Of raindrops and old techno music

Whenever I have one of these big stories stuck in my head (aka something I'd like to put in a proper post about, but am either lazy or busy or both, or neither even) I tend to stop posting other things as they happen. No great drama, I assure you, it's all mostly of the "Ooh! I went cycling again!" or "Woah! It's still sunny at 9pm." variety. Well it is, and yes, I did, not respectively.

Anyhow, it's the more random things, purple sails, for instance, that I feel bad about not posting. Also bizarreness of Chinese fortune telling, which, I assure you, appears to be entirely different from the bizarreness of Indian fortune telling. At least in my experience.

For a variety of reasons I've been walking around a bit more than cycling, and even cooking some. (Heh, I slipped that last one in all cool and quietly but really, I'm doing somersaults inside. Cooking, as in the proper food from scratch cooking, for me is what would qualify as being a B I G D E A L. :P)

Latest in a long series of realizations: I should not have started reading the already-published issues of Sandman: Overture till all of them were out. I just shouldn't have.

On the other hand, Guardians of the Galaxy was totally awesome :). Caught it on 3D last night, and couldn't stop laughing :D. If only all films were this much fun. Oh well.

In the mean time it's been pouring buckets. So much rain, that I was reminded of monsoon back in Asansol. Which is saying something. Looks like summer's over, and it's left behind a wet and limp sort of autumn. Wonder what winter's going to be like.

Currently: glad to be a car owner :P
Listening to: Darude - Feel the beat

Afterglow

It is sometimes difficult to capture a moment once it is past. It feels a bit like several sheets of glass superimposed, of varying transparency. Each with an image, some obscuring others and in turn being obscured, in a maze of colour. A sense, a feeling is all that is left and even that seems fleeting, hard to trap into a cage of words.

There have been many such moments since I last put anything down in this space. Moments in the sun, surrounded by lakes or fjords full of waves or flat as a mirror. Moments on stretches of grass or outcrops of rock and stone. Moments on sand and on strips of tarmac snaking past a dizzying variety of landscapes.

Then there were the nine days spent on that outcrop of sun, stone, wood and water some call Lofoten. Where the nice weather days look stunning and awe inspiring, and the bad weather days even more so. Where the edges of the world seem to draw closer and the amazing seems only an arm's length away.

Now I am back in the real world and it is just so hard to let go of the last remaining wisps of that other one that are fading away. One of these days I'll write a more coherent account of the trip. Maybe.

Feeling: amazed, still
Listening to: Ingrid Michaelson - Wonderful unknown (ft. Greg Laswell)

Wake after dreaming

Wow. Resonance. That's what it's called, when something moves and in doing so moves others in its grasp to their deepest depths. There is an ephemeral quality to that kind of tugging-on-your-heartstrings emotion. Doesn't last. Not in all its breathtaking strength. The aftermath lasts somewhat longer...

I'm finally done with all ten volumes of The Sandman. All good things end, and in doing so, they leave behind a sense of emptiness. All of you who say 'comic book' with such derision, implying an inherent lack of depth, of character, of the capacity to be transcendent, read this. That will be all.

Currently: blown away!
Listening to: George Ezra - Song 6

The peaceful sound of gunfire in the valley

There are summer days and there are summer days. I know, I know what I sound like, but what can I say? It had been a bit depressing till about the middle of last week, and then things got pretty good. But yesterday was in a completely different league :).

It was just a little bit cooler than the few days before, which was perfect for a nice long bike ride. The fact that we were mostly on trails running along a river or around lakes probably helped too. The sun was out, with just enough clouds to keep things interesting.

After hours of semi-aimless wandering in an area none of us had ever cycled to before, (stopping often to eat wild strawberries and raspberries that seemed to be growing just everywhere) we found ourselves high above a wooded valley with the fjord in the distance. You could see Oslo and some of its eastern suburbs, but not hear it :).

What you could hear was the staccato gunfire from the shooting range hidden amongst the trees echoing off the hills. Couldn't see any flying or shattering clay pigeons though. But then we weren't looking too closely either :).

One thing I did discover on the way back was an awesome hidden path running quite a long way. I knew the area, roughly, all residential bits and schools and things. But this seemed like a different world, like we'd gone through a portal in Bekkestua and come out the other end, miraculously transported to Sandvika without actually going through any of the places in between :).

And to top it all off we decided the best way to cool off would be a swim in the lake once we got back. Not my first time in a lake here, believe it or not, but I'm pretty sure it's a mighty short window here, right at the peak of summer where the water gets anywhere close to not freezing, so I'm making the most of it.

It was easier to float around with pretty much no effort out in the fjord on Friday, but the sudden bits of ice cold water getting kicked about by one passing boat or another wasn't fun. So all in all, the lake was a pretty nice way to wrap up the picture perfect summer day :).

Currently: slightly fidgety

Listening to: George Ezra - Budapest

Deep breaths

There are moments of surprising clarity that come to me occasionally during extended periods of physical activity. While cycling for instance. With the weather finally beginning to clear up a little bit, I decided to revisit some trails I hadn't in a while. Cycling, unlike hiking, is something I find easy enough to do by myself.

Speaking of said moments of clarity, at some point yesterday, while huffing and puffing my way up a particularly annoying uphill stretch, I realized that I'd somehow almost forgotten about it! One of the best evenings I've had in a long time! Pearl Jam played live in Olso a couple of weekends ago, and guess what? I was there!

Since then many things have happened, and somehow the memories of that evening got sort of buried. (Of course the consumption of an injudicious amount of alcohol might also have had something to do with that, but moving on.) So! Pearl Jam! I'd seen them live before, way back in '06 in Perth for the first time and I suppose in some ways this was never going to top that. But what a show. I have to say I haven't paid particular attention to their last album, but despite that, it was thoroughly entertaining. There was enough of the good old stuff to make it all rather magical, despite the venue.

That's one thing with music I suppose, and I might have mentioned this before, it's got this ability of transporting one back in time. And every time I think that, I think of that story about an entire book that takes place within the space of one song. People who've seen Before Sunset would know what I'm talking about.

One film I saw recently and was rather intrigued by was Only Lovers Left Alive. My initial curiosity was mostly because it stars Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston. Despite being rather ponderous in its pace, I must say I did like it quite a lot. Something to do with the pros and cons of permanence amidst an unending ocean of turbulent change.

Right, so on to the main thing that has occupied the better part of my attention recently, the World Cup. It so happens that I am an Argentina fan. Always have been. Something to do with the first (completely unremembered) World Cup I ever saw in '86 (or so I am told, I wasn't yet at an age where long term memories begin to impede one's happy existence). By the time the '90 final rolled around though, most of my football related world had been based upon borrowed memories of Maradona's genius and an impregnable belief that this time around I would have my own memories of his heroics once Argentina won again.

Most people know how that went. Did anyone see Robben consoling that little kid in the stands after the penalties last night? Well, I suppose I can sympathise. While I wasn't in Rome in person, learning the hard lesson that the terrible things you cannot imagine do happen wasn't any easier when seen from the other side of a flickering little CRT screen, awake way past my bed time. I remember being told then, there would be the next final for Argentina to win. An adult's way of consolation I suppose, as my world seemed to have momentarily fallen apart. And every four years since (with the exception of the '02 World Cup, which passed me by completely for one very good reason) I have waited.

Should I accept that there is a one in two chance that Argentina might lose again? Might make it easier to take the loss if that eventuality were to transpire. Or should I live dangerously? Give in completely to belief as I once did?

Feeling: dangerously confident
Listening to: Moby - A long time