Archive for the ‘Litterature’ Category

”Where did they go?” Okie asked. “I think they went up the stairs” Teresa answered. Okie the Walrus Boy looked at her. “Why did they do that?” he asked. “Because Jesus is up there” she answered and pointed her hideous bony finger at the top of the stairs. They were brown and worn, and they smelled like burnt leaves. “W-w-w-who’s Jesus, Teresa?” the Walrus Boy stuttered, the hair on his back started to stand up. There was something eerie about the old hag, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Was she nice? Or was she bad? She sure looked evil to Okie, but she had given him a box of chocolates earlier, some very good chocolates indeed, so she couldn’t be bad. Could she? Okie had never seen a bad person give anyone any candy.

“Jesus is the son of God, my little tusky friend. He is a great man and he died for your sins” she answered. Her voice sounded like she’d just downed a handful of gravel. Harsh and unwelcome. “Don’t you want to meet Jesus, Okie?”. Okie looked up the stairs. It was dark up there. Couldn’t see a thing. Was that music coming from above? He looked back at the old woman, her hump moved with the soothing rhythm of her breath. Her breath smelled like burnt matches. She smiled at him. With her teeth. All of them. They weren’t normal. They looked a little shorter than normal and it seemed like there were twice as many as normal.

“I don’t know. He sure sounds like a nice fella” the Walrus said. “But why is he all the way up there? Can’t he come down here? The stairs look so very dangerous to step on!” Okie said. He looked in the chocolate box for the last piece of coco delight. They were all gone. “Because, my curious little friend, Jesus is old now. He was born waaaaay back, almost 2.000 years ago, and when you are 2.000 years old, you wouldn’t be happy to walk down those stairs, would you? Now get up there and say hello…”

Okie looked at the stairs again. Tiny ants crawled all the way up his spine as he took the first step. The wood started screaming as he took the next. He stopped at once: “Why are the steps screaming?” he yelled. “Those are some very old steps, young friend. Just hurry up there. Maybe I’ve got another box of candy for you if you hurry!” the old witch lured. Okie sure liked candy, and that Jesus guy did sound nice, and if he was that old, it sure would seem rude not to say hello. Not many old people tend to get visitors and all their friends are dead. Okie knew that because his great grandfather’s friends died too.

As he took the final steps towards the top of the stairs, he looked down at Teresa. It seemed that the staircase has gotten longer since he started climbing them. “Don’t you want to see Jesus too, Teresa?” The bottom of the stairs seemed so very far away that he had to yell for her to hear him.

“I will join you in a minute young lad” Why didn’t she have to yell for Okie to hear her? This was indeed a very weird house. Very weird indeed.

At the top of the stairs Okie saw a small door. It looked like a door for a dog. Not a small one, but certainly not for a big one either. He knocked three times: “Mr. Jesus? Mr. Jeeeeesus? Are you in there?” Okie didn’t get any answer; he took hold of the door knob and opened the door. He really had to squeeze his way in there.

When he got inside Okie was stunned out of his mind! The room was huge! Not just big, but really, really huge! There were at least 50 meters to the next wall and when he looked up he couldn’t see the ceiling! Never had Okie been in such a huge room before. He started to walk about. There wasn’t much to see. The walls were covered in white wallpaper with something that looked like purple flowers and the floor was made of wood, the same wood as the staircase.

A voice called out. It came from the other side of the room. Okie started to walk towards it. “Hello? Anybody there? Mr. Jesus?” he asked, hoping to get an answer. “Who’s there” the voice answered. It reminded Okie of his great grandfather just before he died. “I am here” the voice said. It sounded like whoever it belonged to where very, very tired. At the opposite side of the door he came in from, he found him. Jesus. He looked very old, after all Teresa said that he was about 2.000 years old. And that’s old. His eyes where pale and his long white hair and beard almost reached his hips. “Are you Jesus?” Okie asked. “I am Jesus Christ” Jesus answered. “What are you doing here, young boy?” he asked. The Walrus Boy tried to look him in the eye, but his wrinkles was in the way. He looked as if he was in great pain. “I came here with Teresa. She’s an old hag but she gave me chocolates, she doesn’t smell good but I think she’s nice. There were some other people too, but I don’t know where they went” the boy said.

Then he saw what had happened to Jesus. He was strung up on a cross! Somebody had put nails through his hands and feet and hung him on a wooden cross! “Oh, Jesus! Why are you on a cross? Don’t it hurt?” the choked Walrus asked. “It doesn’t matter anymore young lad, get away from here. Bad things happen here. The things I have seen. Oh, dear Lord, get away from here!” the tired Jesus replied. “But I have to get you down from there!” said Okie. “No! The woman you are with. She is not good. She will get you the same way she got me! Get away from here quick!” said Jesus. He tried to shout but he was too weak. Then suddenly the door went up with a huge slam and in the door stood Teresa. She looked older than before. “Young boy! Get away from here”

But it was already too late. The boy and Jesus were doomed. As Teresa moved towards them, Okie felt the hairs on his back stand up, and he was certain that he’d eaten the last chocolate in his life. “Jesus!” Okie screamed. “We are doomed!” and suddenly all went black.

When you float around in pure darkness nothing seems real. No light. No sound. No smell. No nothing. When you can’t smell, feel or hear anything, are you really present then? Where do you go, when you die? These where the thoughts that went through the mind of the Walrus Boy. Okie found himself floating through the mighty abyss of darkness that is death. He didn’t know what had happened, but he didn’t feel anything. Suddenly he felt an eerie presence in the dark, something familiar. He didn’t know if his eyes where shut or open. How could he?

Then, like a huge explosion out of nothing, all his senses returned. A woman was shaking him, yelling, at him. “Okie! Okie!” she screamed. The boy didn’t understand. Who was she? Where had he been? “You were just having a bad dream, boy!” she said, as Okie started to realize where he was. He recognized the posters, his bookshelf. It was just a bad dream! But it felt so lifelike. He didn’t understand, it had felt so lifelike, there was no doubt that he had died earlier.

 

 

 

Let’s admit it. I’ve got the attention span of a three year-old. When it comes to literature that is. How many books have I started to read? And how many did I finish before starting on a new one? Actually I don’t have an answer, because I really don’t know. What I do know is, that right in this moment I’m reading four books at once. Lord of the Flies, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, The Divine Comedy and a book on Egyptian art history.

I read Lord of the Flies for the first time in the 7th grade, great book, even back then, but I started reading it again, because I think I’d appreciate it more now that I’m older and wiser.

Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Thus Spoke Zarathustra is the book I just can’t finish. I’ve had it for about two years and I’ve never read past page 27. It’s not that it’s boring or anything, I love Nietzsche and his philosophy, but it’s like there’s some kind of barrier I just can’t read past. So now, for the 5th time, I’m giving it a shot.

The Divine Comedy is the classic I actually never finished. Mostly because the coolest part is the Inferno, Hell. Purgatory and Paradise sounds dull, but truth be told, I never started reading Purgatory or Paradise.

And why am I reading about Egyptian art history? Firstly, because I’m supposed to study Middle Eastern archaeology after the summer holidays, and I like to be a little up front and I don’t know anything about art in ancient Egypt. Secondly, because I just happened to pick it up during a book sale and I thought: that’s good toilet reading. Yeah. It is.

I recently moved to a new apartment, and because I’m about to move again in about three or four months I didn’t feel like unpacking all of my books – only the ones I felt like I needed in my impressively small bookshelf, and I thought of making a list of a few of them*:

  • Albert Camus: The Fall
  • Allah/Muhammad: The Quran
  • Boccaccio: Decameron
  • Dante: The Divine Comedy
  • Euripides: Electra
  • Finn Høghøj: Pre-Socratics
  • Franz Kafka: The Verdict
  • Frede Møller Kristensen: Texts of Buddhism – Pedagogical Studies
  • Friedrich Nietzsche: Thus Spoke Zarathustra
  • George Orwell: 1984
  • George Orwell: Animal Farm
  • God/Moses: The Bible
  • Henrik Ibsen: A Doll’s House
  • Homer: The Illiad
  • Homer: The Odyssey
  • Howard Philips Lovecraft: Necronomicon
  • Jean-Paul Sartre: Existentialism is a Humanism
  • Johannes Sløk, Mogens Pihl & Erik Lund: The European History of Ideas
  • K.E. Løgstrup: Creation and Destruction
  • K.E. Løgstrup: Martin Heidegger
  • K.E. Løgstrup: The Ethical Demand
  • Ken Keysey: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
  • Lewis Carroll: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
  • Lewis Carroll: Through the Looking Glass
  • Marty: Nachel: Homebrewing for Dummies
  • Professor Wally Jay: Small Circle Jiu-jitsu
  • Sv. Aage Bay: Contemporary Foreign Religions
  • Victor Hugo: Les Misérables
  • William Shakespeare: Collected Works
  • Willy Thrysøe: Human Sexuality: a Philosophical and Biological Analysis
  • + About 15 books about various fields of mathematics and chemistry

*When possible I’ll use the English titles – otherwise I’ll try to translate in best the best possible way.

Jag vet inte något bättre, men i Amerika har de visat
att i låten “Beyond the Realms of Death” av Judas Priest
Finns det röster i huvudet som säger: Ge dig själv en chans
Men det är svårt när du inte vet vilket håll kulan ut
Så jag sa släpp rädslan för sataniska musik
För du blir först hjärndöd, så det kan inte slå klick
Och även om Ozzy Osbourne hoppade en dopade get i luften
Finns det inget fel med sunt förnuft …. nej

I am a huge fan of litterature. No, really I love books, apart from the wheel and fire, books are probably the greatest invention ever, and I really pitty the fools who thinks otherwise (like your Alcoholic Dad… And Nazis).

But I just have one problem. They take far to long time to read, I enjoy reading and I can read for hours, that’s not the real problem. What is the problem then? Well, as soon as I pick up a book I find really, really interesting I start reading it, but when I’m half way through some other imensely interesting piece of written word pops up, and I abandon the first book in favour of the new one.