En gang om dagen er ensomheten så stor
at man ikke kan stille noget op med den.
Og én gang er lykken.
Indimellem så må man så se at få ordnet sine ting.

Søren Ulrik Thomsen (F. 1956)
Hjemfalden, Vindrose 1991

(On the tram – the local version of Poems on the Underground. Something like this (it’s Danish, by the way):

Once a day the loneliness is so big
that there is nothing to face it with.
And once the happiness.
In between one then has to sort out one’s business.)

Voice on the stereo: Avril Lavigne – Nobody’s Fool

…though I draw the line at jumping off cliffs, I think.

[Spell your first name backwards]: dlihngaR
[How old?]: 28
[Where do you live?]: Oslo, Norway
[4 words that sum you up]: whimsical, lazy, helpful, reading
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Some idiot rang my doorbell and woke me up last night. I didn’t even pick up the door phone thingy to check who it was, so I appologise if whoever it was is reading this and actually knows me. Thing is, there is no name on my doorbell downstairs, and because people tend to move in and out of the flats (there are 15), confused guests try my bell if they can’t find the name they’re looking for. I really need to fix that nametag.

I can’t figure out why they didn’t put in a nametag when they installed the system. We had a new doorphone system put in a couple of months ago, and I’ve owned that flat since las November for &¤%#’s sake (and I haven’t changed my name, either). They managed to put the correct name on the new mailboxes they put up this summer, so why not the doorbells?

I dunno.

I need to do something, though. I can’t have people wake me up at midnight (when I’ve only just managed to fall asleep), at least not if they’re not even looking for me specifically.

Note: If you actually want to get hold of me – try the mobile (though I switch that off) or the phone (if you don’t have the number, ask – I try to keep it private). I might find out how to turn the volume off on the doorbell…

Unsociable, me? No. I do actually like visitors, I just prefer visitors who know me…

Voice in my head: Melissa Etheridge – Occasionally

The concert Sunday night… Lovely. I think I’ll write a review here despite the pointlessness of writing a review in English of a concert where all the songs were in Norwegian and where the artist is highly unlikely to ever tour outside of Norway…

Anyway. I can’t even remember which Bjørn Eidsvåg record I first heard. I think the first one I bought was ‘Alt du vil ha’, and it would have been around the time that ‘Tatt av vinden’ was released (his record, not the classic movie, I’m not that old…). So. I suppose it would have had to be a pretty disappointing concert for me to be dissatisfied.

However, how could a concert that opens with ‘Klovnar’ and ‘Gammel drøm’ possibly be disappointing? The former is one of my favourites (as is the latter, and most of the rest of his songs, sorry, just bear with me will you?) – the song starts like this:

Her e gråt og her e klage
her e bitterhet og død
her e urett, her e plage
her e aue fyllt av nød
her e folk med depresjonar
her e folk så djupt fortvila
dei e utan illusjonar
og dei kan’kje lenger smila

og me flyr rundt og grine med
og prøve å få opp motet
me snakke om håp og kjærlighet
og trur på orden i alt rotet

me seie: Gud e glad i oss
forstår ikkje at me tør det
me seie: midt i sorgen møte han oss
forstår de’kje sjøl men me gjør det

eg lurar på om det e klovnar me e
te allmen lott og løye
men får me sjå et lysglimt av og te
så får de’kje vær så nøye

(Translation of sense, though not of poetry:
here’s crying and here’s lamenting
here’s bitterness and death
here’s unfairness, here’s torment
here are eyes filled with need
here are people with depressions
here are people so deeply despaired
they are without illusions
and they can no longer smile

and we run ’round and cry with them
and try to bolster courage
we talk of hope and love
and believe in order in the mess

we say: God loves us
can’t quite believe we dare
we say: in the middle of sorrow he meets us
can’t quite understand, but we do

I wonder if it’s clowns we are
for the entertainment of everyone
but if we get to see a glimmer of light every now and again
then it doesn’t really matter)

Obviously, most of the songs following were from the new album. No matter, it is a cracking good album, anyway. I was especially caught by these lines:

eg like å elska
men e redd for å gi meg hen
te nåke så risikabelt
som å bli elska igjen

(I like loving, but am afraid to give in to something so risky as being loved back)

If the Ki and Vandien quartet could be said to have a theme, this was it. The courage to take love given to oneself on trust. Songen was also on the programme, which is good, as I would have missed it if it had been left out. It’s the best poetic description of Christianity I’ve heard.

In addition to being one of our best lyricists and a great performer, Eidsvåg is lovely in concert because he exudes genuineness. He’s genuinely happy to be there, genuinely means what he’s trying to say in his lyrics and genuinely laughs at himself. It may be that he’s just very good at dissembling, but as long as I don’t see through it I don’t really care.

Venus is bright this morning. What would that mean to the centaurs, I wonder? It’s part of the “it’s c-c-c-cold” symptoms for me – no clouds, no insulation, no heat. -13 this morning.

What’s with Sunday nights, anyway? It’s the third Sunday in a row I’ve spent hours wondering why I can’t sleep. Well, to be honest, I wasn’t even tired last night, which is odd, because I didn’t sleep that much earlier on in the weekend – got up reasonably early yesterday. Still, knowing that the alarm goes at six I do feel that some time before midnight would be an ideal time to fall asleep. Instead it was closer on 2am again.

Bother.

Voice in my head: Lisa Stansfield – Been Around the World Tonight (or whatever it’s called, it was on the radio this morning)

Mysteriet deg

du prate i vei om verdensrommets enorme dimensjoner
munnen løpe løpsk og auene e i brann
du tar meg med inn i nåken voldsomme, vidløftige visjoner
om uendelighet og svarte hål og Mars sitt svunne vann

men jag tänker på dom underbara ögona dina
på dina vackra händers perfekta fasong
och vad dom gör med mig när dom möter mina
som en fjäril blir fri från sin tråkiga kokong

ref: eg tenke på mysteriet deg
og under øve alle under: at du elske meg

din iver är stor när du går på om Gud och religioner
du stoppar inte ens när du tar en klunk med vin
jag blir yr när du tar med mig inn i dina reflektioner
det glädjer dig att se mig uti tafattheten min

men eg tenke på dei nydelige formene dine
på brystene som duve når du e engasjert
på dei vakre hendene som søke mine
kor tent eg blir når du e deilig alterert

ref: eg tenke på mysteriet deg…

eg e fortapt i deg men likavel heilt frelst
du kan få ka du vil av meg – når som helst
eg klar’ ikkje å styra meg
eg begjære deg

ref: eg tenke på mysteriet deg…

Music and lyrics: Bjørn Eidsvåg

Note: I suggest you buy the record. It’s not the only good song on it – it’s not even the best – and it’s all you’ll get from me. Incidentally, I’m going to a Bjørn Eidsvåg concert this evening. Yay me.

That was easier said than done… Went to town. Had a couple of other things to do, to, like look for Christmas presents. I had forgotten that Saturday, Karl Johan and just-before-Christmas adds up to crowds. Should not have been unexpected, but it was. And I HATE crowds. I have to be mentally prepared to tackle them with any sort of composure, and I wasn’t.

Anyhoo. There I was, battling inner deamons and all that and spending a lot of energy on not strangling strangers for stopping suddenly in front of me and generally being in my way. I fought my way into Avalon past hoardes of very strange people (in fact they were perfectly normal people, which was what was so strange about them – perfectly normal-looking people do not shop at Avalon) and went over to the Ls in the paperback section. Lindholm. Fine. Except they DIDN’T HAVE THE BOOK. Neither did Tanum, Norli or Ark. Uææææææææææææææææææææææææææ!! Ok. You think I’m overreacting? Well, I tell you, all the patience I have (and it’s not much) is currently engaged in preventing me from going mad with waiting for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. So stop bugging me! Luckily I realised Outlands have a pretty large section for books, and luckily they actually had Luck of the Wheels.

So now all’s right with the world.

Hang on, actually, all’s NOT right with the world. Amongst the very many things that are wrong with the world is the fact that a deep frying pan caught fire at a cafe in the centre of Trondheim this morning and that what was once a whole block of old wooden buildings is currently a smouldering, smoking heap of coal.

Hm. Well, I’m going back to Ki and Vandien.

Voice on the stereo: Dire Straits – Your Latest Trick

Singing along to Alanis’ Am Not the Doctor… I should go to bed. It’s late and I’m tired. I was going to stay at home and work tomorrow, but realise I have forgotten to sort out the possible course for one of my team for next week. We don’t actually have time for her to go, but it would be useful. In any case, I have to figure out whether to get her on it or not, and if not, when the next chance will be. If the next chance is aeons away I might just have to find some way to make time for her to go. Sigh. Responsibility. Who said I wanted responsibility? It certainly couldn’t have been me.

Oh, just ignore me, I’m tired and talking rubbish, besides, I am now trying to sing along with Shania Twain’s Any Man of Mine while typing.

I really should go to bed.