Ice cream and beauty

I don't really understand what's going on, but I've been here a month now, and I've been so busy almost every second. And almost always doing fun stuff. But my blogging has suffered as you've probably noticed.

The weather is mostly wonderful as well. The day before yesterday I could walk around in a T-shirt, and I sat on a bench by the ocean eating an ice cream (which wasn't particularly tasty).

I've been to the hospital to meet my doctor (not that I was sick, only to get acquainted), so now I'm enrolled with the NHS. Feels good. I've also open a bank account and joined a football team. Joined and joined, I've played one game. We'll see if I stay with it. It was great fun, but my poor body aches now.

I'm still not all settle, even though I feel like I lived here all my life or something. The one thing missing is a Scottish mobile phone. Maybe I'll get one today. Otherwise I've done pretty much all that I've been meaning to do.

There's a lot of film pf course, watching it, reading about it, writing about it. But there hasn't been all that much talking about it, and I like that. My friends here at Deans Court are devoted to other subjects, like radar, Jane Austen, birds, philosophy or biology, and I prefer to talk about these things. There's enough film in my life anyway. We've covered many important topics at breakfast, lunch and dinner. The concept of self and whether or not there's truth in beauty and art (well, we even discussed whether or not there is such a thing as beauty.) I argue that there's no objective truth to beauty and art, but some argued that there is a kind of psychological truth to it. I do argue there's such a thing as beauty, but that different people have different ideas about what is beautiful. Then I got tangled up in an argument for the existence of beauty which was depressingly close to one of those silly arguments for the existence of God (arguments which are all very unsustainable). I have to do better than that, but I was caught off guard, it's my only defence.

Chocolate

I was supposed to be at a jazz concert now but that didn't really pan out. Instead I'm home, eating chocolate and drinking tea. Organic.

Today was an exemplary day. For the first time since I moved her I felt like I really knew what I was doing, no longer feeling like a fugitive, no longer ambling around. I've developed a routine, I've got connections, I've got a Costa Coffee Club card or whatever and I've got ideas. It's all coming together.

And every time I walk through town I ever so often stop and wonder at the beauty of it.

I'm in control.

The Ocean and Carolina

Yesterday I did my first field trip and went to Dundee, the nearest town. Not much of a town, but with a well equipped Borders bookstore. Bought five books, The Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri (short stories by one of my favourite writers), Netherland by Joseph O'Neill (a novel), Ascent by Jed Mercurio (part novel, part historical fact), God is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens (on religion, or rather, Hitchens' attack on religion) and The Daily Druckerby Peter Drucker (about management). Ascent was an impulse, but the others were books I've been meaning to get for some time now but haven't for various reasons. But now the gloves are off. My three years in St Andrews will not only be spent on film, but on all the things that interest me. The aim is to expand all my intellectual horizons. (And besides, I got a 20% student discount.)

But I also found the time for an evening celebrating the Bengal film tradition, with wine, dance and a screening of Satyajit Ray's film Devi (1960).

And I bought the weekend's issue of The Guardian, which I will sink my teeth into now. The luxury of living in Britain.

Another luxury is living next to the ocean. I've been going there every evening, when it's dark and quiet, and I stand there and listen to the waves, all alone. It's a wonderful feeling, very relaxing. Soothing. This time I went right after I'd chatted with Carolina. Now that's a way of ending your day!

The photos are from Deans Court where I live. The garden, and the door from the garden to my house.

Wine tasting

Day three in St Andrews and I spend a lot of time shopping, and making friends with Ph.D. students and shop keepers. There's so much to think about, for example all the stuff you need to buy when you're supposed to live here for three years. The basic things such as soap, a tea mug, washing up liquid and such. I'm now the proud owner of a University of St Andrews' mug.

When bonding with fellow students it's very practical that I can almost always say, when someone tells me where he/she's from, "ah yes, I've done a film festival there". It's a good conversation starter.

It's been a lot of administrative activities these first days, including getting a doctor at a local clinic. Not that I'm sick, but it is mandatory, in case I should get sick in the future (I don't suppose I can expect to stay out of germs way for three years).

Tomorrow is the last day of this kind of practicalities I believe, after that I can focus on the job at hand. And the first task is to come up with a new, catchy title for my thesis. Any suggestions? I was rather thinking about "Knight of Hearts - a re-evaluation of the work of Hasse Ekman" but it has a whiff of pretentiousness about it so maybe not. Will sleep on it.

(Yes, there was a wine tasting of sorts at Deans Court today. Deans Court is where I live, pictures will follow.)

St Andrews

I've finally landed in St Andrews and my life as a Ph.D. student has begun. Much to tell, but also in much need of sleep. Silly time to start writing. More will follow tomorrow.

Quiet please, I'm quite pleased

I've finally managed to relax. These last three days have been rather good, and not at all stressful. And I see no reason why I won't stay that way until I go. I've slept good as well.

The time of goodbyes has arrived. Susanna, Maia, Sofia B, Sofia C (my cousin), Emilia, Celia, one after the other I've had to part with. And there will be more to come next week. There will also be more writing, as I will have more time.

But now some kind of sandwich. The hunger is insistent.

The September Issue

I don't know if you've noticed but it's much easier to post stuff on your blog if you're internet connection is working. Like I didn't have enough things to worry about as it is!

And by the way, Grace Coddington is my new role model.

OK, back to preparations for the big move.

Birthday Boy

I've had so much to do lately I feel like my body is on the verge of collapse! But even so I had a very nice birthday today. In all the confusion I had totally forgotten about my old tradition of watching a film by Clint Eastwood I've never seen before as a birthday present to myself. When it struck me it was a bit late to do anything about it. Also, I have seen all of Eastwood's films except Bird (1988), which isn't available here. But I'll get it in a couple of weeks when in St Andrews.

Once I wrote a lot about politics on this blog, but it was quite a while since now. I wonder why. Probably because I'm so fed up with most of what goes around in the world. But I read an article in last week's issue of The Economist about cooperation and cross border teambuilding in the countries that were once Yugoslavia. That was a piece of optimistic news which made me surprisingly happy.

Now, I will end this birthday with some ice cream and, well, maybe an episode of Friends, an old one. Just for me, me and my ice cream. And my thanks to Lisa and Annelie for making this such a lovely day.

Photos

I should of course have posted some photos of Filmhuset. But here are some. I took them last week.

It's late in the evening, hence nobody around.

The house of films

I've now only one month left until I move to Scotland and only one week left at work. The first part is thrilling; the second part is weird and sad. I love my job, and as I've been studying and working at Filmhuset, the Swedish Film Institute's main building in Stockholm, since 1993, it's been like a second home for me for 16 years. That's my whole adult life (so far). Today I've been taking photographs of the building, feeling a bit blue. Yes, it's more than just friends and family I'm going to miss, that's for sure. In all its ugliness, this is a dear old place.

Home boy, the artist and the explorer.

Been spending the entire day at home taking care of stuff. Calling banks and insurance companies, putting out advertisments for my flat, reading up on things to remember when moving abroad, writing e-mails to people I need to write to, and pretty much sorting everything out. (Yes, I am actually rather proud of myself.)

And now I can relax for a week, for I've done everything that was on my list (or rather lists, I wrote a secondary list during the day as the first became redundant).

Yesterday I spent some hours alone with Maeby for the first time, when Lisa was working. I was actually a bit nervous, imagining all kinds of scenarios which involved illnesses, disappearances, accidents and bad behaviour. Of course nothing happened and her behaviour was beyond reproach. She really is the most adorable creature. Later, making dinner with Lisa, I felt stressed all of a sudden. Stressed because I've only got five weeks left here, with them.

I'm going to be in St Andrews for three years. I've never lived that long in one place since I left home 12 years ago. Is that normal for a 35 year old? It doesn't matter whether it's normal or not of course, but I just wondered if I would ever settle down and get some stability. It's not really in my DNA, but maybe I could at least stay for five years at the same place? Or maybe even 10?Will I ever? I used to believe I moved around because I was unhappy, but that's not the reason. It's just that I'm restless and curious about what's over there. That, and that I get bored so very easily. When I was little I played with Lego, but I only liked to build stuff. When I was finished I didn't play with what I had built. Either I would build something as a fashion statement, which I would then put on display, like I was a Lego artist, or I would build things that were intricate and imaginative, as a challenge to myself. And then destroy them and do something new. The artist and the explorer, that's the two sides of me.

I also am a big believer in freedom and independence. It's difficult to reach total independence, but I do need as much as I can get. It's in my bones. I'm afraid of being tied down, locked up, controlled and watched. Another reason why I won't settle down, won't get a permanent job or a permanent relationship.

Even now, when I'm very happy, when I like my apartment, myself, my life, still I don't want to settle. It's not an option.

There're a lot of qoutes I like to through around, from books and films, and I thought about writing a few here. But I won't. It's not necessary.

Clouds

Had something of an epiphany yesterday. There's a part of me which is unconsciously keeping me at a distance from things, either out of habit or due to a fear of being disappointed. I thought I had got rid of it, but with Lisa yesterday, I realized that I hadn't, I had just forgotten about it. Now I know better.

Oh, it's been a good week so far, full of positivity, friendliness and love. And I'm actually feeling rather calm, much to my surprise. I awoke calm this morning. (I also awoke a bit too early but that's of no consequence.)

The other day I saw a program on Discovery Science, a channel I didn't even knew I had. The program was about men who believe that ancient monuments such as the pyramids were built by aliens. Their argument is pretty much: "Oh, come on, clearly they were built by aliens." Some were also saying that not only did the aliens build the pyramids and Stonehenge and various other things, but they did also create the human race by crossbreeding Neanderthals with aliens or something like that. This is something that explains why we humans have this feeling of abandonment and loss. And yes, NASA and various governments are hiding the truth from us.

There are of course far too many questions raised by all this, questions which will never be answered. One is how they find the time to come up with all this nonsense. But hey, whatever works.

Back home

It's business as usual. Running, bonding, sleeping, eating, washing and sweating. Still hot.

I'm sorting out my personal archive together with Helene. Stuff written by me, or to me, or newspaper articles I've saved, it's all being organized finally. Now it's like my whole life is spread out on the floor, or at least the last 19 years. There's been a lot of that lately, and it's both nostalgic and interesting. To see both how I've changed and how I haven't.

Another nostalgic thing is to watch The Cosby Show on TV. Haven't seen it for 20 years maybe but on one of the many channels the airwaves are littered with these days, they're showing the old episodes again. It's not the best in television history (although very influential), but it's comforting to watch. Soothing somehow. It's weird though how much the acting abilities differ among the cast.

I've finished reading Wilfred Thesiger. I liked the book a lot. At one point he's trying to get some sleep in the cold desert night. He's very hungry and even more thirsty and is feeling miserable. But then he asks himself if there's some place he'd rather be and when he realizes that the answer to that question is No, he relaxes, stops feeling sorry about himself and falls asleep.

And from Thesiger I've moved on to C.P. Snow. I'm now on my third of his Strangers and Brothers novels, The Affair. It's not great literature but he's sharp and knowledgable and they're unputdownable. After reading them you almost feel like you're a Fellow at Cambridge yourself, and that the selection of a new Master (as in The Masters) are among the most important things in your life.

By the way, I hope you know I have a film blog as well? Fredrik on Film. Go nuts!

11, rue Payenne

It was a most eventful flight to Charles de Gaulle, followed by a just as eventful train ride to Châtelet, possible the ugliest and most inhospitable station in Europe. Actually it's a disgrace and I don't understand why somebody hasn't had it fixed yet. It's been like this for many years. The French never lacks money when it comes to grand gestures and big infrastructure spending. Come on, get on with it.

But Paris! Oh, Paris! I love it. You will never understand the feeling. The sense of complete and utter satisfaction and exhilaration I feel every time I arrive. Not at the airport, not at Châtelet, but when I leave the Métro station and place my foot on the pavement. Then it comes, the serendipitous feeling. Calm, assured, relieved, at ease, overjoyed.

Catwalk

It's weird but since I left work three weeks ago I've felt disorganized and stressed, for no apparent reason. But actually there's a very good reason. I've had so much to do and I've not really been handling my priorities as a pro. But now I've almost done everything that needed to be done, and feeling more and more secure.

Today's been a good day. For a moment it looked as if I would be angry and disappointed because I was meant to see someone but she cancelled with very short notice. But instead I had a very nice evening, with some stadtbummeln, very good sushi, a nice drink and a fashion show in the open. (I do so like fashion shows, which might not be what people think.) And I began the day with long run, which went ever so smoothly.

Today I've also begun reading Wilfred Thesiger's account of him and two Bedouins crossing the Empty Quarter, in the south of the Arabian peninsula, on camel. It's a fascinating read, and as something of a desert fetishist myself, it was unavoidable that I read it, sooner or later.

Madame Bovary

Much to my surprise I did yesterday actually manage to have a whole day for myself, in solitude. I was not at home all day, but a little excursion is nothing bad in itself. It's what you do with it that counts.

The Tbilisi photos

At last, the promised photos of Tbilisi. If you click on the photo you will magically be transfered to the whole album. Go nuts!

Tbilisi

Weekends away

Since I quit my job I've had far too much to do at home. Both necessary things and things that are not really necessary but which I've decided to do. So apart from three days of leisure I've been keeping myself busy. Far too busy. But I'm coming to the end of the pile.

And I shouldn't complain, not really, because all of these things needed to be done. And I've had time to see my friends. What I haven't had is time on my own, just me doing nothing. But that time will come. Maybe tomorrow? Thursday? Oh, whatever. (Or rather, whenever.)

Next week I'm finally flying to Paris. Long overdue. But before that I think I should turn of my phone, pull down the curtains, and idle away.

A week at home

Been home for a week and it's been of week of much joy. Been working more than I had planned but not more than I could handle. But mostly I've been having fun with friends.

Usually when I come to visit Lisa and Maeby, Maeby is already in the apartment when I arrive. Now she was out and I was there when she came home and in one of the more heartwarming displays of affection for some time she ran through the apartment, jumped over the sofa and through herself over me, knocking of my glasses, and then began licking every part of me not clothed.

But I'm also rather tired since I have not slept nearly as much as I should've. But there's always time for that. Eventually.

Whilst getting rather to go out this morning I listened to Oasis. They really were quite extraordinarily good in the 90s. (What's the Story) Morning Glory ? was the soundtrack of my life then. I think it's the best album ever recorded. But that's just me. It's a pity they later lost it so completely. But there are a couple of good songs as late as Heathen Chemistry, especially Born on a Different Cloud. That I do love.

Streets of Tbilisi

Back from Tbilisi. Long night of traveling. Planes, trains and automobiles. Here are a two photos, more will follow.

The lining

Driving fast in a taxi on the dark deserted roads of Tbilisi in the night. Pet Shop Boys on the stereo. I ask not for more. My last day of my visit to Georgia is coming to en end and it's been one hell of a week. How am I going to adjust to a regular life after this, when I'm no longer traveling the world as the government's good cultural shephard?

Well, it's up to me. I have to act, and continue to live my dream.

Oh, yet another power cut. The third so far this week. Good thing the hotel has an emergency generator.

I'm getting more and more sure about myself. I hope I won't get to full of myself as a consequence. Instead I hope it'll make me more at ease and, well, less in need to show off. Still not there.

Smoke

Took it easy today, too humid for any activities requiring use of muscles. But the screening was again sold out. And I wonder why the hotel lobby (where I am sitting this very minute) is so cigarette smoke infested? Been fine so far in Tbilisi, even though everybody smokes all the time, but here in the lobby it's too much and my eyes and nose revolt. Gotta go!

The Man Between

I think the best time here is the evening, at my hotel, when the temperature is more humane. The first night alone, sitting outside drinking a cup of tea and looking out over the city, talking to Emilia on the phone, and yesterday and today enjoying the hospitality of my new gentlemen friends, by the pool. (Although I'm afraid I disappointed them today because they wanted me to say all my favourite movie one liners and I fail utterly. Sorry chaps!)

But the days are just packed as well. Today I was at the Georgian National Film Center on a visit (I admire their work), followed by a stop at the embassy (well, technically it's not an embassy but let's not get in to that right now) and then a walking tour around the old town of Tbilisi. Tonight's screening was sold out again, and more so. People had to stand in the aisles because more tickets were sold than there were seats. Yeah, I'm still not sure how the managed to pull that one off.

While here I sometimes get the feeling that I'm in a Carol Reed film, it's the ambiance of the city which reminds me of the Vienna in The Third Man or the Berlin in The Man Between. Although it's hot here so maybe Our Man in Havana would be a more appropriate reference? 'We should all be clowns Milly.'

My life as an expat

Long, hot days in Tbilisi, capital of Georgia. It's difficult to navigate around the keyboard, but otherwise I'm having one hell of a time. The city has all the decay and ambiance you could wish for, and my Georgian contacts are ever so lovely. I've also made some new friends, the pride of British judiciary. And with the embassy as my base camp I need not fear anything. Maybe just the sun, which has been unforgiving today.

I just read that Al Franken won the election as US senator from Minnesota. The election was last November so it was about time a winner was pronounced you might think. Franken is a comedian who, after writing Bush bashing books, decided to become a politician himself. As a Democrat naturally. I don't know how he will be as politician but as a comedian he can be very funny. My favourite Franken joke is from when he was a guest at David Letterman and talked about his new book tour. He said that he was doing it together with Bill O'Reilly (the right wing bully from Fox News). "I'm doing my book, and Bill his, Living With Herpes".

Now there's a thunderstorm over Tbilisi. I must go and watch.

The Long Day Closes

The week in Britain was so very quick and so very rewarding. I met all the right people and did so much fun. Whilst going from one place to another, always in a hurry, I thought that it's typical that I don't have time to see or do anything Londonish, and no time for musicals or plays. But then I remembered that I will soon go back. And be very close to London for three years. I hadn't thought about that before, but when I realized it the strongest feeling was, I think, a feeling of relief.

This week has been warm and summery, but my idea of not be at work didn't really pan out. As it turns out, there's a lot involved when quitting your job. It's in itself a fulltime job. Rats! But soon, soon, I will actually be able to experience something of this summer before it's over and long gone.

But it hasn't been all work and no play. Yesterday was actually rather decadent with a two and a half hour lunch with the very lovely Sue, followed by a couple of hours with Maeby and Lisa. Maebs was more intense than ever and this time she already had her ball in her mouth when she greeted me so as not to waste any valuable time before we went out in the park.

And now I'm at home, listening to the music of Georges Delerue and thinking that maybe I should have some tea before bed.

Maher on Obama

http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid6555681001?bctid=26316540001

I agree with what Maher says. But maybe Obama is just waiting for the right moment to strike.

St Andrews and the Middle East

St Andrews might be exactly what I'm looking for. Been here one evening and one whole day and it's been most satisfying, in every way (well, OK, the cleaning of my room has not been most satisfying, but other than that) and I believe I could be very happy here.

Iran is in turmoil. Imagine if Ahmadinejad was forced to give up and Mousavi became president. What kind of message would not that send to the good people in the Middle East and to that Arab street? No one knows what kind of president Mousavi would become, but he would represent something different. And what if he and Obama started talking. The people of Iran deserve much better than what they've got. More power to them!

In Lebanon the losing side in the recent election gracefully acknowledged defeat. When will every country in the region (or in the world for that matter) be as civilized as that?

Follow what's going on in Iran at Andrew Sullivan's blog: http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/

Children of Iraq

I actually started crying on the plane today when I read this article in The Economist about Iraqi children killed or injured by the Americans. A perspective on collateral damages. This was the worst part...

"In one hospital, a young boy, with both his arms missing, was the sole survivor when an American missile crashed into his family’s farmhouse. “Will I get my arms back?” he asks Ms Jaber. “What about my hands?” Nearby a weeping grandmother sits beside a little girl wrapped in bandages. Another American missile had hit the car in which her parents and their seven children were fleeing danger in Baghdad. They were all killed except for the little girl and her baby sister, who had been thrown through the window by her burning mother."

Iraq’s children: Saving the orphans The Economist

Rain through my windows

It's been raining for three days and the window in my bedroom is not taking it anymore. There's water on the floor. What's up with that? Is there someone I should call? For the moment I'm settling for an antirain dance. And tomorrow I'm leaving. Trains and planes will take me to St Andrews where I will wine and dine and check out the scenery. I will feel at home because it's raining there as well.

Now I have a real craving for chocolate. Do I have any? No. Can something be done about it? Yes. Must I leave the apartment and go out in the rain in order to do something about it? Yes. Does that sound like something that's going to happen? No. Is Mad Men on soon on Kanal 5? Yes. OK, so let's watch that instead. Yes.

Night of the Hunter

Today I've been playing balls with Maeby in the rain. I think it's fair to say that she was more amused than I was.

I've also been listening to four actor students do a reading of a film script. The first time I've done that and I liked it. Script developing is something I think I might like, and also be good at.

I've been so stressful lately it's made my neck and upper back stiff and it hurts slightly. Need to relax, need to get a massage. A long warm bath would also help. That at least I'll have tomorrow. And there shouldn't be any reason for me to be stressed tomorrow. But I don't always need reasons for that unfortunately.

I'm thinking a lot about what I will write when I get to St Andrews. The thesis is of course the main thing, but I have so many other ideas. Ideas for articles and essays. It's going to be so much fun and I think it's safe to assume I won't be able to wait until September. As soon as I quit my job in three weeks I'll probably start writing. I'm already writing down ideas.

It's a shame about the election in Iran. Ahmadinejad has not been a good president, neither for Iran nor for the region. Too much hate mongering and bad economic policy. They all deserve something better. Or did they all actually vote for him? I had a look on his blog by the way but it seems he hasn't written anything since 2007.

No, it's too late now, my political musings will have to wait.

Elaborate

is how you spell it. At work I all of a sudden completely forgot and the only thing I knew was that it wasn't spelled alaborate. At least that's something.

The eleven days of the Bergman festival in Stockholm are over and I have time to breath. Very busy day at work though. I haven't slept well lately either, mostly due to all the excitement. There's so much going on all the time everywhere. When will I get my rest? In July? I hope so.

I have exactly four weeks left at work, two of which I will spend at the office and to abroad, on the field. And then, come July 7, I will no longer be employed. Things will change. And it's a change I feel very strongly. My whole life, everything will change. It's exhilarating. And a little, scary? No, not scary but, weird.

The Wind, the Wipe and the Wit

What's with the wind? It's a perfectly nice summer evening, sunny and warm. But you can't be outside because the wind is too strong and ruins everything. Especially if you're trying to read a paper or a magazine.

I've for some time had a list of things I needed to do. But I've been procrastinating, for no apparent reason. Today I decided do to all the things that were on the list, and it took my maybe an hour. I could now either complain about the fact that I didn't do it before, one thing at a time, or applaud the fact that I did it all at once, in a focused and effective way, and that I did everything before deadline. I settle for the second choice.

I'm this very minute listening to The Hollies on Spotify. They are very very good, and I wonder how wellknown they are today. Bus Stop, We're Through, Hard Hard Year, Stewball, Very Last Days, It's You and the somewhat cheesy That's My Desire are among my favourites.

Yesterday I got very good news at work, moneywise. Now I can really relax during the summer, and possibly do that Malmö to Brussels to Louvain-la-Neuve to Paris-trip I'm thinking about. That would be something.

And now I want my tea and chocolate.

(Oh, yes, The Wind, the Wipe and the Wit was a catchy title I came up with many years ago for an essay about David Lean (the wind), Akira Kurosawa (the wipe) and Joseph L. Mankiewicz (the wit). But should one write an essay just because one is ridiculously pleased with the potential title?)

Endings

Yesterday I for the first time felt a kind of sadness of all that I will leave behind when I move to Scotland. It was at the library where I sometimes work and I was talking to one of the more frequent visitors. When he had left I realised that I would miss our talks. And there's going to be a lot of that in the coming months, a lot of last rounds, a lot of goodbyes.

But today, also, I felt a surprising kind of strength. I felt secure in myself. Previously when I've felt secure, it has only been in a certain situation, but lately I've felt secure in general, in my position in life. I feel comfortable with who I am, what I do and where I am. I no longer settle for punching below my weight.

So much to say. But one must also sleep.

(And to those of you who are familiar with the library's frequent visitors, the man I was referring to is not Elvismannen!)

Keyboards and such

It's comparatively quiet at the office, but for the constant clicking of human fingers on computer keyboards. I'm going through my inbox in outlook. With only a month left there's stuff to sort out, get rid of. Most e-mails serve no purpose any more, but some should be saved for future references and so go into my little archive. Some kind of monument over what I've done here the last years. But I'm glancing at the window. Is there sunshine on the outside? Should I take a manuscript and proofread it by the waterside? Should I stay or should I go? What would Clash do?

Poems and memories

The birds are singing and I think the sun is getting ready to rise. I haven't gone to bed yet, instead I've been watching In her Shoes and getting sentimental. 

I like that film a lot and I've seen it many times. There's much to say about it but what brought on my sentimentality tonight was the poem by e. e. cummings Maggie (Cameron Diaz) is reading to Rose (Toni Collette) on Rose's wedding. It's a beautiful poem called i carry your heart, and it's the kind of poem I'd like to know, well, by heart.

The thing about romantic poetry (in English) is that it always reminds me of Jenny. She once, when I was in Australia in 2001, sent me three poems by e-mail. I had written to her and told her that I was feeling a bit lonely and sad, and so she sent me those poems. I didn't get them until a few days later because I'd been out walking in the desert, out of reach. But when I got back to civilisation (Alice Springs in fact) I got them. I printed them out and went to a café and had a turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce and read them. I was so incredibly touched by them, by the gesture.

I'm not generally sentimental, but I have a few weak spots, or what you might call them, and Jenny is such a spot. And the funny thing is that it doesn't have to be those three particular poems to remind me. None of the three poems were by e. e. cummings for example, like the poem in the film, but it doesn't matter. It's not the poem in itself, it's the poem as such that reminds me. 

My life would be considerably poorer without the poems, without Jenny. And even though we haven't seen each other for many years, my happy memories will never disappear. 

And now, I borrow my last words from another poem by cummings, maggie and milly and molly and may. The last words are:

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)

it's always ourselves we find in the sea

Meet Me in St Louis

There are so many good films out there, so many great directors. Meet Me in St Louis is definitely one of those films and its director Vincente Minnelli one of those directors. Smooth, complex camera movements and expressive colouring, exquisite tenderness and emotional frenzy, are the most obvious hallmarks of his films, but there's more. There's such passion, such depth of feeling, it's sometimes close to unbearable. But, as I said, there's also tenderness. Here's a beautiful scene with Judy Garland seducing the man she's after.

A done deed

I just finished my dvd column for the next issue of Filmrutan (The Film Image) and it's such a relief. Deadline was today and with everything going on I haven't had the time to sit down and do it calmly and quietly but had to do it all in two days, or rather two evenings. 

But now that's over and done with, and not only that. I've done a lot of things this week that was important and pressing, and I will actually be able to relax this long (four days) weekend. There's a part of me that's hoping it's going to rain and that I will stay in bed, reading The Atlantic and listening to, say, Sophie Zelmani.

Regardless of the stress, it's been a very good week. Nice weather, nice friends and yesterday a very good talk by Anthony Beevor about D-Day and the allied invasion of Normandy on June 6 1944. Been wanting to read his book about the Spanish Civil War for many years. Now might be the time to actually do it.

Childhood, mine and/or others

To follow up on my last post. Of all the things that needs to be done in India, maybe the most important and difficult thing is to take care of the rampant corruption. And as for the rest of my Saturday, yes, there was time for both. I actually sat outside for maybe four hours reading in the sun. Oh, it was heavenly. Then the sun disappeared behind the trees and there was nothing heavenly about that I can tell you.

I was awake when Lisa called me this morning, but I didn't feel like I was. But soon enough I was myself again and we were in her sofa, Maeby sleeping on my leg. I think it's safe to say that that is what I'm going to miss the most.

Yesterday I visited the spring exhibition at Konstfack (University College of Arts, Crafts and Design) and it was slightly boring. There's usually something that's abjectionally pretentious and something that's inspiring and/or beautiful. This year I found nothing to excite me. Is it me or was it a bad year?

In the evening me and my brother saw Les quatre cents coups, François Truffaut's first feature. It's a film very dear to me, like few other films. I've seen it many times, and the occasion this time was that it's 50 years since it had it's premiere. It's just so wonderful, the music, the images, the sadness and the tenderness. It feels like it could've been about my own childhood, or, since it's not because my childhood was anything like the one shown in the film but because it touches me so, at least that of a close friend. But in away it is that of a close friend, because I've always felt like Truffaut was a personal friend, even though I never met him. I was ten years old when he died. 

(Here's a wonderful scene from the film, Antoine in front of the mirror(s))

India's election and personal stuff

Yesterday I had breakfast with Lisa and Maeby, lunch with the deputy prime mininster and dinner with my cousin, the children and the cats. In between I got a fee waiver scholarship from St Andrews. £11 000 or something. I hope they will find it was money well spent.

Congress (and the alliance UPA) won the elections in India, and that's a relief. There are many parts of BJP (the main opposition party), such as it's close links to RSS (an extreme hindu nationalist organization) which are downright scary. Hopefully this election will lead to a more powerful government, with Congress less dependent on the communists for support, because there's so very much that needs to be done in India. Reducing poverty, expanding infrastructure, making peace with Pakistan and in Kashmir and reforming the political system (for example getting rid of the overwhelming number of harden criminals in parliament and in regional politics.) India may be the world's biggest democracy but it is also deeply flawed.

Now I'm listening to Gustavo Santaolalla and wondering what to do today. Low-key is the theme. I recently got up. There are two options. Either return to bed and read the latest issue of The Atlantic, or go on a biking trip with a book. But why choose, there's time for a bit of both.

Coincidence?

It just occurred to me that I have a book with Truffaut's letters, translated from French to English by Adair.

Rain and Tea and Influences

It's been a windy day and now it's raining. Soon my tea is ready and I will drink it whilst either reading Surfing the Zeitgeist, a collection of Gilbert Adair's culture criticism from the 1990s, or watching the last episode of David Attenborough's The Trials of Life. 

Adair is occasionally confusing, such as when he says that there's no such thing as television history (because according to Adair there has never been a classic tv-series or classic show which has stood the test of time like old movies have, which if you ask me is just poppycock) but more often than not he's rather brilliant.

Attenborough is never less than brilliant, but more on him later. He is after all one of the defining individuals in my life, outside friends and family. (Others that belong in that category are Alfred Hitchcock, François Truffaut, Enid Blyton and Jan Lindblad.)

Department of Foreign Affairs

You can really tell a lot about someone's feelings towards you by the way she introduces you to other people. I've thought about if before and yesterday and today I've had ample reason to think about it again. I spent yesterday with Lisa and Maeby. Leaving them won't be easy...

At work I've begun clearing the deck. I'm throwing away lots, both physical and digital stuff, and it's ever so satisfying. And just emptying the mailbox is a fulltime job, make no mistake about it! It's a good thing I have two months left. But it's not all deck clearing, I spent two hours at a cocktail party at the department for foreign affairs. Much fun.

I've taken a break from Pankaj Mishra, and I'm reading David Hume instead. As Scotland's foremost philosopher, I feel it's my duty. It would be something if I were to get my Ph.D. in 2011, his tercentenary.

But actually, I'm supposed to be writing a short essay about Bergman's soap commercials now so no more blogging for now.

don't think of me

It's late, I'm drinking tea and listening to Dido. When I was in Auckland, New Zeeland, in 2002 I spent a lot of time at the big Border bookstore which also sold music and where you could listen to the albums for free. Dido was what I listened to most, Dido and Mano Chau.

I've got a new bed, much bigger that my previous, and it feels good. I've got some books with me in bed, four of them actually, lying on top of each other, and when I wake up, I don't want to leave the bed but stay there the whole day. If it wasn't for the warmth and the sun I probably would. Apparently it's going to rain on Monday so...

Right now I'm reading Temptations of the West: How to be Modern in India, Pakistan and Beyond  by Pankaj Mishra and Britton on Film - The Complete Film Criticism by Andrew Britton. The first one is excellent, Mishra is a favourite. He's writing about politics in South Asia, both on a personal level and on a national level. Here he's slightly repetitive, which may be due to the fact that the book as a collection of essays previously published in various newspapers and magazines, and now re-edited for a book. 

Andrew Britton is also good, when writing about films. When writing about politics he's much less astute. It's the other way around with Mishra.

St Andrews and Georgia

Great news indeed! Today I've been accepted at University of St Andrews and it's been decided that I'll go to Georgia in June to talk about Ingmar Bergman at a film festival I've put together. Not bad for a late April Wednesday. 

How shall I celebrate? Well, I'm not really one for celebrations so I leave that for someone else. I settled for being very happy.

follow up

In my post from last Wednesday I said that I was going to do something though, if my nerves didn't fail me. Well, they didn't. I did what I had planned to do. I hope that this new habit I've got, of doing and not just talking, is here to stay.

everyday philosophy

A lot of arguments are based on the fact that those arguing are using different definitions for the thing that they are arguing about. This is often not properly understood. But definitions are important, as this example from Gulliver, The Economist's blog on travel, makes clear.

United Airlines and its larger passengers Gulliver Economist.com:

"The arguments, it seems to me, boil down to the question of what exactly a ticket is.

Is it a) the guarantee of transport for one passenger to an agreed destination? If so then the airline must provide seating for all, and any inadequacies must be addressed at no extra cost to the passenger.

Or is it b) the guarantee of a certain amount of space in the aircraft? If so, then a passenger needing more space is obliged to buy another ticket."

I'm here

Yes, I'm good. I feel very very good. Sharp. Is this life? It's some life.

Dreaming of the Queen

The very first album I ever bought was Pet Shop Boys' second album Actually. I was in my early teens and I wanted to have it on cassette, but I couldn't find one. I tried all the record stores in my suburb but with no luck. But in the suburb were my grandparents lived there was a little store that sold TVs, radios and such. So I tried there. Alas, they didn't have any cassettes. But they did have it on LP, and the clerk suggested I buy that instead because it would last longer and I could easily copy it to a cassette at home. And so I bought it even though if it was slightly more expensive that I had hoped for.

I've been a fan since then, and I still am, just as much. I have all the albums. There's just one thing missing, Chris Heath's book Pet Shop Boys, Literally. It seems to be out of print.

I wonder if I would be able to do a top ten list of my favourite PSB songs. Probably not.

I'm feeling calm and happy. I feel like I could do anything. (Which makes you wonder why I'm sitting here writing...) Tomorrow I will do something though, if my nerves doesn't fail me.

Maeby and Locke

A dog is a man's shoes best friend.

There was a time when I didn't much care for dogs. That was before Maeby. Now I care about very little else. There's so much love in her it's sometimes unbearable, if for no other reason than that she is so very physical in expressing it. After a few hours no part of my skin which she's been able to reach with her tongue and her teeth (that is my face, ears, neck, arms and hands) is left unmolested. It's a good thing I'm not her owner but only her very good friend.

I had a cold last week but now I'm well and good again. Not very eager to get back to work though, so it's a good thing I have 26 days of paid vacation which I must take advantage of before the last of June. There will not be many office hours the coming month.

I've bought myself some books, and begun reading one called Locke, unsurprisingly about Locke, the British philosopher from the 17th century. Always had a soft spot for him so it's about time I read a book entirely devoted to him. Have read a fourth of it and I like it.

Other than that I spend most of my time listening to Pet Shop Boys. They're so very very good. 

post easter post

When I wrote about Israel some weeks ago I was worried about Kadima not getting a seat in the government. Now it seems everybody but Kadima is in the new government. We'll see how that pans out, But it doesn't really matter who's in charge as long as the peace process, such as there is, continues and gives birth to something lasting. 

It's finally warm here and I've started running. It's going very well and it feels good, very fulfilling and satisfying. I'm simultaneously reading Haruki Murakami's book I wrote about in my last blog post, which is also fulfilling and satisfying. For some reason I only read it in the bathtub, bathing. Oh, well.

I've also finished reading Cosmopolitanism, which I also mentioned in my previous blog post. It was slightly disappointing. It's written by a professor at Princeton University, Kwame Anthony Appiah, a philosopher, and I had expected more. I agreed with most of what he wrote, in fact I've written myself most of the same things he wrote. But shouldn't he, with all his experience and age, gone farther than me? On the other hand, if he can write a book like that, so can I. One of these days I'm gonna. The working title is at the moment Transit.

more time and more keys

I think finally I'm beginning to get it all together (including my keys) and can actually allow myself some time off, doing idle things. I even had a bath yesterday. Fancy that. Whilst bathing I began reading Haruki Murakami's latest, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. It's not a novel but his own thoughts about his life, especially his life as a runner. It seems amiable enough. 

I've also begun reading Cosmopolitanism, by Kwame Anthony Appiah. I feel strongly that it's a book for me. I'll tell you later if it is. Just let me finish it.

I'm working on my application for St Andrews. It's going quite well. A bit back and forth, but that's to be expected I suppose. And it's very inspiring, just thinking about it, and a lot of ideas for articles and papers are popping up in my head. Right now I feel like I can do anything, and not only academically and creatively, but socially as well. It's a good feeling, and I hope it lasts. 

time and keys

When coming home, realising that you and your key are no longer together is not the most joyful of discoveries. But I'm keeping my upper lip stiff. I suppose the key decided to spend the weekend at the office. It's a good thing I have relatives with spare keys.

These last three weeks have been intense and hectic to say the least. First four days in London, which were packed with meetings, museums, plays and films, most of it related to Ingmar Bergman. Not the film though, that was Joseph H. Lewis' magnificent and outrageous Gun Crazy from 1949. It's has such master of framing and camerawork it's uncanny, and the sexual tension between John Dall and Peggy Cummins is quite something.

And after London, four big projects at work have been taking up all my time. And then there was my mother's 60th birthday and... well, you get the idea. But it has been fun almost every single minute of every single day. And that's not bad . Not bad at all.

Last I wrote I mentioned Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road. I've now read it, and it was rather good. But it was my third book by Chabon, and every time I've been slightly disappointed. It's like they're not as good as they should've been. But I haven't given up yet. Soon I'll sink my teeth into The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. I've also read P.J. O'Rourke's book about Adam Smith, which I enjoyed immensely. By the way, O'Rourke's piece in The Atlantic, about the future and the fact that we seem to have lost faith in it, is among the best articles I've written in a long time.

In Israel they still haven't manage to form a government. But apparently Kadima is out of the picture for the time being. I'm worried. But the new administration in Washington is making some promising sounds. And speaking of international politics, it's appaling and terrifying how Pakistan is deteriorating further and further, whilst the politicians are more inclined to beat up lawyers than tackle insurgents and terrorists, not to mention the fast diminising economy. What if it becomes a failed state? Then where would they be? Or we? 

I have Pankaj Mishra's Temptations of the West - How to be Modern in India, Pakistan and Beyond right next to me, and I'll probably start reading it over the weekend. I love his writing, what little I've read so far, and I have great hopes for this collection.

But now it's time for tea. Bon weekend!

kadima

It would be very nice indeed if Kadima won the election and were able to form a government. Politics in Israel seems to have run out ouf steam, and they need time and willpower to form a new outlook. Will they succeed?

Time, and it's Quickness

It's already the 8th of February and it seems to me it was Christmas just the other day. What's that all about?

Last I wrote I complained about being at work but, as predicted, the next day went by in high spirits. I'm feeling confident and happy and it's ever so nice. It also helps that the atmosphere at the office is warm and playful. At my previous job on the other hand it seems it's been going downhill since I left. It's a shame actually.

Today I've seen Casablanca on the big screen, with a new print. It's certainly not the best of movies (and Howard Hawks' superficially similar To Have and Have Not made two years later is ever so much better), but it's still a very good film. It works on three levels: as a romantic thriller, as a political allegory about the Second World War and, today, as a mythological story which everybody knows and which has become a part of everyday life, with the music, the characters and the dialogue having a life of it's own. It has a kind of aura around it that very few films have. It's also a triumph of atmosphere and setting with Michael Curtiz' raw poetry being the perfect complement to the mixture of heartfelt romance and hilarious cynicism.

While I'm on the subject of the Second World War... I've also finished reading Unconditional Surrender. It's, as I've said, the last part of Evelyn Waugh's war trilogy Sword of Honour and it gets darker and more tragic as it progresses, up to its devastating climax. It's very good, and it made me want to reread Brideshead Revisited, still Waugh's masterpiece.

My next book is Gentlemen of the Road, by Michael Chabon. More on that later. Now I'd like to eat some crackers.

Beauty and the Ocean

There was precious little eating and maybe even less sleeping during my weekend, but that was only because there was so much fun going on I didn't particularly want to, or felt the need. And living with Lisa was a delight. She's delightful so that shouldn't have come as a surprise but still, you never know, do you?

There were a lot of strong emotions involved as well. For starters a very dear friend told me she and her girlfriend are getting married and I was surprised by the joy I felt, and the tears. There's so much beauty in the world all of a sudden, where was it two years ago? 

I had two perfect film experiences as well, Frost/Nixon and The Song of the Sparrows.

Today's been a long, rather tiresome, day at the office. I did my stuff on autopilot, still not recovered from the shock of being back there. Tomorrow will be better. I'm prepared now.

Now I think I'll read the last pages of Unconditional Surrender. It's good. Very good in fact. But first I'll listen to Sophie Zelmani. The Ocean and Me.

Remembrances and trilogies

There never seems to be enough time, and I'm always thinking about all the things I want to do but never actually get around to. Like write an enchanting blog in English. But I just realized that since I actually already have one; albeit one I haven't written on for quite some time, why not continue the good work I once started.

So here I go again. Let's see for how long I manage to keep it up this time.

Tomorrow I'm going to the film festival in Gothenburg with my friend Lisa. It's a business trip but I'll try to see some films of my own choosing as well. The film festival is always one of the highlights of the year and I see no reason why this year should be different. It's also the first time me and Lisa go on a trip together and it'll be interesting to see if that pans out. The longest we've been alone together before is a couple of hours and now it's for four days.

I've just begun reading Unconditional Surrender, the last part of Sword of Honour, Evelyn Waugh's trilogy about the Second World War, or rather about Guy Crouchback's experiences during said war. The first two parts were amiable enough and I'm looking forward to finishing this one as well.

Changes and Changeling

I just saw Changeling and it was the scariest film I've ever seen directed by Clint Eastwood. And I cried as well. It was maybe a bit too obvious sometimes, and I missed the typical sardonic humour which Eastwood is so good at, but on the whole it was a good film, and beautiful to look at.

It was set in Los Angeles in the late 20s, and it was not a pretty picture it painted of the city. "How could people be so cruel back then" you wondered. And then you read a story in the International Herald Tribune about a Palestinian mother who watched her children burn to death after being bombarded with white phosphorous and you realize that people are just as cruel today.

In Washington Post today, ex-president Bush's speechwriter Marc A. Thiessen wrote a column where he bragged about the fact that Bush could say that on his watch no terrorist attack occurred on American soil since 9/11, and he wondered (or rather questioned) if Obama would be able to say the same. That's a bit of a thin argument, since it's equally true that on Bush's watch the worst terrorist attack ever on American soil took place. But never mind, I understand if the team around Bush are upset and maybe even scared. 

Me, I'm tired after a very long and varied day. Good night.

Island weekends and inaugurations

I spent the weekend in Visby, at the island of Gotland, and it was heavenly. So quiet and relaxed it was almost unreal. I've been there many times, every time with someone different, and every time I've felt I must buy a house there. Not to live there permanently, but to have as a retreat, a haven. I think I need that since I seem to be incapable of relaxing at home. But would I be able to relax, even if I had my own house there? Wasn't the fact that I visited my best friend in her home there, and the fact that our relationship is so very relaxed and comfortable, why I felt so good and so at ease? If I had been there all alone I would probably not have felt the same kind of wellbeing.

I saw Obama's inauguration speech and it was the first speech of his I've seen in full. It was about time, and now that I've got a taste for it I want more. It was a sometimes beautiful speech, surprisingly critical of Bush, who sat next to him, but also full of the humble self-confidence that has all along been Obama's greatest asset. If he stays on message and watches his back he might actually be able to (almost) live up to the ridiculously high expectations everybody has.

It was very nifty by the way how the gas war between Russia and Ukraine broke out the day after France handed over the EU presidency to the Czech Republic and ended the day before the inauguration of Obama, as did the war in Gaza.

Cold days and no gas

The fact that most of the EU is currently without gas is of course totally unacceptable. A liberalization of the energy market and the building of a more flexible supply system between EU Member States must now get priority once and for all. It'll make the EU more secure and more solidary, and maybe even keep gas prices down. The EU also needs to move ahead with getting more gas from other countries and sources than Russia and Ukraine. But that's easier said than done of course.

The EU must also improve their crisis management and work closer together. When Russia or Ukraine, or any other country, causes trouble the EU should answer in one voice. Various countries shouldn't send their own missions to Moscow. That's perhaps understandable, but it's still objectionable.

But it's the same old story. When trouble brews, the EU splinters. I think that that is what annoys me most.

Political blogging (on Gaza and other conflicts)

Two things are all too common when it comes to blog posts on the war between Hamas and Israel, and indeed postings on most of the various conflicts around the world. The first thing is that the blogger is saying that whatever story he or she is telling, mainstream media is either not aware of it or deliberately keeping quiet about it. The other thing is that the blogger complains about how biased and unbalanced the mainstream media coverage of the conflict is. 

Well, the first these statement is almost never true. The story is usually out there. As for the unbiased and unbalanced reporting, this is almost always much much worse in the blog posts and the comments to them. My mainstream sources such as The Guardian, BBC, The Economist, International Herald Tribune or Svenska Dagbladet are handling the Israel/Hamas conflict very well, with the occasional blunder. (I will return with a list of recommened reading.)

It sometimes seems that to be a political blogger you have to be self delusional. Which obviously isn't true either (as this blog is a living proof of...) but is so depressingly often the case. I will not give any specific examples now, but just look at any random blog and chances are you'll see a good example of my point.

The conflict is much to complicated to get right in a few short lines in a blogpost, that goes without saying, but maybe if the bloggers (or facebook group instigators for that matter) spent more time actually trying to understand the conflict instead of raving about their own high moral standing and/or raging against mainstream media, it would make the world a slightly better place.

Books I've read lately

I've started the year by reading After Dark by Haruki Murakami and L'Africain by J.M.G. Le Clézio. Haruki I've read before, he's a favourite of mine, and After Dark didn't disappoint. It's short, precise and to the point, whilst also dreamy and horrorlike. The writing is, as always, wonderful, this time translated by Jay Rubin. It does benefit from being read from cover to cover, preferably at night of course. It takes place during one night, involving a young man playing jazz, a young woman reading, a Chinese prostitute in trouble and the violent man who beat her up and stole all her possessions. There's no reason why these four people's lives should be interconnected, except that they are.

L'Africain hasn't been translated into English yet, but I've read the Swedish translation, (Afrikanen), and it was rather good. It's only 88 pages, about Le Clézio's childhood and in particular his father. It's a quick rewarding read, both if you want to learn more about the author and/or what it was like being the son of a white doctor working in colonized Africa.

I've also begun reading His Illegal Self by Peter Carey, but more on that when I'm through. I does seem promising.