The Notebook

Thoughts of an eighteen-year-old :)

May 2011

July 10th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

In your face I’m dancing
In your eyes I dance

The tension before, the nervousness that seem to be endless
Behind the curtains, so near but yet hidden
Safe! But not for long
I’d rather not
What if I mess up?
What I have to live up to is only the pressure I put on myself
For what do they care?
There are others!
But not for me, no,
this is me.
Collecting. Collecting of mind.
It’s only a face I put on.
But I think they know, they’ve seen it before.
They heard of it
No curtains
Another audience
Yet the same feeling

Sudden release!
Tranquillity, yet tormention
I spin in the air
The air soft against my skin!
And how it moves gently
Hair runs wild
How fun! I want to laugh!
It’s freedom
Freedom is what it is

For what does it matter now? What does anything matter?
It is here and now
Is it here and now I am happy

A shy smile; I throw myself out there
A look in another direction, flash right back, instant effect; A sudden flow of adrenaline
A calm, consistent face; Flow, I can allow myself to trust the memory of arms
A blush; Turbulence, here is focus, without focus I shall slip
Smiling eyes; Complete joy. The final jump. No, they are many.

I hit the ground, the lights go out. You are gone. The dance is over; you walk away.

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Talkin ’bout a Revolution

July 6th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

I wasn’t prepared, it hit the ground and I was tired,
I stumbled out into the heat, it hit me,
and I had it

I saw them
She looked before my time
She looked what I ever missed
That belongs to me
They were waving, hugging us with comfort
I had it

What I thought I knew was something else
It wasn’t real
The world is different
It gave me another picture
I had it

The heat was burning
The grounds even more
Yet it was dead all over, left as to get to tell it’s story
It hit me too, and that I had

I was lying alone in the openness
It could not have been more open
And it was effortless
I had it

He drove it like many times before
The thick tires,
on harsh road
What a life!
He smiled at me, he shared it
I happened to be there
I had it

Her restless arm was put in wind
Another sting of pain I noticed in her eye
In all unreal
What could possibly disturb you?
For I know you, don’t I?
Then it came
And I had it

Another view, another refilling wave of heat

– What else is there?

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The sun

June 29th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

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Where does time go?

May 18th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

Where does time go? Is it an effective tool for regulating the span of our lives? Was what even given less? Were we unfortunate or, is it enough? The beautiful moments they do never last, but only with forced conscious unashamed. Do they stay, with you? And what about that person? Have we left?

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Let it fall

May 17th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

And so the rain is falling
…let it keep pouring
drench me where I’m standing
drench me clean
until my hair is soaking wet
and all dirty make-up is washed away along the street
let the steps we take be as smooth as the water flowing
wash away all that isn’t clean
my cheatings and attempts to cover
so we see clearly
no dusty clouds of gravel in glaring sun
leave me vulnerable
as the water is dripping
see me as I am
and I shall smile
drenched in water

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Under The Same Roof

May 16th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

When I suddenly find him standing next to me – because he does that – quietly walks out from his room where he keeps “hidden” most of the day, positioning himself a little restless but still at ease in an adorable sort of way, my brother, and he tells me innocently (who is in constant motion, drinking my silly tea, doing deadly important things on the slow computer, cleaning up space at the same time looking all directions) about “today in class when my teacher told us this very interesting fact about the universe” or that he “by the way wishes to someday visit a savanna like Masai Mara because the lions are so fascinating” I think Yes, yes they are, and Oh, that I did not actually know, but he is too sensitive not to notice my lack of engagement. When he days later notifies this fact. Of my often answering “OK”or “That’s nice” or “And how did that go?” as if he didn’t deserve my full attention for a couple of minutes.
As if I couldn’t keep my eyes open for a little longer without that sip of coffee,
as if the dishes is so urgent that I have to splash the water so loudly that he can’t even hear me answer “OK”, or “That’s nice”, or “And how did that go?”, followed by a nodding. Not really thinking about those lions, or how he did well on the test, but rather dwelling on something fussy, or unbearable which does not belong in our kitchen. As if that is what makes his blue eyes smile. As if that is my way of showing that I do care. Do care about his day.

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Is the green sometimes deceiving?

May 2nd, 2011 by The owner of Harry

Harry is lost.
I lost Harry, even before I had taken the time to introduce him. Isn’t that ironic? Since Harry was so closely linked to this blog…I have to say, I still consider myself his real owner, for at least I am the original one. But Harry, is now in the hands of somebody else. At present then, I am per se, dwelling in some sort of limbo. Eventually I will be in possession of a new Harry.

This weekend I decided to spend some time away from the city, and went to visit friends who live a few hours away. I want to call it “the country” but it doesn’t feel just right when it is so close to our capital, part of my family lives in what I would call “the country”, yet this place is very beautiful in its countryness (is that a word or did I invent it?). Great woods, close to the water. When I was little I would have described it “outside Kolmården” cause that is where I had my heart.

I always thought I was a nature person. The one who could sit on a stump for hours watching the wind blow in the trees kind of thing…but no, not really! I’m the cautious one. The one who stands with the tight trenchcoat which we really should avoid getting dirty, admiring the wide views and the light that comes in over the trees. Perhaps catch it in a quick spontaneous painting, and then rush back in when it gets a bit cold.
Not when we had the dogs, however, then it had to be the real deal.

I miss them so much it hurts. Their personalities, their soft paws and big chestnut eyes.

I never thought I was such a city girl, but hey. Alright. Apparently I am Miss Stockholm . (Can you believe someone called me “Madame” a few weeks ago? Since when am I “Madame”? I’m quite sure it doesn’t come with eighteen)

And writing. I do write at times, but it needs work :) literary devices are helpful, I hold on to material from school sometimes. In the fall I will start the course creative writing, it’s in swedish. I actually can’t wait to have that included in my actual schedule for the day. The fall. Have you realized it’s here soon ?! Ok, I’ll stop. But spring, spring is now. And spring is the most beautiful. Don’t forget that it’s here now, for the next will be here before you know it..

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March 25, 2011

March 25th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

Are we in need of leaving it far behind,
or just determined to give space for the birth of something new?

…What if it was never fully grown? Or was to die properly in time, but also displayed  in the very open?

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

(The Waste Land)

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Purple Nights

March 24th, 2011 by The owner of Harry

Long, riotous, purple nights
Sober preparations, calm lightening
Clean spaces, untouched but a sweeping hand
Quiet rooms
A blushing cheek, exposed significant glasses
High, fragile
Retreat, hunger
Revolving proceedings, momentary resolution
Unwelcomed nostalgia, tired fingers on a glass of wine
Frustrated perfumes, an uncertain child
“It is so?”
Self-possession, trembling fingers
Wide eyes, diffuse eyes
Appetizer, main course, dessert, nothing at all
“I haven’t seen you all evening”
Empty stomach, fresh air
Frost, relief, breath, cigars
Fulfilment, Confusion
Mixed spirits
Old habit, repeating
“One moment”
One moment, two moments
Empty bottles shining
“I’ll call you when I get home”
Long, riotous purple night
A head in hand

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The turning of March

March 22nd, 2011 by The owner of Harry

There she stands, flushed and wild hair, the little one with high ambitions, staring it in the eye – unknown
There he stands, heavy-laden and frost-bitten, the respected one with a great past, yet now, mind in seeking of the nearest future – unknown
There he stands, big eyes and charming jumps, the youngest one with curious hand, trying to grasp the very present – unknown
There he stands, certain and dazzling, the admired full-grown,  shocking at the twist of turn and sudden shimmer – unkown

What is it about March?


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