S1E1: Det far sa (om The Brørs)

Far sa: «Høyr her, gut, eg likar musikken din. Men eg skulle ønske du kunne skrive på norsk.» Eg sa: «Det er komplisert.» Far sa: «Kva da? Å lage musikken – eller å selge han til Sverige?»

Eg sa sjølvironisk: «Sjokket kunne bli for stort for den einaste amerikanske fanen min.» Far sa: «Til helvete med han. Kvifor prøvar du å synge til han, og ikkje til meg, din eigen far?»

Eg sa ingenting, for eg sette dei vanlege unnskuldingane mine i halsen: «Det høyrest ikkje bra ut». «Eg høyrest ikkje ut slik eg skal». «Eg har verkeleg verkeleg prøvd».

Men sanninga er: Far har masa om dette i årevis, no dreier det seg berre om far/son-greia. Uansett alder eller tidspunkt, ein gut vil alltid hate det når han gjer sitt beste og det ikkje er bra nok.

Når alt kjem til alt – det einaste du ønsker far skal seie er «du er ok».

Eg er ingen unge sjølv, og far er helsikes gammal – for eitt år sidan fylte han 80. Og det er ei greie i familien vår: Vi begynner å synge når vi skal vera litt varme og høgtidelege. Så, eg valde ut nokre Sgt. Pepper-melodiar (for til og med far min diggar The Beatles). Eg skreiv tekstar på språket vårt, og eg song dei til far og gjestene hans. Når alt kjem til alt – det einaste eg ønsker er at far skal seie at eg er kjempeflink. Betre enn Beatles!

Når alt kjem til alt – det einaste vi alle ønsker far skal seie er «du er ok». Etter at han har gjort det, kan vi seie det til oss sjølve.

Men kjære far: No er eg glad for at du sa det du sa, kult at du gjorde det! Eg måtte berre finne det ut sjølv. No veit eg at eg kan spele og skrive songar både slik og slik. Det er ok.

*

S1E2: A Message from The Oil Company

Hi, I’m the head of a big international oil company. I stand here today to address everyone of you who doubts in me. We know that you know that we do some business to which you disagree. This is a message to show how I deal with this personally.

I’m gonna die. In an evolutionary perspective I have practically already said goodbye. Die – and be lowered in the ground at my family cemetery. Soon my body will rot in the soil, and become soil itself. However, nutritious soil full of calcium and proteins, phosphorous and chlorine. When the ground is this healthy, the passing of ten generations will turn the cemetery into a jungle. And after ten geological eras, this jungle will actually become a fossil.

Give me time (remember we are talking about time in a fairly long perspective)! Time so I can be found in the ground as fresh and nice fossil energy. I’m lying there, ready to get pumped up and shipped to a refinery, in which I become gasoline that will be filled on the tank of a car by my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grand child.

Oh, isn’t that beautiful – how I’m renewable!

Resume: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, soil to soil. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Man to Oil! I am the head of a big international oil company. I stood here today to address everybody who has doubted in me. Goodbye.

*

S1E3: Mædmen

When you come home, the apartment is clean and smells of freshly baked bread. When you come home, we’ll watch ‘Mad Men’ with each our lager beer.

I’m not fond of washing. I know how to dust, but I’m pretty sloppy. Before I met you, some would call me a slob. But now I know where to put in the effort. When you come home, the apartment is clean, and the lavatory smells good. When you come home, you will get a fancy grouse dinner for two.

I’m not fond of shooting, so ‘grouse’ doesn’t mean of the self-caught kind. Still, I’m macho enough to enjoy bragging about the food you will get when we meet again. When you come home, we’ll have to go exercising, so we can eat even more. When you come home, and the grouse is eaten, there’s Daim cake for dessert. And along with the dessert, we’ll go straight for the Netflix series. When you come home, we’ll watch Mad Men – a whole season!

We dig Don Draper and the ad drama ladies. But the life we lead, wouldn’t make much of a drama series. ‘Cause I’ve got the one I prefer – she who is able to make me happy. And I’m not having any ‘affair’: No, I only hang around with Don when you have come home, and I watch ‘House of Cards’ while I’m home alone.

When you come home, the apartment is clean, and I smell of food. When you come home, you’re up for a fancy grouse dinner. When you come home, don’t be late, ‘cause we start right away. When you come home for episode one of a new Mad Men season.

Mad Men!

 

S1E4: Drømmeliv

Livet er i ferd med å miste smak – som ein gammal tyggegummi. Eg er i ferd med å miste framdrift – som å svømme rundt med kleda på.

Når det ikkje finst noko nytt å gjera eller å seie, når kvar dag berre er ein blåkopi av ein eller annan annan dag: Da er det eg finn opp ein tablett mot fattigdom. Da er det eg begynner å date Friheitsgudinna. Alt eg vil er å leva i ein drøm ei stund.

Livet er berre akkurat slik det framstår. Eg kan ikkje flyge gjennom taket. Eg skulle ønske at livet var ein drøm – merkelege endringar og doble meiningar. Kongen av England dør, og eg arvar krona hans. Sjå, Himalaya veks opp frå ein dansk by.

Men om morgonen betyr det ingenting. Det finst ingen slik konge, og Danmark er flatt igjen. Alt eg vil er å leva i drømmen min ei stund. Eg er ei rockestjerne! Og du blir til ein gitar!

Men om morgonen gir det ikkje meining. Du er ingen gitar, og eg er ingen Edge eller Jack White. Eg får berre lov til å leva i drømmen min ei lita stund. Nok eit drømmeliv er over. Eg tygg ein ny dag og innser at eg berre må halde meg vaken ei stund.

Eg skulle ønske at livet var ein drøm.

*

S1E5: The Day I Saved The World

The beeper woke me up, and my brain got turned on. The sun was sharp as a knife, and so was my brain. I felt fresh and fit for fight, full of professional cred. And that’s the way it should be, on the day that I should save the world.

I took a shower and put on a suit. I had a bowl of cereal and prepared myself for the meeting at a secret location downtown. I noticed that my unshaved face didn’t match the way I was dressed – the hero should look sharp on the day he is going to save the world.

I cut myself during shaving and had to swear a little. I was unharmed, but had to waste time washing away blood. I wouldn’t make it to my bus, but I laid a backup plan: A good old Caravelle (inherited from my uncle, Kjell) had to leave the garage on this day when I was about to save the world.

But the Caravelle wasn’t very reliable after all – at least it could have picked a better day to stall. Now it stopped, and I left it in a flower bed. I shouted for a taxi: ‘Come help me! I’m supposed to save the world!’

The taxi was a sauna, and the driver was a fan of 80’s Metallica (he looked like Otto Mann). But in the middle of the «Whiplash» * riff I became furious and scared, because Otto made a wrong turn, away from where I was going to save the world.

I jumped into the front seat and threatened ‘You must turn!’. He took me by surprise and kicked back with kung-fu. With whiplash all over and a dislocated shoulder I woke up in hospital, still partly anesthetized, high enough to scream: ‘The world! I must save the world!! Now!!!’

Sometimes fate is a doctor’s assistant who tie you to the bed and puts your life on hold. It all went askew from when I cut myself. It should never have happened. How am I supposed to save the world when I can’t even save the day?

– – –

* from the album ‘Kill ‘Em All’ (Blackened Recordings, 1983)

 

S1E6: B*A*A*T

We’re building a boat for ourselves: A strong and stable boat, a vessel that can carry us across the oceans. We’re building a boat for ourselves: A majestic yacht, a masterpiece that can be buried along with us when we die. You will never witness a better boat.

We’re building a boat for ourselves, with millimeter precision, featuring patentable solutions, new technology, nano-energy. It’s a future dream worth waiting for. Oh yes, our boat and our dream shall be fullfilled.

We’re building a boat for ourselves, from business deals and language and clauses that tie us to the mast. But if the baptism is coming up soon – champagne meeting steel – then we’ll forget about all the budgets that were exceeded, then we’ll invite the whole world to a ball. We’ll invite everyone!

We’re building a boat for ourselves, from blood, sweat and tears. We mingle and we mediate, but we don’t have any wind in our sails. And now we have a boat that most likely will never get wet. Yes, the oars may get pulled in by the government. If the rhetorics don’t change, you will be our last hope.

Would you like to invest in this boat we’re building? Then there’s hope, then there will be a boat. We’re building a boat for ourselves, and you are welcome aboard.

*

S1E7: Kloning

Gud laga mennesket, og likte si eiga løysing. Og løysinga var god, den – men ver klar over at det var ein prototype. For EG er det endelege resultatet av evolusjon. Ikkje prøv å så tvil om det, du gjer lurt i å tru på skrytet mitt: Eit høgare nivå, mine herrar, som de alle kan komme opp på – akkurat som meg.

Kloning! Klink til meg med ein stein, putt meg i ei kopimaskin og gjer suksess. Kloning! Grav inn i beinmargen min, mangfaldiggjer DNAet mitt.

I ei forderva verd som hungrar etter perfeksjon, er det temmeleg sløvt å gje slepp på gullet vi alt har funne. All genforsking og rotter og dyreforsøk er unyttig for framtida – det er ikkje eg! Kvifor prøve å løyse alle problem? Rydd dei unna i staden! Skriv ut hovudet mitt!! Kloning! Eg er ikkje åleine lenger med ein liten kloning.

Eg er den einaste som er min eigen son. Men det eg spør etter, er littegrann meir – å vera meg sjølv så mykje som muleg: Min eigen talkshowvert! Min eigen PT! Min eigen Snåsamann! Galileo – min eigen store oppdagar! Casanova – min eigen hemmelege elskar! Mussolini – min eigen diktator! Schwarzenegger – min eigen Terminator! Min eigen kloning … Min eigen … fiende …

Eg er ikkje åleine med kloningen min.

*

S1E8: Kjære fru Natur

Fru Natur, eg vart fødd så seint som i går. Alt eg er oppteken av er å eta, le og vinke. Eg er berre ein baby. Det store brystet ditt er fullt av mjølk. Brett til sides silkekledet ditt.

Fru Natur, du let meg kravle rundt i håret ditt. Du er så tålmodig, og du gir så moderleg av deg sjølv. Eg er framleis berre ein baby, men eg drikk så lenge det finst dråpar – har ikkje lært å stoppe.

Mjølk bygde kroppen min, stål bygde båten min. Det du ikkje kunne gi meg, stal eg frå kåpa di. Eg tømte lommene dine, og såg ikkje korleis du mørkna og vende ryggen til meg.

Fru Natur … prøvar du å riste meg av deg?! Eg smitta deg med influensa, no er eg ein brødsmule kvar gong du hostar. Eg var ein baby, men eg vaks opp for fort. Og no … driv du og testar meg for å finne ut kor mykje eg tåler?

Isåfall, kjære Fru Natur: I dag er føtene mine i ferd med å svikte. Ver så snill, ikkje blås meg vekk!

*

S1E9: New Species / New Start

I didn’t know how to begin, but that was the beginning, it was a way in. I’m a single cell, a simple soul, I don’t know if nature wish me all its best.

I’m drifting towards the ocean, with the stream. Whenever I dream of a sea of my own, I’m not really serious about it, as I know nothing about water and vapor and cycles. And I know nothing about other life and other cells, until one day when I bump into you, and we join forces.

We become a new species. Sometimes all it takes is letting ourselves go with the flow. We’ll have a new start. You and me are floating calmly, and then the waterfall comes and takes us into the dream.

Don’t you know how to begin? That doesn’t matter, ‘cause you just drifted into a drop of H2O with me, in an ocean where anything can happen. We don’t have a clue, we don’t have any map, but hey: the story picks up speed. We are taken ashore, and it seems we know what to do on a beach. We grow feet, we make fire, we grow bigger when we eat other animals. We invent the wheel, everything gets possible, the wheel is spinning and spinning, and the two of us rule. We can replace wheels with a boat, we can fly and change language. This is where the story bends, from here we can’t see where it ends.

We became a new species. Sometimes all it takes is letting ourselves being led to the ocean. We could start all over. Imagine – we were just drifting by, and then the ocean gave us life as a gift.

We became a new species. We didn’t know how to begin, but that was the beginning, it was a way in. We could start all over. But now our story bends, from here we can’t see where it ends.

*

S1E10: When I’m With Other People

Sometimes – when I’m with other people, I become ashamed so easily. Sometimes – I know it is stupid, shame on me the same.

You know that picture I gave you? Tear it down or stove it away. I doubt I’ll ever visit you again. Cause the one you see isn’t me. Last time I was losing face, and so I have to fake a new one until I become myself again.

Sometimes running away from the party is all I can think of. But I don’t want to be a miserable idiot, so I stay in a corner, boring myself and others instead.

If I happen to be funny, everything gets worse. If you give me kudos, I won’t dare looking at you. I’ll blush and stutter. And that’s infectious – it gets quiet. It’s so embarrassing, it’s so awkward. It’s my fault that the evening got sticky. It’s a pity and a shame.

But sometimes everything is just fine. Put that picture I gave back on the wall. Just say when and I’ll pay a visit, joke with you, have a talk, make food, feel and laugh, try to please – myself. Not just you. And everyone else present will feel better – when that happens … whatever happens … sometimes.

And in three years time I hope it will be like that all the time.

*

S1E11: The Biggest Bang-teorien

Ikkje leit etter unnfangelsen, historia hans har ingen start. Tid var ikkje oppfunne, han berre vaks ut av eit mørker. Ikkje forløyst av noko jordmor, eller frå noko livmor. Det finst ikkje det morsmålet som kan fortelle kva som skjedde før denne ungen kom til verda med eit brak.

Kva det enn var som vart soge inn i atmosfæren hans først – materien må ha smelta ned til enkle enkeltord. Desse orda slo seg saman til følelsar, og følelsane la ein Plan. Eliminer følelsane frå likninga, og Planen vart til Mannen.

Eit liv oppstod. Eitt stort smell. Her er ein mann som påstår at han at har kommandoen.

Han lever inni ein spegel, så han ser ikkje seg sjølv. Avataren hans er ei stjerne, men alt han strålar ut er skam. Vi leitar etter vrangforestillingar, men dei let seg ikkje summere i ein fasit. Ingen Gud og ingen komité veit kva det var som skjedde, som førte til at ungen kom til verda med eit brak.

Eit liv oppstod. Eitt stort smell. Éin liten mann, fanga i ein større plan.

Livet hans tok til. Her er mannen. Det Største Smellet, og han hadde kommandoen. No er han Universet, han saug til seg det som er.

Men det er alt han fekk.

*

S1E12: Uavhengig, utan tvil

Eg likar Rilo Kiley godt. Eg høyrer ganske ofte på platene eg har. «More Adventurous»*, og så er det den med ei teikning av eit bekymra ansikt på coveret**. Eg likar gitarane, og alle arra i sjelene i songane. Det er ein stad eg kjenner meg heime, så derfor ventar eg spent på den nye CDen deira.

Eg likar «uavhengig musikk» godt. Men eg har ikkje vore bevisst på kva som er uavhengig og ikkje. Er ein ting «uavhengig» nok, når humøret til kvar ein indiekid er avhengig av tingen? Eg likar gitarane, og alle arra i sjelene i songane, og det er derfor eg ventar spent på den nye CDen til Rilo Kiley.

Men han overraskar meg, dette er ikkje «uavhengig», og eg innser akkurat kva eg likar: Det er uavhengig musikk, utan tvil.

Så eg prøvde å finne ut av det: Akkurat kva tiltrekkjer meg ved det uavhengige? Å «bli uavhengig» er det du gjer når du veks opp, men er eg fullt ut vaksen? Tilbake til Rilo Kiley: «Under The Blacklight»*** følest moden, og det gjer meg sikker: Ein uavhengig er ein midt-imellom-person.

Stor overraskelse: Eg er uavhengig når eg innser at eg kan dø som ein indie-kid. Som ein nitti år gammel tenåring, for alltid fastfrosen i spennet mellom gut og mann.

Men som uavhengig, utan tvil.

– – –

* More Adventurous, Brute/Beaute Records, 2004
** The Execution of All Things, Saddle Creek Records, 2002
*** Under The Blacklight, Warner Bros. Records, 2007

S1E13: Having A Baby

Today we had a talk about having a baby, cause last night we did what it takes. But whenever there’s talk about having a baby, a curtain falls down inside my brain.

I see twenty year old boys pushing prams with babies. But I don’t see myself in them. I’m seldom touched by the sight of children I don’t know, and I know you feel the same.

Our relationship is serious – but that’s who we are as persons. I wonder what’s gonna push us one step further. I’m no longer romantic every second you are near. Sometimes I think: Let’s break up – or settle down.

You started to write down pros and cons about having a baby (which says a lot about you), while I entitled a song «Having a Baby» (I have no idea what it says about me). You said: «It’s such a fuss to have a baby here and now. But I’m sure it’ll be a delight when we get tired and old.» I said: «Sure, I guess I’ll be tired when I’m eighty-two.» And you said: «Splendid, cause there’s no expiration date on my eggs …»

But jokes aside: If things become serious, what do we do with the baby? What if our ruminations fall apart with a blast, what if you become as big as a marzipan cake, what if a baby shows up, keeps us awake, is all flesh and blood and needs comfort and food? Then we must be able to work together. We have to be of the right kind, night after night, day by day. You and me and a baby.

Our relationship is serious – a lot more than just «who we are». And we still become romatic and get going like we did last night. But will we be people who enjoy being a father and a mother? Will we be good?

So: We talk and talk about having a baby. We say «yes!», we say «fine!» about having a baby. We wear out and say «no» to having a baby. We make lists and songs about having a baby. Yes, we talk and we talk about having a baby. And now I can see myself with a baby a little better.

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