Archive for April, 2010|Monthly archive page

Silja Serenade 10:45 pm

In Feeling of the moment, Place description, Writing on 2010/04/28 at 21:36

The moon paints a streak of silver on the black sea. Just at the edge of it, where the sky meets the water a series of lights mark out the shape of another ship. The wind is truly cold as it whips at my clothes and the pages of my notepad. The deck I’m sitting at is brightly lit but it is the blackness out there, perforated only by a big glowing disc, that catches my attention. The low humming drone of the ships engine and the rhythmic splashing of the waves fills my ears only to be pierced now and then by the shrieks of revelers taking a breath of air. To stave off the chill I take a quick run along the railing to the other side of the boat. Here there is no moon to light up the scene yet darkness is not complete outside our bastion of light. The sky has a faint blue tone to it and there are hints of yellow and orange near the horizon, one single star shining brightly close to where the blue fades to black. With no one else around, not even stray party goers, I find myself looking out at this mostly black picture and finding a sort of beauty in my lonesomeness.


Silja Europa 12:22 pm

In Place description, Writing on 2010/04/27 at 18:32

The air feels fresh as I walk out on deck and the sun warms my face and glitters off the calm ocean surface. In the relatively low temperature and chilly wind it quickly gets cold out here but I stay to ward off the drowsiness. The lack of sleep last night has taken its toll and now I need to clear my head to not fall asleep again. I can see the trail of swirling water snaking out behind us and another ship following close behind as we pass through the archipelago. The scenery is quit beautiful with the blue water and little island scattered all about. We pass in between two bigger islands which are more populated than the rest with houses here and there and close in on a not so picturesque harbour area. This is the half way point for our journey and the ship will make a brief stop here. Half way also means half time and I have to get back in for lunch.

Heidi hay tattoo 1:06 pm

In Feeling of the moment, Writing on 2010/04/12 at 20:20

All I can see is a white wall with a poster on it or alternatively the backside of a chest of drawers. There is a dull pain, kind of like that of being pinched, near my hip. After a few short moments the pain stops then comes back again,  coming in irregular intervals. Some times it is more acute, and it even gets so bad that I grind my teeth and clench my fists in anguish. I have to lie on my side in this dentists type chair staring at the wall and maybe the back of the artist next to us as the man working on me bends close to color in an area. The lines on my hip that he is now coloring have been there for a long time and i have been dreading to go here for this because I know the hip is a  painful place to get tattooed on. At the same time it feels good to finally get this done. And in the end the whole ordeal is over in a few hours, that is all it takes to get a piece of art on my body. Now I just have to wait for him to lift the needle from my skin before I can breathe out again.

Slussen, Örebro 2:32 pm

In Feeling of the moment, Place description, Writing on 2010/04/04 at 13:34

The water flowing past me is absolutely mesmerizing. The yellow-brown river bubbles, twirls and hisses past me, turning from yellowish white spray as it leaves the sluice gate to froth on the wave tops further down. Walking just next to it gives the illusion of walking on a conveyor belt and it draws me in, attracting me like light attracts moths. I want to take a plunge in the water but i know the current is strong and would carry me far and the water is cold this chilly April afternoon, it would be deadly. Instead I look out around me, the grass has sickly yellow-green color and all the bushes and trees are brown and withered.  The landscape looks sick or even dying but today, with the clear blue sky, the sun glistening of the top of this dirty old stream and warming my face, it is beautiful. I can hear birdsong in the distance and despite a few lingering patches of snow i can feel that spring is here.

My parents house 3:49 pm

In Reflections, Writing on 2010/04/02 at 14:42
A myriad of miniscule paint droplets cover my face – scratch that, a myriad of paint droplets cover all of me, my face, my hair, my arms, little splashes from the rotation of my paint roller. The droplets also cover the protective glasses I’m wearing and I’m glad that I have them, I can only imagine how bad this stuff would be if it got in my eyes but they cloud over my vision and it is really hard to see whether or not an area is covered if your vision is misted over by paint. I am bending over backwards in a position that would be deemed unfit by most ergonomics experts if they saw it, but it is the only way to manuever the roller efficiently and I am young and strong (and will have back problems when I pass thirty).  Standing here on a ladder, in this backwards position, all I see is white, the white on my glasses, the white paint on the roller and the white of the ceiling im painting. And what is white then? Sometimes it is open bright and spacious, or it can be pure and innocent while other times it is the clinically sterile of a hospital. So which one is it that I am spreading out so methodically? I think it might be the bright and spacious of the architect but this is a kitchen after all, a place kept clean for cooking so it could also be the sterile white. Or maybe all this is pointless, maybe it is just convention, it is white because ceilings are supposed to be white. Maybe these thoughts are pointless and I should just continue painting.