Ah. New game. It should have been discovered by Tuesday, but wasn’t, so here we go:

1. Poetry or prose?
Ach. Sorry, can’t chose. I read more prose, but I wouldn’t survive without poetry. Besides, a lot of prose is poetry.

2. Funky modern art or the older, “classic” variety?
Classic-ish. You know, Turner and all that.

3. Sculptures or paintings?
Paintings. Though I also love sculptures.

4. Theatre: exuberant musical or serious drama?
I’d have to say the latter. Les Mis has sort of ruined all other musicals for me, so I spend more time wishing I were watching Les Mis than I spend actually paying attention to what’s going on on stage.

5. Ballet or modern dance?
Not a big fan of either, but I’d go for modern as having more variety.

6. Movies: major studio or indie?
Indie.

7. Authors: Shakespeare or Dr. Seuss?
Shakespeare.

8. TV: PBS or A&E?
A&E (being partly responsible for P&P and Hornblower, they win hands down)

9. Music: Beethoven or Beatles?
Beatles

10. Thought-provoking question of the week: You are a contributing member of your favorite art museum, and visit on a regular basis. They announce a new, temporary special exhibit by an artist surrounded by controversy…this person’s work and/or political views offend you. Do you stop supporting the museum, or just stay away during the time the exhibit is there?
Difficult scenario to picture, I am not easily offended by art. Of course, I suppose the controversy could be “is this art or nazi propaganda” for example, in which case I might find it hard to swallow. Unless the “offense” was repeated frequently, I guess I’d still support the museum. And I’d probably want to see the exhibit before deciding whether there were case for offense, so staying away is not an option.

Well, I’d better get on with it, then:

1. What was your most memorable moment from the last week?
Probably an e-mail I received on the weekend. Or the dream I had this morning, which was truly bizarre.

2. What one person touched your life this week?
Does Ainsley of Fame Factory count?

3. How have you helped someone this week?
I gave one of our customers some excellent advice on Wednesday. Does that count? It benefits us as well, so it’s not very altruistic, is it?

4. What one thing do you need to get done by this time next week?
The project really needs to be done. I mean really.

5. What one thing will you do over the next seven days to make your world a better place?
My world, not the world? Ok, I will try to see more of people I like and to make sure that that project is finished on time.

Not very profound answers, but they will have to do. If I come up with better ones over the next few hours I’ll add them…

I’m in love. Still watching Fame Academy religiously, and Ainsley singing Don’t Get Me Wrong straight at me (well, you know, the camera obviously) was just bloody marvellous. Sigh. I don’t think I’d actually want him in real life, he’s not my type at all (too skinny and too cute), but can I have him as a pet, please, he’s so lovely?

Voice in my head: well, what do you think?

Planning a trip down memory lane this Saturday. I need to go to Husfliden in Hamar (which is where we used to live – Hamar, that is, not Husfliden – from I was 4 until we moved to Trondheim when I was 16) in an attempt to obtain the correct sort of material to alter my grandmother’s bunad (national costume) to fit me. She gave it to me before Christmas and she’s (reasonably) been asking about progress ever since. In any case the alterations really need to be done by 17 May, and so I need to get my hands on the material. So here’s to hoping they actually have it.

Anyhow, I thought I’d spend the rest of the day wandering randomly through Hamar, going for a walk on the beach (Mjøsa is not the ocean, but it’s pretty big), maybe I’ll even make it as far as Domkirkeodden. I’ve hardly been to Hamar at all since my grandmother (the other one) died in 1994. I was there once for Stine Pernille’s wedding, of course, but even that is 6 years ago by now. So walking about there again is going to be weird. I’m certainly going to step off the train and feel slightly disappointed at the lack of ceremony. I always do when I return somewhere after a long time away. Subconsciously, I always expect cheering crowds and brass bands and confetti and streamers filling the air, and when everyone else turns out to be sublimely indifferent and go about their business as if nothing extraordinary is happening I always feel a little cheated and slightly deflated. Irrational? Yes.

Anyone want to come with me? Yeah, fun day out. Maybe not. Unless you’d be amused by my going “Ooh, we used to…” and “Oh, I just remembered…” all day, in which case please come along.

Ah, childhood memories. It’ll be fun to indulge for one whole day. I’ll have to stop by the library, it used to be my favourite place in the whole world, after all. I wonder if our old hose is still red, or whether it’s been repainted. It was a mucky yellowy-green when we bought it, and my father dropped a bucket of red paint on my mother’s head while we were painting it. Served her right for standing under the ladder, really. There were pebbles with red splashes in the driveway ever after. They are probably still there, but I suppose the people who live there now might be a bit disconcerted at finding a strange woman in their driveway musing over the pebbles. I could of course repeat my performance from when I was 8 or so, when I went and rang the bell of our first house in Hamar and said “Hi, I’m Ragnhild, I used to live here. Could I come in and see what it looks like now, please?” At least I was polite enough to say my name, and they let me come in and fed me cookies. I somehow doubt the 20 years older version of Ragnhild would get the same reception.

I wonder if the old, empty house across the street is still there? We always used to aim our New Year’s fireworks at it, in the hope that it would catch fire and burn down, it was such an eyesore. It’s probably still there, though. The newsagent where we used to buy chewing gum with Sad Sam stickers before choir practice was shut down years ago, I think. What did we do with all that gum, I wonder? I remember not actually wanting the gum, just the stickers, but I can’t remember ever throwing any away, so we must have chewed our way through it somehow. I should walk through Ankerskogen and find out whether the hollow where I always used to find the year’s first blue anemone (and get my picture in the local paper) is still there. There could even be blue anemone there, but I suppose it might be a bit early.

I could send you via tinka to read it at the source, but I can’t resist republishing this, it’s too delightful for words.

To: president@whitehouse.gov (President George W. Bush)
From: k@metameat.net (Paul Kerschen)
Subject: The cost of the Iraq war

Dear Mr. President:

Yesterday the media reported that you have made a supplemental budget request to Congress of $74.7 billion to pay for the current war in Iraq. Your budget for fiscal year 2003 assumes total federal receipts of $2,048.1 billion. My personal income tax accounts for .000000040% of that figure. Applying this percentage to the amount of funding you have requested from Congress, I find that I personally have been asked to pay $29.94 for the Iraq war.

The Mercy Corps, a charitable organization with which you may be familiar, has established an Iraq Emergency Fund to help alleviate the humanitarian catastrophe that the war has already caused, and which will only worsen in coming weeks. Lack of food, clean water, power, and medical supplies will place millions of people at risk of hunger and disease, and a refugee crisis of massive proportions is assured. I have made a charitable donation to this fund in the amount of $199.62. As I am in the fifteen-percent tax bracket, this will reduce my federal tax liability for the next year by the precise amount which you have charged me for your war.

Considering the state I was in on beforehand, whisky was (emphatically) not a good idea.

Voice in my head: Bob Dylan – Just Like a Woman

I am somewhat low on energy at the moment. I’ve only been at work for 8 hours, but it feels more like 12, and I have quite a lot to do, so a little pzazz would be helpful. Instead I have a roaming headache (one that comes and goes and moves about, currently residing in my right temple) and no energy whatsoever. I need to leave to go to the whisky society board meeting in less than half an hour in any case, but as things stand I could do with getting some constructive work done in that time, which seems unlikely.

Yesterday I couldn’t stop yawning after lunch.

Considering whether vitamin supplements or something of that nature might not be a bad idea. Less work and more sleep would also be good, but very unrealistic (besides, I’ve had plenty of sleep this week, and it obviously hasn’t done me any good – perhaps I should aim to sleep less?).

Voice in my head: Alanis Morisette – Not the Doctor

Robin is a Fruit-Eating Pirate Monkey …with a Battle Rating of 9.1 To see if your Food-Eating Battle Monkey can defeat Robin, enter your name:

Sorry, Joh.

Personal relationships, real and imagined

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Other topics

The above covers what I have to say on “Personal relationships and privacy” which is the only part of this general disclaimer for bloggers which I did not feel I could subscribe to. Please read anything that applies to you as regards “Feedback and initiating contact”, “Offensive language and materials” and “Copyright and courtesy” sections.

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Well, that’s it. I’m not buying any more books from Ark.

Every two years there is a big semi-co-ordinated book sale in Norway called “Mammutsalget” (the mammoth sale – easy innit?), most of the books being 50-70% off the normal retail price. This year the official dates were 10-22 March. And every year the best part of the sale is the week after, where all the shops do 30-70% off the sale price again, making the books very cheap indeed. Of course, by this time, the established goodies are gone, but then, one may not always agree with everyone else on what “the goodies” are. So today after work I went trawling the bookshops of Oslo. I actually made it to Tanum on Karl Johan yesterday, and they had 30% off, and I made off with:

Ludwig Wittgenstein “Filosofiske undersøkelser” (Philosophische Untersuchungen)
André Bjerke “Versekunsten, rytme og rim”
Charles Baudelaire “Kunsten og det moderne liv” (contains a selection of Baudelaires art criticism and essays)

and all for less than 200 kroner. Yay me. So today I started at Ark up by Sollis Plass. What? No sale? All Mammut books tidied away? More’s the pity. So I walked down to Norli, and (whahay!) they were doing 50% off. So there I was, paying (very little) for

Georg Johannesen “Litteraturens norske nullpunkt” (essays on contemporary Norwegian non-fiction)
Olav H. Hauge “Dikt i umsetjing” (selected poetry translated by Hauge, from such poets as Hölderlin and Celan)
Charles Baudelaire “Det vondes blomar” (Les Fleur du Mal)

That should keep me busy for a while. However, not done with Ark yet. I also tried the Egertorvet branch. Surely they must realise that the hunt through the cheap remains is the main delight of the sale? No, they don’t. Or, if they do, they don’t care. All sale books tidied away.

So, while everyone else is boycotting Iraq, the United States, Shell, France, McDonald’s, Nike and heaven knows what else, I am going to boycott Ark. That’s how seriously I take my book buying.

Voice on the stereo: Chrissy Hynde (well, The Pretenders) – My City Was Gone (I started humming Don’t Get Me Wrong earlier and wanted to hear it. Turns out I don’t actually have it on CD, which seems frightfully remiss of me and which will have to be remedied. In the meantime, this isn’t bad.)