something i meant to write about and never got to last week—
It was one morning, Jörn went to go shower —I noticed that he left open all his notes on his desk. Papers all spread out, his Mac left open to all his open documents
I guess I was thinking I would find more about his secret agent work or.... who knows but instead it turned out to be
his opera —
he writes the music down as he listens to his recordings and replays them so it is in layers of audio and then the sheet music but, then I discover he has notes on his computer documents that tell the story....he has the storyline mapped out in one document and then the songs and what they portray along with the actual written bars of music with words (all in Swedish)
From what I was able to translate of it using my app....
The character of his mother —or I should say portrayed by his mother.... she is the narrator sung operatically through the opera
(along with the scenes that have sung dialogue and some action)
....but
it reads as though she appears to be God!
—or something like it and turns the mermaid into a dove as some kind of punishment to the wolf—who isn’t really a wolf, just got turned into one by her for.... I’m not sure about that part
but it seems to appear that the dove was really at first just a wild sprite or —angel—I’m not sure ....and then God’s husband is a Demi god.... but I did not get to read beyond that as Jörn caught me, returning from his shower and ....wrapped in a towel
he is quite protective of his work, I noticed
he says, protecting his work from my eyes,
“I’ll show you.... it’s just not ready yet....” and shut off the Mac and closed up his papers in a drawer so.... I’m full of suspense
Dear dictionary.....
It has been such an emotional time for me
and I find it hard to center artistically.... I have been so scattered these several days—no, weeks really.... can you read between these lines? If you know the codes it all makes sense
the parallel life underlay
this play
(as Will might say)
but, honestly, Dictionary,
I think about that thing Jörn said; how I avoid ever saying what my conflicts are —he called me a pussy, I believe, wasn’t that hat what he said ....right? And then laughed at me.
But.... I have thought a great deal about that since he said that. It has been bothering me because I have never thought of it that way. Because then I guess I am a fraud if I’m not willing to .... you know....
he’s right
As much as I worry he may be some evil incarnate slaughtering women and children .... but maybe only to that other life
that her
that was me...
they say soul mates reincarnate together when they have unfinished business between them
I read this recently because I have been searching for data on others who may know these strange kinds of experiences that .... we share and I believe this is what drew us to each other. It was something we knew but didn’t know what it was we knew
just that we knew
and with this I start to suspect.... sense .... and believe....
I think he has something to teach me. And strangely.... this I sensed about him right away.... since the first moment I saw him. And with it too —an innate faith of a kind of trust .... I feel he knows things or .... no, it is more that he has the ability to understand how I’m wired and —knows what I need to hear .... I know this only because it comes from some instinct; call it emotional intelligence. Because I think the reason the girl was drawn to him ....was because she knew he valued her and could ensure her safety. This innate sense she could be safe with him. There is something to be said about what fear can do to someone
It is this underlying sense now that I feel about Jörn that I feel ....that it cannot be explained by logic.... but I know it the same way I know why she loved him.
And how he could leave an indelible impression on her heart; on her soul; like tattooed and woven through her entire soul. Yes it is possible to imagine how this could be possible
And —in my present life these things he says and things he does I think must have significance somehow now....now in the present and it makes me think of
the mute girl inside. Mutated. How I left her behind. Even the knight walked away
only sometimes she seeps out between the cracks needing to be heard.... but she gave up her voice
and has gone deeper inside
I fear I have lost meaning as an artist .... I don’t know if I believe in hope anymore
and this worries me. And as an experiment as I document my emotions in symbol, I think I dare to find any proof that any of it matters .... what is the purpose
is there purpose after all and if not then why art
as someone who once has defined herself through this self created reality spoken in the tongue of hidden meaning with the prop of drama to hide behind—anonymously
What is the purpose to define identity if it does not even matter? This dictionary; diary; journal is my own personal documentary on Does It Matter? Why not just keep her in there forever
because what else do you do when you are a dirty secret? You cling to the shadows because that is all you have ever known and all that was permitted.... go sit in the corner where no one can see you.... don’t outshine your sister by showing off
Sometimes I wonder why she did it.... you know, Mom.... but she told me why. She was demented as a person but I forgave her that long ago. She just loved this man who was forbidden so it was a Romeo and Juliet situation. He was forbidden. She was only 21 when they met and he was .... well, who he was. He was once written somewhere I read —as described to be at one point in his political career as the most powerful man in the world. But in that Gotham way....
They never officially ended even after their marriages and divorces and his remarriage.... she confided to me he was her big love and she never got over him. I know because that was what I did for her; I listened to her and was her shrink or her lap dog or her pin cushion or her Oedipus
So the reason I was abused at home was because I looked like this other man and I was her consolation for her not getting the man she wanted. At her whim or mood she ignored or fawned on me and dressed me like her pedigree poodle
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
It is a few days later....
“Why do you hide your face, min lilla duva?” he asks as we stand outside the door of his place
I am thinking of the contractors back at the penthouse that I have to remember—they come tomorrow with some marble to install
—Johnny and Ilya convinced me of this but now I have to figure out what these guys are saying
(the construction people)
....whenever they explain their problems to me.... and it isn’t just the accent that’s the challenge as I have never actually owned property in my life so .... I don’t know anything about pipes and tubes nor tiles and flooring but I’m an artist so, I usually pick the prettiest choices and make it up as I go
“My face?” I ask him but because I seem to constantly get a stomach ache as soon as we are about to face the firing squad—I mean, his mother.... I tend to use whatever props I have handy .... hats work well.... scarves.... jackets with collars up
“Yes,” he says and decides to not open the door right away. We stand outside his door and he puts his key in his pocket. He looks at me dead on; stares
“Stop!” I say and hold my hands over my face
“This has to go,” he says and pulls off my hat, “and the glasses—why don’t you wear contacts?”
“Can I have my hat back?” I ask him, holding on to my glasses and reach to grab hold of his jacket sleeve as I say, “you need to remove this, Jörn, and can I have my hat please?” I yank at his jacket
He laughs and shakes me off like a flea ,
“no you’re not getting your hat, but no really, you need to stop hiding behind these—“ he tries to take off my glasses
“I can’t see without them so, you need to let me wear these and to answer your question— I used to have contacts ....” and I yank at his jacket and get it off one shoulder
I notice he’s smiling at me
“They’re not home....” he says
“Oh....” my stomach ache instantly goes away and he lets me take off his jacket
“So where have they gone?” I ask as he opens the door
“I’ve sent them to the Hamptons,” he tells me in that lecherous vampire way he has
“You sent them?” I follow him in
“I even ordered a car for them,” he tells me and shuts the door behind me, “they’ll be gone all week....Andreas went with them....” he holds me up against the door and smiles at me
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