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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.