Episode I : Sheets ( damp )

Remembering running through the neighbours drying linen at the attic.
Running through damp sheets, eyes wide open, sometimes shut.
Back and forth, back and forth.
Half wet, half dry fabrics hanging so close, meeting the next one before being through the previous.
Endless moist light wetness against the face.
Body in movement,- flying, chilly, covering, slipping, meeting.
Eyes wide open. Eyes sometimes shut.

Thinking about damp sheets…

Episode II : She heats ( temperature / preservation )

As a kid I had rumble fish in a transparent cake box.
One day I placed them in the window for them to see the snow.
Returning from school they were half dead of coldness, swimming slowly sideways.
I put them on the stove to heat them up again.
I never meant to boil them…
Afterwards my father placed them in small tiny plastic-cups, filled them with water and put them in the freezer so that I could have a look at them every now and then.

As a kid I had a guinea pig in a cage.
One day I placed him in the shadow of a raspberry bush for him to enjoy the grass.
Returning from the beach the shadow had moved,- my guinea pig being half dead of heat.
I put him in the cellar to cool him off.
I never meant to give him a shock…
Afterwards my father made me hold him like he was still alive, so that I could have a nice picture before burying him.

Thinking about damp heat…

Episode III : He / She / It is ( absence )

Thinking about galloping feet.
Remembering riding the horse together ( back and forth, back and forth ).
Thinking about her little body thrown high up in the air ( throwing up ).
Thinking about his lungs filled with all that water,- sinking.
Remembering his constant blue lips, his running nose ( sheets of paper ).
Remembering her at the end of the corridor, studying her swollen womb.
Thinking about her eyes and ears and nose and mouth packed with all that snow ( compact ).
Remembering the white dress among all the black ones.
Thinking about the red haired women.
Hating all those who cried!
Forgetting how to cry…
Thinking about his head blown away ( messy ).
Being afraid of pubic hair and angels.
Remembering mathematics and choirs.
Thinking of one plate too many on the dinner table ( the silence…whispering ).
Thinking about climbing up and falling down.
Thinking of his legs swinging in thin air. Being glad for the bloodlessness.
Remembering stepping on a dead featherless bird that morning, being cold the whole day.
Thinking about absence : remembering nothing, never forgets.
Thinking of all the bones, feeling my own skeleton inside.
Scared of the invisible bodies in bed. Afraid of love ( panic in the dark ).

Thinking about damp sheets…

Episode Iv : She eats / shits ( digestion )

As a child she saw a movie called “the bugs are coming”. Giant insects eating people. Afterwards she had some quite disturbing dreams, developing this tremendous fear of the dark.
Then by accident she saw another movie called “Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”. It was horrifying! This nice guy getting a shot and then turning into pure evil. The very same guy! ( What an unexpectedly true paranoia to get a glimpse of, huh?)
In the midst of all this her mother was ill. Shrinkingly ill as a matter of fact.
One night our little girl ran into her parents bedroom when the point of darkness became unbearable. Throwing the door open she saw her father – whom she believed being the incarnation of goodness – sticking a big needle into her mothers bare ass.
Seeing this as the plain painkiller it was was of course not what our little girl saw.
Oh no.
What she saw was Dr. Jekyll giving the Mr. Hyde shot.
And she ran,- oh she ran – to avoid the unbearable sight of her parents turning into pure evil monsters.
Or maybe she just froze? Screaming as they approached to comfort her, but never again being able to do so…
I don’t know.
What I do know is that her mother died short after, making her afraid of angels too, knowing too well that they could bear a devil inside.
And – of course – toilets. She became extremely scared of toilets, having to expose her bare ass ( like her mother did ),- being convinced that Dr. Jekyll would lurk down there in the toilet sink, just waiting to give her the final Mr.Hyde shot.
No wonder she stopped eating. Being the only protection against shitting ( logical ).
The paradox was that she thereby – like her sick mother – started to shrink, so death scared she almost died of it…

Thinking about damp shits…

Episode V : She hits ( reflection )

Remembering the two mother-cats on the farm.
One was killed by a car, the other one adopting all her kittens.
Two days later she ( the now mother of twelve ) ate rat poison, getting cramps and dead back feet,- the dogs on the farm chasing her as she was lumping into death.
Think I remember someone explaining rat poison as being crushed glass…
Remembering my older sisters crying while practising on the already dead kittens :
Throwing them into the wall,
To be able to do the same
With those still alive.

Thinking : Damned! Shit!

Episode VI : Shhh…it`s ( ghosts!)

Faksimile fra Adresseavisen (over)


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