At almost exactly 7 am today Moomincat came through my window. 7 am is a tricky time. It’s not late enough to get up and go to work, it’s not early enough to still get a nice long sleep before I have to get up. It’s sort of stuck in the middle.
Moomincat stayed for some 15 minutes. When he left I went back to sleep, a little sleep is better than nothing. I was morbidly tired at work though. Crushed-down tired. I didn’t get much work done. That wasn’t all my fault though. I need some material and the people I need it from are not there. Anyway, I was busy trying not to fall asleep.
I was interrupted by the new cute bargirl. She is sweet and cute and gorgeous. She’s only 18 though. Too young for me. But rest assured that’s the only reason we aren’t a couple already. If she was older then I promise I wouldn’t hesitate to… stare at her for a really long time and never say anything.
It made me feel bad actually. Made me feel like a huge, hideous glob of gelatinous waste. Like I am some ghastly, decomposing ogre walking around in a city full of elves, beautiful people. Everybody wants to be loved, that’s what it comes down to. I am no different. I am fine on my own, yeah right.
I wish I was made of clay, then I could model myself into something better.
NP: For Martha
long horses we are born
creatures more than torn
mourning our way home
I was so tired that I didn’t even go see the goats. Shock horror gasp. It rarely happens that I don’t go see them on a weekday. I did go to the library to pick up my reservations. The Little Prince, the last Hedegaard book and a stack of Moomins. Funnily enough the wintermoomin is the only one I haven’t got. But that’s ok. I have enough Moominstuff to last me a little while. I want to get lost in the valley, it is a nice place.
I am a little like Peter Pan, I never grew up. That works a lot better in literature though, in the real world it sort of causes problem.
I wish I could write fiction. I have a children’s story brewing in my head. It started like a simple comment to Katherine and now I feel it wanting to form. But whenever I try to write stories then it all crumbles. My mother said to me the other day (paraphrased) “What happened to your dreams of being an author? Hah!”. I thought that was incredibly mean and hurtful of her. She didn’t mean it like that though. But still. Broken dreams and wasted potential.
Many years ago I worked at the publishing house Hovedland. Internship for a year. On the first day we sat in the kitchen and had coffee and tea and talked. And I said that I had always wanted to be a writer. And they asked why I hadn’t written anything then? And I said that it was hard to write about the world when you hadn’t experienced it yet. And they agreed. And 10 years later I still have barely experienced the world.
Maybe some day I will write the big American novel. And then I’ll try to convince the Danish publishers that it can be sold in Denmark too.
But until then, here are some pictures from yesterday:
Mads in mid-baah.
Magnethe has a funny body shape doesn’t she? It’s all wide and then her head is so small.
And there she is going through my stuff. You can never, ever have your bags in peace if there are goats around.
More baahing. I love the sound of goats bleating, it soothes me.
Lovely goats. Tomorrow I shall definitely go see them. I’m sure they want to be loved too.
Posts
January 11th, 2006 at 2:29 e
you are experiencing the world right now, lasse. i think for the first time in a long time. and i think that your experiences with the animals are a great breeding ground for childrens stories.
January 12th, 2006 at 14:32 e
I visit your site regularly, and you have a very rare talent for writing extremely funny, insightful and thought provoking words.
If you want to be a writer, then write. Even if its only for yourself. You have a MASSIVE talent, which you shouldn’t waste. So write when and what you feel like writing. Authors don’t pick up an pen and write classics from start to finish. They can take years to get it right. Its not like counting. Sometimes 4 comes before 2. So don’t be afraid to go down blind alleys in your writing. Thats what lifes about. Playing wrong notes.
And as for wasted potential. You’re not dead are you?!
And you’re not wasting your potential. Your entries to the blog are classics. You have a view of life that very few people will have. And i truely think your stories will become classics too. Maybe for many. Maybe for only one or two. But I definately believe they will change peoples lives. The way they think, the way they feel.
You have a great, charming and useful talent. Embrace that.
Phil
January 15th, 2006 at 21:16 e
“I wish I was made of clay, then I could model myself into something better.”
Well put. But you are. And you can. It’s not an easy path. It takes time, pain and hard work. Start at http://www.stevepavlina.com. And start small.