Algernon’s flowers. Yes, it’s true.

What is love? Love is keeping faithful to your non-joining companion in the sequel, not making another romance despite it being an achievement. Makes me proud not to have it. Almost as proud as this doesn’t transcend the love, but confirms that somethings are true no matter the universe and timeline.

Yes. Because if even an accursed Sovereign can be meant to understand the non-linear of time, thus making our choices, our every second of living important… L? In a world without you, I’d be a different pony. Maybe even a better one, despite circumstances. But I don’t want to change the past. The past is part of who I am. The past helped me figure out WHO I am today. And I wouldn’t change it for the world. I can’t predict what’s to come. What I can do is offer to share it with you.

It’s human to make mistakes. It’s the mark of a great one to forgive the mistakes of others and one self. Because in this world there is no saving function. There is no going back. Therefore we have to do better than what we are, what we’ve been. Because it’s the future that matters. Going back isn’t an option. Sorry.

Lips dripping of honey are hard to kiss. Just hold me closer. Don't dance. Just stop making my world spin and hold me, tiny dancer with impact out of propositions.

I love you, L.

I love you, M.

I love you, C.

I love you all.

And I’m sorry.

Paris at night.

I remember a night like last night with the same sunken gut, the known knot in the stomach and the not so distant feeling of mourning and loss – all part of the familiar experience some years back. I didn’t expect to have that feeling revisited. I’m not so sure when the next one will come now.

Back in July 22 2011 I went on night watch duty. The most common perception from that night? Surreal, unrealistic. The “how could this happen” and “why” swirled around a lot. Last night that didn’t happen: I was simply quietly grieving in silence, as well as growing a new-found fear of the future.

In other charming news; I’ll be spending the next month – yes, that’s right: the entire month – in night watch mode, starting yesterday. Well, it’s going to be shortage of light anyway, so I might as well do it when it’s easy to sleep during the day. Or, easier, at least. Still, getting paid to stay up all night? I can think of worse jobs.

Born. Given life. Alive. Unchecked. Wild. Running.

Checkmate.

We’ll always have Paris. And New Orleans.

Can it wait for a bit? I'm in the middle of some calibrations.

It seems that by leaving BoR I’ve unintendedly ended up insulting people whom I had plans with. Not telling them about my sudden exit and lack of lust to continue with said future isn’t a particular feeling I wish to inflict upon others. Yet that’s just what I ended up doing. The fallout? Broken trust and wounded words. Both earned and justified.

It’s not the first time I’ve left people behind. It’s not going to be the last, either. I’m not sure if I’m able to change in the direction I want.

I’m a horrible person. I try not to be, but I am. The morose goose with flesh of dolls, biting down the pill of poison, sucking the feast of life’s enjoyment like a bloodless thing. Shouldn't such a creature be put down?

Anything can change at a moment’s notice. Everything can end in a brief second. Life goes on. Life as a concept goes on. 

I’m not going to seek forgiveness. I’m not going to atone for my mistakes and sins.

Upsetting the status quo.

Remember (because it’s November)

It’s not often we do follow this advice. Sure, we do it all the time in our daily lives, keeping in mind this and that, letting knowledge and information be used as it’s relevant to us – like studying for a test you need to pass. The question is if you’re able to remember much of this at a later point unless it’s still something that affects you. And what about outdated information, something that used to hold value but in later time have either proven to be incorrect or been debunked in favor of new and updated relevant know-how? Do you make a point of remembering that?

This in turn brings us over to scholars and historians. Holding a degree in neither one of these professions myself, I cannot help but find a strange comfort that the past isn’t something I hold a clinging grip on. As it comes to my own past and my own memories, they are somewhat fractured. I’ve stated several times that recollection isn’t my strong suit and that I’ve often been forced to be reminded of something that should not have been forgotten in the first place. I'm used to it. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

And what about lies? Telling them, polishing them, retelling them, knowing who you said what to… Information can be a tricky business, that’s for sure. No information broker for me, thank you very much – I’ve got enough half-truths to keep track of already. This doesn’t even begin with the lies others are keeping.

When it comes to art, does the actor on stage preform a lie? Is theatre anything but an elaborate twist of shadows and smoke, casting a ghastly reflection in the mirror of recollection? That’s a good question, but one I'm not entitled to answer.

Languages. Important stuff. The millions of things that you have to deal with. Passwords. Codes. Friends. Family. Loved ones. Secrets. Hopes, dreams, future plans… There’s quite the lot, isn’t it? Big bunch of stuff. Yeah. Almost everything, when you come to think about it.

There’s a famous – if not THE most famous – writer from my country that ended up with this exceptional quote: “Forever owned is only the lost.” (Evig eies kun det tapte.) That’s Ibsen, by the way, if you didn’t know that. Shame on you, oh-that-must-have-slipped-my-mind. Shame on you. Also, in the LARP (Live Action Role Playing) community there’s this version of the saying; “forever owned is only the taped”. And by “taped” we mean duct tape. Lots of it. Lots and lots of duct tape. And then some more. Funny how memory works sometimes, isn't it?

In the end it comes down to a simple, single point. You’ll end up not remembering. Accepting that as truth can be somewhat difficult.

Forgetting is easy.

Too easy, sometimes.

Yet we still do it.

I guess that’s part of being Human.