Eg er i Allihies

Thad er pinulitid thorp a sudvesturhorni Irlands, mot opnu Atlantshafinu og thad er thorpid mitt a Irlandi. Thad er einsog draumur ad vera komin hingad aftur. I gaer for eg a strondina og hlustadi a hafid og song fyrir tvo seli sem voru ad stinga upp kollinum. I gaerkvoldi thegar eg for ad sofa drakk eg i mig thognina, fra fjollunum og landinu, og svo var vetrarbrautin yfir ollu.

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.