Saturday, June 20

Noe for mine Norske venner

Det går en strøm av slitere fra verksted og kontor. I huset venter fruene, å får kjøkkenet som mor. De få som er igjen har kun en chance, og går i heksedans.
De tusen marionetter spreller inn i tusen hjem, med teddybjørn i senga og små ting å vise frem, men ute maner månen uten stans: Kom til heksedans. Lalala ...
Jeg ser en naken kvinne, hennes tro er uten tvil. Hun bærer ingen fane, som et sverd er hennes smil, hun varmes av sin synd og sjette sans - og går i heksedans.
En mann i mørket roper at hans kirke er en skog, at stahet er hans styrke, og at hans våpen er en plog. Han vandrer som en Kristus uten krans, ut i heksedans. Lalala ...
På gullstol sitter biskopen og nører sine bål. Hans himmel er en vakker drøm, hans vilje er som stål, men ute synges sårt om skjebnen hans, i en heksedans.
De følger kun sin egen lov og sår sitt eget frø, mer religiøs enn paven og mer radikal enn rød. De spår en bedre verden med sin glans, fra en heksedans. Lalala ...

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Yes, I have been absent for a month. Oh, by the way, press the pause button on the player below before you get too annoyed. That will stop the circus of blasting sound.
The song is from a friend of mine - he recorded it late 70's.
I am not going to translate this whole Norwegian "Heksedans" song for you, but I will translate one line:

A man in darkness shouts out that his church are forest trees,
that stubbornness his only strength and his weapon a plow with ease,
he walks like Christ without the crown of thorns - into a witch-dance breeze...
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The creativity at my new job is limited (taking care of war-veterans) in how to cook soggy fish sticks because many of them refuse to wear their dentures, if they have any in the first place. So there is not much to report from that side.
I could tell you hilarious stories of the characters and their behaviorism of those four woman I work with. But general decency, and a certain refusal to blab out personal info into public domain, restricts me from telling the juicy bits.
On my own personal avenue, I gradually and cunningly systematical clean up my work space. Now that I have four days a week to my disposal, I might even get a second wind and start to be creative again -
All is well, but transitions come hard ... at times.

(picture: one of my clients as we celebrated independence day)






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10 comments:

Aggie said...

Good for you being discreet and to hear that you are doing well. I hope it is proving a challenge that brings alot of satisfaction ... even if progress seems slow at times.

Seraphine said...

I love the music. No, I didn't turn it off.
the systematic cleaning is part of the transitional process. you are making room for what comes next.
(and don't settle for soggy fish sticks. but if that's what you get, eat them with gusto)

remo4 said...

nice to see you´re back, wondererd where you´ve been...

Zee said...

Thank you AGGE. It has been a while, hasn't it. Enjoy your winter while I enjoy the summer rain.

Zee said...

Oh, nice to hear from you Sera and the song you listened to is called "witches dance".
What is a witch good for besides brewing some mystical stuff, cleaning! After all she has her broom.

Zee said...

Remo4 - please reintroduce yourself - I have no recollection of your whereabouts. But thanks for the fine comment.

Barri Groc said...

Hello Zee,

Nice music!

This is lucas mila from barcelona!
I read your comment, thanks a lot and yes all the paintings,drawings... are all done by me!

remo4 said...

during the 60ties: Rüttiwäg 2...

Zee said...

REMO you are dead wrong!
60's my ass, it was the early to mid seventies I congregated with a keyboard player in Rütttiweg 2.
We choose to take the train to Basel each morning, hence being able to smoke Gauloise, Mary Long,and other brands, two of them within the 12 minutes, then the elver tram, you were still allow to light up then, until we arrived at the end station, stoned by nicotine.
Then the school day...
Home again, I "borrowed" your moped to get away, as far as away as I could from my dwelling and my mom. Had one or two beers, played *töchelikaschte* and then came home. Next day all the same over again. This of course after having climbed into the bathroom window on the second floor before going to bed and taking a dump so my "natural" presence would be know and other suspicions would mingle with the odor of a stink. Strange ways to deceive a mother for the pure purpose to be able to breathe. Such are teenage moves I guess.
Nowadays I am happy and content if I make it through the main door of my house.

Anonymous said...

det jeg var ute etter, takk