Eg verd ad segja bravo

"Ég kláraði bókina í gær og verð að segja bravó fyrir þessum skrifum - ég sleppti henni ekki eina sekúndu. Ekki síður fallega einlæg en vel skrifuð."

Thetta er alit fyrsta lesandans ad Heilraedi lasasmidsins. Hun heitir Julia Margret Alexandersdottir, bladamadur a Frettabladinu. Hun var ad taka vidtal vid mig og eg er mest ad hugsa um ad byrja a nyrri bok, thetta voru svo vekjandi spurningar.

Hun sagdi margt fleira fallegt, einsog hun hefdi sjaldan eda aldrei sed skrifad um kynlif a svo teprulausan hatt.

En thad kruttlegasta var ad hun hefdi viljad fara inni soguna og hrista mig til, - eda tosa mig ut ur sogunni, thegar sjalfsgagnrynin keyrdi ur hofi.

Svona sterk vidbrogd eru toppurinn. Einsog thegar eg henti Heimsljosi eftir Halldor Laxness uti horn yfir hvernig hann for med Olaf Karason.

En takk Julia Margret.

"Sleppti henni ekki eina sekundu."

Ella Stina lasin a Irlandi

Irlandi er i lamasessi, Ella Stina er lasin, lestarferdir liggja nidri og folk er bara uti bud ad kaupa ser stiga tilad geta kikt upp i loftid.

Taladi vid Jokul son minn i Ameriku, hef ekki heyrt i honum i tvo manudi, og thad var svo skemmtilegt ad eg fekk lifsorkuna aftur.

Er med skritinn hausverk, Greg var naes vid mig og keypti inneign handa mer thott hann se ad skrifa skaldsogu, hann er buinn ad setja mig i skaldsoguna.

Madurinn sem eg elska laetur ekkert i ser heyra, og vitjar min ekki einu sinni i draumum.

Their sem vilja senda ast og samud vinsamlegast kommenti. Ella Stina.

My first candle light in Ireland

was lit tonight, a warm wind like a soft waves to my face, went to Malahide on meeting, with the red gloves Linda gave me, sometimes life is just so beautiful.

The worries of Ella Stina

The worries of Ella Stina are highly guarded and kept in a safe place.

When Ella Stina came to Ireland there was a left-traffic there. Ella Stina went mad because of this but hasnt been able to control the traffic in Ireland, so everytime she crosses the street she rescue her life. Her head is out of control, she cant even control her own head. When the head is supposed to look left, its looking right.

So the right-traffic from her homeland is deeply printed in her soul.

In her body would she also say. Ella Stina is learning how to use her body in a new way, and who blame her for being crazy.

Its not only the right-traffic that is deeply printed in her soul, but her worries.

When Ella Stina was a child she was worried, she worried about her mother, her father, her brother, her self, will there ever become something out of me, Ella Stina thinking everyday, and deeply worried about her parents marriage, thinking all day if she could save it. And will I get the Nobel-prize, also was a big one. And will everything be okay. What everything? Everything. Oh,so you worry about everything.

Being worried was such a big issue for Ella Stina she felt like she had committed crime if she stopped worrying.

She worried about stopped drinking, smoking, waking up in the morgning, her books, her sons, her house, her death, her life, although life had become wonderful, she didnt stop worried. She wasnt even aware of it, until she had deal with this left-traffic in Ireland.

She didnt saw it immediately, when she woke up in Ireland, there was huge marks on her face, the worries were printing themselves into her face, everyday.

Ella Stina looked in the mirror and saw the marks. Why am I worried, I have a wonderful life. I am in foreign country, nice school, able to sail over the ocean and everything. Now I worry about everything, look at the marks on my face.

Then one day, she knew the worries was like the left-traffic in Ireland, very hard to stop worrying when you have done it for such a long time.

You have to look in a new direction.

Ella Stina in Dublin Castle

Since her early childhood Ella Stina has been fond of castles, its not until she is here in Ireland, her intrest in castles has started getting weak. All her sex and love addiction takes place in a castle, and now she is working on this addiction, she is as well moving from her castle, - her inner castle.

She went though to the Dublin Castle because of her intrest to the history. The Wounded-room was the most fascinating. So was the throne. It was made of gold, with high feet, (that had been cut because of small queen Victoria) it was so decorated, with a roof on the top, golden angels, unicorn, lions and stuff.

She took a closer look, it alls seemed proper until she discovered a huge mirror on the wall just opposite the throne. Then she knew that the person sitting there could absolutely see she was such a fool.

My shortcomings

are taking over, when I went guide-touring to Dublin Castle it didnt leave my mind that the guide would tell everybody that the famous Elisabet Jokulsdottire was on the tour, anyway I managed through the castle, so I can tell everybody, I have been there, I went to Ireland and did the Castle, Joyce, Nat, Book of Kells.

What impressed me most was the room where the great freedom-fighter of Ireland Conolly lay wounded in before he was executed 1916. I didnt quite get it if he was executed wounded or what. But this room was dramatic, this fine decoreative room and the wounded street-fighter.

Six years after his death, 1922, Ireland got its independence and the castle as well.

So the wounded sound of Conolly could be kept safe.

It was like he was still there and lot of tourists watching. That what heros get, let me know.

A poem

My lonliness is a white flower
that grows in my breast,

so it has space to open.



*

My giorugioouious life in Dublin

I come home after womens-meeting, with my sun-flowers, having bought candle today, with smell of organge and cinnamon, looking into my favorite soap-store, get myself a sparkling water with organge-juice and sqeeze a lemon, drip into it, have a sip, check my mail, see the cover of The Good Advice of the Locksmith.

*

And today my dream came through, I had a book-shelf here in Dublin. I made it myself. I looked at it before I went out, and saw: Life. Thats me actually.

Still full moon. Gourgiiiiiiouousousgirgious.

A full moon and burning leaves

It smells so good, the leaves are burning, red, yellow, brown, green, thousends of them, and a full moon. The smell makes you visit your soul.

What tiger?

Since the days of Celtic Tiger could be over, we definiately need a new name on the tiger, what about The Potato Tiger, or maybe something simple like: What Tiger.

(Pronounced, Vat Tiger)

The Victim's culture

Paddy also gave me a speech about the victim's culture, the Irish culture is the victim's culture, as every country that has been colony; but that we come to later, its so huge. Paddy was like a real king on his chair when he said this, just like the victim can be.

I met Paddy today

Finally I met Paddy. You know, Paddy is allover the place, Paddys that and Paddy this, on every sign, even in the word book Paddy is a sign for an Irishman. I went to this antiq shop full of history and poetry and there he was, with his hat and everything. His DERHUFA. Yeah. It almost slipped on my lips to say: Hi Paddy. But I didnt dare to be that open, so he didnt fell in love with me, otherwise he had sure will, my english I know, then the guy in the store said: Hi Patrick.

Patrick was ofcourse just like I thought he would might be, intelligent, witty, arrogant, good-looking, amusing, sensitive and with this unbearble lonlyness. His last job was to make a film of IRA.

The antiq-shop was at the bank of Liffey, just as in the myth.

Full moon in Trinity

The best place to watch full moon in Dublin is in Trinity. Trinity was build by queen Elisabet 1592, yes with her own hands, and all the carpenters she made love with, so it didnt take much time. Do you know how the Irish speak English, like they are making fun of the language, when they say love you very much, they say luuuuuv yuuu vurrry muuuuch. Anyway the full moon. I went into Trinity, leaned against the wall to watch it. And then this voice started bothering me, Elisabet, you must feel something, so I said: Common, were are chilling, like Garpur and Jokull says, nothing is happening except me leaning against the wall wathcing the fuuuuull muuuun.

And then the moment came.

I saw all the ghosts and the place went full of old spirit, still there.

Thank you guys.


* I even heard a little sound from the queen and the carpenter. Erotic.

15 ara edruafmaeli

Eg a 15 ara edruafmaeli i dag, 23.oktober, eg veit nu ekkert hvad eg a ad segja nema takk, takk gud, takk englar, takk aa-felagar, aa-laeknar og hjukkur, mamma, barnaborn,

og ekki sist takk synir minir Kristjon, Garpur og Jokull og tengdadaetur Kristin, Ingunn og Helga.

Sidustu tvo ar hef eg fengid blom fra Kristinu, Jokli og Garpi, og nu fae eg tar i augun vid tilhugsunina. Sidast fann eg blom a troppunum. Eg aetla kaupa mer solblom a morgun, fara i leikhusid, og fara yfir lasasmidinn, mest langar mig i sund, og hugsa um hann, og alla vini mina.

Ast.

One day at a time.



Takk fyrir lifid.

The huge wave

I dreamt I was going to a swimming-pool at the shore, then a huge wave came from the Atlantic-ocean. It was clear and beautiful but very dangerous. I ran away, otherwise it could have grab me.

Later that day I was sent on a journey to Don Laoghire, and as I walked the famous walking on the Pirah, the messages was allover the place from people walking there looking for meaning of everything, written everywhere like: Free yourself, and Let go, so in my mind I did let go of him, you know him, - and at the same moment, it was like a wave coming back to me, my soul was brought the message - dont ask me from where, - that the wave in the dream meant love.


And now when I write these words it appears to me that you cant tie the wave.

*


On the end of the road there was a man playing his instrument for the ocean.

But that brings the double meaning, I guess.

The female-doctor

After my walking today I sat in to a cafe and started to put words together in my head. Then I said to myself: Elisabet, you are constantly putting words together in your head, what will happen if you stop doing it?

I stopped it and immediately like by instinct turned towards the person switting next to me and said: Excuse me, what book are your reading?

Oh, some rubbish, she said, strange love or something.

Okay, and what to you do.

I am a doctor. Childrens doctor at the hospital.

Much be hard to deal with children in pain?

It can be, she said.

How do you solve it?

The best thing is to rub their head.

Soknudur I og II

I

Eg spurdi hvort hann saknadi min og hann sagdi ja.
Fallegasta jaid i heiminum.



II

Mig langar ad meida thig,
af soknudi.



*

Betlarastelpan fra Bosniu

Hun var threttan ara og svo saklaus og fogur, sat a pinulitum stol upp vid bankann med litla harmoniku og eg bad hana um ad spila fyrir mig. Hun sagdist ekki kunna neina enska tonlist en eg bad hana um ad spila tonlistina sina. Og hun spiladi lagid tvisvar, svo fallegt, einfalt og beint i hjartad og hljomar thar enn einsog hun med augun sin.

Nornakrakkinn Ella Stina

I dag var svona dekurdagur hja mer einsog er stundum hja Lindu P. Jamm. 'Eg for i sund, synti 750 m, ad springa ur hamingju, tok ut peninga ur velinni, hugsadi til fjandans med oll sofn og bokasofn heimsins, eg aetla chilla, no matter what, rafadi samt inni Trinity og hitti tvo straka thar, studenta, en their verda ad leika turistagaeda um helgar,

you are still here, I said.

yes, we are, we are alwways here, they said.

last time also, I remember you.

you are kidding.

yeah, so what are you studying, - I was about to think I had met other of them in further life. You know what I mean.

I am gonna be a doctor in the evil middle ages, he said, - that one from further life.

O really, I said, I am actually trying to put the devil back on the map.

There were dark ages, but also lot of good stuff going on.

Tell me. - Then he had to comfort some tourists.

I dont even remember what the other one was studying, it was such a strong feeling, this further life feeling, I could see it in his eyes he remembered as well.

So since I wasnt ready to go into the middle-ages so I asked him about book, history book of Ireland, there were so many in the bookstores.

There is one book, very well written. And so he told me the author. Now I really wanted to go into the middle ages, but didnt know what to say, except I might ask him for a coffee, but instead I said: Well, isnt best that I should go and look at Book of the Kells.

Why dont you look at the library instead, he said, the Book of Kells are okay but the library is....

Then I said goodbye. Good to see you, he said. I almost said: What, because he was so arrogant, but thats probably because of this further life stuff.

I went through the Book of Kells, and guess who made it: Kolumkilli, himself.

This was typical museum, but nice, easy to read, and the book of Kells like the handritasafnid i Arnagardi. So I went upstairs and there........

The library.

I never seen anything like it. Describe it later. I met a woman there and she said,: Next time you come here, ask for the foremaster, and they will let you in without paying.

Ella Stina and the foremaster in the library of Trinity.

After I wanted to go to tell the Doctor-being of my experience in the library, and perhaps he would fall in love with me, I didnt remember at that moment I was already in love.

He was gone, and so his friend. Perhaps they were never there, perhaps it was only a glimt from further life, the middle ages alive.

I went to a coffehouse to chill and do some paintings, I painted the bridge for me and Kolbra my little sister, the millimunum bridge and so I said to Ella Stina, okay Ella Stina, now you can paint one as you like it.

Ella Stina then painted a self-portrait, only in red, with heavy read hear all over, and in her throat there was written one letter: H (for Hals - throat)

At the same moment Ella Stina knew she was Nornakrakki. - A withceschild -

Hopefully you as a reader can now put everything together, the middleages and the withceschild. I am not going to tell you more.

Because I am told in my school to leave some space for the reader.

*

Actually that is simply what my mother has been telling me ever since. Ever since is a nice time.

Eg fekk i hnen

Eg hef tvisvar fengid i hnen, fyrst 1997 og i annad sinn a Irlandi 2007 thegar hringdi i mig madur af Islandi.

Svo thad maetti segja ad eg fai i hnen a tiu ara fresti.

En svo fekk eg i hnen i dag, - i thridja sinn. Thad var thegar eg sa bokasafnid i Trinity haskolanum, eg get varla haldid a pennanum,

- truly, I almost fainted.

I have a love for you

This is Gelic. First thing I learn in Gelic, before I heard a phrase about land and language, but this is the real stuff, nothing like I love you which is like heavey burden, like somebody is jumping on you, oh no, I was at a meeting this evening, a man came, asked me about Icelandic, and I asked him to speak Gelic to me, it was musical,

I have been so curious to know something about it, its a different world,

language is a world of its own,

tell me, what world can you sense from these words:

I have love for you.


*

Kolbra a afmaeli i dag

Kolbra litla systir min a afmaeli i dag, Til hamingju Kolbra, til hamingju, thu lengi lifir, hurra, ertu kannski i Rom, ... Kolbra litla systir min er undurfogur og saet, hun er skemmtileg, og hefur hlatur einsog enginn annar, svo er hun jardbundin, gefandi, einn besti lesandi sem eg veit, greinir hismid, syndi mer fjall i sumar og thetta fjall taladi, hun hefur ekkert sagt um bloggid mitt, svo eg er a villigotum, eg elska litlu systur mina mjog heitt og Magdalenu dottur hennar, Kolbra er tildaemis su eina sem nennir enntha ad gagnryna fjolskylduna, vid oll hin erum ordin svo mikil gamalmenni ad vid bara ja ja, ha? henni finnst fjolskyldan tildaemis hittast of oft, svo er hun ohraedd vid ad profa eitthvad nytt, hun er bokmenntafraedingur, bufraedingur og nuna kennari og eg veit ekki hvad, hun er rosalega godur kokkur, nammmmmm, hun fer inn og ut um dyr einsog hun fai borgad fyrir thad, eg held hun fai borgad fyrir thad, medan eg sit alltaf a sama rassinum, thad rett tokst ad tosa mer til Irlands.

En Kolbra, blom og soleyjar handa ther.

Byd ther a kaffihusid mitt a Irlandi, The Divine at Bachelors-street, vid gongum yfir bruna, sjaum oll husin og mannmergdina, Joyce og Beckett undir somu regnhlifinni, og koma fagnandi thegar their sja hana: Koooooolbraaaaaaa. :)

*

End of the Celtic Tiger?

Thad hrisludust um dokkir straumar thegar eg las thessa feitletrudu forsidufrett, mer sortnadi fyrir augun, eg skalf, eg var a morkunum, thyrfti eg ad fara inna geddeild, var eg ad missa raunveruleikaskynid, end of the celtic tiger, var thetta ekki einsog hrunid i wall street?

Var ekki Celtic tiger undirstada mins salarlifs nu um munir.

Ella Stina tiger?

En tha rann thad upp fyrir mer ad astaeda thess ad skeid Kelta-Tigra var a enda runnid var su ad Ella Stina hafdi tekid yfir med heimsveldinu. Ella Stina ah.

Fyrsti hausverkurinn a Irlandi

I dag fekk eg hausverk af thvi eg for ekki a Thjodminjasafnid, eg er komin med Thjodminjasafnid a heilann, og Dublin kastala og allt thetta sem eg a eftir ad sja, er eg ekki dasamleg manneskja, eg gerdi ekkert i dag, ju for yfir Lasasmidinn eina ferdina enn, eg er farin ad kalla hann Lasa, og las sogu eftir landlordinn sem gerist i Afganistan, horkugod saga, afhverju get eg ekki skrifad um onnur strid en thau inni i hofdinu a mer. Eg er ad reyna ad koma a fridi, eg skildi thad ekki fyrren i dag, og i gaer thegar eg var lika heima bara ad LESA, hvilikt kaeruleysi, en eg skildi sjalfa mig gegnum skaldskapinn, ad eg er med stridsheila og thad er aldrei fridur, svo nu er fridur naest a dagskra, fridur og chill, fridur og chill, fridur og chill.

300.000 polverjar

eru fluttir inn til Irlands og akvedna daga er rod af Afrikumonnum fyrir utan Immigrantstation. Hlykkjast thar um fyrir hornid. Og svo eru Irar farnir ad fa ahuga fyrir gelisku, oll gelisku namskeid full. Geliskan er vist full af blessunarordum einsog oll gomul tungumal.

Blessunin,...

Ella Stina i irsku pressunni

Icelandic playwriter stood up and asked Peter Brook where has the passion gone, ...

og meira um thetta i Irska laeknabladinu.

*

Ny Elisabet a hverjum degi

Ja, thad kemur ny Elisabet i ljos a hverjum degi her i Dublin, thad er eins gott hun eigi ser nokkra fasta stadi, sitt netkaffihus, The Global, sitt kaffihus, The Divine, fastan AA-fund, sinn resturant Griska stadinn, - thvi thad er svo gaman ad mynda sambond og fa bros thegar madur kemur aftur, og kannski kaffi og koku, og bros thegar madur fer, einhver ord sem falla, hvar er Hrafn brodir minn annars, en thad eru svona nyjar Elisabetur sem poppa upp.

This place is like a war area.

The blogsite you mean.

My brain I suppose. You have to watch out, watch every step, every word, what you say, what you not say. This is not freedom, this is like a jail, always thinking what to say, how to say it, thats war area, right, I know this place, its my brain, never cross the limits, exactly, dont love, dont live, dont say, just watch so nothing will happen, so everything will remain still.

So what could happen.

Humanity, the monster could come crawling out, as well as the angel.

You must be tired.

Tired?

Yeah, of taking all this care.

Care?

Care of your brain.

I suppose. Yeah. But since my brain has to deal with new pattern, like learning to use the ticket-machine, finding new streets, and everything, then this new pattern is breaking up the old pattern in the brain, and therefore this new Elisabet breaks out, actually it was an old Elisabet hiding in the brain, but now she pops out. Yeah. Everything is put in danger.

Danger?

Danger yes, this is a danger. She has no map, no past, the past is gone, she wanted to live in the past, she wanna have new computer and make a novel.

So why doesnt she do that.

Who?

Elisabet, some of the new Elisabet.

I suppose she hasnt pop out yet.

So she will pop out of a strawberry.

Strawberry. Are you saying my brain is a strawberry.

Sweet as a strawberry.

*

Dasamlegt lif.

Hvad er svona haettulegt vid thad?

It gives all the Elisabets space. All her family, friends, the sun and the sky.

Ella Stina i leikhusinu

Eg er buin ad sja atta syningar i leikhusinu i Dublin

1. Private Lives, e. Noel Coward, - that was a museum, (ny skilgreining min a leikhusi)

2. Blackland, e. leikhopinn, ungverskt leikhus, undursamlegt LEIKHUS

3. Mavurinn, e. Tjekov, ungverskt leikhs, undursamlegt, eg fekk meirasegja tar i augun daginn eftir

4. James son of James, e. e-n fraegan, dansleikhus, leiiiiiiidinleeegt

5. Radio Makbeth, e. Shakespeare, leikhus fyrir leikhusfolk, smart en tilgerdarlegt, eg fekk samt eina litla hugljomun i kjolfarid

6. Dagleidin langa inni nott, e. O Neill, - a museum

7. Fragments, e. Beckett, leikstjori Peter Brook, - museum, but the text was delicious, like a candy from the universe

8. The woman and the scarecrow, e. Marianne Carr, galdur og klisjur, eg hef aldrei signt mig i leikhusi en a leidinni ut fannst eg thurfa ad signa mig, svo eg sagdi: Go with the feeling, - og signdi mig.


Eg er a leidinni i fleiri leikhus, svo er eg buin ad hlusta a hofunda og leikstjora svo ekki haldi ad eg se ekki ad gera neitt i Dublin litlu, en thessi atta leikhus kostudu kronur islenskar: 25.000

Eg elska leikhusid.

Ella Stina naer sambandi

Einu sinni helt eg ad eg vaeri alltaf ad skrifa um klofning, eda innilokun, en thad er ekki rett. Eg er bara alltaf ad reyna na sambandi, svo thad verdi til thessi gloandi strengur a milli okkar.

Guddomlega kaffihusid mitt

Eg er buin ad eignast mitt kaffihus her i Dublin, thad heitir Divine Cafe, og stendur vid ana Liffey, nanar tiltekid a Bachelors str. Einmitt. I naesta husi er kapella og prentsmidja, og Millimum-bruin eda hvad hun heitir. A kaffihusinu er risagluggi svo eg se mannfjoldann, umferdina, bruna, oll husin hinu megin, kastalahlidid.

Eg var meirasegja i gaer tharna med tolvuna mina og skrifadi soldid leyndarmal.

Belgiska stelpan

Fyrir nokkrum dogum hjufradi litil 17 ara belgisk stelpa sig uppad mer i myrkrinu thegar vid komum ut ur lestinni og spurdi hvort eg vildi vera samferda, thad var radist a hana fyrir einhverjum dogum, taskan tekin, thott hun finndist, eg sagdi ja ja, svo lobbudum vid yfir gardinn, thetta er gardur med karlsvagninum i, og hun er her ad laera ensku, og thad er nybuin ad myrda eina 17 ara i galway sem var i enskunami, og svo i gaer, thegar eg var ad komur leikhusinu, klukkan ad verda of margt og eg byrjadi ad ottast arasir i gardinum, og hvort einhver yrdi a ferdinni sem eg gaeti bedid um ad verda samferda mer, hugsadi svo, elisabet, thu ert byrjud ad hugsa, thetta blessast allt og hver birtist tha ekki nema belgiski unglingurinn asamt vinkonum sinum.

Kvoldmaturinn

Nudlusupa-tjikken
Appelsinusafi med lime
Ristabraud med osti

Okei, eg veit um stad.

A saying of Ella Stina

Culture is feeling warm inside.

*

Dottir a leidinni

Garpur og Ingunn hafa gert thad heyrinkunnugt ad thau eiga von a stelpu, eg held ad hun eigi ad koma 6. februar a naesta ari. Eg fae hana tha i 50 ara afmaelisgjof, eg tharf alltaf ad blanda mer i alla hluti, enda eru ommur mikilvaegar personur. :)

En thetta er semsagt litil stelpa og thad verdur gaman ad sja hvernig personuleiki hun er.

Thegar Jokull vissi ad von var a barni hja Garpi for hann ad kalla barnid Jokul yngri, eda hvort thad var Garpur sem byrjadi a thvi, eg fylgist ekki alveg med ollu, en thott komid hafi i ljos ad barnid se stelpa tha kallar Jokull hana enntha Jokul yngri.

Sem er fullkomlega rokrett. Jokull Yngri.

Svo faer hun kannski einhver fleiri nofn, eg bara veit thad ekki, eg er ekki alltaf latin fylgjast med ollu.

En Jokull yngri eda thessi litla stelpa sem er a leidinni gledur mitt hjarta oft a dag.

Heilraedi lasasmidsins and Irish sexlife

Hvad a eg svo ad gera til auglysa heilraedin, sko eg er her a netkaffi, thad er allt surt og rakt, hafid thid smakkad lifraent raektad lime, a eg ad segja fra sexlife minu svo eg fai fleiri komment. Thad er bara ekkert sexlife, nema einsog eg hef adur sagt er sexlife ekki sexlife. Heldur einhver svona vidkoma sem gerist stundum, ja tha segja margir erotik, hvad a eg ad hanga lengi a thessu netkaffi, a eg ad kaupa mer is, thad er sma sexlife, og skrifa a postkort, ekki sexlife, og horfa a alla jakkafatagaejana i thessu hverfi. Thegar mig langar bara ad horfa a einn, Elisabet ekki thykjast alltaf vera svona god. En eg er god, a bara erfitt med ad vidurkenna thad. Thad er sexlife.

ps. ad synda i sjonum er sexlife. hann er bara svo kaldur.

Islensk kjotsupa

Eg eldadi kjotsupu, eg var annars mjog vidkvaem i gaer. Ja. For til Howth a markad og keypti allt lifraent, kjotsupan slo i gegn hja landlordinum minum, og svo er eg ad lesa bok a ensku, Amongst women, eftir John McGarhan, hann do i fyrra.

Skuggahlidar Irlands

Var ad koma ur biltur med konu sem er med mer i bekk, hun syndi mer hvar U2 og Enya bua i kastolum vid sjavarsiduna og thad var reyndar mikid af Irum ad synda i sjonum, their gera thad vist voda mikid, en thetta voru semsagt kastalar, vardir af jarnhlidum, - steinsnar fra var fataekrahverfi, buid ad negla fyrir glugga, sumstadar blostu toftirnar vid, og thar hittum vid sextan ara stelpu, mamma hennar var vaendiskona og pabbinn dopsolumadur, stelpan hafdi fluid fra tveimur fosturheimilum, flosnad uppur skola en var hress og kat og knusadi konuna sem eg var med thvi thaer thekktust. Bara mjog venjuleg stelpa, saet og krafmikil med orlitil strik, hrukkustrik, sem gafu annad til kynna.

Flottustu stigvel i heimi

Eg for til Malahide og keypti stigvel, thetta eru thridja skoparid sem eg kaupi her, dont know what is going on, en thid hafid aldrei sed onnur eins stigvel, tofrastigvel, ja, eiginlega fimm stigvel i einu, og svo prinsessa undir theim, bleikur haell, hlebardaskinn, svart og rautt gummi, gamaldags ommuskor fyrir hael og ta.

Eg aetla aldrei ur theim.

Sa sa eg tiu fallega svani synda a vatninu.

Og for a griskan veitingastad, bordadi kalamari og griska koku, namm, og chilladi einsog vitlaus manneskja og skrifadi i hina bleiku bok leidans.

For svo a aa-fund, thad er fasti aa-fundurinn minn a Irlandi.

En nuna sit eg og skrifa i stigvelunum.

Love you all.

Sma i Ulysses

eg var ad lesa sma i ulysses, og ad laera heima, leidist sma, hlytt herna nuna, haegt ad sofa nakin undir saenginni en um daginn redi rafmagnsteppid rikjum, ja leidist sma og er sma einmana, ja sma, orti tvo ljod i dag, nei eitt, buin ad skila lasasmidnum, hvad aetti ad standa aftan a. um daginn fattadi eg eitt. eg var med vinkonu minni uppi rathmines, vid aetludum i sund, thad var enginn peningur a kortinu minu, sundlaugin var lokud, ekkert netkaffi, eg var i nyju hverfi og eg vard svo reid, eg let engan sja thad, en eg fattadi ef eg hef ekki stjorn a kringumstaedum verd eg reid, svo hvad er annad haegt i stodunni, gefast upp. Og fara hlaeja. en tha hefdi eg fattad eg var a irlandi. eg fekk svoleidis i gaer. eg sat i thessu nammi leikhusi a efri svolum, og mer fannst einhver hafa faert mig ur stad, eg vissi ekki hvar eg var, einhver hafdi faert mig, og tha hugsadi eg, thetta er einhver stadur og tha vissi eg var a irlandi og langadi ad standa upp og bada ut hondunum og hropa i fognudi, eg er a irlandi.

Born og laufblod

madur ser ekki mikid af bornum her, samt eitt og eitt og morg raudhaerd og blodin eru full af frettum, eda ekki-frettum um Maddie, dag eftir dag. Svo er haustid komid, thad er svo skritid thegar eitt laufblad brytur ser leid, thad er einsog litid kraftaverk, orugglega rosahljod sem fylgir thessu og svifur til jardar. Thad var ein litil stelpa sem klappadi saman lofunum i lestinni og tha for eg lika ad gera thad, hun var fra Pakistan, eda sennilega Indlandi. Og brosti til min. Tha vard eg god manneskja.

En thad er serstaklega eitt tre nuna sem er einsog standi i ljosum logum.

Eg er i stresskasti

yfir thvi ad eg komist ekki a tjodminjasafnid aduren eg fer.

Gamla konan i lestinni

Hun sagdi ad flest hefdi breyst til batnadar, serstaklega rettindi kvenna, en um 1950 fluttu 400 thusund Irar burt ur landinu, serstaklega konur, utaf katholsku kirkjunni. Hun sagdist adallega hafa verid ad hugsa um manninn sinn sem hefdi verid sjuklingur, svo hun vaeri hvorugtveggja, ad syrgja hann og byggja ser sitt eigid nytt lif.

Dagleidin langa

For ad sja Dagleidina longu inni nott, i leikhusi sem var einsog nammibud, klisjur og leidindi, en athyglisvert ad sja ad konan var fornarlambid og hardstjorinn.

Kristinn a Drongum

Mig dreymdi Kristinn a Drongum i nott, hann hafdi lent i veseni a trillunni sinni.

Birta Elisabetardottir

Ein besta vinkona min heitir Elisabet og er Ronaldsdottir, storsnilllingur, knus, greind, fogur kona sem a morg por a ledurstigvelum, hun er feministi a Islandi numer eitt. Og kvikmyndagerdarmadur og a milljon born og huggar mig alltaf, stappar i mig stalinu, og svona hitt og annad. Elisabet a dottur, og hun heitir Birta og Birta a afmaeli i dag, thad er bara spurning hvad hun er gomul, mer finnst hun vera tiu ara en hun er sennilega ekki nema sjo eda atta ara, hun er viskubrunnur, fegurdardis, akvedin, margbrotin personuleiki og eg er buin ad vera hugsa til hennar i allan dag, thetta hefur lika verid stormerkilegur dagur, - eg hringdi i Garp, eg loksins hringdi i einhvern ur fjolskyldunni, thad var yndsilegt ad heyra i honum, og svo gerdi eg eitt soldid spes, jamm, og sa samuel Beckett leikrit a Irlandi, thad var nu svipad held eg og sja shakespeare i englandi, jaeja krakkar minir, ja flaekingarnir hans Beckett, er ekki timi tilkominn ad setja tha i Bank of Ireland, en irarnir voru i skyjunum ad fa sina flaekinga og merkilegt fyrig mig sem er med maniu-depression ad sja og heyra rollaby eda rockaby eda lullaby, og fatta i eitt skipti fyrir oll ad thetta er gedveik kona og henna litla gat, en flaekingurinn bara virkadi ekki, thad er eins og med puffermarnar a Hamlet.

Eg er thegar buin ad fa ord a mig: Hard to please, - i leikhusinu. Gaman. hm, ja thad er eitt leikhus sem hefur hrifid mig svo ad eg for ad skaela adan utaf syningunni I GAER, thad eru ungverjar med 2 stykki og EG FAE VATN I MUNNINN i ordsins fyllstu merkingu utaf theim.

Gaeti fylgt theim a heimsenda. Thvilikt leikhus. Leikhus meina eg. Hugrekki, fegurd, eg a bara ekki ord og eg hitti einn leikarann i gaer og hann thekkti Egil Heidar Anton. Ja.

En thad hefdi verid gaman ad sja flaekingana sem bankamenn, thar er falin gedveiki. Allir thessir svartklaeddu menn a gotunum. Einsog hermenn. Og hver a thennan her: gatid.

Annars thott eg elski Samuel Beckett og tha meina eg, eg elska hann, deeply in love, thessi texti i kvold, madur lifandi, madur bara gapir, thetta er texti sem laetur kokid a manni hringsnuast,

ja thessi texti er ur kokinu.

En svo er haft eftir Beckett, ad James Joyce tries to put everything in, but I am trying to leave everything out. Eg held eg se meira einsog James, take it or leave it, en eg elska ekki James.

Og til hamingju Birta med afmaelid.....tra la la la

True feelings

Always when I have to show my true feelings I get panic-attack.

*

The old man on the train

It was an old man on the train, he had been attacked, he had three scars on his face, he said he had gone shopping about 8.30 in the evening and then went through dark tunnels where three teen-ages attacked him. He said, why me, I have never harmed anybody and I have a 30 years old daughter in a wheel-chair, what will happen to her if something happens to me.

I told him not to blame himself, the victim always takes the blame as well. And when we said goodbye and he shook my hand his hands were stiff and icecold.

He had started the conversation with the words, what a sunny day.

frosid vatn

mig dreymdi frosid vatn i nott, vid systkinin eda eg fyrir hond systkinanna vorum buin ad selja vatn og thad var frosid og snjor yfir ollu, einhverra hlutavegna gat thetta verid apavatn, en thad var madur ad kaupa thad og vildi svo ekki lata mig hafa peninganana, eg vaknadi og fannst thetta ekki gott, thad satu kerllingar i pikknikk a isnum, og svo var eitthvad fleira, eg var ad koma af tjhkov i gaer, eitt magnbrotnasta sem eg hef sed, mavurinn, thar var alltaaf verid ad talaum vatn, en svo hefur mig dreymt rosalega mikid uppa sidkastid, mig dreymdi lika afa kristjon i nott, hann var lifandi, og eg kom uta umferdamidstod og hann kom a moti mer, eg var svo hissa, svo brosti eg, tha brostihann fallega brosinu sinu, og svo for hann nidur stigann, einsog hann thyrfti ekkert ad tala vid mig. Skritnir draumar.

svo vakna eg a morgnana oll strikud a andlitinu, ahyggjustrik sem vilja breytast i hrukkur og thott eg elski hrukkur eru thetta raud strik. jamm. svo lidur mer illa utaf ogedslegri ommulettu sem eg at a einhverjum eydimerkurstad.

en mer lidur illa, og klukkan er ekki ordin tiu. mer finnst endilega eg thurfa ad gera eitthvad, einhver ad elska mig, og svo thegar eg er komin uppi rum a kvoldin langar mig ad sofa hja og kura og svoleidis, og svo finnst mer ekki gera nog og eg eigi ad vera skrifa, heilu leikritin a daginn, en eg a eftirad kikja a skolalaerdominn, kennarinn bad mig um ad koma med verk eftir mig.

eg fae svoleidis enn efasemdarkosin utaf lasasmidnum, thad er allskonar gott buid ad koma inn, en eg hugsa bara einsog pislarvottur: hvad getur bjargad mer fra thvi ad gefa ut thessa bok.

eg er ad lesa sidustu profork. held thad se nu bara endirinn.

en mig langar ad elska og skrifa and find out about things. mig langar i solheimasand.

Keltneski t'igurinn

Thad eru kannski allir betlararnir a gotunum, konur med born, born, unglingar, gamalmenni, thetta eru sennilega alltsaman storhaettuleg tigrisdyr.

Lj'od

Mig langar ad slokkva a ollu
og hugsa um thig.


*

Daddy in Dublin

Einsog eg skrifadi um daginn se eg bregda fyrir islendingum i storum stil her a straetum Dublinar. Merkilegt nokk tha hefur mer ekki tekist ad koma auga a fodur minn Jokul Jakobsson sem var tho Irinn uppmaladur, raudhaerdur og vidkvaemur, en Irar eru einmitt med vodalega vidkvaemnnislega draetti, en svo sa eg hann i gaer, hann var ad ganga medfram anni Liffey, eda thad er ad segja hann staulast afram vid staf, hann var i ljosblarri kapu, bogin i baki, med hvitt har sem stod einsog stormsveipur aftur i aldirnar, hrukkurnar einsog maelistikur, og studdist vid vinkonu sina, ja thad bar ekki a odru, tharna var karl fadir minn lifandi kominn, og thad rann upp fyrir mer ad audvitad hafdi eg sed hann her i Dublin, i liki allra thessara gomlu kerlinga.


**

En thad eru einmitt thaer sem halda uppi Dublin.

Ella Stina og Petur Brook

Jaeja nu er eg buin ad rusta leikhuslifinu a Irlandi med spurningu minni til Peter Brook. Ef ekki bara vestraenu leikhusi einsog thad leggur sig. Thad var allskonar heilagur kurr og spenningur aduren Peter Brook gekk i salinn. Svo kom hann. Litill dvergur birtist tinandi i gallabuxum med stingandi augu, fyrsta sem eg hugsadi: Steindaudur. Svo tok a sig Peter Brook aruna. Og taladi i 20 minutur, eg skil ekki ensku svo eg veit ekkert hvad hann sagdi nema nokkrar hugljufar sogur af sjalfum ser og berfaettum bornum og gluggagaegjum og fylliroftum a Irlandi a arum adur, og ja eitthvad um value, mjog mikid um value, og leikhusid vaeri ordid cheaping, ef thid skiljid kannski Petur Brook betur en eg, hann taladi i risastoran mikrofon og allir toku andkof og hlogu og eg ad reyna vera prud og stillt og hugsadi: Elisabet, Peter Brook hlytur nu ad geta sagt ther eitthvad. Hann byrjadi lika vel, eg hef verid ad hugsa um hvad eg gaeti sagt her i kvold sem gaeti bring us together. Hljomar thetta ekki einsog i messu, eg let plata mig. Okei. Svo taladi hann um othekkan student arid 1968 sem thottist ekki thurfa hlusta a neina professeroa og var med leidindi og tha for Peter Brook bara a naesta bar ad hlusta a djukboxid, og hugsadi: Eg er djukbox, pressid bara a einhvern takka og tha spila eg thad lag sem thid viljid heyra. Svo hvad vilid thid heyra her i kvold. Svo foru allir ad spyrja hann en eg ad spyrja gud hvort eg aetti ad koma med kenningu mina um audasvidid, semsagt eg betrumbaetti hans kenningu sem er svona, ef einn labbar yfir svidid og annar horfir a, tha er thad leikhus. Min kenning er sona, ef einn labbar yfir svid og annar horfir a og sa sem labbar er eltur af ljoni, tha er thad leikhus. En eg hugsadi, thetta er of audsae modgun, og allir ad horfa a guruinn sinn, svo eg kom med sterkara tromp. Retti upp hendina i lokin, tha var engin kona buin ad spyrja og sagdi:
My name is Elisabet. (Eg sat a fremstabekk, ska a moti Brukk)
Yeees, sagdi Peter Brook og brosti sinu blidasta.
(Thad hafdi enginn kynnt sig, en mamma sagdi madur aetti alltaf ad kynna sig.)
Talking about values, sagdi eg, I wanna say the theatre is missing in the theatre, at least in the Western Part and also the emotion and the feelings are missing, I often get ideas in the theartre but my heart is not touched.
Petur Brook var ordinn frosinn a thessu augnabliki.
Enda er hann guruinn og allt honum ad kenna.
So, I said, if there is possible to relate that to what you said in the beginning that you wanted to say something that could bring us together. Do you then think that Theatre can bring us together and at what level?
Her var eg buin ad skjalfa svoleidis.
Og tha taladi Djukboxid og sagdi: I have so often repeat that theatre bring us together at this very moment.
Eda mer heyrdist hannn segja thad.
Og svo sagdi hann lika ad thad aetti ad vera efst a stefnuskra allra leikhusa ad snerta hjartad.

Eg var nottla mjog stolt af mer en for i kerfi, thetta var nottla lymskuleg aras a Peter Brook, nu myndi mer vera uthyst af Irlandi, hann var lika med bull um ad Beckett vaeri pessimist og minimalisti, einsog thad stendur nu ostodvandi flaumurinn utur Beckett og ekki eru their beinlinis svartsynir Didi og Gogo. Allavega.

Svo kom skolafelagi minn, stelpa: Well done. You made it. Everybody started to listen when you speak, they moved in their seats, you have also such a voice.
So you dont think I ruined the theatre?
No, I think you spoke for so many.

*

So that was Ella Stina and Peter Brook. Ofcourse I love him, because of his theory, I can see the world different and develop my own theory. Love you all. Ella Stina. Brook.

Eldsnemma a Irlandi

Thad var gaman ad vakna i morgun, eldsnemma, morgunsarid med ollum sinum finpussada sarsauka, og fuglarnir ad syngja, laufin ad falla tignarlega til jardar, ummmm, eg a Irlandi, eg er enn ad segja thetta vid mig, svo var eg komin i baeinnn og tha stoppadi eg a brunni tilad sja borgina vakna.

Kristin vinkona min

er ad blogga og er ekki hress eg hafi ekki kommentad svo eg mun baeta ur thvi, var ad koma heim, er i pilsi, thad er myrkur, flugveladynur, madur einhverstadar i hjartanu vona eg frekar en hofdinu, var ad koma af petri brukk, og er mikid ad hugsa um ad borda af thvi eg bordadi ekkert i gaer nema nokkrar braudsneidar. Svo eg keypti irskt bacon einmitt, you should see it.

18 ar a Framnesvegi 56a

I dag eru 18 ar sidan vid fluttum inna Framnesveg 56a og ekkert okkar heima ha ha ha. Thetta er mikid tofrahus med graenni hurd og hafinu. Og ollum thessum arum, jolum, og Garpi og Jokli farandi inn og utur husinu. En eg alltaf inni ad breyta. Thad er godur andi i husinu og allt thad allskonar.

*

Thetta er lika afmaelisdagur afa mins Kristjons sem syndi mer Island og var godur vid mig og vildi ad eg yrdi klok, stor og sterk og sagdi: Geturdu ekki skrifad thegar ther lidur illa.

A poem from a dream

The glacier has melted
the river is growing
and dangerous to cross the bridge

except with poetry.

*

Dalalaeda i Dublin

Thegar eg var ad koma heim i gaerkvoldi var dalalaeda i ollu hverfinu, a gotunum og i gardinum, svo falleg og dularfull.


*

When I was coming home last night there was a special fog everywhere, lying on the ground, moving constantly, full of beauty and mystic, this fog we in Iceland call: The female-cat-valley-fog.

Jokull er markahaestur

Sonur minn Jokull stundar nam og fotbolta i Nordur-Karolinu. Hann spilar a midjunni og hann er markahaestur i lidinu nu um thessar mundir, fimm viti i sex leikjum, ja allt ur vitum, eg er ogedslega stolt af honum, viti eru hrikalega skemmtileg og Jokull er yndislegur. Til hamingju Jokull.

Afram Jokull

Thad er forsidufrett herna i Irlandi ad Roy Keene er ad bidja um Beckham. Eg var ad hugsa um ad benda honum a Jokul, thad vaeri kannski betri kostur.

Algengustu Irarnir

Algengustu Irarnir eru Valgardur fraendi minn og Einar Thor Danielsson fotboltakappi. Their eru her a hverju gotuhorni og virdast bera uppi irsku thjodina, lika pabbi hans Einars Thors, Mamma sumstadar, Oskar a Drongum situr her a netkaffinu, Susie Rut heitin, Ari Gisli var uta gotu adan og Raggi Isleifur situr lika her a netkaffinu. Eg se hvergi Garp og Jokul. Kristjon gaeti tho verid her. Og eg se hvergi sjalfa mig. En meira um thetta sidar.