It's the night after Bertil's funeral,
we eat fish,
the bones make one of us choke,
but it's flounder and good fish.
Last night we drove through the snow,
and saw a fox on the road.
I almost couldn't brake in time,
the difference between life and death is just a fishbone away
An Australian, living in Sweden, working in Denmark. . . what could be more simple?
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Conversation with my daughter
I took my daughter to the sea where I grew up
It was dusk and shades of grey rolled in to us
She screamed
I explained to her that Deus ins nobis est
and because of that she shouldn't be scared
She still screamed
Hob.XVI:37,1
It was dusk and shades of grey rolled in to us
She screamed
I explained to her that Deus ins nobis est
and because of that she shouldn't be scared
She still screamed
Hob.XVI:37,1
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Doppler
I have been mildly surprised by the statistic that there are 283 other bloggers that list 'Doppler' by Erlend Loe in their favourite book list. This is not surprising in itself. Doppler is a fantastic book and deserves more appreciation.
For those of you that don't know, Doppler follows the life of an overly competent chap in Oslo who gets fed up with modern life. He has a breakdown of sorts and goes out and lives in the woods. He's sick of life and the interminable childrens television that his young son watches. He also has a large male member. In the woods he kills an elk and the calf follows him around. He strikes up a friendship with a neighbour who is absorbed in a model reconstruction of the last minute of his Nazi father's life. He also builds a totem to his own dead father.
That's a very paltry synopsis, but as a skeleton it shows that this book is, amongst other things, concerned with modern masculinity and paternity. The surprising thing is most of the bloggers who list this as one of their favourite books seem to be female and in their mid 20s. I'm glad that this book has a wide readership and that the young women of today appreciate the tanins that are woven together in this indomitable masterpiece.
For those of you that don't know, Doppler follows the life of an overly competent chap in Oslo who gets fed up with modern life. He has a breakdown of sorts and goes out and lives in the woods. He's sick of life and the interminable childrens television that his young son watches. He also has a large male member. In the woods he kills an elk and the calf follows him around. He strikes up a friendship with a neighbour who is absorbed in a model reconstruction of the last minute of his Nazi father's life. He also builds a totem to his own dead father.
That's a very paltry synopsis, but as a skeleton it shows that this book is, amongst other things, concerned with modern masculinity and paternity. The surprising thing is most of the bloggers who list this as one of their favourite books seem to be female and in their mid 20s. I'm glad that this book has a wide readership and that the young women of today appreciate the tanins that are woven together in this indomitable masterpiece.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
There's a lot more Danes drinking around town. I was out with my daughters at around 10:30 and ran into two families on Stor torget who were drinking and sightseeing.
That's fine by me. But it is somewhat ironic. There used to be a much used Danish aphorism, something along the lines of, 'Do your country a favour and escort a Swede to the ferry [back home to Sweden].' The ball is now in the other court.
That's fine by me. But it is somewhat ironic. There used to be a much used Danish aphorism, something along the lines of, 'Do your country a favour and escort a Swede to the ferry [back home to Sweden].' The ball is now in the other court.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Beckett's Wagner putdown
The unnecessary and arbitrary nature of this putdown rouses me rambling but irate from a years blogging sabbatical. Why does Beckett think that his two cents count after invoking Rick W? It's not a put down; it just shows a lack of fantasy:
I cannot explain very well to myself what they have that distinguishes them from the rest, something arborescent or of the sky, not Wagner, not clouds on wheels; written above an abscess and not out of a cavity, a statement and not a description of heat in the spirit to compensate for pus in the spirit. -----Beckett, trying to explain some of his better scribbling, 1932
I cannot explain very well to myself what they have that distinguishes them from the rest, something arborescent or of the sky, not Wagner, not clouds on wheels; written above an abscess and not out of a cavity, a statement and not a description of heat in the spirit to compensate for pus in the spirit. -----Beckett, trying to explain some of his better scribbling, 1932
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Caroline and Henrik
Went to a great wedding on Saturday. Caroline and Henrik got hitched in Bosjökloster, just a few kilometers away form the summer cottage. Henrik is a tennis player from Ystad and is as charming as they come. Caroline is more charming than they usually come.
Martin produced a quote about her at the reception from som old fool who once said that Caroline (like Monica Zetterlund) like a fig of lingon in a cocktail glass.
I went up earlier to cut the grass at the summer place and am just glad we made it to the wedding on time.
For more videos of Caroline see her: Caroline in Widex Passion commercial
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Pik street and drinks like cousins
Last weekend I subbed in on a trip for a pregnant colleague to Estonia. I must report that it is rather bleak over there (sorry Will).
We did manage to find a humorous street sign (see below Danish speakers), and later on Saturday night we had a talk to a little drink that has an unpronounceable name, but the descriptor is memorable: it's like kissing your cousin; it tastes good, but you know it's wrong.
Otherwise I've got a stomach bug and therefore have had my face down the toilet for the last 24 hours. I must clean the toilets in our apartment. . .
We did manage to find a humorous street sign (see below Danish speakers), and later on Saturday night we had a talk to a little drink that has an unpronounceable name, but the descriptor is memorable: it's like kissing your cousin; it tastes good, but you know it's wrong.
Otherwise I've got a stomach bug and therefore have had my face down the toilet for the last 24 hours. I must clean the toilets in our apartment. . .
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