You can’t sit there and look scared/When everything’s happening now.

Everything happens in the city. Or, well – stuff happens in the city. Went to Odense with my bestie today, big time music shopping, well more looking than shopping, but shopping as well. Found this great looking used vinyl from ’89 by Transvision Vamp, Velveteen. Admitted, the music wasn’t really as great as I had hoped for, but it cost next to nothing and I’m all kinds of crazy about the cover. I don’t know exactly what it is. It just speaks to me. I guess I just really love the late 80s/early 90s vibe it sends out. Plus Wendy James looks pretty amazing. To have been a young Briton in ’89.

Saw my own latest crush in Odense, German girl. I don’t know why I fall for German girls. I just seem to get along with them.. and find them extremely attractive. She’s already taken, like they always are. So now I’m back home, in my room, listening the The Pains of Being Pure at Heart (title credits goes to them). Sigh.

I’ve been really productive lately. Writing all kinds of poetry, Danish and English – even on REAL PAPER. I have always had this fear of writing my poetry in physical form instead of on a computer. I think it has to do with the fact that a ‘book of poetry’ lying around my room can be read by anyone who comes in, and I still feel like my writings are pretty close to me, even though it’s probably hard for people to distinguish if they’re mentioned or not. Maybe that’s why I really don’t want certain people to read it, because they would probably think it’s all about them. When really it’s often not about anyone. Sometimes it’s not even about me.

That’s a new fun thing, I’m becoming a better storyteller, which is good ’cause dramatic shit isn’t all that common in my life. Then again, I’m pretty good at writing about the less-dramatic. Like my latest Danish poem:

I toget
der igen
tager mig
fra een ensomhed
til en anden
og langt mere
virkelig
ensomhed
skjult bag plader
bøger og
en pen
angiveligt medbragt
for at nedskrive
min lykke i
bogform
Endnu en løgn
dem er der
mange af i
disse dage
hvor livet
overhaler mig
indenom
udenom
nogle gange
igennem mig
og efterlader
den skal jeg
præsenterer når
folk spørger efter
Nicolai
Heldigvis en
sjældenhed i
disse dage
hvor livet
holder mig skjult
for mine
omgivelser mine
undvigelser bærer
frugt hvor
bitter den
end smager mod
min rug tunge
rug hals der
tørster efter
liv glæde
og livsglæde
og en tår af
noget berusende
Berigende er jeg
næppe at se på
inspirerende heller
ikke
medmindre man søger
et skidt eksemplar
af den ene
eller anden art
som min fortid
er jeg blevet
ramt af
livets fart
og tilbage er
denne rejse
fra ensomhed
til ensomhed
omringet af passagerer

I’m not gonna bother translating it – if you have genuine interest in it, and don’t understand Danish, write a comment and I will see if I can make a reasonable translation.

I actually really like it. I wrote it after a friend of mine dismissed some of my other writings. I see what he means. It’s funny, actually – because I really valid his opinion, and when I were to choose some poems to show him, I got kinda embarrassed of the lacking quality. And then I wrote that poem, which is a lot better than most of my other stuff. It has made me realize, that I just have to think to myself: would he approve of this? before saving a poem. I genuinely think it would do me good.

The friend I went to Odense with bought an audiobox recently. I always knew he could make some pretty good tunes, but with his new opportunities he has just taken it to another level. I’m really proud of him – and a bit envious – you can hear on his new tracks that he really has fun doing it, and they sound really good. He’s still one of the main reasons why I’ve started pushing myself in my writing again, trying to make something of it. He just has a great, healthy belief in his own abilities, and it pays off.

When everyone was doing drugs,
we were just doing love.
A stranger said you’re strange like me.

Ana, our dreams are coming true.

Don’t tell me that a day will come
when we dress like everyone
cuz I can tell you’re strange like me.

Don’t say the hour’s growing late.
Don’t say we should be going straight.
cuz I can tell you’re strange like me.

And dreams can still come true,
and it’s coming true for you.

(The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Strange) I really like The Pains of Being Pure at Heart but I only just bought an album by them today, Belong. I really don’t know why I haven’t bought one before. I don’t know if inner-me sees them as some sort of a guilty pleasure. It really shouldn’t be. I love their sound-universe. Just love it. It’s such a great mix of the wall of guitars and just pure sweetness. You can either really commit to it, or you can just enjoy it in the background, or occasionally do both. They invite you in all circumstances, which I sometimes miss in my favorite albums where you really have to commit yourself to it. This… it just pleases you in any way you’d like without ever falling into the category of not-challenging-you. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, you have my stamp of approval.

And now my computer really wants to reboot,
so this is the end.

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