Saturday and blue skies.
[music: take lots with alcohol - the alkaline trio]

Around here, everything collects dust. I had a quite unpleasant dream, but I was too tried to cry when I woke up. Someone in it stated that “death is nothing but a huge ‘no admittance (except on business)’ sign. To a park, or a train, or to serenity.” And later, at the funeral, the same voice said “Forever will this gate separate us from those that went before us, from those that we care about, and, eternally, will we call each other’s name from different sides. Being called and knowing that you cannot pass is the true feeling of Death”. I woke up early, from something that almost resembled sleep paralysis, and couldn’t go back to sleep.

I wonder why I remember that, and where my head got it from. Does anyone recognise it?

We’re performing A Christmas Carol again this afternoon, and I feel as if my head will explode beneath the bright lights, and all my grotesque and secret thoughts will pour out and cover the stage. Although I must say that I am rather happy, life is far from perfect but it is beautiful.

It is summer in my room (thank you for the flowers), and I’m wearing a ridiculous hat.

Saturday, December 11, 2004 12:49 p.m.

this sunday is a blackout.
I have nothing to talk about, but that is not the lie my fingertips are telling
(barely touching the keyboard, barely touching your spine).

We gave Ella back to earth last Thursday. November passed just like that, and this Sunday is a blackout. I cannot, not for the world, make myself understand the concept, or purpose, of death. Or perhaps the truth is that I don’t want to understand. Either way, this is not the place to talk about it…

As I walked home one evening (an evening of a day already mentioned) with Kerouac’s voice still in my head, and with a million thoughts screaming louder, I stopped to look at the ducks. My innocent looking caused a mass movement among Uppsala’s ducks. They came walking, swimming, flying. Obviously the first few thought I would feed them, and the rest thought I was feeding previously mentioned ducks… I was quite embarrassed, partly because we attracted a lot of attention but mostly because I felt as if I had tricked them. However this is beside the point, what I really wanted to say was that the enormous number of ducks was laughing at me, laughing in a way that only ducks can. I have to say that one might have to reconsider doing something about ones self-esteem when one feels taunted by ducks (ducks, for christ’s sake).

I want to go to bed and wake up to birdsong and melting snow. I know that I’ll feel better as soon as the winter ends, but there’s more than three months of snow left. Not even people with gills can breathe under snow.

Sunday, November 23, 2003 09:34 p.m.