Monday, March 12, 2007

sunset room part 1

Walked today from school to Kringsja. Half of the way talking to Tori and laughing up the hill. I swear I can't just place reality sometimes. Where I am and my relation to it. And I just start to lose myself. Like shedding my skin. I'm a lizard. I want to disappear into the fog. All this talk about disappearing and blowing away. It is because I want to just move so fast and exist all at once. More than not actually being there. Sort of being shot out of a gun and watching all the trees and cars; the dogs, parks, people, smoke, and fires at once and landing on the other side of the world. Saying to myself, "That was one helluva ride." Then just keep walking like nothing happened.

But it was twilight out with clouds all gray. Not very cold I was wearing clothes I'd wear back home in winter time. Just engaging the street with my eyes and anyone on a bike or waxing their cars. People must be eating dinner soon with their kitchen lights on. Maybe they would look out of their windows while setting the table and see me and wonder, "Where is he going? What is he doing?" Not so much as important but more like wondering in general.

The morning was deep fog, blown away later by wind. And now the snow has almost all melted. With the trees crying bits of tears down on people's heads as they sigh and move about to one place or the other. Its just as if everyone were taking one more giant breath and then in an explosion of energy they will all wake up out of hibernation. Rubbing their bleary eyes, kissing loved ones, and emerging from homes and hovels out to a shining world of spring and light.

Edinburgh: excerpts from my notebook, comments

'Edinburgh was dazzling from the airport. Up atop I could see the green hills, pockets of forests, and then land that dipped down, and broke up into mountains and hills. I could see small clusters of sheep on wide pieces of land and a city cut in half by a large body of water. The ocean is off in the distance and I feel tired. My eyes are worn. My legs are sore. I want to fall asleep but I am kinetic and moving forward with a force I didn't know existed in me. Can't write on this bus. I'll write more later.'

I explored the Scottish National Gallery. A free museum of art. Matt recommended it to me after I found his office and dropped off my stuff. He is young. Super hospitable and was an excellent host and new friend to make. I am glad the Pai’s and Amar were able to help me out and introduce me to him.

Seems to enjoy teaching philosophy and had a few things to do before he showed me his place so he told me the best direction to go. And there I went.

I walked by droves of people. My mouth smiling. I paid a bagpiper 1 pound so I could make the short videotape of him. Then I stood agape staring at the Sir Walter Scott Memorial. All black. Which I thought was black stone. But just covered in soot and grime from the industrial age of Edinburgh. And now it’s too fragile to be cleaned.

I wandered the museum looking at the paintings. I partly have a dislike to them though (not the paintings themselves, the action of looking), with all the paintings hanging there and only spending a few minutes at each one until I feel compelled to move on to the next one. Barely registering the last piece I looked at. So then it becomes this race to see all the paintings, consume everything. It makes me really sad. I wish I had more patience. So every time I'm in a museum I will stand there for as long as I can and just look and look at the work until I can't look anymore. Not that that makes enjoying the piece any better. It just instead becomes this huge battle I'm fighting in myself, and the painting is merely a tool for that battle of patience.

A Roman Sunset. Where the comment stated, 'So and so artist initially painted the sky as too orange. Ruskin stated it was so and so terrible and then the artist, after clearly presenting it to the populace and having it received with much applause, spent months repainting the sky to better accurately show a "proper" sunset as Ruskin claimed it should. Then I stood there wondering what the sky would look like with more orange. And imagined this far deeper painting. With a great swath of fire.

Other paintings. But looking back. It just doesn't seem that important. I did though find the impressionist room and sat on a couch staring at one of Monet's haystacks in the winter for about fifteen minutes until I felt bad for hogging that spot and left. Wandering more.

'Roaming the large green park of Edinburgh. My favorite great piercing black spire from my mind now touches the lower parts of the sky off in the distance from this hill that I stand on. Rolling green hills. A steep climb up to the castle. I am hungry. But food seems silly right now. The trains are moving down below. Clouds doing the same. The weather is chilly but nice. Much better compared to Oslo. I am excited to see the castle. I explored the castle. Before I go on. I'm sitting in a nice bar. OZ Bar? Filled with pool players and college kids listening to music. I ordered a pint of Stella Artois. Happily drinking it and resting my tired legs. Staring out the window writing this. Castles are castles. This one gave a breathtaking view. Scottish crown jewels. But it’s all on the surface. Tourist stuff. Stain glass windows in the chapel at the very top were nice. And so was the prison. But otherwise an impressive construction of stone with cannons and too many walls and cold places. There are some monuments, churches, steeples that are black all along the winding road before the bar.'

After the bar I crossed a field and back to Matt’s office where we walked to his flat. It is real laid back and he set me up in my own room with a bed. I was really excited about that part. Just sprawled out on a giant mattress. Nothing like that until I get back home I’m sure. Went to grab a bite to eat at a good Indian restaurant. Had another Stella Artois. Then we went to this great art house movie theater. Where you can drink in the theater and there is this bar out in the common area. Just people milling around, talking in their Scottish accents. Girls and guys roving about and tables filled. We went and watched Letters From Iwo Jima and I was a little out of it after the beers but the movie was really interesting. With the characters describing their feelings and emotions through these letters that they are writing while the war is going on in the background.

Left after the movie. We walked around. He showed me a line of pubs and then showed me in my state where the direction of his home was and then headed off. I jumped into the first pub. It was filled with local kids all jumping around being rowdy. I had a beer and watched the bartender hit on a girl the whole time drinking it. After the pint I stumbled away from there after talking to the girl and bartender about another good place to go.

Ended up walking a line of clubs and milling about with all the people smoking outside. Listening to their accents. I found a square with a pub called Tron and sat on the stoop of the steps in the square. With black night, calm skies in my big coat and just mused away. Wishing for something to smoke and I watched the people. Kids throwing bottles against walls and yelling out loudly. Eventually I wanted another beer. Walked up to the bouncer at Tron but he said they were closing. So I ducked into a venue in some basement and sat on a large wood stool watching a guitar player and drummer setup. The place was shifting all the time with drunks and women lining up and milling about on more stools. People sat on couches kissing and lost in oblivion. Eventually the band came on. I can’t remember their name. Just the two of them covering American rock n’ roll songs. Aerosmith’s Love in an Elevator. Foo Fighters tunes. I was enthralled at them actually performing the stuff but after a while got bored and crazy in my head and had to leave the place. More like I felt like I was slipping away. And would soon myself face to face with actually having to interact with someone. Which, I somewhat wanted to do. Being terribly bored and slightly alone through the night of wandering. But then part of me also wishing not at all. Not to enter into a complication in the first place. Not with a night of dark skies and cobblestones to march across in a giant blue navy coat.

Then I walked alleyways for an hour. Just going through one and coming out on an empty street and then back into another. I felt like I was going in circles a little bit. But the old part of the town isn’t very big and can be walked from anywhere to anywhere else. I managed to find Matt’s. Couldn’t figure out which building it was on the street so I tried them all with my set of keys. When that didn’t work I called his cell phone but he didn’t answer. I realized that his voicemail said his last name so I checked it with all the plaques. Found the building. Then buzzed it for a while; police drove by and I hid in some bushes. Then they left I worked on the lock some more with the keys until finally one of them worked. Stumbled up in the hallway and spent time trying to open the door at the top.

Matt came out half-asleep and sort of laughing—hearing me trying to open all the locks maybe thinking a thief was afoot. Let me in. I wandered to the room. Halfway through the night woke up and got some water. Looked down. My toe was half bleeding / half dried up blood. I must have cut it open in the night at one point. It hurt like hell. I slept and woke up to the sunlight on my face in the early morning before he had even gone to work. The toe was throbbing and I shut the curtains and slept again wishing I had never woken up and instead slept straight until noon.

makin' love in an elevator

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