Jonas Hallgrimsson

Mer skilst thad hafi verid jolin utaf 200 afmaeli Jonar Hallgrimssonar. Thetta er svo sorglegt, thessir radamenn sem hrista boxid med mylsnunni af Jonasi eru their somu og muldu nidur Dimmugljufur.

Slettum ljodum

I Karahnjukabarattunni fannst monnum hallaerislegt thegar vid vorum ad lesa ljod a Austurvelli, og einhver kalladi okkur kellingar, - thegar skyrinu var slett a radstefnu alframleidanda a Hotel Nordica fannst monnum thad brjalaedislegt og kalladi tha sem slettu skyrinu ofbeldisseggi. Sumt folk er bara alltaf vaelandi, og kann ord yfir allt.

Thjonninn hennar Elisabetar

Mig vantar ekki eiginmann, kaerasta eda neitt svoleidis. Mig vantar thjon sem getur lokad mig inni.


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Eg er allt sem eg er ekki

Eg er mjog oakvedin sem eg er ekki, eg er mjog akvedin.

Thetta hljomar kannski favitalega en eg er kannski ad koma med sporvagninum fra Huston-station og sit og fylli hausinn a mer af hugsunum hvort eg eigi ad fara ut a Jarvis-station eda vid Abbey-street. Thad er einsog ekkert annad komist ad, einsog thetta se uppa lif og dauda. Thangad til eg er farin ad laera segja, eg var reyndar byrjud a thessu heima, en tha segi eg vid sjalfa mig: Elisabet min, thetta er alltilagi, thu ert 49 ara, thu veist thad thegar ad thvi kemur.

Okei. Svo for eg ut vid Jarvis-station, inni Arthett tilad kaupa geislaspilara, og tha var madur thar sem sagdi ad their seldu ekkert svoleidis lengur, thad vaeri bara MPI- spilaranum.

So you are telling me, I dont live in the modern world, I said.

Yes, there is about time to opperate.

Eg var a leidinni i sund tilad hugsa um linurnar og ja tilad fara i sund, en for inni Pennys, svona Hagkaup-stuff, keypti rakvelar, sjampo og tannkrem, og var svo alltieinu farin ad skoda peysur, og matadi eina, hun var forljot og thaer voru allar forljotar, eg sa einar flottar buxur en matunarklefar eru fangelsi i minum augum. Svo eg hugsadi, Elisabet hvada rugl er nu thetta ad fara inni Pennys. Er lif thitt a rettum kili. Fann svo thetta Sony-Center, og keypti geislaspilara. 40 evrur, for svo i sund, thad var buid ad loka sundinu en eg fekk ad fara i sturtu, var svo heilmikid ad velta thvi fyrir mer hvort eg aetti ad fara a internet kaffi tilad vita hvort Robert hefdi svarad mer, en hugsadi thad vaeri ekki nog god astaeda, lika sannfaerd um ad hann kaemi a morgun, eg veit ekki hvernig eg fekk thad i hausinn ad hann kaemi i heimsokn 18. november. Stod svo i 20 minutur a lestarstodinni ad bida eftir Malahide-lestinni, og avarpadi litinn dreng thvi eg sa ekkert um Malahide-lestina, en hann sagdi ad Drogheda stoppadi i Malahide. Eg er soldid veik fyrir Drogheda-lestinni, thad drynur i henni, hun er soldid gomul og lifsreynd lest, thytur oft afram og stoppar hvergi nema i Drogheda. Drogheda er dularfullur stadur. Eg hringdi i Margreti vinkonu mina i Allihies medan eg beid eftir lestinni og thad var gaman ad heyra i henni, og nuna medan eg skrifa thessi ord hugsa eg hvada bull er thetta, aetlaru ad eydileggja bloggid. Svo var eg komin til Malahide og fekk kast hvot eg aetti ad fara i messu eda utad borda a griska veitingastadinn minn, en for i stadinn inni dyrustu budina i baenumm tharsem eg keypti skuggalega flott stigvel i haust og spurdi um peysur og leist soldid vel a eina svarta, hun var med hneppu aftan a, eg hugsadi hvort einhver myndi hneppa svona fra, eg er lika med svo fallegan hals og vidbein, en svo sa eg buxur, svartar buxur, alveg sjuklega flottar, vidar svartar buxur med tolum ad ofan og hja vosunum, svona einsog ef eg vaeri bankastjori Bank of Ireland eda trudur, thaer kostudu 110 evrur en mer fannst thaer adeins of vidar, thaer voru numer 14, svo eg veit ekki, thaer eru frateknar thangad til a morgun, meirihattar buxcur, alveg rettu buxurnar fyrir mig, svo for eg a griska stadinn, glosadi i leikritinu minu og at minn kalamari, i thridja sinn, eg elska ad eiga eitthvad svona fyrir mig, einsog thetta se minn stadur en veit aldrei hvad eg a borga i thjorfe, ekki frekar en hvad eg a ad gefa betlurunum, eg var eina eina manneskjan a stadnum, allir voru med einhverjum, eg bordadi med puttunum, svo aetladi eg i messuna en messan var buin, hellirigning, eg sat goda stund i kirkjunni, thad voru raud blom og gulur veggur sem gott var ad horfa a, eg kveikti a kerti svo gud gaeti opnad hjarta mitt, og lika fyrir krakkana og tengdakrakkana, for svo a fundinn minn, og for - an thess ad aetla thad, - ad grata a fundinum, yfir thvi ad eg vaeri ekki lengur ein i heiminum.

Og fekk svo hvinandi hausverk, sjalfsagt yfir thessari othaegilegu uppgotvun.

Svo var madur sem keyrdi mig heim af fundinum og hann gaf mer 50 kilo af kartoflum. Eg for heim og spiladi geliska geisladiskinn sem annar madur a fundinum gaf mer um daginn. Fekk simanumer hja yndislegri konu, kom heim og tjekkadi a hvort Robert hefdi eitthvad svarad mer, en for svo med aedruleysisbaenina og tha kom svona hugsun ad vera ekkert ad hugsa um hann.

Eg er bara ad paela i ad reyna losna vid eitthvad thessu ollu utur hausnum a mer, eg finn hvad er threytandi ad skrifa thetta allt, hvad tha ad hugsa thetta allt.

Og tha kem eg ad thessu sem eg byrjadi a, eg er akvedin en syni oakvedinn front. Eg hugsa thegar hvad.... tilad reyna ganga fra mer.

I dag for eg i soldinn leik, eg tok af mer Ham ferdamannsins, og imyndadi mer ad eg aetti heima herna a Irlandi.

Sennilega thessvegna sem eg for inni Pennys.

Patra in Ireland

In my mothers womb I was called Patra so ever since I have felt close to Patr....ick.

Me and my pain

I sentenced my pain to be locked in for life. Nobody is aloud to visit him, if he make just a little noise I put him in the dark cellar with the rats. And ofcourse I have no life, I am guarding the pain.

I tell myself all the time how grate job this is, - to take care of the pain.

My love-sickness

I think its like betting on horses. I put all my feelings on a one man and when he fails I loose everything.

Mountains out of moorhills

When the 8-button on my computer collapsed, I thought it meant I would die soon because the number 8 meant eternity, my friend smiled and then she said: Thats how you make mountains out of moorhills.

50 kg of potatos

A friend gave me 5o kg of potatos - so now I must only need the ticket to America.

Lasasmidurinn kominn ;-)

Heilraedi lasasmidsins, nyja bokin min er komin, hun kom i dag a afmaelisdegi Jonasar Hallgrimssonar og danardegi ommu minnar Elisabetar Isleifsdottur. Til hamingju Elisabet.

Og munid ad kikja i bokabudina, eg verd ekki ad selja hana sjalf i thetta skiptid.

En i dag standa allar dyr opnar.

Eg heyri i bladsidunum thegar eg fletti.
Og hvernig er kjolurinn,
eda kapan thegar fingurnir strjuka yfir hana,
og bokbandid, litirnir,
og hvernig er hun undir thegar madur tekur kapuna af,
og lyktin.

Being with me

Being with me is to be with me,
without my worries,
without my plans,
without my fear,
without my ideas,

because my worries are not my worries,
they are the worries,
and so on,

they are not me, they are mine,

so walking home,
hearing my footsteps,
seeing the movements in the trees,
a car driving by,
a light in a window,
a star in the coludy sky,
going around corner,
passing the motorway,
finding the gate,

that is me.

Elisabet entertainer

Some people say my blog is poetry and they cant comment. Okay. Thank you. But I need comment as every creature on earth, I am not begging for comment, I am craving, no carving, ha ha ha, I am a entertainer, all my blog is entertaining poetry, the front, I am always publishing the front, but what is behind this little soul of Ella Stina, how is she doing, fine? I have been dealing with lonleyness, arrogance, rejection, self-pity, worrying, stress, - yesterday they were many more, now I cant remember them, shame, anger, there it goes, fear, - fear that something bad could happen to my children like I feared in the old days, now they are grown up, but anyway, all this is a little entertaining on my humble blog, - I am manic depressive but I am gifted with this flow, otherwise I would be inside my head and my head inside, where is inside, somebody tell me! - I am not making excused for my manic depressive, I am just trying to use it to control the world, hey there, I love to entertain, I really love to bring all the worries, fear, anger, selfpity, shame on stage, - and then, - let it ride!

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Those feelings I counted above are the feelings of the travellers, because I wonder everyday, I see the leaves falling, the bridges, the beggar-girl playing harmonica, the buildings, the trains, and yes, even the people, imagine, and I wonder and am happy. And I say to myself, Elisabet, you are in Ireland, imagine, you are in Ireland, look at this, because soon you will going home and this will all fade away, - and seem like a dream.

Sorry Hello

A young woman told me Dublin had changed since she was young, in her childhood walking with her mother and brother they were saying hello and smiling all the time to everybody, nowadays people say sorry instead of hello.

I was walking in the garden the other night, she said, somebody said good evening, I almost dropped my heart, nobody had said good evening for such a long time.

Ella Stina les upp i Dublin!!!

Ella Stina verdur med upplestur i Dublin, 29.november, klukkan sjo, ur nyjustu bok sinni Heilraedi lasasmidsins....:)

Og vaentanlega Galdrabokinni, Fotboltasogum og Vaengjahurdinni.

Upplesturinn verdur i glaesilegum sal i Rithofundamidstodinni vid Parnell torg.

Svo verdur ovaent uppakoma.

Veitingar. Gledskapur. Kruttskapur.

Believing in The Celtic Tiger

I was reading the Irish Indepencency Post, there was an interview with some business man that said the Celtic Tiger wasnt dead, - "only if we believe its dead, then its dead, - if we believe its a live we can go on forever."

That business man was maybe not aware of what it takes to believe. You have to build houses for the believing, write books, make theory, candles and everything.

The Celtic Tiger - in Zoo

I met a woman the other day and she said, excuse me, where is the Zoo?
The Zoo, I said.
Yes, I wanna see that Celtic Tiger everybody is talking about.

Eg skriftadi

Hvad gerir madur a Irlandi; fer til Ameriku, bordar kartoflur og skriftar. Eg for i messu a laugardaginn, uppljomudu gluggarnir lokkudu mig til sin, a eftir spurdi eg prestinn hvort eg maetti skrifta thott eg vaeri ekki katholsk og hann leyfdi mer thad. Svo a eftir bad hann gud um ad senda mer styrk og frid, og thad hef eg verid ad hugsa um, styrk og frid, thvi styrkur og fridur - thad er ekki eg, thad er gud.

Eg er i rust

Stundum er ekkert gaman ad vera alkoholisti, maniu-depressivur, medvirkur, med astarfikn og thrahyggju, bilada tolvu, og thurfa thar ad auki ad fokusera a heilbrigda partinn i sjalfum ser!

www.patreksfjordur.is

Eg hvet alla tilad kjosa a thessum vef, um oliuhreinsunarstod i Arnarfirdi. Eg hvet lika alla tilad segja nei, Arnarfjordur er tignarlegasti fjordur Islands, ef vid hofum ekki efni a tign, tha hofum vid ekki efni a neinu.

Gjora svo og vel. Og gera eitthvad i malinu.

Og lata thetta berast til allra sem thid thekkid.

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www.patreksfjordur.is

Beckett and Joyce

The Irish talks a lot about Beckett and Joyce, and they always tell me the same story about them, like they never get enough of this story, yes like it is no end to this story, - it goes like this:

Joyce puts everything in and Beckett takes everything out.

I have been wondering why they are always telling me this story and finally found out, it must because of when Joyce has put everything in, there Beckett comes and takes everything out and then Joyce comes again and puts everything in and Beckett comes again and takes everything out.

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Seems to be a little game they are playing on the doorstep, Beckett and Joyce.