The Flossy Flossy
Keeping it “on the real” the best I can.Archive for Music
Departing Feelings
So many thoughts and emotions.
Removing the pin from Katherine’s letter on my wall.
A sudden urge to take a bus ride to Andebu. Pour voir, pour voir comment il vivait. Pour regarder les mêmes bâtiments que, peut-être, il regardait, et marcher parmi les mêmes rues qu’il marchait.
Packing. This shirt doesn’t smell like me. Perhaps some lingering scent from a previous rendezvous. Un uomo norvegese…o forse tedesco.
Lying on the living room couch, room dimly lit by a singular lamp. A comforting orange cast on the ceiling. Tori Amos’ Gold Dust playing; I’ve been here so many times before. The familiarity of it all: the fireplace, the cognac on the glass table, the flickering eyes and that emerging, probing question of whether or not you’re falling in love then and there. E poi, that moment of closing in, brushing lips, moist and tender. It’s a different setting, but the same warmth, the same feeling. And it feels so real. I think I could love him, but that would be stupid.
“Det ordner seg for snille gutter.” Det må.
L’autre, il n’avait que vingt ans quand ils se sont rencontrés. And everything after that fell into place accordingly: even the drama seems to have written itself out a painful yet perfect addendum to their story. Jeg skal fylle det samme nummeret neste år. But will I be so lucky? So fortunate? Blessed? To think, that I could meet “The One” next year—but alas, non sarà lui! (You can’t blame me for thinking. Vi kan ikke være forelska av noen som vi aldri har møtt. Vi kan bare trekke fra våre erfaringer og skape forventninger derfra.) Allora, a guy can hope.
Tengo tanto amor que dar, ¿pero cuando él me va a encontrar?
Io sono qui, staring at a glowing rectangular box. And every time I look at the trees outside my window they seem to be merging together…but they never do. And as much as I crave our union, any union, it’s only an illusion.
Kunne. Det kunne vært annerledes. In another world, another lifetime, kunne han vært min?
Se Non Ami
So after falling into a hellhole today, I am finally feeling a bit better. I’ve got Zaiko kosing himself on my lap; I think I’ll miss him more than leverpostei. Which makes me wonder if the damn thing will even remember me after I leave, never mind miss me. That’s the only thing dogs have over cats, you know; their blatant loyalty. You can never tell what a cat is thinking ‘cause it acts so damn nonchalant all the time.
Har akkurat kommet hjem fra Engler og Demoner med Anniken. Hun kom hos meg, vi spiste litt Grandis, og så dro vi til kinoen. Jeg må si at jeg føler så mye bedre etter å ha vært ute med henne. Det var en pust av frisk luft å kunne endelig få snakke med noen om disse følelsene jeg har fått i det siste, og det føles like bra å få høre hva som skjer i hennes liv. Vi snakka om masse, både seriøse og dumme greier; det var i allefall en skikkelig bra fredag kveld.
Filmen, forresten, var innmari bra. Selv om jeg har lest boka allerede var det likevel spennende. Og den skuespiller’n, Ewan McGregor, fyttikatta han er kjekk ass! (Selvfølgelig spilte han rollen sin veldig bra også, men det hjelper jo at han var deilig å se på òg, haha.)
今天晚上带给我了心的希望. 我会继续努力的. 虽然我跟学校一大部分的人不会有设么结果, 我还有时间和机会去交一两个好的挪威朋友. 嗯!
I’m going to leave you with a song that I’m beginning to like very much. (It’s by Nek, no surprise there; I am so taken by him.) Its lyrics, though simple, are poignant, a hopeful yet cautious reminder of l’importanza di amare.
Puoi creare un grande impero intorno a te
Costruire grattacieli per contare un pò di più
Puoi comprare tutto quello che vuoi tu
Ma se non ami, se non ami
Non hai un vero motivo per vivere
Se non ami, non ti ami
Non ci sei
[You can build a great empire around you
Construct skyscrapers in order to matter a little bit more
You can buy all the things that you want
But if you don’t love, if you don’t love
You don’t have a true reason for living
If you don’t love, you don’t love yourself
You don’t exist]
Auditory Doritos
I have big intentions. Huge plans and goals. I just can’t conceive them. I’ve always been in awe of songwriters; they make the process of creating a song seem so effortless. I want to do that. I want to carve out the intangible, capture and preserve a feeling, a moment, an emotion, and then pass it on to others. There exists nothing more satisfying.
But tonight, I’ll relegate myself to sharing other people’s songs, so unwax those ears.
1. Super Junior 너라고 (It’s You)
Det blir ikke ofte at jeg forelsker meg i noen, men de få gangene jeg gjør det, faller jeg tungt. Sai questa sensazione di essere innamorato di qualcuno? You’re consumed by an urge to dig, to create a niche for yourself under their skin. Du trenger å være så nær som mulig, som en del av dem. Allora, sono lì, ancora lì.
이미 너는 다른 사랑했겠지만
놓칠 수가 없어 다시 돌이킬 수 없어…
2. Kelly Clarkson Don’t Let Me Stop You
Rockin’. Relatable. Right.
3. Nek ft. Laura Pausini Sei Solo Tu
It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of Nek, e non solo perché è gnocco. His music and lyrics are filled to the brim with emotion and intensity; they stir up feelings of boundlessness and nostalgia, and remind us of the fragility of being human. Mi sento il vivo quando ascolto lui.
Perché mi piaci in ogni modo,
Why do I like you in every way,
da ogni lato o prospettiva, tu?…
From every side and perspective, you?…
E poi sai fare morire un uomo
And you know how to make a man die
con l’innocenza del pudore che non hai…
with the innocent modesty that you don’t possess…
Perché sei bella che mi fai male…
Because you are beautiful that it hurts me…
Sei solo tu nei giorni miei…
There is only you in my days…
Sei solo tu e dimmi che
There is only you, and tell me that
sono questo ora anch’io per te…
I am also the same to you…
4. Cajsa Stina Åkerström Långt Härifrån
This is your standard 90s midnight light rock jam, but what I love about this song is Åkerström’s voice. She traverses the octaves so smoothly and easily, it’s enrapturing.
5. Keith Urban Til Summer Comes Around
And I saved the best for last. God, this song is everything I feel right now: deserted, wishing on something that doesn’t exist yet still persistant and keeping that flickering hope alive. And the guitar riff makes me speechless. This isn’t a song to listen to, this is a song to live.
I think all the songs here on this collection reflect a fragment of my mindset right now. They sing what I couldn’t dare say.
Done, Part I
L’inquietudine
Well, considering I’ve smoked half a carton and downed a liter of beer within the past two hours, it warrants me an excuse to blog now and regret later.
I’ve had as much as I can take. I’ve tried to keep my mind open, my spirit up, my attitude positive, but I can only keep up this façade so far. I’m tired, and I’ve stopped trying. If you were to tell me to pack up my bags tomorrow for California, I wouldn’t argue a word. I’m ready to leave.
I’ve held my trap for as long as possible, thinking “just wait it out, it’ll get better,” but now I see that it won’t. To say that I hate Norway would be an overexaggeration and an insult to my family here. They’ve been nothing but patient, generous, and kind to me and believe me, I’ve guilted myself enough for thinking what I am about to say.
But I hate it here, I really do. I can honestly name you all the people that I talk to at school on one hand. I wake up in the morning to the thought of “How am I going to get through the day? Who am I going to talk to?” Do you realize how hard it is to wake up every morning to that thought? To even worry about how you’re gonna get through the day because you’re afraid that you might not make it to 3:30 without going bezerk? And you wanna know what I do at school? Break? Lunch? Stare at my fucking computer screen.
But I suppose it’s my fault right? That I’m not putting myself out there. That I’m not trying. That I’m not persistent. Or desperate enough to keep on leeching to people that don’t give a damn about me. That don’t want to know me, that won’t even remember me, or if they do–only as “that one kid last year that was boring and didn’t say anything and was by himself the whole time; that ‘mann.’” That after nine fucking months here I’m still as foreign as the day I set foot in Horten.
And I suppose it’s my fault that people here are only friendly when they’re flat out wasted. Because they need the liqueur to warm up their frigid Scandinavian hearts. Because they need 22 cans of Tuborg in order to truly feel free. To say “Hey! How’s it going?!” To give you a high-five, a pat on the back, a hug. Because without alcohol, there’s no way they can even greet you in the hallways!
I know these people, I watch them everyday, and I know that they’re not cold. I can see the way they interact with each other and they are as lively as any American, but they’re so fucking private and excluding. “You get used to it, it takes a long time to be accepted into their circle.” Well you know what? They can keep their privacy and their drunken stupors. I’ve lived without it for nine months, I can live without it for two more.
I came here with an open heart, ready to love this country and know its people, but Norwegians have really disappointed me. I’m sorry that I came here. I’m ready to leave.
