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The Sleepless Ones

What if all the people
who could not sleep
at two or three or four
in the morning
left their houses
and went to the parks
what if hundreds, thousands,
went in their solitude
like a stream
and each told their story
what if there were
old women
fearful if they slept
they would die
and young women
unable to conceive
and husbands
having affairs
and children
fearful of failing
and fathers
worried about paying bills
and men
having business troubles
and women unlucky in love
and those that were in physical
and those who were guilty
what if they all left their houses
like a stream
and the moon
illuminated their way and
they came, each one
to tell their stories
would these be the more troubled
of humanity
or would these be
the more passionate of this world
or those who need to create to live
or would these be
the lonely
and I ask you
if they all came to the parks
at night
and told their stories
would the sun on rising
be more radiant and
again I ask you
would they embrace

– Lawrence Tirnauer

W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Gentleman Practice

Conversation with Steven Arrowood
Buddy: Maybe I can't get as far with honesty
Steve: Guess it depends where you're going

Parable Whistle
So this guy's walking next to his friend, the snake,
and the snake bites him,
and the guy acts like he can't believe that his friend just bit him,
and his friend says,
"You knew I was a dnake."

What do you people do?
When I was a child,
the first thing I would do upon entering someone's home,
is ask them where they kept the toys
If they said that they did not have any toys
I'd be like, "What the fuck?!"

"Desperation might be language" — Corbin Bugni

"You don't give love in orde to get love.
You give love in order to become love." — Apollo Poetry

Mercy is
...when the universe
doesn't fuck with me
for fuckin' with it.

Buddy Wakefield's Gentleman Practice. les meg. og her er litt mer


"I think of the people I know (...) and wonder which of them knows how to live well. If living well is an art it is a strange one, an art of everything, and particularly of spirited pleasure. Its developed form would involve a number of qualities sewn together: intelligence, charm, good fortune, unforced virtue, along with wisdom, taste, knowledge, understanding, and the recognition of anguish and conflict as part of life. Wealth wouldn't be essential, but the intelligence to accumulate it where necessary might be. The people I can think of who live with talent are the ones who have free lives, conceiving of great schemes and seeing them fulfilled. They are, too, the best company."
— Hanif Kureishi, Intimacy.


Bird By Bird, Buddy

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life..()...When I was twenty-one, I had my tonsils removed. I was one of those people who get strep throat every few minutes, and my doctor finally decided that I needed to have my tonsils taken out.

For the entire week afterward, swallowing hurt so much that I could barely open my mouth for a straw. I had a prescription for painkillers, though, and when they ran out but the pain hadn't, I called the nurse and said that she would really need to send another prescription over, and maybe a little mixed grill of drugs because I was also feeling somewhat anxious. But she wouldn't. I asked to speak to her supervisor.

She told me that her supervisor was at lunch and that I needed to buy some gum, of all things, and to chew it vigorously - the though of which made me clutch at my throat. She explained that when we have a wound in our body, the nearby muscles cramp around it to protect it from any more violation and from infection, and that I would need to use these muscles if I wanted them to relax again.

So finally my best friend Pammy went out and bought me some gum, and I began to chew it, with great hostility and skepticism. The first bites caused a ripping sensation in the back of my throat, but within minutes all the pain was gone, permanently.

I think something similar happens with our psychic muscles. They cramp around our wounds - the pain from our childhood, the losses and disappointments of adulthood, the humiliations suffered in both - to keep us from getting hurt in the same place again, to keep foreign substances out. So those wounds never have a chance to heal.

Perfectionism is one way our muscles cramp. In some cases we don't even know that the wounds and the cramping are there, but both limit us. They keep us moving and writing in tight, worried ways. They keep us standing back or backing away from life, keep us from experiencing life in a naked and immediate way." — Bird By Bird


"Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved it. I answer all my children's letters, sometimes very hastily, but this one I lingered over. I sent him a card and I drew a picture of a Wild Thing on it. I wrote, 'Dear Jim: I loved your card.' Then I got a letter back from his mother and she said, 'Jim loved your card so much he ate it.' That to me was one of the highest compliments I've ever received. He didn't care that it was an original Maurice Sendak drawing or anything. He saw it, he loved it, he ate it.
— Maurice Sendak


It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air -
and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography -
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.

~ Pablo Neruda

Hvis du så deg rundt en dag

Han setter seg i en gul japansk bil, gir gass og kjører av veien, i elva, til jords, blir øyeblikkelig jord som sprer seg over et større område, i lengde-, bredde- og dybderetningene, beinmel, støvkorn, mikroskopiske partikler atskilt av avgrunner, partiklene pulveriseres, de tomme svelgene mellom dem tilintetgjøres, og Intethetens munn lukker seg om seg sjøl, i uendelig fortetning, han parkerer, låser.

~ Arne Østring

God natt

Godnatta til døra som holder alt der ute ute og alt her inne inne. Du holder vakt, du dør, så jeg kan sove trygt.

Godnatta til grøftekantene som lar blomstene blomstre uten å stoppe dem.

Godnatta til alle som lengter. Det er så lenge å vente. Og ropet vokser seg stort i magen. Og ropet reiser seg opp og roper et stille rop som nesten ingen kan høre.

God natt, natt

Du sjunger så jävla bra, Micke!

jeg fant en interessant artikkel om Johan Harstad på og det passet så bra. for ikke så lenge siden begynte jeg plutselig å behandle følelser og så kom tankene om Buzz Aldrin og Ambulanse og Herfra blir du bare eldre tilbake, og jeg lengtet plutselig VELDIG etter ordene, så jeg tok pause fra alt, fra boken jeg leser, fra verden rundt, også fant jeg fram Ambulanse, og snart er jeg på siste side, siste ord. de sitter fortsatt i kroppen.

vi skal dra på oppdagelsesferd,
også kan du vise meg alle detaljene
som bare vokste inne i hodet ditt mens
du passerte. tror du at noen blir til å legge
merke til oss sånn som vi legger merke til de?
kanskje? jeg så en fin annonse nå nettopp,
"statnett søker breakdancer med electric boogie
som spesialfelt'', også lurte jeg litt på om
de faktisk ville ha en breakdancer
og jeg så det for meg at han danset oppe
på strømlinjene, det virket fornuftig
sånn poetisk sett, sa jeg potetisk?
jeg mente poetisk.
vi burde stoppe tiden litt, kanskje
så kan dette øyeblikket' være litt lenger,
for 1 sekund er jo for raskt,
jeg tror du mistet poenget litt
ja, det kommer andre øyeblikk,
men dette øyeblikket var som ingen andre



hvis jeg hadde hatt makten til det
ville jeg ha snudd vinden
jeg ville ha rullet inn tåken
kalt inn stormer
jeg ville ha endret jordens polaritet så kompassene ikke kunne brukes
men det er ikke sånn det virker
for jorden henger fast i ingenting
og kan ikke flyttes en centimeter
av deg
så du kan bare vente
håpe at det skal bli enklere
om noen uker
om måneder
eller år
og en dag blir det det
fordi det må, rett og slett

de lager visst tvserie av Buzz Aldrin, hvor ble det av deg i alt mylderet? nå. jeg gleder meg selv om den sikkert ikke klarer å formidle mer enn deler av boken, boken som burde leses av deg. jeg skal gjøre det igjen, en dag. må bare vente litt, det tok sånn på sist.

Then We Came to the End

thenwecametotheendlarge1"But it wasn?t just our jobs at stake, was it? When we had trouble nailing an ad, our reputations were on the line. A good deal of our self-esteem was predicated on the belief that we were good marketers, that we understood what made the world tick ? that in fact, we told the world how to tick. We got it, we got it better than others, we got it so well we could teach it to them. Using a wide variety of media, we could demonstrate for our fellow Americans their anxieties, desires, insufficiencies, and frustrations ? and how to assuage them all. We informed you in six seconds that you needed something you didn?t know you lacked. We made you want anything that anyone willing to pay us wanted you to want. We were hired guns of the human soul. We pulled the strings on the people across the land and by god they got to their feet and they danced for us."

Jeg tror jeg lo mye inni hodet mitt uten å faktisk le fysisk, for dette er virkelig en fascinerende og morsom bok. Anbefales!


moment explorer.




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