BUBBLE POP OSLO

INK

2012-02-03T05:31:00.000-08:00

Jeanne-Sophie Aas "NeoYookai" / GREYSCALES, COLORS, INK

Illuminated

2012-01-24T11:39:00.000-08:00

"Melancholy suits you" he said. "I love you in colors too, but the reoccurring evocative sadness in your face reminds me of one of my favorite black&white movies. I picture you at a railway station in Berlin or at a cafe in Paris."
I'd like to see you walk in the rain ", he continued. "To see you bend your head against the rain so that your mascara doesn't run. Though, I would love that too. You know when you sometimes forget where you are and are deep in thoughts? Your eyes widen like the lens of a camera, focused and inverted. Your pupils dilate and blur against the light that illuminates the shadows of your lashes."

E.Y.

Love as it should be

2012-01-21T02:35:00.001-08:00

Produced by Kate Williams , Magnum Photos

The River

2012-01-19T01:02:00.000-08:00

She walked barefoot all night, wondering if she would ever be stopped by anyone. One strap of her dress was slipping down her shoulder. The wind was merciless to the red chiffon fabric gently wrapped around her body.
The first hour it felt nice to be left alone, now it was terrifying.

Hours ago, she had left the party silently and unarmed, avoiding people to avoid questions. This hadn't been a happy day. She couldn't define a happy day and if she couldn't be happy even on this day, then would she ever be happy?

Every effort felt useless and worthless. To force a smile, a bitter laugh is hard when you're stomach is tied up in knots.
Everyone else, she thought, they were fooling themselves, The women were acting like they were on uppers with side effects; filled with delusions and morbid jealousy anytime their husbands talked to a woman other than themselves. As for the husbands, they were worthless pricks in suits with unbearable alcoholic breaths.

She thought about the man who escaped an asylum a few days back and how he froze to death. A life gone to waste. Maybe not a good one, but it was still a life.
Having her sanity intact, how much would she put up with before she gave up?

Explain to me, but don't trust in me that I will understand

She walked till she came to the bridge. From the bridge she looked down the river with the seven streams.

The streams were so strong and loud. The more she stared into the streams, the more her thoughts were silenced and dispersed into the water...

E.Y

The silent b

2012-01-07T11:57:00.000-08:00

So the pain begins, nothing heals.
People are ecstatic, you are calm.
People live, you die inside.
Water flows, you remain dry.

Your deeds are invisible, they will crown someone else.

E.Y

A little piece of unreality.

2012-01-07T05:59:00.000-08:00

A little piece of unreality keeps us sane in the evenings, in the darkness. To wish to be everywhere that you can't be, to kiss every man that's not good for you.

In a city of saints and and sinners, you choose to be with sinners and step into a bucket full of worms without hesitation. Anything to get you through the night, waking up with a headache that erases whatever that has happened.

You can keep a secret, right?

E.Y

Stop and stare.

2011-11-07T00:49:00.000-08:00

For a change, don't run for the bus. Listen to beep as the subway doors close in front of your eyes. Stop and stare for a moment and you will realise that nothing is the same.
Outside the buildings, the concert posters hang crooked and you have missed some of your favorite bands in town. Notice the two new coffee shops across the street and the intensity of their coffee aroma battling in the air.
Dutch flags are swaying all along the way to the palace as the prime minister is in town.
Notice the beggar in the corner, taking over his shift and the gratitude in his face as an old woman drops a coin in his paper cup. Look at the man in the suit, observing the woman who is feeling uncomfortable by her last minute change to extremely short shorts.

E.Y

Hush

2011-10-27T10:03:00.000-07:00

What did I do? No, don't say.
Allow me to go through the different scenarios, the spoken and unspoken words.
The hours are tasteless when the tension and the spark in our worlds collide.

I gently beat myself around the bush from a truth I can't handle.

E.Y.

The missing photos.

2011-10-09T12:19:00.000-07:00

I couldn't find them, the photos taken 3 years ago, from a trip I had been longing for all my life.
There were fifty seven of them. I can still remember every frame, every agony caused by the city of my dreams; the city of neon lights.

I was deceived by my delusional state of mind, not knowing what life was good for me. My soul was homeless and had no substitute for belonging. Every picture taken in every corner, from every angle, was coming back to me as the autumn of grief.

The bright colours appeared black and white with the shades blurred between fantasy and reality.

E.Y

You and me forever.

2011-10-09T03:00:00.000-07:00

It was Saturday morning. She was picking up wet towels from the bathroom floor and throwing them in the laundry basket. Again and again, she was tidying up after vandals and plunders that call themselves a man. She resented it.

Lately, she had stopped singing in the shower and been deeply absorbed in thoughts. Certain things were like a bad hangover, you always wish you hadn't done it. But a weak moment always stears our actions and we always end up paying for it.
She should have ignored the calls and learnt from before. Whatever you gain, you lose more.

Besides the mess they created, they were always so damn hungry. She dreaded moving on to the kitchen and face the pile of dirty dishes. She brought with her the morning paper, took a quick look at dirty dishes and made a "ack" sound before she sat down at the kitchen table with her wet hair hanging over her shoulders.

A front page article got her attention. "A woman died at at the age of 94." it said. She started browsing through the article.
Who was this woman? "94 years old...rich...never married."
Rich,; why else would she make it to the front page? There was always something interesting about old Upper Manhattan women who sat on a fortune, but lived discreet lives.
How was it possible to have lived almost a century alone? There was something majestic about her posture in her picture, yet in contrast with her liberated smile. To come to terms with her own needs and desires and just embraced life the way it was.
However, was there glory in defeat?

After reading the article, she gets up from her chair, her slippers making scuff-scuff sounds as she walks towards the mirror to take a glance at her face which always seems so alienated in the mornings.
She stares at own reflection in the mirror; It's just you and me, forever baby.

E.Y.

Blur.

2011-10-01T10:38:00.001-07:00

No, I'm not searching for you anymore. I look at the pavement when I walk and always focus directly to one person when I talk. I don't stammer when I smell your scent or hear a voice similar to yours.

Regardless of the blur in my eyes , my laughter fills rooms and streets like a joyous response to my destined misery.

Blueprint.

2011-09-15T11:43:00.000-07:00

They would laugh at her, when she said she felt a hundred years old. But she already knew how things would end.
History was like a broken song track, needed to be started from the beginning and adding a new scratch every time.
There was light at the end of the tunnel but at the end of the light, there was another tunnel.

Explaining was even worse than listening to people who were content with themselves. A so-called merited authority to give advice about everything and nothing, as if there was a blueprint for life.

E.Y.

Rain.

2011-09-12T12:45:00.000-07:00

The feeling is always the same...

Depthless.

2011-09-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

In Oslo, everybody was talking about the weather; How short the Summer was and I would ask "What Summer?", then we would talk about warm places we would go after New Years, as if a one week getaway would make things any better.

Just like every year, Fall had arrived too early. My emotional curve was pointing downwards, doomed and incontrollable. I didn't feel anything other than a mudded and depthless blue.

E.Y.

Limbo

2011-09-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

We didn't belong anywhere, not where we were born or where we were heading.
A limbo state of mind state saddens us as we have no gravity when we try to point our toes to the ground but drift away from ourselves.

E.Y

Women who hated men.

2011-08-14T05:33:00.000-07:00

Feminists, why where they always so angry? There must be several reasons, she knew. But were they really all bitter and single women? Or were they just traumatized victims?

She knew from herself; she didn't trust men; didn't trust her father, her own brother or any other man she was related to. Throughout her life, she'd seen so much of their selfishness that she was in doubt of their capability to make a good dead without anything lying beneath. She'd seen them manipulate things into their own favor and still act like a man.

She didn't trust them during the day or at night when they sneakingly walked behind her, making her fear her own shadow.

E.Y

Counter-Question

2011-05-19T11:14:00.001-07:00

People answering a question with a question; I could strangle you; for talking in riddles and getting back at for something that lies deeper.
I choose to see myself as a random victim, who happened to be there at that moment, rather than digging and adding another worry to my scribbled life.

There is nothing more frustrating than making the other undermine their own intellingce while they're looking for an answer.
Every entertainer needs a crowd and even in a bad comedy, there is always a scapegoat. A constant abuse of a person's sincerity is chewed and spat back at as the obsvering crowd grows taller and taller while I become smaller and smaller.

I remain calm. I clench my fist underneath the table while my imagination takes over.

Little did you know, that in the end it would cost you and lead to endless time of loneliness where you would forget the sound of your own voice.

If anything is to be remembered, it is that people never forget, hence they never forgive.

E.Y

Black litterbag

2011-05-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't it be tempting, waking up on a blue Monday, cutting the top and corners of a black litterbag, wear it over your head and put a belt around your waist?

E.Y

Silence is gold.

2011-04-12T12:33:00.000-07:00

You stand alone. It's her words against yours and you feel humiliated for not being able to defend yourself or justify the outcomes of the mess to a third person. A mess so deep that has been building up for days and eventually left you holding the bag.

Silence is gold for the quiet one. They observe,keep things to themselves and crouch beneathe the surface without gathering any attention. Loud people are said to be the ones who carry, based on their self confidence and boldness but the quiet one takes advantage of the loud ones' sincere stupidity and hit them hard when they're down.

The loud and the pompous may not be the ideal person, but in a true world, they are the ones most reliable and trustworthy.

E.Y

Strength, Courage and Stupidity?

2011-03-27T04:28:00.000-07:00

Bar to bar, pub to pub. Call it whatever you want, this "marathon" you partake on a Friday evening after work, when the tiredness of the whole week sinks in and gunk from the morning make-up starts to gather in the corner of your eye.

But we're single and we're free. Opinions are divided on what we should do to change our single status; Some say "You'll never meet anyone by sitting at home " while others refer to going out as a waste of time.

Bar to bar is an efficient way of scouting locations and often not reaching the point where you take of your coat. We might be single and free, but time is not on our side.
There is an appetite, in the beginning for observing and socializing. Strangers come and go and like skimming through clothes on a hanger, you eliminate them one by one. Conversations become shorter and since no one has the energy to talk, understanding a word repeated even five times become hard.

Gradually, as drunken strangers use your shoulder to lean on or your cell phone becomes sticky from someone else's spilt beer, it makes you wonder if there was a good movie on TV that night.

By all means, kudos to the ones for trying and better luck next time...because you know you will.

E.Y.

Superhumans

2011-03-26T06:28:00.001-07:00

Superheroes spend their entire lives hiding their identities. Humans, spend their entire lives searching for their abilities.

It is only natural for every individual to believe that we have skills in a specific area. The truth is that some people are talented and some er not. Milestones can be achieved by practice but even inborn talents need to be cultivated and nurtured.

The untalented creates a balance between the extremities of the talented and sadly, no matter how hard the untalented continues to search for the answer to "What am I good at?", the only comfort is that they will die trying.

E.Y.

Rush Hour

2011-03-11T12:57:00.001-08:00

Rush hours were a funny time of the day, when a mass of random people filled a bus within seconds whilst the daily fatigueness reflected in slow movements and eyes gazed at a certain point.
This overwhelming tiredness had created a cosmic atmosphere just as her ipod shuffled to a song by Florence and the Machine.

She always enjoyed this everyday ritual of observing people who got on and off the bus. Where did they live? Where did they work? What were they having for dinner?

From the corner of her eye, she could feel a mans roving eyes. His awareness of her, got her curious about him. Their eyes met very shortly, but the search for a wedding ring was instinctive and also crucial, being a single woman's cryptonite.

Once again, the stars weren't aligned in her favor. The gold ring on his finger, was if nothing; a symbol of a man married to his habits.

After all, isn't that what most men were...married to their habits?

E.Y.

Time

2011-02-13T02:58:00.000-08:00

Time, it was all I had and I didn't know what to do with it.

You see I spent most of my life comparing myself to others, deciding on what I could and what I couldn't do as the sand ran through my fist like an hour glass.

E.Y

Who were you?

2011-02-08T10:58:00.000-08:00

Right there, across the street from where I'm standing now is where you were patiently waiting for me 3 months ago.

Your cheekbones highlighted by the streetlight, my attention was drawn to your wavy hair, flying in every direction. Your Sebago shoes, Chino pants and your grandpas old blazer made you smell like an old man, giving you that extra maturity every now and then.

You balanced me gently between my tantrums and my thrills. Always resting your cheek on your hand when I wandered off topics during feverish conversations, needing to be reminded of what we really were talking about.

The cold December wind slaps me in the face as I awake from these thoughts and remember the site of you.

You...Was there really a you?

E.Y

Sober

2011-01-28T09:01:00.001-08:00

It's funny how everything is out of order but you're still sober. Like the last leaf hanging on a tree, on a cold winters day.

E.Y

The Carousel

2011-01-07T13:07:00.000-08:00

There'a an image of a magnificent carousel in my mind with fascinating figures and incandescent lighting, which is repeatedly disturbed by a scratch in the organ music in the background.

Each time I see my own reflection in the moving glass mirrors, I feel weakened and fail to get hold of the brass rings on the horses.

I wouldn't mind missing it at all really. If only they would stop smiling; the kids and the lovers on the chariots, holding hands.

E.Y.

Surprise me.

2010-12-26T14:51:00.000-08:00

Surprise me.
Don't call me, don't text me. Take the risk and show up at my doorstep when I least expect it. Surprise me in my baggy clothes and without my make-up.
Make me eat my own words about you never being spontaneous and courageous.
Pass your shame over to me so that gratitude will crush my pride and may you be the mature one in the end.

E.Y

2010-12-01T04:20:00.000-08:00

It scared me that we were growing up. Not because of the aging skin lines or the dog race we were in, chasing the bunny, but because of the discontent resonance that had sneakingly leaked amongst us recently.
We had stopped taking pictures. Recent stories were not worth documenting and whenever we needed a good laugh, we pitched a story from the past.

E.Y.

I couldn't see.

2010-11-21T12:29:00.000-08:00

I couldn't see it in their eyes: the people who wrote love songs as if the emotions were dripping like blood from their fingers.
I couldn't see it in their actions: the people who would break all boundaries because every moment was sacred when it was with you.

E.Y

Stage dust

2010-11-05T16:24:00.000-07:00

"Ah I love these shoes! She admires her newly bought shoes one more time in the mirror and slams the door behind her.
Before leaving the apartment, she was convinced that she looked great but her confidence was gradually reducing as she was approaching the theatre.

She took a deep breath as she made it through the foyer and followed the noises to find the auditorium. There were tapping of shoes on parquet floor, people instructing where to stand and the sound of determination.

Framed by the door opening, she was afraid of breaking the noise. The energy density inside was overwhelming, almost bursting outside the auditorium.

There was something about theatre actors: They were penniless sophisticated creatures that always had a certain glow to them, almost like a halo. It didn't matter where they were, it always followed them.

Suddenly she felt scruffy and ashamed of her shoes.

On the stage there was a young woman down on her knees, crying out loud and begging for forgiveness to another woman who had turned her back against her, looking outside a window.
Forgiveness she thought. If only saying sorry would make things right. The grudge never disappears.
Then there was him, standing in the corner. She was trying to understand what his role was. Was he a father, a son or maybe a lover?

How long had she known him? She was only in the beginning of her teens when he was doing kissing scenes in tv series. Even her mother would turn the tv towards the kitchen counter when he was on.

One day he completely disappeared from the tv screens. Rumours said that he had become broke and simply met the grim reality of showbiz. The latter was confirmed on a talk show he had attended 3 weeks ago, adding that he had been busy with theatre the last decade. He had also divorced his wife and was now living on his own.
On his own she thought. Him, on his own.

So he had been hiding behind the theatre curtain all these years. Enough time to swallow stage dust all right. He had added a few extra wrinkles on his forehead and was a little gray around the temples. Apart from that, he was still the same being that would make her dream that anything was possible.

"Uhm, hello?" called a voice from the forestage. She turned her head towards the voice to be met by a woman with a notepad in her hand.
"I'm sorry but this is a closed rehearsal. You can't be here," the woman said.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied. Only to be met by full attention from the actors on the stage. He too, had her full attention, He looked almost worried about her, as if she was insane. She was so embarrassed that she goofyly made out the room and shut the door behind. Her heart pounding and her face reddened.

She was disappointed in herself. It had taken her 3 weeks to man up and pay the visit and 3 minutes to make a fool out of herself and walk out.

Heading home, she was taking out her frustration on every lose stone she stumpled upon, wearing out the soles of her shoes.

E.Y.

It's OK.

2010-10-23T13:45:00.000-07:00

It's ok; always watching the game from the sideline, holding your breath each time the whistle blows.
You may never be given the chance, but you owe it to yourself, simply because you're filling a space, to try and hang in there.

E.Y

The river is never the same.

2010-10-08T14:51:00.000-07:00

For each time she put on a sad face they would say 'You have your whole life ahead of you,' but it wasn't the remaining part that she cared for.
If only she could dive back into the past, cut and paste all the empty sequences.

This was only a self-deception; she knew she couldn't step into the same river twice.

E.Y.

Crash Boom Bang

2010-10-04T01:53:00.000-07:00

"Have I met you before? You look very familiar" he said when she was about to take a sip of her coffee.
"You might have, I work on the 7th floor."
As for you, you're the busdriver, the guy I bump into on the street, the guy who sells me bagels and the guy who holds the door for me when I have no free hands.

He knew her name, but was having a hard time finding her on Outlook. He searched on Facebook over and over but was without luck since he didn't know her last name. There were 10000 Rachels. Where would he start and if he did find her, what would he say?

Eric, she thought. Eric Wieber. He had 5 different suits, 8 ties and somewhere between 7-10 shirts. Every time he passed her his Acqua Di Gio scent would make her heart miss a beat and run to the balcony on the 8th floor to grab some fresh air.

That morning, the office was unusually quiet, almost abandoned. Had she missed a fire drill or something? The echoing sound of her heels seemed remarkably louder than usual while walking towards the coffee machine. She wasn't a morning person and no one could see her smile before 9am and a cup of coffee.
She pressed the button for an americano when all of a sudden,the hair on her back raised. She hadn't noticed the footsteps behind her until the she felt the scent, it had surrounded her. Damn you GIO. The balcony was so far away at this point.

She pretended to be cool as she could hear him behind her,clearing his throat for a conversation.

Crash, boom, bang!

E.Y.

2010-09-28T04:39:00.001-07:00

I admired her for being her.
It was minus 10 degrees and I was waiting for a friend near a frozen fountain and could barely keep my teeth from shaking, while she was sitting by the edge of the fountain with her legs crossed and gazing vacantly before her.

I forgot about the icicle in me and started observing her
nonchalant manner and laid back style. She was wearing headphones and her hands were embracing a half-full bottle of red wine.
She didn't seem worried about anything, lifting the bottle to take a sip every now and then.

I wondered what kind of music she was listening to and who she was waiting for.

E.Y.

Things just happen.

2010-09-20T02:26:00.000-07:00

She furrowed her brow as she was struggling through a chapter in the book she was reading recently.

It was so unbearable that she preffered going back to the earlier chapters or skipping one or two. Chapter 12 it was. All the characters and actions were standing still except for their minds talking. She refused to be sucked into the descriptions and depths of their emotions.
She felt like carving the pages with a pen and ripping them out. Just get on with it she said to herself, unaware that she had been clenching her jaw. The book had lost it's page turner effect and had already been put down on the coffee table a couple of times that afternoon. It was either going to be read through that day or left for dusting for the rest of the year.

She had done it many times before. Her shelves consisted of unfinished books. Either their language was too hard or they had failed to engage her. It didn't make any difference if they were mainstream or among The Times' Top Ten and anyways, mainstream she hated. She never gave The Alchemist a chance, seeing it in everybody's hands that time. Sheep mentality she would think.

Why had everything stopped lately? By everything she meant the meaning of why things happen, for in this she wanted to believe in. It was the only thing to hold on to whether that was the case or not. Unfortunately, it was typical that evolution always took its place wherever and whenever not needed.

Suddenly she awakened by this thought and placed her eyes back on the page with the tiny gloomy texts.

I'm going to finish this bastard.

E.Y

Ghost town

2010-09-15T01:09:00.000-07:00

Everybody knew what was coming. Hence, they were avoiding her like the plague. They would ask "What's the matter with you?" but not listen as she would try to explain that there was a matter but there was nothing wrong with her.

On the contrast, she felt like the only sane person around. But that was mere agitation than comfort. It made her feel sad and lonely. The feeling of walking in a ghost town became real; streets had no name and the only thing moving was whirlwinds of leaves and newspapers.

She would have loved this town if it hadn't seemed so empty.

E.Y

We could be happy.

2010-09-06T07:43:00.001-07:00

We could be happy, but chose not to and didn't know how to.
Our dreams were our punishment and adding a new one before the other was done, was like watching Tetris blocks rushing down the screen without fitting and overflowing.

We could be happy, occasionally, only not knowing how to enjoy it for we didn't know how long it would last so smiles would be halfway, eyes sadly fixed towards the horizon.

E.Y.

Mannequin world.

2010-08-22T12:03:00.000-07:00

We were real people in a mannequin world. If they cut us, we bled, if they bent us, we broke.

E.Y.

Shipwreck

2010-08-15T02:12:00.000-07:00

The stage after desperation is calm.

You untie your knot, loosen and reef out your seams and surrender as if floating on water.

Reaching the point of calmness is the shipwreck after a terrible storm. You wake up on a stranded beach with evey inch bruised and no possessions but are consoled with the fact that you're still alive.

E.Y.

The Rabbit Hole

2010-08-06T01:12:00.000-07:00

I found a place for myself in the rabbit hole.

Deep in the dirt there were no excuses, no explanations.No need to juggle with emotions. No muppets giving you advice on how to suceed in life, thinking they had figured you all out of a fifteen minute conversation.

Phone calls, sms, e-mails, notifications, like and unlikes; I had been surrounded by beeps and blinks wherever I turned my head. I wanted to shut it all out and dig myself more into the rabbit hole where it was safe for me to look ugly and be weird.

Ugly; that is what life had become. It collided with every move you tried to make. It collided with the simplest desires and drained you until the rabbit hole became a paradise.

E.Y

2010-07-17T12:07:00.001-07:00

The weight of my dreams wore me out.

E.Y

The D- Day

2010-07-14T00:35:00.001-07:00

At two different sides of town, two hearts were pounding and nervously getting ready for the big moment which they had been preparing themselves for the last couple of weeks. They had been chatting for months and countless hours until they decided it was time they met. The idea of dinner was overwhelming so she proposed to have a drink at a cozy cafe.

She kept changing her mind, piling up clothes on her bed because she either felt overdressed or too casual while he felt like an office boy with a shirt and blazer but on the other side, worried to appear like a teenager with a hoodie. One of them was definitely going to be late.

There were so many love stories out there but none of them had been hers.
The last time she was on a date it was with a total moron who had ordered a whole load to then realize that he had forgotten his credit card. Not only had she disliked him and his shrill voice but he had also made her pay the bill.

Apart from a few accidental situations with her stilletto heels, she managed to get to the cafe. She couldn't see him so she sat down and took out her filofax from her bag, opened it and started looking at blank pages and pretending she was going through notes.

Suddenly he appeared at the door. She was easy to spot as she was the only person sitting alone in the dim light. She had seen him seconds before but pretended that she hadn't. Damn it, she was nervous. She tried to avoid him until it became impossible and his whole body covered the light coming from the background.
"Oh, hello!" she said, hoping it didn't sound too fake. She stood up and bent over to give him a hug when she grasped his scent. It was faint and it was nice. A good start she thought.
"Hi! It's so nice to finally meet you", he said and sat down.

She could see that he was discreetly examining her. He seemed pleased. She was trying to understand if he was her type. He had small hands,a relatively small head with a big forehead. "Bald within 5 years" she thought.His shirt was buttoned all the way up to his collar. Could he breathe in that?

They were smiling and talking about "How awkward is this?" and different episodes of their chatting sessions.
She was an editor for a small fashion magazine and he was working with finance, though he hated it. He knew that anytime within the next week one of the partners at the company would let him go. He lacked the motivation and just didn't seem to fit into the men's club.

He didn't want to talk much about his work that evening. He just wanted one thing to work out and that was with her. Unlike her, he was very positive and admiring this wonderful creature that he was sitting with. She had elegance, she had style.

She didn't know what to think of him. He was allright but there wasn't any spark. They could be friends supposedly, but did she really need new friends? "Ah well" she thought. "At least he's not a loser".

They talked for another thirty minutes when they decided it was time to go home. He followed her out to take a taxi. He mentioned that they should meet again and she said "Sure". He gave her a kiss on the cheek and watched as she drove by. He was satisfied and started whistling as he walked along the sidewalk.

She came home and threw first her bag, then herself on the couch. She was tired of thinking and started to yawn. She didn't care about cleansing her face or brushing her teeth. She was looking forward to a good nights sleep.

There was one more thing she had to do before going to bed. She turned on her computer which already was on stand-by, logged on to the dating website and pressed "Delete profile".

E.Y.

Deck of Cards

2010-07-11T06:15:00.000-07:00

My words are meaningless. Like a deck of cards, I throw them in the air but they land on the floor disarrayed.

E.Y.

The Party

2010-07-11T06:06:00.000-07:00

There I was, standing in the corner at a party, trying to mingle for the sake of... nothing really. I felt like I was tied with an invisible rope and couldn't concentrate on anything that was going on. People were meaninglessly moving back and fourth. Some were fetching drinks while other were trying to barge into others' conversations. It all seemed so fatigueing.

While my rope seemed to get tighter, I had forced myself to talk to two girls whom appeared to have escaped from a cartoon. I was fascinated by their sincerity and their enthusiastic faces with their articulated lips, composing a beautiful melody.

I was being spoken to and automatically shaking my head as if comprehending but all I could hear was a melody. Every time the tune ended with a high note I nodded as if agreeing. I even gave a smile once in a while.

I tried to listen but felt helpless at the thought of having become a pretentious social scum, avoiding mirrors as often as I could.

E.Y.

To paint you.

2010-06-30T01:22:00.000-07:00

If I ever painted you it would have been subtle and blurry. The colors would switch from black to white, leaving out any color in between your extreme emotions. Devastated and torn by your sudden change, my strokes would be swift and pressured.

E.Y.

Another dimension.

2010-06-22T03:14:00.000-07:00

Never had I seen such a group of people, gathering as quick as ants drawn to a candy bar and dissolving like a pill that hits the water. They would walk right through eachother and look over eachothers heads while they were talking.

With smiles so cold and laughters resembling a laughter machine in a bad comedy show, I had to force myself into another dimension. I avoided repeated aimless questions, simply because no one would handle the truth and reality would bite us all in the end.

As for my personality, it was put on hold. The road to ambitions guaranteed no happiness nor prosperity so I bit my tongue and tried to blend in, barely keeping myself from leaching up into the surface.

E.Y.

Cherry pie

2010-06-13T10:30:00.000-07:00

I don't know what it could be called. Whether it was a storm or one of those physofrenic weather situations prior to Oslo. There was storm, there was rain, darkness and there was sun at the same time. It was beautiful because it was undescribable. As usual,I preffered watching it from my window.

It made me want to bake cherry pie.

E.Y.

India

2010-06-13T02:00:00.000-07:00

He was acting very juvenile for being a man in a suit though his five o'clock shadow was adding him a couple of more years. He liked that about himself though. It was breaking the stiffness of his suit and giving the impression that he was wearing it because he had to and not because he wanted to.

He spent just as long time as us women every night preparing for the next day. He dreaded ironing his shirts and trousers and always tried to postpone it as much as possible that by the time he was done, it was past midnight. The last minute shoe polish sessions in the morning always made him miss his buss and he always left the apartment wondering if he had forgotten something while the after taste of his toothpaste always left his mouth dry.

"Coffee", he thought.

He was standing at the end of the line at the coffee shop, thinking of where he wanted to spend his next holiday. It didn't really matter where it was, or who it was with. He needed a break. He was sick of the same expressionless faces he saw everyday.

It was at that moment he noticed the book in her hand "Lonely Planet, India". She was standing right in front of him, trying to find her wallet and practically emptying her bag for it.
"India", he thought, maybe a little loud enough to be met by her questiongly look. "Oh", he said. "Are you going to India?".
"Yes", she said." A friend of mine is getting married there and I thought I'd explore the other cities while I was there". She was surprised at how much she had said within 20 seconds.
"Never been on my priority list" he said quite happy with himself. "Aren'there cows and goats running around the streets with monkeys sitting on top of your head?".
"I guess you see what you want to see", she said. "What about the party city Goa or Taj Mahal, the greatest declaration of love ever?".
"Yeah yeah, he said with a sarcastic smile on his face. " You girls always look on the romantic side of things. Us guys, we're more rational, you know."
"Don't I", she said and rolled her eyes.

"One Caffe latte to go!" someone shouted.
"That's mine" she said and grabbed her coffee then turned and looked at the guy, "Well, have a nice summer then".
"Thank you, you too!"

[From the counter,"]Yes sir?"
"An Americano please" he replied. He grabbed a couple of coffee beans by the counter and started to play with them while he was looking out the window towards the street...at the faces, they had no expressions.

E.Y

Why bother

2010-05-14T11:18:00.001-07:00

He said "Why bother?". I said "Well, you never know you know. It's worth sticking around and waiting to see"

That Day

2010-04-21T13:10:00.000-07:00

The day started with a cold shower,drops
Hitting her neck like needles,
Reminding her that it was just as cold outside.

The Spring had never come, just like Summer,
The green winter was an illusion.

That day she preferred candles to sunlight.
She lifted her hand to dim the light
While she was finishing the last sentence
And warms drops had started to mud her keypad.

The men who needed saviour.

2010-04-15T14:24:00.000-07:00

There were many of them; the men who needed saviour. They were unnarmed, defeated with a baggage full of melancholy. Too many visions had led to confusions. At first glance we found it charming; an unhealthy foundation of our pity and their shame.

Like with a water well, we lowered our ropes waiting to hit their depth of darkness. What was life without a challenge?

Whether it was a determination worth admiration or desperation could be discussed.

E.Y.

Mouth for L'Orèal.

2010-04-11T03:22:00.000-07:00

Irving Penn (1986)

Vampire state of mind.

2010-04-02T12:27:00.000-07:00

You wake up one morning, lonely, drained and thirsty not remembering what came over you last night. A look in the mirror stumbles you when you are shocked by the bitemarks on your neck and the paleness of your face. Every part of your body aches. Yesterday's sadness and despair that made you do what you did,is now replaced by emptiness.

But if there is one thing that's worse than sadness, then that is to be senseless.

E.Y

Lizard in a snow blizzard

2010-03-14T11:58:00.000-07:00

I watched her watch him. My curiosity over hers and her confusion over her own curiousity had caught my attention. The thought of being with him was as unreal as seeing a lizard in a snow blizard. Their corrupted worlds would never unite them as she underneath her veil was invisible to him.

E.Y

Naive

2010-02-02T12:33:00.000-08:00

At the age of cynicism, we were still naive. Naive because we were still disappointed. We were still human.

E.Y

The Kiss

2010-01-16T02:13:00.000-08:00

A whirlwind of unbiased actions, capturing the peak of the moment. The outside world is distanced an alienated. For this moment concerns no one other than the two. Their inner depth reflects upon their passions. A passion so strong that every person walking by will stumble, gaze and not know how to put their feelings into words.

E.Y.

Picture by Matthew Allan

Right or Wrong

2010-01-14T04:28:00.000-08:00

Often we say "I was too good for him anyway", but we forget that what matters isn't being too good or bad, but being the right person for one and other.

E.Y.

Todd Klassy

2010-01-05T10:38:00.000-08:00

Paper cups

2009-12-25T03:05:00.000-08:00

Every now and then, they would sit on the carpet in his apartment with s slanted ceiling and drink wine from papers cups and talk for hours. The more they drank, the more intense the conversations became. At times they criticized people, at times they praised them.
Like a fish to a bait, he would grab every comment that she made with "I agree!" leaving a big smile on her face.

E.Y

Spaces.

2009-12-19T02:54:00.000-08:00

When we were left alone, there were empty spaces among hundreds that needed to be filled. New bodies were promising in order to forget, but somehow we could not control our dreams.
Every night, we were faced with what we were escaping from and woke up with a weariness and sadness.

E.Y

Reflection

2009-12-12T04:55:00.000-08:00

It was through his reflection on the subway that she knew that promises would soon be broken, words unspoken and hands left cold.

E.Y.

Esra Røise

2009-11-22T04:15:00.001-08:00

I find it extremely hard to draw hair. Esra Røise seems to manage this perfectly.

Rotten- A short story.

2009-11-20T16:17:00.000-08:00

This old man on the 3rd floor, was just like any other sulky old man though he himself would disagree.
He would make fresh coffee in the mornings and wait until it got cold while he solved the newspaper's crossword puzzle.
"Decomposed!" he read out loud. He had stopped smoking years ago but his fingers still had yellow nicotine stains.
After tapping his fingers on the table he grabbed his old Parker pen and started to write "R-o-t-t-e-n" horizontally. It sure explains my situation. Why can't we use it for people anyway? Isn't that what we're doing; rotting? Why use "aging" or "getting old". We look like a rotten apple and sure feel like one too!

He was thinking about the ducks in the park and wondering if Hilda would be there with her granddaughter. She was a nice piece. She was a widow of an ex German officer and had an elegancy and polite manner that would make a man want to straighten his hat and collar each time he saw her.

It was a gloomy day. If it hadn't been for the rheumatic twinges that grappled his knees, he could have been talking to her and make her laugh with his campus stories. He had many stories but somehow always ended up repeating the same ones, adding new details each time. Hilda would never interrupt him and would always nod with a smile. Today, he was stuck in the apartment.

Just as he was sipping from his ice cold coffee, he got startled by the phone ringing. He frowned as he was quite sure about the ringer since he had been regularly interrupted for the last couple of days. Despite his scepticism,he got up and reached for the phone. "Yeah?" He said and paused. There was a lot of muttering and undefinable noise. Eventually, somebody managed to get their nerves together and said, "Hello,do you have a small dick?" [laughter in the background followed by a click]
Those damn kids he thought. Had I been a little younger I would have showed them! Messing with me like that.

He hung up the phone and walked towards the window mumbling something like, "Hilda...the ducks...damn knees."

E.Y

Untitled.

2009-11-04T14:08:00.000-08:00

That year, it was one dissappointment after the other and our patience was constantly put through the test. The weak ones fell quicker apart while the strong ones held on tight like a fly in a storm. The good news couldn't make up for the bad ones. The belief in the holyness of tomorrow were ruined by cluttered dreams and sad weddings. There was no difference in day and night and the worst part was when everyone would say, "It's all going to be allright".

E.Y

Conceptual art

2009-10-27T08:31:00.000-07:00

It's like an epidemic; fashion, trends, art. Many of us follow what we claim to be 'the normal thing to do'. But just like I refuse to wear harem pants and buy an Iphone because it's fashion, I find it hard to accept the elements of "conceptual art" as art.
I am not the person to judge what is claimed to be art or how art should be evaluated, but art to me represents beauty and the admiration for the given effort and time, as well as the artists' sharing of deep thought or a story that lies beneath.

In conceptual art, the idea and concept is the main focus. The worshippers of conceptual art are impressed by the simplicity and creativity that requires no Picasso skills. In that sense, we can all be artists. But does all art deserve to hang on our walls? Shouldn't we be a little critical?

In a section for modern art, stains of coffee cups are being framed and admired as art whilst I stumble upon blocks of concrete, amazed to find a lable beside it with a name on. There seems to be a form of self-deception and pretensiousness where many stand in front of a conceptual art piece and admire it because it is the expected. We stand in front of a black and white TV screen for hours, looking at a man move his foot from side to side. But hey, if this museum is showing it, it must be something, right?
It's a situation where it's not just the emperor that has no clothes, but everyone.

While examining 4 calender sheets, glued together and framed, 2 floors above a museum attendant is pointing at a Monet painting and explaining why he used 7 years to complete a painting, layer by layer.

E.Y

Museum feeling

2009-10-26T04:38:00.000-07:00

Kunstnernes Hus, Oslo

MoMA, New York

The Metropolitan, New York

Words and their functions

2009-10-25T13:41:00.000-07:00

The rainy weather encouraged me to do some brainstorming. Ideas were lined up in my head,occasionally overlapping one and other. It was hard trying to grasp the words from this hurricane of thoughts and safely place them on a piece of paper. How many weeks had it been since I saw my own handwriting?

There was too much that had caught my attention. I wrote one word, then scribbled and tried to find a better word. We were older now, weren't we? Maybe a synonym would look fancier.

I wrote, scribbled and wrote again until the whole page turned into a blob of ink. It just wasn't my day. I took the paper, curled it until it turned into a ball in my fist and threw it into the dust bin.

E.Y.

Untitled

2009-08-25T02:38:00.000-07:00

Maybe not with blood, but I had come out of this battle defeated with sweat and tears.
The promises I had made myself started to bail out on me one by one.
The solid rock whom I can't pronounce his name without starting to choke up,was gone.

E.Y

Office rat, copy cat

2009-07-08T15:17:00.000-07:00

You would think that working in a 9 to 5 job everyday consists of one steady curve without ups and downs. Indeed, you start the day with logging on and end it by logging off and feel that every day is exactly the same, but it is the small challenges of the office rat that keeps them at unease and makes them want to look over their shoulder when they have that brilliant idea.

Any time, anywhere, we are surrounded by copycats that live on our ideas, personalize them and present them to the superiors in a new wrapping. Some of us respond by a high level of shock, followed by a silence, while some people squeek and protest, though fully acknowleged that this will make them seem more as a lunatic as to reasonable.

As the office rat nibbles over the unfairity of life, the copycat is given a halo whilst the applaud of the crowd can be heard several floors below.

E.Y

Touching the moment.

2009-05-22T05:28:00.000-07:00

Every night at eleven, it was the same. Floss, brush my teeth, wash my make-up ans examine my face if I had got any older than the day before. Words could not express my disgust in this everyday routine that would remind me of what the next day would be like.
Wake up early, go to work,coffee,log on,work,work,work, log off.

There was nothing to complain about my social life.

But the moment I got in front of the mirror again, I was reminded. Reminded of the wrong decisions I had made and the wrong paths that I had taken. For I was not where I wanted and did not know where I was heading.

I still don't know where I'm heading, but there's no rush. I'm finally living, touching and tasting the moment and it feels like gold.

E.Y

Everything is notional.

2009-05-05T11:49:00.001-07:00

One of our biggest mistakes and our own source to unhappiness is comparing ourselves to others. We compare our lovelifes, financial situations and where we're heading.
We may be faced with the same opportunies,but what we seem to forget is that we all come from different backgrounds and experiences.

In a moment of envy,we forget that while we have been having a blast, someone else may have been going through hell. Everything is notional.

Unfairness does exist and so does inbalance in lifestyles. What we shoud remember is to focus on our own dreams and expectations. In the end, everyone's racing at their own track.

E.Y.

So the story goes.

2009-04-23T13:35:00.000-07:00

This world, this country, this city, consists of people pretending that everything is OK all the time. Everything is great. We wish each other a great weekend. We wish eachother a great day. When the weekend is over, we ask eachother if we had a great weekend and so the story goes.

How often do people talk about how low they feel or how lonely they are? Everyone seems to be having a blast. Talking about how depressed we are is a taboo and not really an interesting subject to be brought up. We are drawn to happy people but are not aware that in most occasions, it is the same happy people that makes us feel depressed.
In the movie As Good as It Gets, Jack Nicholson's character, Melvin Udal says,
"Some have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes with boats and friends and noodle salad...Good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you're that pissed that so many others had it good."

In my world composed of sarcasm and cynicism, the train to Disneyland passed long time ago.

E.Y.

Bukowski

2009-04-16T03:29:00.001-07:00

The bad boy; coming to a cinema near you!

2009-04-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

I have already touched upon the myth of the the bad boy earlier in my blog. About their mystery and indifference in the way of living and how they sweep us off our feet. These are the natural born ones.

On the other side, we have the ones that pretend to be one, such as one of my friends. He shared with me that he sometimes likes playing a bad boy because it seems to have a better impact on girls and make them come running after him, to be precise. I'm amazed by the fact that us girls transform these good hearted guys into villains in order to run after them.

Bon Jovi says in a song "I blame this world for making a good man bad". So could it be us women to blame, that men adapt a fake bad boy identity?
I, myself do not know how long I would allow someone to mess up my mind.

Games,games,games.

E.Y.

Love in Argentina

2009-03-20T04:42:00.000-07:00

Love in Argentina can be found in every corner
As the sun gets warmer and the devotion becomes stronger
Lustful souls become silouttes
Among the arising heat from the asphalt.

E.Y

Espen Eiborg

2009-03-12T07:06:00.000-07:00

If I ever could afford one.

The ideal first date garnish

2009-03-06T06:55:00.000-08:00

To me, the ideal first date is not a dinner or a visit to the cinema but a simple evening with beer and snacks. A picture from the movie 'He's just not that into you' illustrates what I mean perfectly:)

From our bubble.

2009-03-04T05:40:00.000-08:00

Ain't it funny how we watch the everyday news with disasters, catastrophees and tragedies with indifference, while we manage to be paralyzed by our own simple truths?
How often doesn't a plane crash or a financial crisis seem far from our bubble?
When something does affect us we ask "Why me?", while we have never accepted that we're all a part of this play.

So as long as you don't question "why them", you shouln't question "why me".

E.Y

What now?

2009-02-10T00:09:00.000-08:00

The news came out of the blue, at a time when I couldn't care less about anything but was still examining the 'little less defined' wrinkles around my eyes.
"No biggy" I thought, it will be nice to come out of my comfort zone and focus on all the things that I normally wouldn't have time to.
But it's not easy loosening the grip. Spontanity is a virtue I admire, but very seldom practice. I've been going back and fourth on that plane ticket to accomplish the trip that I've wanted for a very long time.

The consequences scare me;living without a plan. I suppose I can handle it. That is, if it is only for a while.

E.Y

2009-02-06T14:17:00.000-08:00

New York, New York

2009-02-05T06:34:00.000-08:00

“I want to go to New York” I said.
“Oh yeah, have you been there before?” She asked. I shook my head.

“I just feel that my personality belongs there” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
“I know it sounds stupid” I paused, “But I’ve lived in two countries my whole life and I’m either too much or too much.” It sucks when no one else has the same perspectives as you do. You feel alone with your own thoughts. “A multicultural person” you think, would probably understand you and your humour better. But I’ve met them too.

I feel like New York City is the melting pot of all nationalities, as well as the continents. I feel that issues like religion, cultures, colours are well established in people’s minds. It is good to be able to get beyond the questionmarks and start our conversations from there, superficial or not.
There is only one way to prove my theory. Soon…

E.Y.

a4

2009-01-22T07:15:00.000-08:00

I'm so sick of coffee cups and meeting minutes,
8 am's and 4 pm's.

E.Y.

It must come

2009-01-14T07:11:00.000-08:00

It must come, right before I sleep, when I lay my head on the pillow. Just before I dose off,a spark from my cell phone...An unknown number with a sweet message, ending with a known name.
It must definitely come, tonight.

E.Y

Badly drawn to the bad boy

2008-12-22T14:23:00.000-08:00

We’ve all been there(I mean us girls) at least once, where we’ve been swept off our feet by the bad boy.
He whom is untrustworthy, unpredictable and therefore exciting, does nothing but break hearts for a living. In my opinion, him being introverted and mysterious stems from his inner struggles and unhappiness.
Most probably, he’s broke and smells bad cos he smokes. None of this do we notice as we are blinded.
One thing is for sure, he doesn’t give a damn!

Milo Ventimiglia as the bad boy in Fergie's video.

Say it again.

2008-12-19T01:23:00.000-08:00

Say it again,
How you across the ocean, were reminded of me
Every time you listened to the CD I gave you.
How the waves hit your boat and you were
Drawn into a sweet melancholy.

Say it again, but I’m going to ask you to say it again.

E.Y

I walk...

2008-12-12T03:25:00.000-08:00

I walk on the ashes of the burnt bridges that have taken
My innocence not fast but slowly,
Growing the eagerness of touching the unreachable.

I walk on the pieces of the broken glass
From the quarrels with my inner self,
Realising that I owe not anyone but myself an apology.

E.Y

My Mr. Big...

2008-11-20T06:22:00.000-08:00

All the poor ones were surrounding him like a bunch of flies, aware that he could get rid of them with a shake of his hand. They were all drawn to him like a light and fell, one by one while struggling for his attention.

I observed from a distance; clenched my teeth, put on my sunglasses, turned my back and left before I was discovered.

Woody Woodpecker and his upper Manhattan friends

2008-11-16T05:03:00.000-08:00

Woody Woodpecker and his upper Manhattan friends, are drinking and sniffing while having intellectual conversations about world hunger and the latest exhibiton at the Guggenheim.

Their conversations are accompanied by Sidney Bechet in the background and the clinging sound of wine glassses.

I want to go to NY.

E.Y.

HE

2008-11-16T03:28:00.000-08:00

He had a tired face.
Not in the sense that he suffered from insomnia , but more like the one who had been through a lot…maybe too much.

E.Y

Let's live a cliché

2008-11-16T02:47:00.000-08:00

Photo by Patrick Moberg

Let's live a cliché;
Our eyes meet coincidentally in the middle of a rush hour in a subway station. By accident you look once, then twice. The third time, you pretend to be looking at the board while you try to close your umbrella. But I know how it works; you can't hide it from me. Why is your hair wet? I don't get it.
The crowd around us turns silent and moves in slow motion. No matter how many times I get bumped into; my looks remain calm, waiting for the next exchange.2 minutes to the next subway. It's not mine. Hopefully, not yours either.

E.Y