Mom calls because I previously had called her. She just learned how to check out her incomings on her new cell. I hadn`t talked to her for months, not since dad died, not really, and everytime she calls its a reminder of how trifle our communication really is. We talk, or rather she talks and most things are terrifying in her words. It isn`t inly her aging, it has been like that for years.
Its early morning, around 0900 - June - I have thrown myself in the smoothing shadow of a wheeping willow at the cementary. Havn`t slept after an almost impossible night on too much brown vodka playing pool with way too young girls in way too disturbing proportions. Having had nothing else but coffee and cigarettes this morning, halfway into the conversation, I really need to take a dump. I`m trying to fight it off, I bite my answers and sentences.
"Mum, I am in a bit of a hury here", I lie. "Was there anything special you wanted to say?"
"Mrs. Larsen called me the other day, to tell me how much you reminded her of Dad when you gave that s h o r t speach at his funeral..."
"I take that as a compliment mum, and give my best to mrs. Larsen. Now, I really gotta run."

I race home, but it is obvious that I cant make it. I am sick, my stommick is sick. I stop at a cafe, order a coffee and head straight for the toilet. I dispite the loss of control.
Damn, if I remind so much about my dad I might as well have been dead with him. Ofcourse, I remember the funreal and emphatize with the lack of strategies to cope with death. I remember the speach, that brought tears to my eyes, my voice blurred and insecure. But I had tought that it was a good speech, not too long or emotional. It was love and forgiveness and sportsmetphor as a badly hidden critic of Dads almost infantile reluctance towards phsysic activities. Non the less it was a speech that I worked on, and wanted to give, I even planned to finish by playing one of Dads all time favourite jazz-track - "Hymn to Freedom" as perfomed by Oscar peterson- as an attempt to refine the emphaty and to express to the guests that I knew dad better than most, them, the guest, mostly remembering me for being a longhaired a´buser they hadnt seen for some 20 odd years, and everything that had happened - or rightfully hadnt happened in their mindsets, was that abuse is non-negotiable - its locked in theri in your barcode, and even if it would be scientifically proven that facts were different, the brand sticks, I come out as a lesser person because it is still morally corrupt.

Its the world that wont go away.

great, so we have another http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War. Georgia on my mind and China fires rockets to control the weather(!)....dry monday. Though ressourcefull in the core of things it is starting to look like one big major incompetence.

"I am afraid" said the storekeeper "that if we talk about the future too much right now, it will be too cheap in the end. The world might be a car without a steeringwheel, but to me it seems that everything is lined ud in endless staight and discplined lines and ques, and that is" he said looking away, "how it will also end. The more foreseable, the cheaper..."

His hair slick and calmed back, tight, tight like he does it every sunday. As sticky as the well ironed grey trousers and the brown shirt tugged in, he really looks like a wet towel and everything ends in a nightmare of white socks and matching white sailor-shoes. 

It only all to well matches the amount of shit he allows himself to say, indifferences, it most be his ass talking but I can see his lips moving, and I hear him being cheered to go on, I dont know, I could be wrong and him right, I know I am in the wrong place, but that doesnt help me. He ass is wider than the barstool, he seems to merge with it, It aint nice of me to think like this, that is what I consider before I leave and why I must leave: This really aint good. 

In their smile an idea but I dont know which. That smile have come home from somewhere.

I am serious, Im firm, I am grim, sad and severe. I am unpleasent, profound, harmful, as venturesome as i am stern: acute and crucial, deperate, major, vital and dignified, uemotional and heavy, important and most of all pathetic in the attempt to pin down my day.

I will never come around to nailing her by playing cards.

56o acres of forest went up in a fire, ablaze and the sun didnt show, we stayed in and got drunk, then tried shopping and baking bread, got misunderstood by locals and ran along the shore, sardine missiles, then by lucky chance we fucked and washed and fried potatoes in the remaining oil from yesterdays food, finished books began new ones, washed clothes and did the dishes, acted up like in a straight flush. Norm in and norm out. The bright fair, tranquile unflappable life. Consistent and reliable. I fold.

race class and gender sexes in all shades oh yi gather round for di man is coming our way in all shapes red face mostly hives and tail enjoying the view from the hills to the luxury of doing good afloat jesus like on a fucking raft piece of shit it is so dark in that sea.

nothing flows on bonsai coast.

the excuses are many, none are good, but still working and in progress.

Here we go again. In more ways than one...

The dangerously potent DF (Dansih peoples Party) is at it again with yet another media campaign feeding the danes with more fear of the unknown.

Protesting against an EU court ruling, that might or might not, have definitive influence on the danish migration legislation - accordingly to DF, a ruling that will neglect and underminde danish democracy - DF turns to what the do best, namely and as mentioned: Whip the people with fear, make the scapegoat your populistic stronghold.

The headæline in this campaign reads: Who is in charge in Denmark? The danes or the EU? Basicly what they (DF) are saying is, that if the EU court ruling is assimilated to dansih migration laws, they - as in DF - will or intend to overule the government and pull the support, and thus, they anihilated their own campaign by gaining the power, just as the accuse the EU.

Ergo: The headline could therefore have read: Who rules Denmark? The Danes or Danish Peoples Party?

DF fears that the EU ruling blow the borders wide open allowing migrants from the "most remote corners of the world" to flood Denmark. The retorics are clear as daylight. Everything remote is candide, to be feared, a threat, with a crimainal or subversive intend.

But what is remote? Or by saying remote it is done. Its a question of colour, race or religion.

But is not Alaska remote? Or The Philipines? Or Chritsmas island? Or The Far east, or the Middle East. Or by saying anything remote, are they really saying that Denmark is the center? Compared to what? Denmark?

Im looking forward to see PM Rasmussen balance this one home.

though she filled the lake with tears
the water stayed plum
the night dark
and daylight failed to show

lost the bite on politics. the state of things. offed news and internet and orientation for a long time. sommers coming to an end and slowly I start chekking up againg. did i expect everything to change, or just something to ease my cultural sceptinism or is that really what i feed from: thats things are generally haywire:
The the US rules out the WTO, and yet again has left deveploping countries to the merci nonregulated marketeconomy, that china controls the weather and have expanded workcamps for dissidents to free the streets of the critic masses before the upcoming olympics, that Das Neue Uberclasse again seems to surf the sine waves and jump to economic set back threatening world economy, that man is niether good or evil but weak and no arms are wide enough to hold it?