buewhale

  fabric going through the motions through mindless morning matters in the absence of birdsong my brain comes up with ”Oye Como Va” and I'm sure my eardrums react to fictional congas on tv they show the vast amounts of garbage left behind after a music festival   sultry heat unwillingly I start a collection of dead flies -*- vævning fraværende går jeg gennem morgenens rituelle handlinger i fraværet af fuglesang kommer min hjerne op med ”Oye Como Va” og jeg er sikker på at mine trommehinder reagerer på indbildte congas på tv viser de uhyrlige mængder af affald ladt tilbage efter en musikfestival lummerhede ufrivilligt starter jeg en samling af døde fluer … file date: July 7, 2014

  Heat it's that sudden humid heat so typical for Denmark. heavy. I wonder how I'm going to be able to move around with at least some chance of getting nowhere. as usual all the pull of one planet Sunday --*-- Hede det er den pludselige lummerhede så typisk for Danmark. tung. jeg spekulerer på hvordan jeg vil være i stand til at bevæge mig omkring med bare en lille chance for at komme ingen steder hen. som sædvanligt al den tiltrækning fra én planet søndag … file date June 6, 2014

repetition on my evening walk I pass the empty house with the hollyhocks outside and I remember I forgot the scissors I reminded myself to bring on yesterday's walk most of the flowers have dropped anyway sunset contrails I catch a reflection in Corea's Windows --*-- gentagelse på min aftentur går jeg forbi det tomme hus med bonderoserne udenfor og jeg kommer i tanker om at jeg har glemt den saks jeg mindede mig selv om at tage med i går de fleste af blomsterne er alligevel faldet af solnedgangsjetstriber jeg fanger en spejling i Coreas Windows … file date: July 7, 2014

 "We're forgetting something. The killer likes blondes” ”Get a move on then. Go to the salon and come back when you're done. Straight back. You hear?!” The TV's on. I stare towards the setting sun through the September-tired leaves of the trees blocking my view. “It's like life” I think to myself. A lot of unsettled opaqueness and those sporadic clear views. I continue to wash the spuds as the Earth turns. Will they ever catch the killer? “I saw a ship in the harbour” missing a day I have a blue Tuesday ... (“I saw a ship ....” line from New Order's “Blue Monday”) … file date: September 3, 2014

So I go out to buy a cauliflower. It's summer and nothing says summer like cauliflower and new potatoes … says my girlfriend. With butter of course. It's nearly closing time at the end of a warm day and inside the supermarket feels like a greenhouse. The girl at the checkout looks like she's about suffer a heatstroke, red in the face, drops of sweat running down her brow and into her eyes. As she manoeuvres my cauliflower past the barcode scanner I say: “NOW I can finally go home and boil a brain”. She looks disorientated at first but gets it as I point to the white vegetable looking vaguely like a brain. Then we laugh a bit. I guess she was trying to be polite. exactly half a moon Morpheus avoids my company again … file date: June 6, 2014

  Vitamins ”What do they look like?” ”What does what look like?” ”Vitamins, what do they look like?” ”I don't know.” ”Then, how can we know that they're in the pills we eat?” midwinter we learn to live with the invisibles . Vitaminer ”Hvordan ser de ud?” ”Hvordan ser hvad ud?” ”Vitaminer, hvordan ser de ud?” ”Det ved jeg ikke.” ”Hvordan kan vi så vide, at de er i de piller, vi spiser?” midvinter vi lærer at leve med de usynlige … file date: January 30, 2014

  Blisters ultimately made from stars I wash the dishes slowly and then you (I) discover a new pain in a place old as yourself and you start to watch the C-threat movie roll in a place between your eyes and your brain but remind yourself that no one in your family has ever died from that but kept on living as well as they knew how until their heart or their head gave in to the pressure of life and you (I) light another cigarette in a moment on Earth where probably a lot of other folks have more ground shaking experiences even as we stay silent rain and you (I) notice from the sound the cars' tires make in contact with the asphalt that December is quite warm warmer than on the phoney Christmas films with third rate American actors playing Santas that really don't want to be Santas but straight up stupid guys wasting their days away discussing base-ball and drinking beer while expressing their emotions in polishing cars and you ascribe that sort cultural sewage to so...

  stepping stones a slow fox-trot through the pain of the world back home Talking about the new more or less compulsory (and fault ridden) electronic commuter's card I say: "I've never cheated. I've always paid for my travels. I haven't got the nerves to cheat", and dad says: "Neither have I" and it strikes me that I never in a million years would have suspected him for doing so. Not that I'm naive and see him as infallible but that he's an honest man. Clear and simple: an honest man. in a prolonged intercourse Bob and Alice furbish the quantum field Mum says nothing, but we're all glad that her weird spell of trying to cut up sausages with a pencil has passed and not shown itself again. no matter how ravaged the housing project on Mars lies bathed in December's moonlight … file date: December 15, 2013

December light? I remind myself there's a first for everything Long before I began to wake up my brain was singing a song. It was a song for children, one every school boy and girl have been singing since the 1920's, I guess, (the composer died in 1931) and one I have sung hundreds of times as a boy. But it - my brain, that is - could remember the first verse only. I was rather annoyed by those missing words and by the song that interrupted a warm and intimate situation just beginning to be very hot between me and a girlfriend I had in my teens, but her face turned into an iPad on which I began to look for the missing words of the song. It was a song about a girl finding a lark's nest and keeping it a secret for a fox and a boy. 3900 light years from Canis Majoris ground coffee … file date: December 9, 2013

"What's in it?" "What's in what?" "WHAT is in it?" "You're repeating yourself. I haven't got the faintest idea of what you're talking about." "What is in that box there?" he said and pointed to a small parcel lying by the window. "I don't know. I haven't seen it before." He walked over to the window and looked at it curiously and a bit distrusting. He bowed down to study it. The parcel did nothing. "Go on then. Take a look, open it." "HA! Funny man, eh?" I knew very well he couldn't touch it, couldn't examine it. As a rather fleeting and ethereal being he couldn't interact with that world which is physical to me, to us. the-whole-in-the water test an uncaring moon plops "You open it and show me what it is". "Why? I'm busy doing other things and besides if it was important I'm sure whoever put it there would have said something...

Tree Knob ”I wanna go somewhere warm. What about Mallorca or Ibiza?” ”You're a tree, you can't go anywhere without the risk of dying. I'm not even sure if birches can cope with the Mallorcan climate.” “But I hate winter. It's sleep, sleep, sleep and freeze. I want to dance, dance, dance and have a good time. Nothing happens here in winter and especially not in this garden. Only this half-hearted fish pond and the hose constantly pouring water in and you know how it is when you listen to running water: You gotta piss.” “Trees don't piss. They haven't got a knob and they don't dance either.” “Ah, come on. Humour me. Use your imagination.” I pick up a cardboard tube that has been the inside of a toilet roll, make two small holes and pull a piece of string through them and then I tie it around the tree to show him I do have an imagination and will use it. “Now, it that imaginative enough for ya.” “Man, you're a bore, you are.”   sharing the cater...

rub-a-dub-dub something quacks beneath the lake I never really got it, that there hip-hip. I don't get a word of what they're saying. Not entirely true: it's 95% I don't get. Even if it's my own language. Admitted, I'm too old for getting the codes, the lingo, and can't relate to that ‘whites who wanna be black’ thing. strange winds my left ear takes off Round Midnight We all want to be someone or something else at times. That's o.k. It can be tiring just being the same old you whom you have spend so much time with. Can be boring. Not many surprises there. I blame MTV and the fashion industry. In my village even decent boys who do everything their mama tells them wears gangsta outfit. They're not in LA and they're not carrying guns. They look left and right before crossing the empty street. And they address me 'Sir'. They may act tough and speak dirty when they're with friends on the train going to the nearest town, but when the ...

  and I hear this faint rhythm in a sharp note just about to be out of my range of hearing like someone throwing small small stones on the floor which is why it's not that precise or even and I mute the tv and close the window so I won't be disturbed by the neighbour's goldfish pond it must be leaking a hose spits water into it day and night too weird I've been watching 3 films by the Hong-Kong director Wong Kar-Wai or Kai-War Wong whatever and typically me I watched the 3rd part of this (unintended?) trilogy last and I got sorta annoyed by the main character and his arrogance lack of empathy eating and throwing away women and so on which probably was part of the director's intentions that guy just hung around all day in a humid Honk-Kong or Singapore or whateever getting money from his adoptive mother and obviously not being capable of appreciating other feelings than his own ennui … well what the heck and I manage to locate the sound it's from the compute...

  dans les bras de Morphée a kiss evaporates While I'm looking for a camera that would enable me to film some living coins a hitherto unknown nephew starts building a house around me. It's not that I was out in the open before he began. I was going around my business following this idea of making this film of actually living coins, two I found in a drawer. They weren't alive when I put them there some 20 odd years ago, but apparently something happened in the meantime. My wife (she is my wife in this dream, whoever she is) is in a room I cannot see looking for a job. It's mandatory. She has to to get unemployment benefit. In the dream as in real life. Obviously it's not her dream. closed ice-cream shop we queue up for nothing It takes me quite a while to find the camera. I know what it looks like (and it's nothing like a camera, more like a cheap microphone from the 70's; that's dreams for ya) but I can't find it. It's that feeling: you...

The works and thoughts of Yves Klein put me onto something important when it comes to art. Its immateriality. At a gallery he removed the paintings having hung on the walls for a long time and used the markings, the slight difference in the colour on the walls - darker where the walls haven't had paintings hanging - to show La spécialisation de la sensibilité à l’état matière première en sensibilité picturale stabilisée, Le Vide.* faulty watch I peel the blue shadow of a lemon He sold some pieces of that Void; paintings that wasn't there. Possible paintings. Spaces for paintings. The payment was to be made in small gold ingots. He couldn't accept keeping the payment for something immaterial, so he would meet the buyer on a bridge, and having received the agreed amount of gold he threw it into the river. Letting it return to nature from where it was taken. He was a Rosenkreutzer and a judo master. Masonic secrecy and the void. Om mani etc. nothing new above the sun either...

        file date: June 27, 2013  

    ... file date: June 28, 2013

swinging from the Theotokos a spider's husk The first signs can appear 15 to 20 years before it manifests as the typical involuntary shaking of limbs and muscle stiffness. Mother began to hit and kick dad in her sleep many years ago. He was startled, she was startled. She would yell, scream and use a dirty language in her sleep sometimes sitting up with open eyes as if she was awake. I guess dad was really worried but he never expressed it directly. She has always been a gentle and kind person. What showed up at night could seem like a darker trait of personality but turned out to be Parkinson's disease. now and again hands moving through water Now the shaking have been subdued with medication but she still has agitated nights. Dad is used to it. When I sleep over I hear his snoring and sometimes a strange yell that doesn't fit in with my sense of my mother; my mind automatically tries to identify the source of the yell with something it knows but gives up. No matching da...

A panoramic view out a windows, i.e. nothing and a muddy lawn. It's black and white as if the colours have gone into hibernation. You can hear the wind howling outside, a kind of a subdued howling, but the tic-tocs of an old wall clock are alarmingly present. The only signs that time is actually moving are the occasional ravens and crows picking the mud and the sound of a mechanical device measuring a man-made division of the indivisible. cold or not the coffee's worth drinking ... Didn't bother to wash this morning. The water's too cold, the house too damp and cold. Haven't let air in or out the rooms since October began. We can't smell ourselves any more. We hardly undress when we go to bed. I don't know why we're in a country where they don't use duvets but only layers of blankets. Our blankets are worn and with holes. The first thing we do when we rise in the morning is to put on muddy boots. interrupting the wind you say we're ou...

New View Change. Opposite the room I use for painting and stuff there's the room where the women waiters at the inn change before and after work. There used to be no curtains. Now there is. budding apples my second-hand wall clock tacs rather than tics --*-- Nyt udsyn Tiderne skifter. Overfor værelset, som jeg bruger til at male i ligger værelset, som de kvindelige tjenere på kroen bruger til at klæde om før og efter arbejde. Der plejede ikke at være gardiner for. Nu er der. æbler i knop mit genbrugs-vægur takker mere end tikker … file date: June 18, 2013

In a highly complex future where the borderland between humans and robots is getting obliterated and everyone - humans, androids, gynoids and cyborgs - is equipped with an e-brain the Japanese variations of what may go under the term of individual entities still can't cope with English words ending on a consonant. Thus a rebellious chopper pilot, a parallel to de Niro's Taxi Driver character, comes the conclusion that he has to "Reset-o the World-o". day of tv who can blame my radio for being jealous The cynic might conclude that the Japanese voice actor just can't speak English fluently and that sci-fi always is a bit unrealistic. trying to convince her the drum solo takes forever - (Ghost in the Shell, Japanese anime for grown-ups, based on theories on communication, socialisation, what constitutes an individual, cybernetics, information, does it reflect or create realities etc.) … file date: June 16, 2013