Paper cups

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.

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

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

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

Rotten- A short story.

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.

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

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

Kunstnernes Hus, Oslo


MoMA, New York


The Metropolitan, New York

Words and their functions

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

The bad boy; coming to a cinema near you!

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

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

If I ever could afford one.

The ideal first date garnish

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.

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?

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

New York, New York

“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

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

E.Y.

It must come

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