f. h. j. m o f u m b o e

2012-02-05T00:44:00.007+01:00

The shave towards the base, the snow across the fields, the woodcocks silent escapes, so neath and full of wonders, the days are filled with heat, and my spine is stretched as trees, my spine is stretched by earth.

2012-01-01T01:55:00.005+01:00

Image from my mountain this very day. Shot from from the foot, by the waters this year, due to circumstanses regarding weather and point of departure. This is my halo, the radiance. My greetings towards the new year. To whomever. Love.

2011-12-02T21:00:00.000+01:00

winter`s coming up

2011-11-26T22:05:00.003+01:00

Alles scheint auf uns herein zu strömen, weil wir nicht heraus strömen. Wir sind negativ, weil wir wollen - je positiver wir werden, desto negativer wird die Welt um uns her - bis am Ende keine Negation mehr seyn wird - sondern wir allkes im Allem sind.

novalis

2011-11-23T17:39:00.006+01:00

The local authorities did not approach our first sketches and ideas towards expansion at all. So here`s the new ones. And, as often seen, prohibititions, limitations brings forward even better solutions.

Honor all resistance as hidden intensions.

2011-11-19T22:58:00.000+01:00

2011-11-18T22:34:00.005+01:00

Regarding the craftmanship of cartography, the imaginary exceed the real, before the real is experienced. Then of course, the experience bring the condition of the absolute into consideration. Then again, the first impression of sense and emotion, arranged by the artists become this fellow to the experience in the fields, and the absolute is no longer the defined quality. A map is always set between us and the surroundings, a gateway, a false but nevertheless, a true approximation; we can`t see, cause the glance is catched by the eye and the brain, we can`t describe the carbon by writing, as the pencil is made of graphite. The key to all subscriptions, read in landscapes and senses, the learning of language is to be found in the random movement of patterns. Thereby the arts. Eduard Imhof, born in Schiers on 25 Jan 1895, was one of the pioneers in the field of map art and design. I just love stuff like this, and a wonderful article this here ... http://www.codex99.com/cartography/71.html.

2011-11-12T23:27:00.001+01:00

In the Almond – what dwells in the Almond?

Nothing.

Nothing dwells in the Almond.

There it dwells and dwells.

In Nothing – what dwells there? The King.

There dwells the King, the King.

There he dwells and dwells.

Jews’-Hair, you’ll not grow grey.

And your Eye – where does your Eye dwell?

Your Eye dwells on the Almond.

Your Eye, on Nothing it dwells.

It dwells on the King.

So it dwells and dwells.

Human-Hair, you’ll not grow grey.

Empty Almond, regally-blue.

http://vodpod.com/watch/3457544-mandorla-paul-celan

2011-10-30T00:15:00.004+02:00

Resting a platitude above the most intricate. Culture mimic nature. What got us caught between shiver and admiration we now take for granted.

No choice but spend my night at the airport, this complex building with its functionality, an interface that, according to our expectations, is leaving us without surprise.

Except its decorations of course. Done by the most prolific norwegian artists.

So, what lies underneath, where does everything come from? ..the milestretching cables beneath the floors..., the neon gas inside the glowing letters..., the pizza stuffing,..the people? Like this dream, distorted and put alongside all connections. Yet this is all this building is ment to represent; connection.

2011-08-21T00:55:00.002+02:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6X7E2i0KMqM

always alongside, always continual essential. all current radicalism consentrated and alive in this

2011-06-17T22:45:00.000+02:00

2011-05-22T22:13:00.002+02:00

sometimes this revelation; you recognise something you surely never ever have heard or seen before. yet you say: "there you are music", or "of course music". like it has always been here, alongside your living, unheard, unplayed, coming out of the same soil, the very genesis as yourself... and that i like. and why don`t people experiment more with the most flexible, rich and obvious instrument of them all... the voice?

2011-05-15T00:37:00.003+02:00

annual garden contribution. memories driven backwards, like forward, like last years approach towards the year before, like next years mirrors towards fields, woods, tears and hope. well...nuances. politics, ideologies..in a garden.

2011-04-07T22:22:00.006+02:00

moondog

the wonderful Louis Hardin 1916 - 1999

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpL0khWCgOA&feature=related

2011-03-25T19:44:00.004+01:00

online bookstores, vinyl complentations and spring coming up.

"L'uomo non potrà mai adattarsi alla Società"

pasolini

2011-02-19T19:55:00.000+01:00

2011-02-11T22:43:00.005+01:00

Tend to seek this site; a prosaic monument rised by a son in memory of his dear father at the spot where he died age 67,.. in the year 1819. Covered in moss and invaded by huge trees, it's just touching. The silence under the crowns, the ground water flowing underneath, the years, the loss.

2011-01-15T22:37:00.002+01:00

the most uplifting object found at this second hand store the other day. a crab pot, and of this beautiful tiny craftmanship it is. small crabs it is intended for, and it brings back the most wonderful childhood memories to this wooded soul. gonna give it to my nephew, his enthusiasm and joy the next coming summer will put a glow into the esperanto of emotions...the kind we all long for..the universal.

2011-01-08T23:54:00.005+01:00

2010-12-20T21:04:00.002+01:00

Temporary but somehow finite model of our livingspace expansion. It`s due to come into reality next year. Going to house nothing but books, studios and space for singing and breathing, it might turn into the Purest of luxury....

2010-08-16T18:27:00.000+02:00

2010-07-07T13:26:00.004+02:00

Just this employment of nothing these days, as the summer is high. Of wich, in turn, could bring about this association of ideas and spirits.

Well..... sometimes its nice to be blank...

read eat sleep..

2010-06-10T20:53:00.001+02:00

2010-06-05T22:33:00.004+02:00

The Norwegian composer Arne Nordheim is dead. And by that another one of the great modernists of Europe is gone, the last ones to really make revolt. And it made me really sad....I don`t know... a cultural fatherfigure he was, a wiseman and a shaman . So much beauty,.. the transforming of lifes own turmoil into rejoice, hymns and the thankfully.

I sit her playing "Wirklicher Wald" for soprano and cello solo, chorus and orchestra, based on a poem by Rilke. "Death Experience":

We cannot understand it, this going hence

that will not answer anything we ask.

Our wonder, love or hate are all pretence

so far as death goes, whose distorting mask

of tragical lament is all one sees.

The world`s still full of parts that we are playing;

and while we try to please with what we`re saying

death plays as well, although he does not please.

Yet when you went, there broke upon this scene

a trak of something real and understood

through the cleft through wich you went: green of real green,

some real sunshine and some real wood.

And we play on. What`s learnt with blood and tears

repeating, making gestures now and then;

but your existence and your tale of years,

removed now from our sight and from our ken,

sometimes descend on us like intimations

of that reality and of its laws,

and we transcend awhile our limitation

and play life without thinking of applause.

translation J.B. Leishmannn 1935

2010-05-22T20:26:00.003+02:00

morphing the image, spinning the spot, hosting the odour,

miling me out

2010-05-22T02:43:00.006+02:00

Never to subjugate our own time and implicate the subjective. I might be absorbed, but omit the absolute and renounce.

See... it never break down ever.

Live!

2010-05-16T19:42:00.008+02:00

Late spring in my garden. Still lot to come, still a slowly opening door. This even higher sky drifts through the leafs, the month of may is dancing. And this is what my garden is; a cathedral housing the seasons. Housing the nuances, the shiftings, the shades, the changeable,.. never repeating light, growth and greenth.

Some while ago I read about the aborigines. They talk about a system of invisible tracks crossing the entire Australian continent named by western as "Dreamtracks" or "Songlines". The natives themselves calls it "The ancestors footprints" or "The paths of Law".

They tell stories and myths of creation and origin,.. about "Totemcreatures?" walking across the land in the dreamtime, singing the name of everything crossing their way,...birds, plants, rocks, waters...and thereby creating the world by naming.

As a matter of facts the aborigines believe, if the world is to exist, it is to be named by singing, if not it doesn`t exist. "A land not sung is a dead land, ...if the songs are forgotten, the land will die" they say. And... if the land is to come into being, they have to walk, year by year, the same tracks and sing, and name rocks, trees...everything.

And me found this the outmost wonderful; the world comes true by our presence, our eye and our confirmation.

To see, to name, to sing, participate and love.

2010-05-02T18:35:00.003+02:00

Twelfth root of two,

more accurate: 1,0594630935929....One is often to ask where is God to find?

This is the musical relationship between notes. The figure to multiply every frequency to measure the next note in the tempered scale.

One of those places where spirit and science come together.

It is to be found...still, our image..

2010-03-21T21:13:00.007+01:00

to read on...

like..everything is of another format than what`s accepted.

like..what`s grasping me is what`s speaking.

I code myself with information, this overload sometimes: The light through the atmosphere, the smell, the colour, the significanse, the sincerity of memories, ..the presence.

And suddenly....the situation tells itself to drive., to open up, ...suddenly its there,

....suddenly it stops.

2010-03-13T22:02:00.002+01:00

images of sound ..installation made by nick zammuto of `the books`

2010-03-05T22:30:00.000+01:00

2010-02-05T21:30:00.004+01:00

Clichès maybe, ..glory from a calendar. This speaking is clear; I somehow understand everything given me, but my vision is disfigured. It has left my eyes and circles around me as if warning me; infected it is by private prophecies. Forewever removed from the beauty of seeing. Like this; the winter wrapping me into its own matter, its absolute.

2010-01-11T18:44:00.003+01:00

Extremely harsh winter upon all of northern Europe. Even the old folks can`t recall anything simular. Tought it is also for all of those birds relying upon open waters here in the south-western part of Norway. Weak as they might be by this cause, and of sparse food supplies, the foxes and other predators live their happy days.

2009-12-19T21:49:00.001+01:00

Chewgum planetarium outside Hiimsmoen

2009-04-12T21:08:00.000+02:00

Track the traces, trace the tracks.

2009-04-01T21:14:00.005+02:00

A shoppingcenter is to be build close to my place of living, and by that fact, and some expectations concerning traces and sights on the surface of the fields, archeologists started excavation of the area. The findings though, exceeded far what was to imagine. These are tombs dated 550 ad. ( The irregular holes in the middle are from plundering )

2009-02-24T10:06:00.001+01:00

Unbeleavable beautiful light pillars is reported seen at the nightskies lately. And this image is taken just some kilometers from where I live. Newspapers are full of speculations about the phenomenom. Here`s what it is http://www.atoptics.co.uk/halo/lpil.htm.

2009-01-24T22:19:00.008+01:00

earth...

even the word sounded strange to me, how unfamiliar...

how long had i`d been gone?....

how long had i`d been back?...

did it matter?...

I tried to find the rythm in the world where I used to live,

I followed the current...

I was silent and attentive..

I made a conscious effort to smile..

to nod...

to stand and perform the millions of gestures that construct life on earth...

I studied those gestures until they became reflections again...

but I was haunted by the idea that I somehow remembered her wrong...

that somehow I was wrong about everything...

stanislaw lem

solaris

2009-01-16T21:34:00.001+01:00

2009-01-05T18:41:00.001+01:00

Inger Christensen died on the 2. of january

Like no one else she gave me images both present and of another time, or.... of another way of experiencing time. And gluing them all together she did, like streams of continuity, consciousness, musical waves, seconds from line to line, years from word to word. And it all goes on right now, ..all these nearby inconceivable changing nuances around us all, and the freedom coherent in seeing these invisibilites. And just like this her work will live on, and adapt like all that`s relevant, into the visible.

2008-12-31T21:02:00.001+01:00

Images from my mountain at this years last day. Blessed with this extraordinal period of blue skies this part of the year, lets hope this is to be the global significance of the forthcoming period.

Happy new year to whomever`s reading this.

2008-12-27T21:30:00.003+01:00

A friend of mine brought me this to my birthday, pure vinyl purchased in Paris by courier. And spell-bound I am. Coming into age one tends to seek the glory of past, ...but the distance gained, the ability to separate, not being absorbed by the spirits of time once present, ...well it all makes us critic, makes us seek the true nature of the period. We may look back with a smile,...we may look back with this ironic distance,.....but this record....its the core of it all; the late seventies. And a beauty nevertheless.

Giorgio Moroder "from here to eternity"

2008-10-12T22:50:00.003+02:00

My garden taking its final sigh, before sleep, before the litteral dark. Like showing us our certainty of being present, being more than everything. Blending us to tell; everything must pass. This leavness of voices.

2008-08-09T21:20:00.004+02:00

Another one of these wonderful tv-programs about dead painters, living paintings. Rembrandt this time, the man who loved the grease and texture of oil painting above expectations and vision. Like us in degeneration, in decay, his wealth gained by marrying this wealthy woman, in love without doupt, but playing life like this lotto-millionaere, turned him into this above-life-being, celebrated, worshiped. Death, feeling of insufficiency turned him into this rebellion. Faces, faces, faces unmasked, wrinkled. Agony and disappointment;the difference between thoughts and reality, between sketches and finitness was all erased. Into how we are and always have been.

2008-07-25T21:37:00.004+02:00

"Does not we all carry this little child within ourselves, this child always being neglected, not being alloved coming into light? This wild little creature wanting to be its self? This what we are, beings trying to get access to our own feelings. A lot of us kill this child because of the inconvenience carrying about this lot of intractability. And to this degree we all enter this social life of conventions, order and rationality. Then again there is these many, creating these magnificant and complicated games to get access to this child within, instead of killing it, supress it. Art is such a game, about control and liberation. Acceptation. So here we are; the interresting thing is not this; the control and liberation in itself, but what this game is to project about society, mankind and nature."

Mehren

2008-07-20T00:32:00.000+02:00

2008-07-12T21:06:00.004+02:00

Just watched this television programme here, about Piero della Francescas painting "Resurrection" 1490, described by Aldous Huxley and others as being the best picture in the world. "Has this Mr. Huxley seen all other pictures in the world?" a child asked his teacher during the event. A marvellous question me thought. Nevertheless I had to admit my facination by its enigmatic expression. A lot of academics, a lot of views came to speech, but gave me no satisfaction, and I kept wondering what,....why does it leave this impact?

Its of course the face, the energy of the face, the power and the immediate of the face in whats to define as a motionless scene. But images like this florish; mona lisa, the icons, portrets of all kinds.

What is it here that makes a difference, apart from being a painting of the sublime all over. And I kept thinking.....looking at the face, wondering it suddenly appeared to me; the face is completely "raceless", its an image of us all coherent. And not of success it is about as to believe at first glance. Rather like anybody it talks, as we are...bottomliners, the average. Despite this, its resurrection, its victory. While the people of indifference and privilege are sleeping beneath. Not aware whats happening. This what I like; bringing the story of christ into everyone, into the lost ones.

I don`t know, ....wonderful world, hopeless project we do. Mankind.

By the way: on the left, nature dead...on the right side, living green nature.

2008-06-21T18:58:00.002+02:00

Freefall patterns:

7: the bipole donut

8: frisbee

9: taj mahal

10: donut

11: norwegian box

12: stereo bipole

13: double satelite

14: accordian - opposed stairstep

15: opal and zipper - zipper and opal

16: canadian tees - the monopods

17: buzzard

18: sidebody donut

19: compressed diamonds

20: cat diamond - the cat-accordian

21: lego - eye

22: old bone - compressed stairstep diamonds

2008-05-25T21:17:00.002+02:00

my third grade teacher told me i had no future. i run through snow and turn around to make sure i`ve got a past

hera

2008-05-16T22:55:00.004+02:00

I`ll string along, i`ll string along. Deaf ear to sounds tear.

Mitt døve øre til lydens tåre.

"sommersyner av forsvunne døde"

nabokov with butterfly

2008-04-30T20:05:00.004+02:00

views from a grain of sand:

any inclination (in life) is to be moved through, towards a backyard. Dispositions is nowhere to be. Just places to create mythologies, ovidian fickleness like drapery around the self. But, you know, like bubbles ready to burst they are. And if.....the world turns out simple, like grains and molecules to hold it all. This is how you disappear.

2008-04-18T20:58:00.002+02:00

Move and resonate

we have a name for almost everything

every noun to point towards sense of enclosure

raspberries, night of july, bread

maybe the words seeks its nature

maybe it`s all about nature seeking us

and my name

egil n......

meaning "the one to fear, from the farm at the headland"

if words seeks its nature

maybe me am the one to change

lost in nouns, in language,

"a virus from outher space"

2008-03-15T20:36:00.000+01:00

2008-02-23T19:27:00.004+01:00

Back on track with musicmaking and like joy it is; it actually sounds like music now. By disbelief and uncomfort towards making impressions and images within this channel; sound, like never before this really sounds like difference. This right here is the corner of my life now. This is all there is.

2008-02-10T00:40:00.000+01:00

the dam is opened, the water`s flowing free. Oh how i long for spring; the light, its lattice through leaves and thoughts.

2008-02-09T21:33:00.002+01:00

Lost in blues, by palmfulls after palmfulls it slips by reconing, but the sights and apparations makes me never get lost no more. This because i think the birds are the best of ideas, the Sitta Europea, Spettmeis. Visitting the bird table, the only one to climb my birch head down.

http://kirstenopstad.no/

2008-01-12T00:26:00.000+01:00

2008-01-11T21:54:00.000+01:00

If we are to survive, our will must stretch behind sunset, I read someone say. Last year I had my father here, helping me clean my terrace with the help of this amazing machine doing this purpose by waterpressure. By very few minutes my exterior residences was cleaned and shiny. My father, this enterprising being, had no intention to stop by this; every aged patina to bless my sight, this man pointed his gun towards. And me at the end, had to drag out the wall outlet in despair.

The one planting a tree have to wait this 50 years before thimber is to cut down. The one to trade the marked of values knows the score after minutes or seconds. Everywhere its all about rapid results. Long therm thinking, by the whole, is by helplessness not a part of the agenda at all. Is the world turning into this unity, or into ever more fragmented parts?

In this dark out-of-the-way corner of my garden, behind the outhouse, down in this forgotten tub of plastic, i found, the other day, this bunch of left-behind daffodils. Tiny, distinct sprouts, that, despite their misplacement, their helplesness, generated this positive, undrneathmyskin participaion to the eternity, of survival. I watch them grow. I watch spring come to life: the moving has come through.

http://www.longnow.org

2007-12-30T15:21:00.001+01:00

Begun wearing glasses i have, and little did i know about my poor visions; the trees actually have these tiny branches out at the end, thousands there may be upon a single three, ..and grainy, rich the world is. Slightly reborn is the feeling. The sad consequence might be this: My cadencial images of lights and mountains wich i am to present, (taken just some hours ago as a matter of facts) as this tradition is; to rinse my brain at the years end, will possibly turn out more kitchy than ever, ..happy new year whomever!

2007-12-15T20:41:00.000+01:00

The orchid family of Epipactis, to wich we have three species in N.way. Epicactis helleborine, have a mainspread here where I live, along the coast. And me the one to crawl among with magnifiying-glass, to watch allegory: The flowers have this lip, a runway for wasps to desire the inebriate of the nectar inside, and the wasps like lost souls by their the intoxication is doomed. The nectar innherent a narcotic fast habit-forming chemical , turning the wasp into junkies, crawling unconsciously from flower to flower in desire, carrying this load of pollen, more, more the wasps brain tells.

2007-12-01T21:20:00.000+01:00

the moving has come throught, were on the other side...now

2007-11-30T21:22:00.000+01:00

My son there, playing drums on "message in a bottle", and damn well too he does...am i proud?....well proudness.., among these "Brechtian-pointed" ideas of demonic virtues, ..how fortunate the man with none. This displacement of the quality essential.. , not about me this is. his this is about, my love towards... this whats saves me!

2007-11-17T20:47:00.000+01:00

NO DIFFERENCE IN CHASING OR WAITING II

bjørn endreson 1922-1998 one of the worlds greatest Beckett intrepreters throught stages in the ..70-..80.

......

as this man being a friend, a companion of both Beckett and Pinter my youth was pierced by his productions staged at the Rogaland Theatre,and through late tuesday-night performances on the single- channel norwegian television -nrk named: "Fjernsynsteater"...thanks eternaly

2007-11-11T23:12:00.000+01:00

no difference in chasing or waiting

2007-11-11T20:40:00.000+01:00

MNEMOSYNE

new entry: the patriarchal devilment

calculated and confirmed to be the constitutional dipped in fire and tested in this world, there is this law...this immanent prison of myths, dreamed to be trancedent because of systems patriarchal. Standing upon hills high by few, the male driven by masculinity and sthrenght, an oppportunity.. the obvious : the abuse of power. Every year 1800 women, and this only in norway, is exposed to violence. This is by my oppinion, the structure preventing the flow of love throughout everywhere... in every connection intimate or universal. The hierarctic structure in its over-and-under-classifications is the system to classify the human excistence by enlightenmemt. Vertical terms of life this is, and vertical cast shadows. ....love is the horizontal...love is the colour to obtain.

...mnemosyne...Hölderlin

2007-11-03T20:05:00.000+01:00

So...what am I supposed to say? Scientists have calculated us, our proportions to be right there in the middle of the absolute outmost and the absolute inmost. You can, in fact, by telescope look as far out-to the huge as you can into the tiniest by microscope, and we,..we spend our owl-time days here right in the center. I`m here to leave my name to the birds, the silent glide through nights, the curlew-call across fields of grass.

2007-10-21T02:46:00.000+02:00

T I N Y M A S T E R S O F T O D A Y

http://youtube.com/watch?v=DCKkK1IW5B4

2007-10-06T22:41:00.000+02:00

2007-10-05T19:58:00.000+02:00

Killed this cat by accident the other day; the most unpleasant experience. First of all the moment itself.....my road directed home is subsequently by cause of traffic-density, directed into detours. To see and sense landscapes by variation, but also to avoid the crowd stucked in stamping obstruction.

Driving along this gravel based road, along these remote farm-houses, this blessed being crossed the road chasing a party of birds. And me noticing his irresolution: chasing birds, or seek hide of the car arriving?

Too late the decision was made: run back to safety across the road...... The sound, the movement of energy propagating from the tires, through the body of the vehicle, into the nerves of my body, still vibrates inside me....da-dunk.

Naturally, I stopped the car, parked it and took this deep breath. I did not notice this other car gliding up against me. Sliding down his windows the man shouted "It`s dead"... "What?" I replied. "It`s dead, you striked it with both your front and hind wheels".....I took this glance in the mirror, the poor animal was still moving, twisting its body. "It still moves" I said. "Just convulsions before death" the man replied with this smirking, macho-like smile on his face, like this being the headpoint of the day, something to joke his family alongside the dinner table. Callousness prick.

The man finally disappeared, and the first thought coming to mind was directed towards children. Somebody did might concider this cat his best friend. Standing above the now dying animal, its life ebb away, wriggle and squirming, it`s glance motionless, I made the decision to make confession: I had to find the people housing the entity.

Pressing my pointing-finger at the doorbell-button this unceremonious woman came out. "Yes, we have a black and white cat, yes its ours, yes its dead, yes my husband will take care of the situation, yes thank you for telling, yes we`ve been waiting for this to happen".......but for me...still this da-dunk, ..

2007-09-15T21:36:00.000+02:00

Jesus, light of the world,..this neon has always been here. Throughout childhood, youth and hereafter, this statement have gleamed toward my eyes like ever. But during this period in the eighties there was this competiting advertisement nearby saying "Osram shines brighter" (Osram being a bulb factory). It stayed shining a couple of year before redemption. Lux aeterna.

2007-09-09T01:02:00.000+02:00

We are all sorry, we really are; you see, the sun is still this morningstar, this iceblow towards the eyes. And us, not the ones to "goodbye you". Under the surface; range of mountains to rise. Down under our kitchenfloors, deep beneath buildings; the unborn nature waiting...We are all sorry!

2007-08-23T19:20:00.000+02:00

Stavanger 2008, ...in a galaxy far, far away.

2007-08-12T20:49:00.000+02:00

...this sudden idea: full scale copies of rock carvings... the most thrilling experience; details came to vision, ...see the ships and circles emerge on paper....sacrosanctious...(a word that?)

2007-08-03T17:08:00.000+02:00

licking the ball of eternal candy 030807

2007-07-14T21:11:00.000+02:00

2007-06-15T20:19:00.000+02:00

P U S H W A G N E R

http://www.pluto.no/kunst/pushwagner/

http://www.cagalleri.no/?varegruppe=126&show=0&expand=4

2007-06-15T19:35:00.000+02:00

"I nourish this feeling of walking across this country wide, this plains with burnt-out carwrecks, these wispes of grass, sand, dandelions brightening the evening, endless, and the ability to breathe freely now as everything is destroyed"

the late Tor Ulven (1953-95) "Stone and mirror"

2007-06-10T20:31:00.000+02:00

Too early it might be, but my goodbye, my celebration of the downhill movement, the onelegged patience of dynamics is of importunation. The unselfish possibility, the drive upwards against gravity of life, nothing else ever is by plain observation true. Say goodbye without hope of reunion. So these days of significance, the ones to remember, is to transform into the mutual. Oh no, do not exchange this moment into this state of loosing or winning, to this matter of accounts. The moment will subordinate oneself into thinking. The direction towards the others, the ones coming after us. "To give renunciation towards the current outcome."

2007-05-19T20:58:00.000+02:00

Und die Ruder schlagen leise im takt

2007-05-16T23:04:00.000+02:00

2007-05-15T20:43:00.000+02:00

I made house......I..made house!

its just..yeah.

where i`m going to put my petitbourgeois knick-knack, whats to be deposit through the prosess of lifedrowning, "nothing more than tiny fragments of a finger snap"

2007-05-13T18:19:00.000+02:00

... i dont know...the accidental details reduced and confined to submit my understanding of being. Captured by this temporary game called present day, which,to the same degree, is to be reserved these details of life. And without tension, without sensuality reveal itself as something random.

So i wait in places where i live while waiting, and i write like winter, like something cracking.

2007-04-30T21:21:00.000+02:00

Finished my japanese-styled pathway during last weekend to this great a satisfaction. The pleasure of old fashion manual labour is without comparison. And the result is to be enjoyed far into my old age, ..projects ment to last ,into age and time...i might like that by its own sake.

2007-04-21T21:13:00.000+02:00

Where these are to be found

there`s great a likelihood of meeting this wonderful creature

and just so it did happen to me the other day, a sunbeam-blessed day of soilheated gratitude.

The latter exposed living wonder of evolutionary adaption the writer almost had (what would most certainly lead to a near-death experience) the pleasue of stepping on, mesmerized as i was due to the apperance of the butterfly Mourningcloake, (not my image)which by the way is this sight of almost once in a lifetime experience this part of the country ( I`ve might have seen it two or three times before!). (What a paradox!) Quite venomous this species is (the snake that be). Deaths have occured related to similar events.

love of life...

2007-04-15T01:43:00.000+02:00

mousefingeronleftbuttomtopresswhilepointeronimagetoenlargetext

I am no one but my hands, I am no one but my eyes.

2007-04-07T21:53:00.000+02:00

Runaway Train 1985

Film written and made by (amongst others) Andrei Konchalovski, Edvard Bunker, Akira Kurosawa... marketed and released as being yet another one of those (from the hollywood assembly) pure commercial actionmovies, but for anyone to see; a vessel of dreamed death towards the end of the track, all of us to enlighten the scenery as we pass by, ...is movement all there is?,.. this oblivion, this suction?.

2007-04-07T18:40:00.000+02:00

"No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore I am no beast." from Richard III

(...came to see this image first time as a child in one of my fathers books on ww 2. It`s shot at the east front some time during early spring of 45,...7-8 years old, something like that, it made this never to forget impression...)

2007-03-20T22:29:00.000+01:00

the pressure of air defeats a crowd of fifty in Regensburg 1654.

Renaissance brougth to light this great many people which by wealth, pure curiosity and economical ability, like it was their hobby, had the ability to practically explore the theories of the great scientists of those times. One of these delusions was the enigma of vacuum, the physical room of emptiness, also called in those days as Torricellis room. Named after Evangelista Torricelli born 1608 in Faënca, Italy, who came to the conclusion that the events to occur during experiments on this subject, was not so ever a consequence of inner circumstances, but all caused by this external pressure; the weight of the air itself.

A wealthy science-stalker of this kind, living the untroubled life, was Otto von Guericke, born in Magdeburg 1602 of a influential family of course, a man capable of raising attention towards his world of scientific playboyisness on the behalf of needs and poverty surrounding him, without any anguish. During a period of ten years or so he set to scene different grandeur experiments pursuing his possession, attending these grand performances viewed by local and national celebrities in amounts.

Beware, I`m now going to, hopefully like some of my previous posts, pursue my tendencies of indications, and attend yet another moralistic approach. Von Guericke, the first man to pump out the air of isolated environments. As a supposition to life itself, the man who, sorry to say (but who is?) , was not so ever competent , in this universal perspective, to see the consequences of affecting nature in a wider extent; a clock made no sound; candlelights faded out, birds died, fishes swelled up and died, a grape kept fresh for half a year... well, me this pessimist to conclude (man!) ; what an allegory! this restricted area called earth, our project based upon limitless growth, the alteration of gained balance. Oh... I just wrote another one of these blogs based upon the conception of destruction, but alas for the vanity of human hopes ; spring surrounds me here in Norway, birds and children rejoice by this.

My next blog is of exultation to be shure; my gardening laughter, ....help me out!

2007-03-19T19:54:00.000+01:00

2007-03-15T21:47:00.000+01:00

2007-03-04T22:10:00.000+01:00

semiconsciencia

ONA:

The Idealistic approach:

Nature is by no means perfect; thereby the filtration. By help of the centralperspective, mathematical proportions etc everything can be fixed. As an example; the perfect image of the female body, which by nature, never tends to obtain the absolute amount of qualities essential, or nature itself, which to the same extent, always seems to inherent these tendencies towards decay, death.

DOS:

The Mania-ristic approach:

The theory of independence. The shortcuts from social and cultural dependence, the divine flashes of lighting to strike. The intense compilation of the idea before fading away.

TRES:

The Divergent approach:

The drive of the creative prossess by its own means. Towards all directions, whats to be obtained will sooner or later emerge. Don`t start from meaning, it will come. Choose what is to be realised. The work give the ideas.

"Simplify, reduce, oversimplify, simplify, reduce, oversimplify, ..Yes, but so did Albert Einstein" Robert Wyatt

hola!

2007-02-23T22:41:00.000+01:00

Say hello to my friend, hibernating in my kitchen it was. Midwinter twas probably heated by my stoving, viril and restlessy on the run i had to cool him down in my frigde some hours, dazzling him into the mood of photographing. The heat of my skin made this a difficult task however, together with this species ability and drive towards dark places. (seeking my dark clothing all the time) Love of life orchestra is to be played, ...because..hah!!..isnt life on this earth worth celebrating. Have to get myself an encyclopedia of spiders, ... need to know more about my friends. Dont`t you?

2007-02-19T21:47:00.000+01:00

Spring any day now

2007-02-05T23:03:00.000+01:00

I don`t think I have ever actually been reading a profound explanatory analysis regarding the ideology of european fascism, and i am by no means trying to undergo this task here, don`t worry. But yesterday was spent paying one of the regions fortress-installations of ww2 a visit. The area have a lot of these due to its then strategic position; this was one of the potential gateways of allied invasion, the one later to take place in Normandy. The impression of horror represented by war always strike me by force facing these "tumors" of architecture which, like a fist, almost seems to be growing directly out of the ground itself. And i really think, by the impact buildings always have on humans, meant to be wrapped around us like clothes as they are, these stands to be explanatory to a larger extent than any text. Warfare might be simplistically explained as a way of serving this total purpose of shaping history in this collective understanding of reality, most often corrupted by former loss of cultural pride. As Clausewitz put it.."If war is part of politics, then it must also take shape of politics. Where politics become grand and powerful, the war of it will take the same position; this might go as far as war getting close to the form of absolutism." This is my link to fascism, characterized exactly by solely paying attention towards the right of the individual when living and collecting its freedom by the demands of the state, the race, the nation. The term "freedom" is only used when the will of the singular coincide with that of the state. Well, to me warfare itself certainly seems like fascism in nature..

Some say the ruins and effects remaining of wartime is to be thrown at the junkheap of history, but is`nt that exactly what history is; a junkheap.

2007-01-27T21:57:00.000+01:00

Without cronology, or anything.

part I

Hans Joachim Roedelius; a mentor in his ability to dismiss his own self. None the less, completely alive and living, rejoycing this everly spring. Me like this ability of positivsm, this just because of its difficultness to express.

"Wenn der sudwind weht" 1981

Pure beauty, a quality supressed, well..."wind in lonely fences" is to be played in my funeral
eno/budd "the plateux of mirrors" 1981

Despite me to a larger extent celebrating his subsequent publication "on the way to the peak of normal" this is submitted by cause of craftmanship. The mastertape consist of 7000 cuts and pastes, by scissor!, before sampling and data-editing this is handicraft and artistery without the elitism, a milestone it was, a door- opener. "movies" Holger Czukay 1978 Not film-music, but music-film.

The german music scene during the 70-80. A different approach, the rejecting of the american-afro influence. The beat and tone of civilization surrounded, a computerbrain-approximation.
The image of, is not what so ever without reminiscence of dissolvance in its own self. "longing", a word respectable. "Cluster; Sowiesoso" 1976

Scott Walker; who really knows anything about Scott Walker?. Praised to be the new Sinatra, he just dissapeared, a reclusive to be publishing remarkable recordings sporadic. Recordings where lyrics exceed music without conflict. Masterpieces! "Climate of Hunter". 1984

Mass in b minor; again, rejecting the subjective, in the service of the universal, arcaic but, "Soli deu Gloria", make this temporal.
Bach 1747-1749

"The Belldog" in its own world of darkness, we can all choose to understand the significance of remembrance, or, understand this remembrance as a substance of logic.
eno/moebius/roedelius"after the heat" 1978

This i like because of the complementary, what one represent towards what one presents , what is life being towards what`s expected. Friends absent, friendes present, animals participating, animals exterminated.Enthusiasm, hopelesness, "The monster stands at the edge of the winterlake looks out over the land of the silence stretching out between us, the king of the land of the silence, stretching out between us most like forever or a winter lake it's most like forever or a winterlake frozen" David Thomas "more places forever" 1984

A piece of work leaving me always in conflict with myself. Cry or laugh. Jump around or sit still. Listen to lyrics as a philosofer, or just grunt. Piss or drink. Live or die. Beauty or ugliness. Acoustic or electronic...
The Books "Lost and safe"2005

2006-12-31T16:06:00.000+01:00

i find it most satisfactory, if the condition of weather grant me the opportunity, to close the year by climbing my mountains. there`s just no one else to see for miles, so quiet, so beautiful it is the low incoming light, almost from under the clouds it radiates this time of the year. and me; this tiny dot in the middle of everywhere. need this perspective i do, emacipate myself from the conceptions of times, not to be absorbed completely by its seductiveness. nourish what`s still to be the non-pronounced within me, this sealed message¤?

2006-12-30T20:19:00.000+01:00

m o r e d u s t m o r e d e a t h

8 5 12 16

2 25

1 20 20 5 14 20 9 15 14

2006-12-26T21:01:00.000+01:00

m/x mas

" ..later on, a sudden approach, a sudden awakening collectively appearing, without notice, made us all realize the change, an obvious alteration of the surroundings. First of all, the light; so different, so indirect, .. apparently more reflected than direct. It shined upon us mainly from this distant glassy building , it may be.. or ,at least, shiny surface, orange, a blur, certainly being situated far from our position. And the hereby ground: muddy different, decayed. All this to propose this drama soon to be prevailed. It was just like we`d crossed some kind of border, and caused by our fatigude, our common sense of hopelessness, no one had been able to notice. Not before this mighty visual; the ground seemed to lie scattered about with beings, and all seemingly of a human character. Obviously, jugded by glance, all breathing but.. paralized.

How to describe this?...they all seemed to be indulged, somehow, to another reality, not present, not to us at all apprehended. But the strongest, most overwhelming impression; they all seemed to be suffering, and without doubt, immensely.

We all did throng above them, as humans always do towards people laying on the ground.."

2006-12-03T23:14:00.000+01:00

Nabokov chasing butterflies

In this apparently chained system of low pressures and storms rolling in and over this part of norway, i spend my days pondering about my insufficiency towards at all participate in dealing with information through these channels. I`ve always been the one proclaiming the importance of exposure, raised souls as we all are, despite the limitations, our inadequacies. But this frankness is leaving me with a sort of fear, this because the fundamental of expression is to be based on credibility. But to this, where are we? what or whom is providing us with the the essential, the quality of thoughts? New information appears all the time, new questions are asked, new facts are put on tables, altered, with no authority, no standard within gained knowledge. I might consider this being a collapse of the elitics (is that the word?) to what i`ve never been a part of, anyway,.. too dumb I am! The bloggosphere might be a scene participating to this, so this is something i perhaps is trying to avoid, rather just providing the sensuality of the symbolic.

2006-11-25T23:04:00.000+01:00

Norwegian words connected to the category; body - part of the body - organs - sounds - senses- etc. twelve letters:

a c h i l l e s s e n e

b r y s t h v i r v e l

h j e r n e s k a l l e

h j e r t e k a m m e r

h j e r t e r e g i o n

h v i r v e l s ø y l e

l i l l e h j e r n e n

l y s k e k j e r t e l

m e l l o m g u l v e t

r e g n b u e h i n n e

s l i k k e f i n g e r

s p y t t k j e r t e l

s t r e k k m u s k e l

s t r u p e l o k k e t

t o m m e l f i n g e r

u n d e r h u d s v e v