onsdag 3. november 2010

Et langt og følelsesmessig blogginnlegg

God morgen. Eller god dag. Eller god kveld. Det spiller vel egentlig ingen rolle hvilken tid på døgnet det er, gjør det vel? Nei, jeg trodde ikke det.
Jeg håper du har litt tid til overs, for jeg tror dette kan ta en stund. Tror jeg har en del på hjerte denne gangen. Advarsel: om du blir lett påvirket er det kanskje ikke så lurt at du leser videre.

La meg starte med å si at jeg mangler tanker. Ikke ord, men tanker. Du vet de gangene du reagerer på instinkt eller autopilot? De gangene hvor du tenker tilbake og lurer på hvordan du fikk til å gjøre det du gjorde? Vel, det nettopp slik jeg surrer rundt nå. Tålmodighet, tipper jeg. Tomme gater nattestid og ingen som går i dem, jordsmonnet som sakte krøller seg sammen og forsvinner, de blødende ørene på blomstene og polititrafikk-konstablenes sorte bomullshansker.

Bank, bank. Skudd. Sigarettrøyk i et lite rom hvor enkelte elementer av forhåpentlige gode sjeler har samlet seg. Hukommelseoppriping, asosiasjoner, allusjoner, digresjoner, telefoner og pizza med kjøtt på, alt sammen blander seg sammen og blir historie.

Sheriff. Sheriff, du er skutt. Noen har skutt sheriffen. Nei, sheriffen er nede. Sheriffen er nede. Jeg gjentar, sheriffen er nede.

Failure. Some men you just can't reach. Blindsided by us all. Indeed it was so. Washed away, digging deep, the earthmother shall embrace you too. Did peace have a chance to last forever? Trying to be civil. Like in a civil war. Who shall wear your shoes now? Thy hollow laugh, thy change of mind, my dreams sweapt to the sidewalk, thy dreams soon forgotten. Many a man may have done as you have done before, yet it does not hold the same punch as before now. My veins are filled with dry tears, angry and bitter stabs of pain, and a thought that you have peace. That thought is probably one who keep me from crying. One of then, at least. Inside, I die a little. Inside, I vow to lead my life different than yours. Inside, I tell myself to be happy, to do what I can do about it. I hold no grudge against you. I whisper to myself, I cannot hear you now. Tomorrow may burn as well, but I am, I hope, a bit more ready to face it. Don't you cry tonight. Don't cry. Tonight is already over. I won't feel better in the cold light of the day. I would't stop you if you wanted to stay. Collapse the Light into earth. It is november, yet it has stopped raining. For now. Some time you need some time, all alone. On their own. Not all friends are out to harm you. So please, remember my name. And have some understanding, some sympathy, some feel. And a smile hidden away under your eyes, coat and dry cleaner bill. Laws are sometimes made to be broken. Never mind the darkness. Darkness shall prevail. Darkness will prevail. Much can be hidden in the darkness. You are not the only one. You're not the only one. Don't you think that you need somebody? Don't you think that you need someone? We all need someone. Someone? Yes. But who? That I cannot tell. It does not matter. It is all yesterdays business. Oh, yesterday. Do you hold something for me? I... I cannot tell. All I can tell you is that it is no fun. It ain't no fun at all then the doorbell rings and it it the one message you have dreaded all along. the one you put way back in your mind, the one you bearly dare to consider even if you know it is more than a slight possibility it might happen. The one who rings you on the telephone, wake you up and brokes down all that you have begun? You son of a gun. You stupid, stupid son of a gun. My gun. My son. And ain't that fun? In a purple world the dreadstones does not matter. Not their numbers or their quality either. What we have here is a epic failure. Last week. I don't like it any more than you do. It is but a ring. A ring of darkness. Feed the fear, will you? Feed my fear? My hands are tided, blindsided. My love for a god that does not hide the scars, the sorrow or the drum of a broken guitar against my shut eyes. Peace? No peace. Can you trust it? If I was hungry for it, I could have buried it against the last restingplace of my soul. But I can't. I can't do it. Can't. Not yet, anyway. I don't no civil tone! And it just had to be november, did it not?

Help. I can hear myself drowing. By the bottom of my soulshard, I can see a love unstrained. I feel the same, but we both know the heart can change. There is no need to kill the pain. Picture him as you remember him. Not stuck in a box in a church. Rocket man, take him with you, will you? Fly safe with him? Bring him to the place where he can open his heart? Bring forth the void, the angry mob and the strickening sound of silence. Angel, don't weep. There is no one left to blame. Darkness, hold me thight. Love me, hold me, share me. By the power of greyskull, I shall provail!

Jeg tror det holder seg nå, gjør det ikke? Ikke så langt som Madonna, men mer enn prinsesse Diana. Håper jeg.

Goodbye, cruel world. I'm entering today. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

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