. Forpliktelser basert på skyldfølelse er et litt for drastisk. Ambassadøren må tåle at USA stiller i en rettferdig konkurranse om disse angitte rikdommene.

Norges skyld til USA kan aldri betales i penger og skjulte kontrakter. En skylder sin redningsmann sitt eget liv. Hvis livet skal være å gi som eget, må det ha fri vilje. Kanskje finnes ikke den frie vilje, men det finnes veier å gå som føles godt og det finnes mål som er verdige å ofre mye for. Veien USA viser, tror jeg hverken er god å gå eller fører til noe godt mål. Hvem vet forresten om noe påvirker et endelig utfall eller ikke, eller om samtidige, kronologiske hendelser er verd sin verdi i gull. Ingen andre en den som tror på det. Det gjør hverdagen enklere. Eller er det selve tanken på at det er slik det fungerer som gjør at tyngdekraften beveger oss nedover trappen?

Hvis tyngdekraften nå beveger oss, må vi lære oss å leve med den. Er det å ofre? I forhold til hva? Nei, den er unektelig, som den ideelle frie vilje. Gravitasjonen tar sin del av kaka fordi den er en del av kaka. Rett og slett. En stor del av kaka. Kake er bra, men det er også behov for gulrøtter i kostholdet. En må gjøre noe godt med de mulighetene en har.

Gå ut i andres hage

Grønn Glede på NRK anbefaler prikkperikum (Hypericum perforatum). Dagens urt kan puttes rett på flaske eller tørkes. Seksti fra Polet er for sterk, så det holder med vodka. Blomsterknottene når de presses.

"Det er jo også de" sa fruen med urtene.
"Og se, dette er liksom blomstens blod. Det er olje."

Kanskje kan en fortsette fruens første setning med, før hun ble kuttet strømløs, "som kaller dette Johannesurt". Eller så kunne hun sagt "som tror at prikkperikum er like effektiv som de beste moderne legemidler".

Hyperikum - den grønne lykkepille av Jonathan Zuess, er en tittel som sier litt om mulig bruk.

Johannesurt har i uminnelige tider blitt benyttet av folkemedisinen. Dets olje kan smøres på sår for å hindre infeksjon og få det til å gro raskt igjen. Føler du deg kraftløs, trett, utmattet, uten søvn - litt uttrekk gjør deg godt. Det beste naturlegemiddel. Godkjent sådan.

Vær dog oppmerksom på at det kan gi noen bivirkninger. Solsensitivitet og elveblest kan forekomme. Tretthet og rastløshet kan forekomme, selv om det altså er kjent å motvirke milde depresjoner og angst. Siden Johannesurt er såpass organisk kompleks, er en rekke interaksjoner med syntetisk fremstilte legemidler. P-piller, antivirale medisiner, noen astmamedisiner og helt sikkert flere komplekse molekyler, reagerer ulikt på introduksjon av alle stoffene i Johannesurt.

Ett eksempel er et stoff i noen asthmamedisiner, Teofyllin - eller 1,3-dimetylxantin, som forbrennes langt raskere med Johannesurt innabords. Med andre ord blir virkningen av te mer intenst, men du må tisse raskere. Teofyllin er svært vanndrivende, svært giftig og svært stimulerende. Det finnes også små mengder i te.

Utfordringene med både te, kaffe og Johannesurt, er at de er naturlig forekommende og svært komplekse. Et uttrekk av Johannesurt vil inneholde mer enn ti aktive virkestoffer. Kaffe har noe som 2000 ulike kjemiske stoffer i sin smak. Kan ikke bare fjerne ett og tro at det går bra. For eksempel er det utrolig teit å fjerne koffeinet, eller teofyllinet. Alkaloider og videre, sentralstimulerende midler, skal man alltid være varsom med. De kan ha påvirkning på det meste. Eller mye kan påvirke disse.

Antagelig satt også Tempelridderne pris på perikum i sine esoteriske studier. St Johns wort er et gammelt engelsk navn på Johannesurt. Blodet i den sies å minne om døperen Johannes blod. Tempelridderne i Jerusalem beskyttet pilgrimsreisende til Hospitalierordenens kloster over ruinene av Salomons Tempel, på Tempelhøyden der Johannes døperen hadde sitt virke. Det har blitt spekulert i om Tempelridderne var i besittelse av helgenens hode.

Johannes døperen skal ha hoppet av glede, allerede i Elisabeths mage i det han ble fylt av den Hellige Ånd. Hadde det vært i dag, hadde Folkehelseinstituttet intervjuet moren om hennes matvaner og funnet henne påvirket av disse blomstene hun spiste. Uansett vandret hennes sønn ut av ørkenen en vakker dag og ble like populær som Elvis.

Forøvrig var herren som har navngitt slektens botaniske tilhørlighet (Guttiferae, 1789) selvsagt interessert i tempelriddere. Antoine Laurent de Jussieu (1748 - 1836) var nevø av en hel familie Jesuitter. Jesuittene hadde sitt utgangspunkt i bildet av Den Hellige Maria og Jesusbarnet. Johannes døperen er treenighetens Ånd.

Putt noen urter på litt sprit for å trekke ut selve essensen? Javel. Det må i hvertfall høstes mangt og meget i sommer.

Pausefisk

Tja, hva skal jeg i det hele tatt si? Jeg synes jeg har sagt det som sies kan om både vær og vind. Jeg har ikke lyst til å snakke så mye mer. Jeg har lyst til å leve snarere enn å henge mitt liv på simple og forflatende ord. Jeg har lyst til å holde henne i mine armer, til å være der når hun trenger meg og føle at livet er noe mer enn å vente på dagen som kommer i morgen.

Klart jeg har valg. Valget om å gi opp - for skal ikke livet leves her og nå, snarere enn å vente på noe en ikke vet noe om? Det blir å tenke seg til blods hvis alle veier, irrganger og små stier skal tråkkes opp før en har gått de. Noen ganger må valget tas, slik at energien ikke tømmes helt i ventetiden.

Det skjønne været i helgen flyr forbi. Klart jeg gjør ting, klart det. Jeg ligger ikke i fosterstilling hele tiden, selv om ja, mobiltelefonen er rimelig nærme selv i dusjen. Men å ikke engang kunne ringe eller gi en oppmerksomhet, forsikre henne om at jeg er her, se henne smile og hente like mye energi som jeg brygger selv i hennes nærhet... det er et svart helvete med muggent syltetøy.

Men, denne gangen venter jeg. Denne gangen er det verdt det. Jeg er hellig overbevist. Patetisk? Lurer jeg meg selv og omverdenen når jeg er så sikker på at bare, bare vi får leve i nærhet og sikkerhet om hverandre, da - da blir alt fint. Selvsagt er det ikke så lett. Men da slipper vi i det minste å late som og gnage innover i tvilen til det er ingenting av oss selv igjen.

Grynt. Grynt er ordet. Fremover marsj, takle problemene når de dukker opp. Klart og tydelig vil jeg leve. Varmt og i håp. Ikke klamt og i tvil.

Kort tale

Bordet fanger. Ingen joker. Ess på topp.

Dronningen ligger åpen på bordet. Hennes ess i hjerter svelger min spader knekt.
Plutselig sitter en der, i drømmehuset på kløvergaten.

Det er godt livet ikke bare er kort, men også lunefult.

En havhest svømmer forbi.

Sjokoladekake

100-125 g smør
175-200 g sukker
2 egg
1 ts bakepulver, siktes
150 g hvetemel
2 ts vaniljesukker
3-6 tx kakao, siktes
1 dl melk/fløte

Smør og sukker søres hvitt. Det øvrige blandes i den rekkefølge det står. Stekes i langpanne sånn passe lang tid på ca 175-200 grader i ca en halv time i en rund kakeform. Deigen testes med strikkepinne eller luktesans for å sjekke at den er ferdig. Avkjøles, deles og fyllet smøres i og på.

Fyll:
100 g smør
200 g melis
2 eggehviter
2 ss kakao, siktes
romessens eller kaffe som smakstilsetter (appelsin?)

Kanskje til og med en seigmann eller to på toppen er det som skal til for å gjøre det helt over toppen.

Busstur gjennom helvetes forgård

Som kjent er dette tid for både krokus og hestehov i solrike beliggenheter. Jeg tror neppe det var det politiet søkte i det de stormet bussen, alle seks uniformerte og trent i strategisk kontroll.

I tigerstaden steg Jet (la meg i det minste avsløre hans initialer) og hans kamerat på. La oss kalle kameraten for Banarne. Bussjåføren har et anstrengt forhold til mennesker generelt og er ikke særlig serviceinnstilt, men i særdeleshet har han en ganske tydelig avsmak for nevnte herrer. I det bussen kjører ut av rudebilstasjonen, stiger det jammen på en kar i full Nupermanndrakt. Norsk flagg som flagrende cape, hjelm med horn, bolebriller (slike som gnir seg rundt ansiktet og ser ut som de er dyppet i et skimrende lag olje). Høylydt var han også. Trolig skiskyterskade.

Det må nevnes at herr Jet for ett år siden stjal bilen min. Som fagperson må jeg si meg inhabil i forsvaret av hans rettigheter i samfunnet. Det har vært mer enn ett bilde i hodet hvor Espen Lie (alltid lei inn noen som ser litt biff ut) lett klasker et balltre i Jets knær. Kunne aldri gjort det selv, bak fasaden om at da hadde jeg gått ned til et noe grovkalibret voldsnivå. Rett og slett tror jeg en før eller siden lider for feilene en gjør. Ja, Jet ser ut til å ha et behov for fotlenke og strømterapi.

De kommer på bussen ikledd gråmønstrede luer, bananknær og lite fungerende øyne. Så setter de seg i hver sin ende av bussen.
- Jeg setter meg her. Ikke så langt bak 'a sier Jet
Stille går de og setter seg.
Såvidt på motorveien, etter en god del rallende roping fra Nupermann og støle blikk og rop mellom to utrolig klønete dealer-wannabies. Fem sekunder:
- T******! KOM HIT LITT 'A!
Jet reiser seg, så irritert han klarer å bli (hvilket er svært lite) og tusler bak til kameraten. Etter tre-fire minutter reiser Jet seg og setter seg forover i bussen igjen.

En halvtime går, bussen stopper i en bakke på motorveien. Ikke akkurat noe bussen, eller noen biler, pleier å gjøre. Vi står stille. Etter to minutter åpnes dørene og seks politi går inn i bussen. Tre bak, tre foran. To av de passer utgangene mens to nærmer seg Jet fra hver side og to går rett bak i bussen.

Jeg må vel si det gikk en varm følelse av overraskelse gjennom meg. Politiet er heller ingen som vekker særlig sympati hos meg normalt sett. Den første tanken var vel
- aha! Det er derfor de har satt opp plakatene om at politihunder i tjeneste får lov til å være med bussen. Det og førerhunder. Politi kommer normalt ikke med førerhund.
Etter det kjente jeg et litt lunt og eh... ondt smil? heheheMmMMuOAHAHAHAHHA
Det tok muligens et helt sekund til jeg fattet at uniformene var ment for Jet, hans venn - og i en liten bitanke:
- Nupermann, hvorfor tar de ikke han med seg da?
Men de gjør ikke det. Nupermann får sitte. Jada, mentale pasienter er greit å frakte på. Jet og Banarne blir fraktet ut av bussen. Politiet ransaker setene de satt i, søppelkasser og hattehyller. Tror de finner noe. Forhåpentligvis mer enn hva Jet trenger for to uker. Kanskje er han så blåst at han har forsøkt seg som langer. Ah, disse skinnende rene uniformene politiet går med. Fire i lær og to i skjorte og slips.

Bussjåføren forklarer for n'te gang at grunnen til forsinkelsen har med politiet å gjøre, mens Nupermann roper:
- Narkosvin ska' vi'kke ha bussen! BRA JOBBA!
Ti sekunder går før han raller igang igjen. Bussjåføren forklarer en gang til at slikt språk vil han ikke høre og forsinkelsen og politiet og det er en grunn til at. Sett på repeat og spill den låta tre ganger. Etter Aas bryggeri er det sjåførens tur:
- Ja, da har jeg forklart overfor de som kom på her hvorfor vi er forsinket, og slik er det. Ikke noe å gjøre noe med.
Forsinkelsen er nå fem minutter, hvilket er helt eksepsjonelt og pinlig nøyaktig i forhold til når det virkelig er trafikk på motorveien.
- Nå tenkte jeg at jeg skulle på nattlus, som jeg kaller dem. Det er et litt mer dempet lys, så kan dere sove og slappe av, mens de som vil lese har leselys i hattehylla over. Ja, da slår jeg på nattlyset, som jeg kaller det, så får dere ha en behagelig reise.
To minutter etter at nattlyset er skrudd på, har Nupermann fått nok. Han må på toalettet, bakerst i bussen.
- JA, VI SKA'KE ha sånne På BUSSEN. BARE si FRA så skal jeg ordne opp!
Etter noe romstrering med døra, skværer han opp med toalettet og returnerer til setet sitt. Ralle ralle. Stille i ti sekunder, så begynner han igjen.

Nå får faktisk sjåføren nok og roper i høytalerne:
- EEEEEEEEEEEEEN GANG TIL og det er din tur til å gå av bussen. Jeg tålererer ikke sånt språk, at nå Politiet, har vært en narkorazzia her en nå, hvis du ikke holder kjeft er det lett å ordne, nå må du se og roe deg ned. Det er nok, ETT ord til så kommer de og henter deg.

Det ble stille etter det. Nupermann dabber av til et minimumsnivå og raller bare som en liten mus i ny og ne. Ti minuttter etter sitter alle passasjerer som på pinner i det et spesielt kort, men bestemt kraftgrynt kommer fra mannen i kappe. Heldigvis gikk det bra. Det kom bare et kort
- JA, n..

Ti minutter etter var jeg hjemme. Ganske lykkelig og avslappet. Selv om jeg tror jeg husker at det også steg på en kortvekst en i mørke klær som også kom på rett etter bussterminalen, rett før Nupermann. Vel vel, det får så være eller ikke. Noen ganger er det å reise på jobben som å gå to mil til fots etter melk. Barbeint. Dette var ikke så ille i det hele tatt.

Innenfor rekkevidde

Innen rekkevidde av sansenes tvil, finnes forestillingen om det fullkomne. For Kåre Valebrokks del er det muligens en engelsk pub, med høns i bakgården og et piletre hengende over den lille gressbakken ved elven. Jakten på den perfekte pub er en unnskyldning han kan bruke for å reise så mye rundt i England og oppleve de sjarmerende, men selvsagt ikke like fullkomne puber som han selv ønsker å eie en dag. Han er selvsagt livredd for å faktisk finne denne puben og bli nødt til å gjøre det han alltid har drømt om som den perfekte måte å drive resten av sitt liv.

- I det vi tror vi har funnet det ideelle, setter vi målene enda høyere.

Jeg istemmer i redselen over å bli stilt overfor idealet og måtte ta valget. Hvorfor? Fordi valget låser og utelukker muligheten for å søke høyere. Derimot har jeg kommet til at det ideelle er akkurat det alle sier om utopien: ønskelig og attråverdig, men neppe perfekt. Derfor er valget som for hver og en av oss føles og kjennes ideelt, kanskje mer erkjennelsen av og aksepten for at det ideelle sitter mer i hodet enn i omgivelsene. Jeg kan ikke sitte og vente på at KANSKJE dukker perfeksjonen opp, og hadde den gjort det, ville jeg neppe gjenkjent den.

Jeg ønsker heller å ta et aktivt tak og forsøke å skape veien mot det fullkomne. Jeg ønsker å være en del av denne todelingen i perspektiv. Jeg er også sikker på at det er mulig. Nettopp fordi det aldri vil være noe galt i å ville strekke seg stadig høyere ut fra den lykke en allerede har.

Kanskje, og hvem kan vite det? Kanskje er virkeligheten det en etterlater seg av minner og forestillinger, like som en selv opplever virkeligheten ut fra alle sanser og tankemønstre. Noen tanker gir klare bilder om når, hvor og i hvilken rekkefølge, mens andre er forestillinger om en idé som er tidløs. Bildene kan beskrive tiår, millisekunder eller ukronologisk ordnede dyrearter. Egentlig tror jeg hodet er som et digert tre, med kaskader av løv i det en forestilling brister. Det våres, slipp fangene fri.

Ikke vet jeg om livet skal leves i stadig søken eller dyrke lykken i det en allerede har. Om hodet er som et tre, tror jeg vel også at løv faller i sirkler. Løvet som faller er livsviktig næring. Bladene som henger er livgivende energiverk. De henger stadig høyere, men er på en måte de samme. Det er i hvert fall ikke sånn ute i skogen at så mange bjørketrær våkner til ask. Det er mulig Vallebrok kan gå fra å være en gran i skogen til en pil ved en stille elvebredd. Litt lik Tom Waits, der han sitter og klimprer på et piano langt ute i sumpen, i sin egen bar. Med sine egne venner og helt sikkert mange besøk.

Begjær

Det lyste i øynene til Jan Erik Larsen, i det han viste frem alle detaljer på en Koenigsegg. Et monster, en perfeksjon. Latterlig dyr, men helt sikkert verdt det. Ikke at jeg ville ofret leilighet eller noe, men bilen så ut til å gi programlederen våte munnviker. Det kan synes flatt, men hei og hå hvor det minner om skjønnhet. Skjønnhetens kjerne er i dets ufattbare unikhet. En kan gjøre nær mord for å unngå å falle for dets føtter, å bli underlagt som en siklende slave. Det eneste jeg oftest klarer i dets nærhet, er å beskrive dets ytre grense.

Det er ofte jeg stiller meg spørsmål om hvorfor denne mannen ser så ensom ut. Hva drømmer han om? Hvor er han? Angrer han for noe han har gjort, eller for noe han ikke gjorde? Kanskje er han til og med bare mett, hvem vet. Kanskje bare han drømmer om ny bil?

Det er en stilig mann, ikke prangende. En fantastisk stokk med elfenben, utskjæringer, sølv og ibenholt. Blankpussede sko med nylagt såle. Romslig jakke, en diskré lue. Velstelt, fysisk velvære med en aning smerte. Et lykkelig drag om ansiktet. Savn, jeg tror det er glade minner.

Nasjonalt senter

Nasjonalt senter for bevaring av den høye panda.

På dette senteret i Kina, med oppgave om å bevare og forske rundt panda-bjørner, utrykker ansvarlig talsmann:
- hannene er for slappe til å formere seg.
- Vi trener luktesansen deres. Vi viser dem dyreporno med pandaer og spiller parringslåter.

Pandaer som offisielle lykketroll i diplomatiske ærend. Genialt.

Broer

I dag er alle broer brent. Dagen er verdt et dikt!

Gjøre ingen ting

Godt å gjøre ingen ting,
la tankene vandre med skyene på himlen
og maurene på bakken.
For en gangs skyld la igår og imorgen
være uten mening, uten anger og bekymring,
uten beregning og forventning,
uten sorg og frykt,
bare et pust av frihet
i ingenmannsland
i stormens rolige øye.

Godt å være ingen ting,
en håndfull støv under himlen.
For en gangs skyld være navnløs og stum
og ikke gammel eller ung, mann eller kvinne,
modig eller feig, morder eller munk,
hverken for eller mot en Jesus eller Judas,
bare et pust av frihet
på en sommergrønn planet
i stjernehvirvelens rolige øye.

- Harald Sverdrup, 1980

Maskert hund

Det som brenner er å beundre. Jeg er glad for at jeg vet hva jeg aller helst vil ha her i verden akkurat nå. I morgen. Jeg håper vi ikke glir fra hverandre. Jeg håper du ser meg som jeg er og at du liker det du ser. I dag. I morgen. Og alle dager finne forståelsen og utfordringen i hverandre. Den eneste ærlige løsningen er å være den jeg er. Slik hverdagen skal være trygg og spennende på en gang. Hver dag en ny mulighet til å smile og gjøre godt.

Det er ikke alt som er verdt å nevne. Likefullt hopper tanker hit og dit og jeg forsøker å være så tydelig jeg kan på et hvert tidspunkt, uten å beskrive alle skjønne detaljer. Tid er noe rare saker. Det er ingenting å gjøre med fortiden og fremtiden er vanskelig å vite noe som helst om. Samtidig er alt der, som i en boks full av tråder. Sammenhenger kan ses. Tiden sensuerers kun av den tilgang hver og en av oss har å se den.

Godt det er mer enn tekst å forholde seg til. Det er å handle, å forbedre meg. Å være den jeg ønsker å være. Hm. Så er det på andre siden at jeg tror at jeg blir et bedre menneske med deg. Men da, da må jeg bare håpe at det jeg er, er nok. Fremover, marsj. Hurra.

Kjære Think

Gratulerer med at tidligere eier, en driftig mann, tar eierskapet av think tilbake.

I februar besøkte jeg Roma. I myten ligger forventningen om å se blankpolerte Fiat 500. Tenk på alle de filmene hvor den og snertne italienere paraderer piazzaen. Sammen med hvite telefoner, smale åssider og lange soltak er den selve optimismen. Bilen, som kunne få et ufattelig antall kolli med seg over kronglete alpeveier og det ultimate symbolet på frihet for generasjonen etter andre verdenskrig. Enda mer utrykkelig enn bobla, var Fiat 500 den ultimate famliebilen. Beskjeden, men overlegent selvsikker.

Vel, i Roma er det ikke så mange Fiat 500 som lever opp til et slikt mål lenger. Det er så mye forurensing i Roma at det ofte er bilfrie dager i sentrum, der alle turistene er. Der alle er. Der finansmenn, politikere og hele deres familie får eskorte av et par diskré, men svært så mektig Lanciaer. Kanskje med en uniformert politioffiser som tar ut penger fra tre-fire bankkort. I det han nonchalant gjør seg ferdig, får tre andre kunder benyttet den andre minibanken der. Han setter seg inn og tar på Emporiobrillene.

Det er nesten så en hørte gangsta-rytmer.

Brum brum, niks. De små elektriske bussene som også får kjøre i sentrum kommer stille som døden. Her må en virkelig følge med. Dødvinkel er et viktig moment å huske. Nei, Romerne vet å kjøre blant folk. Sikk, sakk, stille uten å mase altfor mye.

Har dere noen som helst idé hvor mange Think-biler som finnes i Roma? .. javisst, dere lager dem jo. Takk må jeg si. De er myke i form og full av respekt for fotgjengere og en lavtont virrelyd. Helt glitrende å kunne parkere hvor som helst.

I etterpåklokskap har jeg kommet på at det ikke er Think-biler jeg så, men SMART. Trist, jeg hadde tenkt å si hurra for hva dere allerede har gjort. Det står SMART-biler i de merkeligste og trangeste kroker. Litt kjedelige farger på de fleste dog. Ikke akkurat blanke, mer som skygger. Litt kjedelige kanskje. Faktisk ganske stygge.

Se å få City-bilene til Bombay, Beijing. Men, for guds skyld, se å få fikset designet. Den er rund og myk, og ekstremt funksjonell. Rubinfarget plast fra siden... det ser ut som om bilen har blitt brettet og fått seg en skikkelig bulk. Eller femten. Nei, det holder ikke for en personbil. Hvordan skal man forsvare bilens utseende når en kommer tilbake til bilutleien og en fyrrig italiener beskylder deg for å ha bulket?

Think public ser litt morsom ut, men hvorfor ikke bare gjøre den til en mye mer rendyrket firkant? Hvorfor ikke ta plassen over hjulene og la det være bilens profil? Bilen fra Aker Brygge med kart på seg, ser ut som en kamuflashefarget oppslagstavle. Hallo, hvor er konturene? Trafikksikkerhet for trafikkantene må være mulig å få til også med en front og bak som i hverfall ser ut til å tilhøre bilen. Hvilket de nå ikke helt ser ut til å gjøre. Den er ikke ment å gå så veldig fort, er den?

Å, noen har satt en eske på en jekketralle, tenkte jeg først. Tre passasjeseter er for lite. Lag den til en skikkelig firkant og der er lett et par ståplasser til.

Den nye Think City... yum yum. Der er det. Kunne kanskje tenkt meg en litt bredere bak oppe ved de røde lysene, og en enda litt mer ekstrem kurve på bakluka. Spoileren hører hjemme, men syns liksom at bakruta ikke helt treffer horisonten. Eh, uansett: Se å få den ut på gata! Send 10 gule stylede, 10 blankt røde, 10 blankt sorte til Roma. Jeg, om ikke andre, tror det hadde blitt en hel sørens mye oppmerksomhet. Send med et par new republic miniminibusser. Firkantede billedrammer forbi alle menneskene, all kunst, butikkvinduene.

Hvis dere får det til, hadde det virkelig vært morsomt å se. Det MÅ da finnes noen som har langsiktighet nok og dristighet til å satse stort på en glitrende grunnlagt klassiker? Tenk bare på hvor fantastisk det vil være å presentere tredje generasjon av city-bilen! Hva skal den kalles? Third Reich er neppe noen idé, ei heller H2O. City Hydra, Zero? En bussutgave med en stor Z i en null trykt ut på siden som et emblem og døråpner. Milliarder på milliarder hagler inn. Ti år, så kan dere bli store.

Jjeg håper dere får hevet deres lønn før alt går til himmelen. Dere klarer dette!

Værmannen

Værmannen så nesten redd ut i dag, med sine hvite spådommer. Kremt, ja, så blir det en ny runde med snømåking, da. På Østlandet vil det snø ganske kraftig, ganske lenge. Helt til mandag. Fredag ser faktisk ut til å bli en fin dag over hele landet.

Jeg har gått på ski i dag. Opp bakkene, over skare, bortover li. Det var først ved sistnevnte jeg fant perfekt feste og gli. En gammel svensk lilla, en liten liten bit igjen. Pusten og pulsen blir bedre, ansiktet friskt. Det var ganske hasardiøst å kjøre nedover på skare, hvor skiene bet nedi og vanskelig gikk annet enn rett frem.

I morgen blir det ski. Onsdag, torsdag, fredag, lørdag, søndag. Denne ukes plan. I tillegg må jeg ta i et tak på jobb. Sistnevnte mye mindre fint enn dalende snø. Snømannen/Værmannen har ikke skylden for været, han ber oss være forberedt. Snø er tross alt bedre enn iskaldt regn og søle overalt. Så kommer våren. Det blir bra. Riktig bra. Hegrene har visst kommet tilbake. Kanskje blir det en tidlig vår, spår min far.

Det er ikke så lett å lytte til spådommer uten å føle en spenning. Nesten som i Woody Allens Match Point, der ballen vipper på nettet. Vil det bli slik det ser ut til å bli? Hm. Jeg må i hvert fall huske å ta med meg bilnøklene.

PR-tur av Politiet

Jeg vil vise til Dagbladets artikler om politiets pågående aksjoner mot hasjkjøp på nedre .Grünerløkka. I dagens artikkel, utrykker leder forebyggende tiltak, Grønland Politistasjon, Geir Tvedt følgende om resultatene av ukens arrestasjoner:
- At så mange ikke er blitt registrert hos oss før, tyder på at det er helt vanlige folk som drar til Akerselva for å kjøpe seg hasj. Det er ikke belastede folk som vi kjenner fra Skippergata, men vanlige arbeidsfolk og studenter. Dagladet

Derfor ønsker Politiet å gjøre nedre Grünerløkka til et tryggere sted. Det er heller ikke mange underårige som er tatt i aksjonen. Hvis en skremmer bort kjøperne, ved for eksempel å kaste 127 av dem på glattcelle, vil det ikke være lett for selgerne å finne seg noe nytt sted som er like godt egnet.

Joda, Grünerløkka er ikke stedet der så mange løfter et øyenbryn over det svært synlige salget. Det går rolig og diskret for seg for det meste. Kidsa er problemet, disse små gjengene med drittunger som reker rundt og lager kvalm. Ja, det er en større tetthet mentale alpeluer på Grünerløkka enn andre steder i byen. De tilreisende kjøperne er som Politiet selv påpeker, helt normalt fungerende mennesker som har en jobb, eller studerer.

Jeg forstår ikke helt problemet her. Politiet forstår visst heller ikke problemet med å kaste folk på glattcelle mens de arresterte blir sjekket i saken. De arbeider nemlig med å kunne utstede forelegg på stedet. I mens går andelen normale mennesker blant befolkningen ned. For, når den arresterte får sitt på rullebladet og ikke lenger er ukjent for politiet, føyer dette mennesket seg fint inn i rekken av unormale, marginale, syke og gale. Jeg velger likevel å heller se det som en seier for den allerede eksisterende majoritet av Norges befolkning som ikke kan fanges i noen mal.

Jada, vi holder alle forskjellige roller, vi har alle mer eller mindre sterke bånd til andre mennesker. Vi har alle våre mål, øyeblikkets behov eller fremtidens vyer. Det virker for meg som om Politiet her ikke bare ønsker å minne om hvilke konsekvenser det KAN ha å handle mot gjeldende lov, men også at gjeldende lovutøvelse ikke treffer riktig målgruppe. Loven er ment å forebygge de handlinger som kan medføre skade på individ, eiendom eller samfunnets mål. Loven er vel neppe ment å ramme vilkårlig? Ja, jeg mener det er vilkårlig å straffe de 127 arresterte hvor mange det nå har blitt, for handlinger som etter Politiets sigende er normale. Med normal forstår jeg fungerende og ikke mer amoralsk eller pøblete enn befolkningen forøvrig.

Det går rett til kjernen av spørsmål om hva samfunnet er tjent med. Hvilken adferd skal tillates hvor? Neivel, da er det vel for de som fortsatt ønsker å ryge sin pipe at binde seg opp mot faste leverandører på Oslos beste vestkant. Det er den dag i dag fruer på Frogner som har cognac på blå resept.

Match Point

by Woody Allen, of course. So, let's not speak more about him. Suffice to say there are more choices than just love or hate. Some you may like, some you may find boring, some you may touch you in places you didn't know existed.

Game, set and match. A ball rolls off the egde of a net, with just enough balance to make you doubt it's path. It is a fight of prey and carnivore, of equal potential. Is it a game of randomness? No, I would not say so. This film is disturbing, in the most elaborate way. Every little detail rips through the deepest of our myths, of human behaviour, cravings, strength and weakness.

As our protagonist plays his ways towards the sensible, his eyes are more than focused upon ambition and to have that which cannot be had. Nola Rice (Scarlett Johansson) is a jaguar impersonator, a cat to purr, not entirely tamed, warm and intelligent. Jonathan Rhys Meyers (Chris Wilton) is ebservant, focused, ambitous and of course full of emotions kept under lid, portioned out. He is a cave man, the modern scholar, a veritable tragic hero. There are numerous references to Greek Myth, Russian literature, quantum physics and narrative techniques. It has been a very long time since I saw such an intense film. It is of game theory and feelings that must be expressed, agonizing choices that might have been taken in that split second or planned for a long time.

Jonathan does not necessarily want fame and fortune. If he can have it, does he not then have a duty to take it? In his work as tennis coach at a swab spa, with a handsome face and charming manners, he soon becomes included in the closest of family circles and the nice life. These are upper class people, who not only command respect and exude confidence, but who also have money and the means to use them. The good life indeed. A good life is not necessarily an easy one, or bound to chance alone. If that gun hangs on the wall there, must it not be used?

Match Point is one of the best films I've seen in a long time. It made me quirm in my seat, wanting to close my eyes, but never ever daring to miss a single second.

Responsibility

Jonas Gahr Støre, make note of that name. He is fast becoming a very strong politician. With freedom comes responsibilty.

- I cannot sit here and say I am sorry for something I have not done or have not meant. The right of expression is a right, not a duty. Freedom of expression is absolute. Of course one can say degrading things and make jokes as one wish. Do I think that what was done was wise? No.

And then I wrote on. However, it is too early to say what will become. There are scary parallells in time, but also some encouraging episodes. Can one hope for a reconciliation, is it not coming yet. It is really a deep conflict of importance. Protestants and catholics are quite unlike when it comes to this issue, but that is just surface. Secularisation versus fundamentalists on all sides, is something so more complex. Secularisation does not mean the abolisment of religion. It just becomes a bit mroe personal. And ain't we the ones to speak, ridden as we are with existential angst. At least statistically there is a link between the lack of light and depression.

Statistics are lies. It is the lack of snow that drives us nuts in the winter. Now it is here, at least I feel so much lighter. A meter of soft snow does wonders. Probably incomprehencible, but that is how things are. If you could ever feel the silence of the forest on a night like this. On a starry night shines an almost full moon. Should you ever fall, enjoy.

On another note however

The distinguished ewe named Thelma, barely avoided ending up as sheep most do in the busy days before christmas, and became a pet.
- what would she have become if you had not saved her? says the reporter
- eh... ribs! says the three year old boy with a big smile on his face
- and what does she do now?
- she runs. She runs REAL fast!

Thelma really likes to run with a harness. She is really having fun, as well as the kid, hanging on with his fingernails to the sled. And so, it went to become a real good life for Thelma. Not as her sister, laying very flat in the sled as a very warm rug.

Grandad looks on expressing pure bafflement.

This from the news on TV. 8p

Day three

Today, six Norwegian soldier were injured by a mob throwing hand grenades and stones, in addition to shooting into the ISAF camp. I ask you, what kind of demonstrators carry hand grenades? The Norwegian soldiers retaliated shooting plastic bullets and throwing cannisters of CS. Proud of them.

In Teheran a same kind of mob are throwing stones and firebombs at the Norwegian embassy. In Beirut a man jumped to his death from fourth floor of the consulate, escaping the fire ignited by yet a mob. Seven people have so far been killed in all these episodes. A sad day.

The deeper issue seems no closer to being resolved. Neo-anzis are agitating their hords, encouraging their fellow hooligans to bring base-ball bats, chains and other useful items in order to protect themselves at the posted muslim demonstration this Saturday in Oslo. Israel have their nuclear bombs while everyone is pissed at Iran for enriching their uranium. Israel make two strifes with their jets, killing most probably innocent Palestinians. Bush make a 6,9 % raise in the "defence" budget, while cutting Medicare.

Someone is placed here and there to initiate sensless physical agression towards enemy by proxy. I think I am one of many who does not understand this chain of events that is unfolding. I could cry. Does it help?

Fuck you, mr editor of Magazinet. On the holiest of days for muslims you publish 18 coarse caricatures of a prophet. Even if I think there are only self-fulfilling and self-destructive prophesies, you don't need to do such things. And fuck you, senseless barbarian, using grenades against words.

sparks in a barrel of gunpowder

It is still incomprehensible for me that an individual can use violence to react against words or pictures. It is not understandable as a rational act. It is an emotional act. Emotion cannot be understood in anything other than emotions. Sympathy, empathy. As a group act it becomes so much more, so much more.

Palestine seems to me to be like a great psychological trauma. Western society turns their heads and demand quietude from a pure victim of violence. Israel as a nation seems to me to be so deeply rooted in world war II, that I really can understand their generational rage. It is a well described process where children of child abusers themselves are torn asunder. It is understandable and therefore a NOT TOLERABLE PATTERN OF BEHAVIOUR. Shame on you! Act different and use those strong convictions and existential angst to a common good. Such strength. I am sure you can do better than to blow yourself up or demolish houses. Fuckwads.

However. Politics and exploitable groupings. Highly skilled orators and a society in shambles. Executioners and the Roman emperor Bushius II on an orgy. Some of the players remain hidden for a public view, except through Syria. There also seems to be a quite stupid agitator on the christian fundamentalist side. Speculation and conspiracies. Yes, and I do think it is such a time. What happens the next weeks will indeed decide the list of possible outcomes. I believe such a dramatic time is here, because it is described as the most nervous situation in the region for 15-25 years by real veterans of the trade. Still, the chances are well on the positive that this can be stemmed and a new understanding of tolerance be created.

What will be laid on the weight tomorrow? What will be said on Friday? Can please just somebody explain that this is NOT the single act against you to go to war over. Why waste the blood, even of infidels, on barren ground? Yes, of course insulting other people is forgivable. And if not, I trust no man to act the role of vengeful god.

On the good side, it is amazing how well-known these itty bitty countries of the far north are known, even to the detail of local press.

This is by now a political act. A real super plan. It holds the promise of utter chaos at the tiniest act by a basically anyone. Let the folly hold their tounges. The trouble is, there are so very many acts we do that holds no moral meaning to us. We are possibly the others. The enemy. Someone will always dislike what you do or say. If you reach a large enough audience that is. I don't think any of those jokes you privatly tell would go well down with certain people - and their friends, and their underlings.

And dammmit, all you ultras out there. You, who think prevetion is sin. You, who think skin is sin. You, who thinks walking without a hat is sin. You, who think eating meat is sin. All of you are on a misconceived path. Please, stop using prevention, but don't you refuse your neighbour to do so. Please, cover up every inch and lie in a dark room, shut yourself out, but don't do that to your wife. Please, drive 40 on the highway with your hat, but pull over. Please, eat nothing that remotely can be connected to exploitation. Such extremes is nothing of rationale, all of emotion. And on some things, we never will feel the same.

caricature

If anyone out there have followed the current news concerning drawings of a holy man, answer me this: what is this all about? I find it quite incomprehensible. I know the perception of reality to be but a holographic representation. I cannot reach into someone else's head and percieve what they perceive. If as that would be a goal. I konw I cannot be the other part. Still, how can it be that physical aggression is so easy to find when words are spoken or drawings are shown?

Yes, the paper in Norway reprinting the alleged profanity, is a fundamentalist piece of crap. No, it should not be necessary to burn an embassy for being provoked by assholes. I do declare my right to speak freely and to be spoken freely to. Shout at me, call me a clown or the ugliest woodpecker shitload, your mother is with the worst of them. I get upset when you stamp on everything that represent my culture. I get upset when you insult my family. But, do we not respect those that show restraint? If it is an eye for an eye, it must be a word for a word.

The world becomes very complicated when you have shell shocked fundamentalists. I guess I would be a bit jumpy too if I had grow up being shot at. I hate guns. I hate seeing Mosad standing on the corner. I hate walking past the American Embassy and having bored police holding machine guns. Fuck you all. Fuck all of you that think a gun will solve your indignation. Fuck you for thinking you are the better part, where you stand, twenty slugs waiting to rip out a heart.

Respect has been broken all ways possible. Hurrah.

So, I am going skiing tomorrow. Fcuk all is a moose standing there. Not smiling. Not yelling. Just a bit irritated for you messing up tranquility.

A small update

Snow must be the best thing that has happened since the wheel got invented.

How light this winter becomes with all this fluffy stuff lying around. Today it has been -8 and wonderful sunshine. Even though it has been about three years since I last used my skis, it really was perfect.

Now I have my computer with its teeth bared, running Linux and learning lots. Stop using XP unless you are a gamer.

End of an era

And about time it was too. I have now removed everything Windows from my machine and put Linux on it. Again I find it challenging and fun to use the computer and am now loading it up with graphics and audio software. Next thing will be to build the ultimate database and start scanning all my pictures. Very happy about a computer that does what I tell it to, and not a computer that does something without me wanting it to. Yes to democratic software.

Happy New Year!

It was a really fun New Years Eve. Well, the first part was ok. At a party with sexually challenged people, so not there to find someone to smooch. It was civilised, by all means. We ate, played a game, talked and had a relaxing time.

The really fun part, I think, was the nachspiel. A friend of mine and me went home to his apartment, he put on a couple of vinyls, we inhaled deeply and then it just went through the roof. My first DJ-battle. He got a fully set up mixing board. He has just got DJ 12" - you know, records with break beats, mixes and the like. Lacks a bit on the regular musak. Anyhow - I had never done something like that before and it was a real challenge. I just had to pick up something arbitrary and try to get it to fit with the beat and flow.

After a while, we played up and mixed a real challenge for eachother. We both stood there like drunk ravers, digging, grooving, swaying and thumping our feet. The howling we kept to a minimum. At seven o'clock in the morning though, I had to hand in my towel and tell him to shut off that god damned thumping music. Yes, I do get tired of three hours of breakbeats.

It is something to be repeated though. Yes. Now he is visiting Brasil for close to four weeks. That bastard. It is supposed to be me who goes to Brasil.