Weeping Norway

Gypsy Player


I've opened my window to let the outside in. I bought a loaf of fresh bread at the supermarket and cut some of it up into slices, put butter on it, and sat by my desk reading and drinking orange juice. I walked outside this morning.

Norway was weeping, crying softly with her head resting on the sky and tears falling. A gentle mist fell down onto everything while I walked out and its still there now. Like some Viking King from long ago died and all the people, his knights and servants and all the village; his queen and family, they traipsed along the path towards the fjord and set him off on his floating funeral pyre. With the flames crackling in the mist that surrounded them and gentle rain and snow falling onto their worn faces and lips. It seemed he floated away and died forgotten, leaving behind only a kingdom lost in time.

And I've opened my window to let it all come inside and gently drift in and cover my room. Hovering over the purple flowers near my desk, then sitting on the wooden frame of my bed, like lots of friends piled up and talking away. When I was walking towards the train the silence was cracked only by the birds shrieking among the pines and the sound of snow lightly being crunched.

My favorite part of Thursday is waiting outside the cafeteria in the snow for Alex. Under the balcony and the band comes out of nowhere. These players seem like they are part of an existential play; for no reason, the drummer, the trombone, the trumpet, and flute player; with their conductor, begin to play an assortment of song and melodies. And I stand and watch them as people smoke and talk and it all seems like its the silliest thing. To play in the cold as people move about their business. But they stand there every Thursday doing that. And when I finish lunch with Alex, moving back outside, they have disappeared. Returning to wherever. To another Thursday. Music for the sake of people, and for the sake of their worldly delight in playing.

Each day, walking up to campus from the train station, there are accordion players--like gypsies--that play and leave a cigar box open for spare kroner. Thats what the short video opening it all up is. As you wake up and read this, or commence through the day; this is somewhat how my day begins. Listening to the accordion players. Trudging up the hill to class.

Yesterday I met up with Alex at school. She wanted a milkshake. So we went down riding the full train towards Central Station and then detoured to a bunch of places: The Nokia kiosk, Spaceworld, and Carlings. I bought some jeans and we found the old ice cream / malt shop they built in Oslo in the 50's. Unfortunately for Alex, Norwegians aren't too keen on that whole 50's American culture and when we walked into the den / bar, the supposed to be soda-jerk offered us beer and liquor and unfortunately declined to use his broken milkshake machine to make Alex a milk shake.

We took the tram towards Grunerloka and walked around. Stumbled into the Memphis Cafe.
"Maybe they have 'em here. Its Memphis," and I pointed towards the sign. "Prolly but bourbon in 'em or something. Southern style."
However, they did not make 'em, not even with some bourbon; though there was a counter that seemed to serve the purpose, and from here, Alex was defeated. We met up with Tori who stumbled along and out of a tram and gave us each a free danish for Valentines Day from her work. Then found a good sushi place and sat down.

I listened to more of their Copenhagen stories and ordered a plate of different sushis. Had a Kirin beer and then we walked back, looked for an open coffee shop. Tori had left a while ago. We failed at that. Stopped at one of the convenience store deli's. Deli de' Luca. I tried getting coffee twice. Couldn't figure out the machine. It all smelled burnt and like it had been sitting there all day without being changed. Declined. Alex got a giant chocolate marshmallow bar. We sat upstairs where I almost fell asleep. I saw the craziest Japanese, gangster, yakuza. He was dressed all in black, slicked back black hair, shiny-black-pointy-boots, and a big-black jacket. He was tough. Too tough. I let him take the paper that was sitting on the table we were hanging out at. He had a coffee. Must have been straight black.

I went to a Metal Show the night before. We were supposed to see Necrophagist. Alex was pissed when we got to Garage and they had canceled. So instead it was Origin and Misery Index. Garage is a bar upstairs and if you take a right instead of a left at the entrance it takes these stairs down and into this underground venue. Another bar and a small stage. The whole show felt like there were a bunch of Jimmy's standing around, moshing, enjoying the metal. Except Norwegian and almost all of them with super long death hair. I also checked out Alex's sweet metal dance moves. Which, later, realized, they were exactly like Jay's in Clerks when he is standing outside the Quickstop and dancing, cursing, with the music coming out of the boom-box.

At school, on Tuesday there was a fire-alarm / drill. I haven't been in one of those since high school. And it was the most relaxed one I've ever been in. Strangely, it went off, and everyone sort of sat there looking at each other, like deciding whether they were going to listen to it or just keep talking. And earlier in the month while sitting in reception I overhead the girl at the counter on the phone trying to explain to someone in one of the buildings here at Kringsja that yes, the buzzing means there is a fire, and that yes, that means you have to leave the building even if you don't want to. Because the fire department is coming.

With our fire drill everyone just stood around, putting on their coats, gathering all their stuff, and then walking outside to the front of the building. Then people just started to smoke and talk while others wandered off to get free waffles or go get slices of pizza over at the cafeteria. The 'fire squad' was five old guys who seemed to be in it only because they got to wear cool orange vests. The stood around laughing and looking at each other's vests in pride. At some point two firemen came by after about fifteen minutes, looked at everyone, then went inside, turned the alarm off, and left. It was like a lunch break. And later half the group was just missing, we considered them the ones who made a break for it.

As for that, I was walking along the path in the snow and thought to myself I enjoy being someplace completely different. And the cold didn't bite today. I rather like the mist and fog. Hearing the screech of birds. But I'm tired. And now my room is covered in a light fog that I've let creep in through the window. My notebooks and change are all scattered around my simple desk. My hallway is covered in a wash of water; my roommate doesn't dry off, he just showers quickly and decides to spread himself all over the floor in dripping water. There is a terrible muted feeling when I step on the damp and wet spots and it surfaces slowly in my face; but there is nothing to shout about. There is a strange song and dance we play. I'll enter a room, close the door, and then hear him exit the room, then leave the place. So forth, as we are always within seconds of seeing one and other, but never do. Like the whole split personality thing. The other part of me is living in the room next door. And if thats the case then fuck him. Because he sucks at toweling off.

And there is water and a fjord near the city, across from the theater's, where there are fishermen and always, sitting on the dock, there are small whitecaps and birds careening in the sky; one can sit and watch and eat a sandwich with a coffee and wander their thoughts aimlessly in the mist and fog and surrounding white of the day.

Forgotten Milkshake bar

SpaceWorld has WoW Night Elf Statues

And Again

Burning Crusade All Over!

Evangelical Coming to Campus

Origin Proclaiming the Abyss is Opening or Fuck You to the Crowd. He speaks to demons.

A picture of where I got my hair cut at night since its next to Garage

String of bars going towards Karl Johan's Gate

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holding infinity in your hand