OSKARFALK.SE

I feel like ”re-living”… re-visiting?… re-listening? I can’t find the right word for it. Anyway, what I mean is, I’ve felt a bit bored with the records I keep INSIDE my portable flip-through CD-case (though the CD-case itself is very nice). And so I tried finding something new (or ”old” if you want to get specific) for my ride to work this morning. I ended up with the Fight Club soundtrack by the ever so amazing Dust Brothers (though it’s kind of a debut-album so I guess the term ”EVER so amazing” is a bit weird).

However, (moving along just fine, thank you), the batteries were empty and I hooked up this portable thing on the side; it’s like and extra little ”tube-like” thing carrying extra batteries so you can keep playing your music a while longer. But my back-up batteries were allready empty and I only had one more to go (you need 2 batteries if you want to use the ”tube” thing). So I replaced one battery and then the meeter said that I had about 50% worth of battery-power.

For some reason I got the feeling that the music was a bit slower than usual. Like when you’re playing a walkman with low batteries; everything just kind of fades down and people sound a bit drunk when you listend to the voices. And then the whole thing stops. Though the CD-player kept on going. I was surprised by the music as I never quite heard it this way before.

It was… how do I put this… well, ”backgroundish”? (and that’s not even a real word).

All of the sudden I look out the window (actually I ALWAYS look out the window when I’m on the bus but it just felt better writing it that way). Standing in a field are two brown horses. One of them has it’s head down. He’s looking at the third; a white, slightly gray-spattered one is laying in the grass below them. He’s on his side and lays there without moving a muscle.

I turn my head and see the three dissapear in a distance. The pale horse just keeps laying there. I lean back in my seat. ”I wonder if he’s dead”. The song keep on playing and the bus-stop computerised sign up in the ceiling doesn’t quite match the stops passing by outside. ”I wonder if he’s dead”…

This whole horse-thing makes my mind race and I start thinking about Charles Bronson, though I can’t remember if he was actually in Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man, circa 1990-something staring Mickey Rourke, and I quikly change my racing terms and get an old phrase from a song stuck in my head.

I’m a cowboy… On a steel-horse I ride… I’m wanted… Dead or alive…

If that song whasn’t in Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man, actually 1991 co-staring Don Johnson and not Charles Bronson, it’s really a shame because that line really goes well with the tone and feel of the Marlboro-character. But then again that line would have been nice in any film featuring a Harley Davidson and a cowboy-hat.

Why the hell does the name Mickey Rourke sound so familuar anyway? The guy’s face hardly rings a bell when I look at his picture. But Don Johnson… hmmm, feels like I know him from somewhere. But where, I hardly watch any of these old B-action films. Steven Seagal and Charles Bronson just feel silly. They’re just like Van Damme (sorry to exclude his first name but I think you know who I’m talking about anyway) – I can’t keep laughing at the ridiculous action-sequences and corny bad-ass phrases… oh god… it’s so funny…

Conan O’Brien did a really great gag about Bronson last night. He had a Walker-Texas-Ranger-lever wich he could pull whenever he wanted and it would bring up a ridiculous clip from the Walker: Texas Range. I laughed my ass of every time-

Oh my god! Miami Vice! Don’t you get it! Don Johnson! Ladies and gentlemen – detective James Crockett! So that’s where I know him from. Wow…

It’s really weird I how much I know about Miami Vice when I’ve hardly even watched the show.

I wake up at five am when the polyfonic mobilephone-ringtone sets off, the phone blinking violently (though maybe not more violent than before) on top of the books in the bookshelf across from the bathroom door. I feel sweaty. All tired and sticky. I climb over her as she lay on her side, one leg sticking out and her head buried deep down in the safety of the ever so comforting pillow-case.

I head for the toilet and take a piss. I decide to climb back into the bed again after that. Just for another 10 or 15 minutes. I watch Seinfeld for breakfast; a recording, same one we watched a couple of days ago, maybe a week ago, I don’t keep track anymore.

On my way to work I listen to the same mp3-record I listened to yesterday. It’s just a collection of a few albums and some random tracks in a folder on the side. Gary Jules and Michael Andrews preform the Mad World cover track originally made by Tears for Fears. I watch houses go by. I watch people.

I’ve found myself thinking moody thaughts on my way to work. I don’t know if it’s a moody time of the year or if it’s just the music that get’s to me… in that way. I think about myself, my life. I feel utterly and extremely boring. It’s just one of those feelings I get from time to time. I get the same feeling. It’s that feeling of having lived a very boring and abnormally calm life up to date and I wish I could go back and be cool from the beginning instead of being laughed at by all those braindead fuckers who spend there time working at the supermarket these days.

Feels like I never…

I never stayed out all night and never met any girls. I never drank to much and never tried drugs. I was just one of those… ”normal people”. I think about it and for a second I forget about all the stuff I have. I forget how many times my girlfriend smiles in a day, and how many of those times I am to blame.*

It troubles me, in some way, that she’s my first girlfriend. Not because there’s anything wrong. Everything is perfect. It’s just great. Oh yeah, that’s right. In fact, I feel (because you can’t really ”know” these things), without a doubt in my mind, that she’s the one for me. We’re just so very compatible most of the time. It’s boring to realise that you’re stuck; that nothing really happens and that it’s all a routine. Just like the old Seinfeld episodes.

But that’s the way most people are. Love doesn’t explode all around you and your loved one every second of every day. It really doesn’t. Some people go out to play while others just stay home and watch TV. Some sleep in separete beds. Some people even scream.

In some strange way love can be still be around. Weather you’re stimulating eachothers bodyparts all night long or even if you fall asleep drooling in the sofa while your sexual partner sits calmly stearing into the lives of others using your 10k internet connection. Even then, love can still be around. Be it by a light stroke of a hand. A simple kiss on the cheak. Or just by putting the dinner in the microwave and then returning to the sofa again, maybe, maybe you express more love than you can ever imagine.

Or maybe it’s just me talking. Maybe I should stop everything. Quit my job, leave my girlfriend and go back to being single and jerking off all day and falling asleep with a big lump in my chest because the lonelyness is so unbareable.

Maybe I just keep thinking about the sex-thing ( = the fact that I havn’t had sex with someone other than my girlfriend). Most of the time I just block it out. I don’t feel like planning. I don’t want to enduldge myself in every little aspect of what life will be like in the future. If we will grow old together. If someone will leave the other for someone else and if they will ever speak after that.

I’ve written about all this before and I feel bad sometimes because it’s one of those subjects that I can’t really discuss with anyone. Everything is allways oversized and missinterpreted. Maybe I’m the normal one and everyone else is crazy. Or maybe this is just one of those usual problems that everybody acts on and end up hurting their partner with, though in the end they realize that they would trade it all to get back what they lost.

Last week I laid awake for hours and hours and thaught about sex. I couldn’t focus and I couldn’t sleep and for some reason I ended up jamming my finger as far up into my nostril as possible. I fell asleep thinking about hand-cuffs. Everything kind of trailed of.

I just don’t get it some days. Some days I feel nothing. And some days I feel it all. I love her. I don’t know why I wake up in the body of an idiot some days. Maybe it’s just a phase. Fuck it. Just go back to sleep. Buy DVDs and watch Seinfeld. Fall asleep spooning every night and just hope for the best. Lower the curtain down on Memphis.

* (My girlfriend smiles a lot and we constantly joke around. This is an obvious fact to me but not to everyone else. The text can be missinterpreted as to meaning just the opposite. Thank you for noticing)(this entry was slightly altered on the fifth of august 2004)