Let’s try with another one. Morrissey – Hold On To Your Friends. Extreme disillusionement too. Beautiful music again. Let’s try with words:

It has been a strenuous but gorgeous week.

Small but superb things occur at Sunday’s lunch times too. At this present one, I go on reflecting most of the on-the-fly BUT very carefully thought-out decisions I’ve been making this week, despite its (on-the-same-fly) foreseen in advance ill effect. A not totally irreversible situation which is creating its own return, with granted impossible-to-completely-foresee benefits for everybody. I hope.

As a wannabe-librarian, I took a subject once called Information Units Management. Our lecturer, a great senior one, taught us to anticipate all things which could go wrong on every undertaking, as I’ve been doing all this week long with the most significant, delicate matters –all of them related to friendship.

And what seems wrong at first happens not to be wrong by itself: sometimes it’s called a catharsis, and a driving force has been required. An accidental driving force with her own legs and facets.

And from its very beginning the accidental driving force thought she could endure whatever would happen –because of friendship, because nobody’s free till there’s freedom for all above all– and has a lot to write, but not here.

So, it has been a gorgeous week, I feel extremely refreshed and whatever happens next it’s going to be remembered during the rest of my life as well as what has happened these days. For sure and for good.

God søndag til jer! This real English homework also rulez!

At last, Friday wee hours.

No detour signs on my way home tonight. Coat not needed, gentle breeze, a wondrous sky that hadn’t a thousand eyes but a big one, the waxing gibbous moon.

Walking while pondering over if the stinging remark M. Twain wrote in a letter, “All good things arrive unto them that wait – and don’t die in the meantime”, was only a wisecrack or actual wisdom. And in the meantime, no hurry on my path.

Smooth road, clear day
But why am I the only one travelin’ this way?
How strange the road to love should be so easy
Can’t you see the detour ahead?

Wake up, slow down
Before you crash and break your heart, gullable clown
You fool, you’re headed in the wrong direction
Can’t you see the detour ahead?

The further you travel, the harder to unravel the web
she spins around you
Turn back while there’s time, don’t you see the danger sign
Soft shoulders surround you

Smooth road, clear night
Oh lucky me that suddenly I saw the light
I’m turning back away from all that sorrow
Smooth road, clear day
No detour ahead

The further you travel, the harder to unravel the web
she spins around you
Turn back while there’s time, don’t you see the danger sign
Soft shoulders surround you.

Saturday Night Fever

Glitter balls. Saturday nights happen to be more temporary than Sunday evenings. You’ll never know if those hundred smiles shining towards almost everybody are diamond facets or rusty granite. May the best glance hand you a piece of amber with someone inside not wanting to hide from himself. Even on weekdays. Better on weekdays, when amber and emerald masks sparkle slowly through cracked skins, up to your sight.

I don’t know anybody, even me already. Tricky to come across myself with my rusty and long-time unkempt English. Let’s polish it up.

Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey

Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard :
“How I Dearly Wish I Was Not Here”
In the seaside town
…that they forgot to bomb (pesky Barcelona)

Incapable of getting tired of  Sunday afternoons. Unlike ordinary weekday evenings, your body language increases till you feel steady and ready to go, a few hours later when stars aren’t red anymore on the night so blue.

Something is always brewing on stupid Sunday afternoons, while we stand in line, wanting not to get things done then. Literature brews on spoilt and dummy and stupid Sundays, for sure.

Jeg vælger Frank & Nancy Sinatra – Somethin’ Stupid