First month.

What resonates in my head after my first month in Copenhagen is how fast this city is. Only now do I realize that I really have lived on the ‘countryside’ all my life. I mean, I have always lived in more or less populated areas, small towns, call it what you want. But I have never experienced anything remotely like this. I thought I would find it stressful, but I do not. Then again, I do not really find anything stressful. One of my skills/faults.

This is one of the few rainy days here. And even now the Sun is painting half my face in light. I think it will take a while for me to think of Copenhagen as anything else than a city where the Sun always shines. Both Sun-wise and metaphorically. Moving here is the best thing I have ever done. I am happier than I have ever been, even though there are some distractions in the inner circle of friends. We are trying to figure out exactly what is causing this, and if there is a solution to be found. I hope there is. If there is none, I do not know what way we will have to go. Whether or not we can keep this constellation or not. It has already been altered some since we moved here. Gone through different phases. I do not think we will ever come back to how it was a year ago. But then, nothing in the world ever comes back to how it once was. Time moves forward, and we just have to try to make the right decisions along the way.

I am back to reading novels again now that the semester has ended. I have missed that. Losing myself in a story. Yesterday I read Ian McEwan’s Black Dogs. It was really good, but it only lasted a few hours, so I did not really have time to delve into the story. You know, in that fashion where you get so caught up in the narrative that you see the world through the eyes of the author – even the world around you when you put down the book for a while. Luckily I have had Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay lying around since the end of March (a birthday gift from my sister), which I picked up today. Reading Chabon takes more time than most authors. Not only because his novels are long, but because of the density of them. It seems he has more information in each sentence than most authors have in a chapter. Reading him fills me with a nice buzz inside my head. It is almost like being drunk. I had read the first to chapters earlier today when my eyes just gave up. I put down the book, laid back in the chair and entered that wonderful state of dreaming-while-still-awake, and all I saw was different takes on what I had just read; what had come before; what was to follow; even introducing new characters. I have not felt that in quite some time. It was good, really good. Looking forward to reading more later or tomorrow.

I am getting frustrated with my music. It does not come out the way I want it. Things seem to be left half-finished. Either I have a really great vocal take without finding the right guitar sound, or vice versa. I am thinking that maybe I just have not invested enough in my latest attempts, which is really bad, because if I do not invest enough now, with all this time on my hands, will I ever? I think I will put the songwriting down for a couple of weeks, and just focus on writing poems again. After all, those are the ones that become my best songs. And I feel like my poems these days fall short of what I have achieved earlier in the year, and before that. I read through some of my older poems today, both on my computer and on the blog. I found a couple I really liked. One is a reprint, the other, the Danish one, is a new poem.

The things you left behind,
old and dusty

creaky and rusty,
now haunts your mind.

Dreams of days long gone –
tell me you don’t ache,
that those days you didn’t wake
to a brighter Sun.


Gennem natten
som to klicheer
i måneskin og gadelys
hånd i hånd
tæt mod din side
forklædt i kulde og vilde kys

din ene halvdel

gemt for synet
sort for evigt tidspunkter som dette
dine drømme skjulte
spørgsmål ingen nytte
før mig til steder jeg aldrig ledte

There is just a different atmosphere in these poems than what I can produce these days, especially the Danish one – it has hope. I cannot understand why I have such trouble writing things that sound hopeful. I mean, I am in the best mood I have ever been in. I know that I have an easy time writing sad things when I am happy. It is just easier to look at those feelings you had when you were sad and make something out of them now. They will not drown you completely, as they might have done if you were trying to make something out of them back when you felt them. But I feel like I should be able to write something to testament my happiness now. The nearest thing I can think of is that it is because I am not in love. Though most of my love has been unrequited, even unrequited love brings with it poems of love. So maybe I just need to find someone to love. Easier said than done. Which sounds ridiculous seeing as I have been more or less constantly in love for the past six years. At this point in time my thoughts are just filled with so many other things than finding someone to love, and I like it. As I wrote, it has been a while. But I live for that feeling.

It seems like Heidi and I will finally see each other again during the Summer. She has kept on being one of my very best friends, even though I have not seen her in person for about three years now. Few people stay with you like that. Maybe she is just the person I am waiting for now. I have felt a change in me over the last months. I am more grown up. I feel more ready to a life with responsibility not only for myself but for other persons as well. Living with Rikke I have that responsibility now, but we know this is not something that will last a lifetime. Heidi – when I catch myself picturing my future, more often than not it is with her. She is quite possibly the person I have had the most fun with, the person I feel most comfortable around. And by far the most electric kiss I have ever felt. I do not want to try to plan my future on something as slight as this. But I am allowed to dream, right?


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