above Tintern

On Monday we drove to Tintern Abbey. We stopped for one last walk. The view! God, how I miss that. In Vienna I lived close to the hills. Observing the city from one of the wooded hills always calmed me down immensely. The city, the hills, the forest, the fields where the city ends.

On Friday we had a lunchtime concert at work. I didn't really know the work of Wolfgang Rihm before (contemporary classical music is not exactly one of my strengths), but his waltzes are wonderful (and not very contemporary-sounding). I sat on the stairs - anxiously hovering in the background is basically all I do during our events - and breathed deeply. Another long week.

I'm currently reading The Blue Flower by Penelope Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald was new to me when I came upon an essay by Frank Kermode about her oeuvre, but I've since read countless articles about her, mostly because her biography has just been published. The Blue Flower is wonderful, though I'm not sure whether I'd like it as much if German wasn't my first language. Part of its charm, for me, is that Fitzgerald imitates the syntax and oddities of German. I'm usually not a great fan of writers including single words in a foreign language (the occasional merde or halt) to signal that their characters are speaking a language other than English, but it works here. I wonder how one would translate this book into German. Translating has been on my mind a lot recently, and I realise that I'm more and more apprehensive about the whole issue. I see the time and effort that classicists put into their translations, I see them argue about single words and their meanings, and it makes me wish that every translation from French, German, Norwegian was published with extensive footnotes, or in bilingual editions. 

This year I've read more 20th century fiction than ever before. Possibly more than I've ever read, in my whole life. How odd.

to sleep, to dream

I've been having trouble sleeping. Nightmares upon nightmares.

1. I'm only sleeping.
2. Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in.
3. Sleeping when the day breaks.

these are the days that we'll miss

INTERVIEWER

What effect would you like your books to have?

MURDOCH

I’d like people to enjoy reading them. A readable novel is a gift to humanity. It provides an innocent occupation. Any novel takes people away from their troubles and the television set; it may even stir them to reflect about human life, characters, morals. So I would like people to be able to read the stuff. I’d like it to be understood too; though some of the novels are not all that easy, I’d like them to be understood, and not grossly misunderstood. But literature is to be enjoyed, to be grasped by enjoyment.

from the Paris Review

forever and ever

This is my favourite song.

what I like

Tonight was a disaster

(My neighbourhood and sad pop songs.)

this year was important

sometimes I can't believe it
I'm moving past the feeling

In June I watched 'Scenes from the Suburbs'. Win Butler's voice, talking about the past, got stuck in my head and provided the theme for the entire year. "I guess those aren't the pieces you remember", he said. I listened to the title track all summer long.
It was true: I really couldn't believe it. I was moving on. My life had changed abruptly in 2010; some of the most important things had fallen away. As is often the case, this turned out to be a good thing - even though it did feel terrible at the time.
2011: months spent in the library, writing my dissertation, and after that the best summer I've ever had. Weeks and weeks of feeling free. And then I moved to England, and I didn't know what to expect, and my life is not what it was but that's good. Sometimes I think back about the years before this one. It's hard to believe that they existed.

lucky

Saturday was the best day I've had so far in Durham.
Technically it started at midnight when I was dancing with new friends in the smallest indie club I've ever been to. (2011 has been the year of unexpectedly amazing dance parties.) When I woke up much later, the sky above the trees outside my window was blue and the air was warm. So I took a long walk on my own. I bought a toasted sandwich and ate it after walking up a semi-hidden alley to a wild overgrown park behind a church, looking at the castle on the hill opposite.
It's so green here, and there are so many unexpected views. While I'm here my love for trees might replace my love for town houses, out of necessity almost because there are no town houses. There are so many footpaths, it almost feels as if I live in the countryside. I've lived in a big city all my life, albeit with a forest close by, so this feels as exotic as anything.
When I came home I sat on my balkony/roof terrace with a cup of tea to read another chapter of "North and South". The light was beginning to turn the trees and the cathedral orange. I felt incredibly lucky to be there.
Later, one of my favourite bands played a concert in a tiny room in the centre of the city. You could see the moon through the open window behind them. This time around they had brought a banjo, a mandolin, a violin and a cello. I've been to so many great concerts, but this one was incredibly special: My friend and I sat on the floor with about twenty other people and after the first song he turned to me and said, "Thank you for telling me about this." Perfect end to a perfect day. Let's hope that there'll be many more days like this.

two more days

My brain feels as if it's melting. I can't wait for it to be over because then I'll lie down in our garden and SLEEP THE CLOCK AROUND.



You should listen to this with headphones on, crappy laptop speakers just don't do this song justice.

can't believe you didn't feel a thing

Dear pop songs, my favourite thing about you is that with one simple sentence you manage to express so much, simply because you combine words that would feel banal by themselves with sweet sounds.

I wanted you to feel the same.

my favourite spring song

If we just want to by junijarvi

Spring is just around the corner.

steam trains and seagulls

I've listened to this song about 10-15 times a week since I first discovered this version in September.

nice

Hello. Here are some things that have kept me amused recently.
1. The Surf The City trilogy is wonderful: Short films about skating/surfing the streets of Madrid. Now I can't wait until I can be out in the streets again. Watch them, they're amazing. Madrid sure is a great place to skate, the pavements are much more smooth than those in Vienna and there are big squares and open spaces, perfect. I remember thinking how wonderful it must be to ride your bike around the city when I stayed there. One day I'll go back.
2. I watched The King's Speech and yes, I liked it a lot. Especially the music. My favourite Mozart concerto was played during the credits, and I've hummed this wonderful Beethoven symphony ever since the king made his important speech. Lovely.
3. Awkward Ed Miliband Moments and Intense Moments With Ed Balls. No words needed.

all the people have their reasons

"Sartre was wrong. Hell is not other people. Hell is the total absence of any people at all when you want, more than anything, to exchange information with another human voice."
(Michael Gove*)

Today I spent most of my time in the company of my brothers and their best friends.
Today I missed you even more than usual.
Here's one of my favourite memories: We got ready to go out and I put on make-up and for once you didn't complain. Instead you took my guitar and started playing this song (one of my favourites) and we stood in front of the bathroom mirror and sang loudly and I was suprised that I knew every single word. (But then again, you played that album again and again back in 2006 until it became one of my favourites too.)

*(yes, I dislike his policies as well, don't worry)

sun won't shine today

I miss the green hills. I need to take a long walk somewhere where I can see the horizon.

We talked about this song and Townes Van Zandt's strange life today. This is my favourite song, I think. Violins.