Thursday, 13 June 2013

I Just Don't Know

And then I was asked to exhibit some pictures, but I just don't know ...
It is not a profession to be a pianist and musician. It is a philosophy, a conception of life that cannot be based on good intentions or natural talent. First and foremost there must be a spirit of sacrifice

Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli

Sunday, 9 June 2013

Jeg hører ikke hjemme her. 
Mitt sinn har flukt mot andre vær
hvor stormer står mot steile fjell
og nakne skjær. 

Jeg kjenner ikke noen her - De lave bakke, blide trær, og mennesker som alltid vet
hva dagen er.

Bjørn Ingerman Endreson (1946)

Saturday, 8 June 2013

My Soul Is Dark

I'm trying to figure out something about darkness, it is fitting, my soul is dark these days

My soul is dark - Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.

But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence, long;
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once - or yield to song.
Lord Byron

If he really said that, it may explain a certain quality in his music. But I don't know. I don't know anything.

Monday, 3 June 2013

Etude Phalenopsis

G's Story - the invisible people

Guest workers from abroad came to Stavanger to work in oil. They brought gifts, according to a friend, dope and DVDs. Stavanger was a mission town back then. G met a girl, she liked experimenting with drugs. He started using, escalating to heroin. G died. In a public toilet in Oslo. He did not die of an overdose. He died because he did not have the courage to go to the doctor. He had gangrene in his arm from injecting drugs. Part of his story is that he a few months earlier got the top grade in the most difficult math/calculus one can study in a Norwegian hight school. Two percent of the students get that kind of grade.

What are we doing, forgetting everything that's important?

This plant was given to me by another forgotten person, an elderly lady who was very ill. I took her to the shops, nobody had the time they claimed, and she gave me this, I wanted nothing in return really, but I try to take good care of the plant to remember her every day.

C'Lines Whakan aka Nobu or Spinnvill


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