https://youtu.be/AdD8Emu-T64

Me with Matthew Caws (who wrote this song —off my favorite album) after he played with ‘nada surf’(lower case)

left in stitches(scene continues)/e.d.&muse

 

But whatever Jörn was about to say is upstaged by a sudden interruption of more familiar voices entering the apartment in an excited rush and —in a heated argument that…. is making my head pound as their language is not kind to migraines 

“Oh!” I gasp and cover my ears and eyes, “why does my head still hurt?”

“Don’t touch the stitches!” Jörn says as he rushes towards me from the window where he had been pacing to but almost defeating the purpose, I’d hazard to guess, he calls out loudly in operatic tenor,

“snälla håll nere rösten!”

and this rings and seems to echo in revolutions 

“What do you mean stitches?” I am horrified now as I look up at him

But he is too busy looking at the back of my head and pulling away my hair in the exact spot that has been pounding and—

“ouwh! fuck!” I say and reach back to feel what he is looking at—but—he slaps my hand away! with a sort of reprimand —I can only guess— as it’s in his language and I cannot spell what he just said; still, the tone says everything, doesn’t it? As I suddenly feel like I’m ten 

“Your hands are dirty!” he says in English 

“I’ve been unconscious—“ I start to get up to wash my hands but he pushes me back 

“You shouldn’t be walking around —the doctor said,” he tells me and then he looks at me in —that way— which makes me think I’m risking being put over his knee with a spanking if I don’t get back in bed

So I give him a look displaying my surrender because I ….actually don’t care enough anyway 

I get back in bed and crawl under the covers as suddenly it feels like I ran a marathon 

 I resurrect like the phoenix each time stronger but in between I am ashes 

 Electra between 

When I was a little girl I had this nightmare. It was that the end of the world was coming and the planet was being blown up. My father arrived with a spaceship to save his special little girl. But he only had room for one. 

And as I watched them leave in my dream I had this feeling that I wished so much to be the one special little girl to someone ….so there would be room 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir/vampire eyes

And so, because —with the staggered television sounds snd a piece of a conversation that belongs to…. ? …. oh, it’s too involved to quite wrap my head around just yet…. 

my head is so foggy, I sit up and put my head in my hands 

I don’t know what I was expecting but I think it was that when I pulled my hands away from my eyes I would see something …. like a miserable container interior or—the drear of farmland and Sunny’s lodge 

….or, the Adirondaks even….

like the bunker underground I was buried in for so long ….my god was that, like— only just a little over a year ago? No…. then it was the high school stalker ….Shit— how many nightmares can you list off in ten seconds that have happened in my most recent life? ….but….

Now—alas …. it looks like, i have succeeded in losing my mind, bravo, as I am hallucinating or actually having a very lucid dream— unless, who knows, by some lucky twist of fate, I am …. fucking saved from that slow suicide that has been my life as my —magic pumpkin could have arrived in time, thank god, to get me the fuck out of there—as if—at last, and …. nice dream

To be back here

Because as I look around my surroundings —my grogginess wears away 

as again I sharply notice …. those very signature things …. it is that strange otherworldly quality I remember …. somewhat majestic, only actually sexy, yet in a sort of clinical yet most un-dreamlike way as

….everything is white, minimalistic 

—then I am startled with —!

“ni två är som två bortskämda brats, jag kunde höra er i korridoren!” A familiar high shouting voice now says. I hear a door slam. 

Then another familiar, yet slightly shrill operatic voice says,

“vet du vad den där ungen — din pappa — gör?  brat är det rätta ordet, han beter sig som om han var tio med den där överprissatta hörapparaten.  visste du att den höjer och sänker volymen?”

What is going on? I am so confused, I find, as I slowly start to realize this weird dream—isn’t one, and I appear to be back in Manhattan in Jörn’s apartment and in his bedroom 

I hear him now say,

“hur mår patienten?”

And it is Josef’s familiar voice who replies,

“Jag kollade på henne innan men hon var fortfarande inte vaken.  har hon hjärnskakning?  det är inte säkert att låta henne sova.”

“Jag ska gå och träffa henne nu,” I hear Jörn then say and then hear footfalls of steps near. 

A moment later I hear a tap and look up and see Jörn in the doorway of his bedroom 

“How are you feeling?” he says before I have a chance to get a good look at him

I force myself to sit up and prop myself to the headboard and look at him 

And as I look at him ….I say,

“what am I doing here?” only now I see he carries his big cello. 

I see him set it down now as he sees me looking. He walks across the room and draws open the window sheers and looks at the street below for one moment before he turns to me 

and yes….he is beautiful …. sleek golden hair tied back in a knot, a Nordic god….and immaculate as always, I notice as…. he wears his symphony clothes ….?

“Are you playing back at the philharmonic?” I ask even as I realize I’ve not allowed him the chance to answer my other question 

He raises one finger to start to say something but then changes his mind and walks over to me instead and….

Only, it is his eyes ….those ageless, timeless, immortal vampire eyes that dazzle as deadly as kryptonite with their strange northern lights glow and 

it is déjà vu …. because how many times have I looked up at him from this exact place on his ….bed ….but it has not been for ….so long that ….we have been here ….and …. I am so confused and ….

it seems to fuck with my emotions ….

Electra’s dictionary and film noir; smörgås dreams

 

He comes to me in dream …. that tenuous grasping of an energy through the currency. 

it comes in waves, even as sounds are muffled and my senses are confused or ….are they dulled? only, I get such a sense that he is—with me— somehow;

or so it does seem only this thought gets mixed up with a seeming unrelated sound of a helicopter and the smell of the sea…. even as I had been dreaming of a lovely winter’s lake that was frozen with a dove flying in the distance, and through the mist came a man on a white horse …. and the distinct scent of citrus-ginger and leather, like Boss cologne as I seem to be lifted and weightless

And because my eye lids feel too heavy from whatever that strange smell was and the bump before that…. I can’t seem to connect thoughts 

And perhaps it is later when I hear a high pitched operatic voice bouncing off some wall in the distance with a cello, piano and violin in the background but again fall into a thick cloud of strange dreams. 

Strange dreams indeed, because now as I become aware that I am awake and look around, I still think I am dreaming. Because I know the scene well. But it does not fit my present. Of what I thought my present was. Is. Is?

The door ajar. Sounds carry. Loud sounds. 

First loud. Then soft. Then loud. Very loud. Too loud. It’s annoying. It’s a tv commercial. Then it’s something else—a movie, I know the voices —or—

It gets too loud!

But then I hear a very strangely familiar voice shriek,

“om du inte slutar använda din nya hörapparat för att styra tv-volymen så tar jag den där stora hammaren och det kommer att vara slutet på din nya leksak, jag lovar dig att Josef!”

 I think this time maybe you hurt me too deep 

 

and in that state of not consciously awake where thoughts do come …. I am thinking about how much I have longed to find an intellectual equal who —I repeat myself—is capable of being my lover and my best friend  

 

e.d. Noir

And so I think 

What I most liked about him was not his typical Nordic characteristics, it is a funny thing because I had not thought to consider this somehow till now ….not the pretty nose, nor the baby blue eyes you commonly see—and why do I think of Jörn now when it feels as if I walk the plank ….of life….to jump into the deep watery depths of foul play that is the story of my life ….I think of Jörn with his slanted vampire eyes, ageless and tattooed on my soul with all the changing colors of the sky and with it all the moods ….how is it I still can long for him ….I wonder ….my vampire is not a pretty boy unless ….he’s in that mood 

Whatever made me think such random thoughts? ….strange…. I think —until …. I realize …..

It seems….ohhhh ….I start to lose consciousness ….even as I hear ….as though after; delayed —the sound of something hitting….. that— I realize, was the impact of something hitting my head from behind 

and all goes black 

     right before my hand slams down and randomly turns on the Volvo excavator ….

and….this apocalyptic emptiness/Electra’s dictionary

the lost pages 

I feel must be a reflection of all that falseness from people I have known 

why did I have to be so different? too complicated, too sensitive, too deep, too twisted…. I was not made for this surreal world with all its insincerity…. all I wanted was to be accepted and seen for myself…. I should not believe people 

 shallow people with empty, trite darkness 

 And in that frozen state within the container so contained ….waiting for my sad fate 

my thoughts frantically scurry for something firm to grasp, to hold to, to have any faith in….but

since the death of my best friend, I realize, I have had so many false friends in my life 

 and in that darkness I whisper ….. I thought ….you saw me

between

 

And as I split off from life and present my thoughts I think 

for awhile it had felt as though there had been someone looking out for me ….and it had really felt as if he were there…. as if he really saw me; read my every word and saw between ….and i believed 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir (jmmusechron2continue)

Those moments move in slow mo as we are stopped and nothing happens….I watch the hands on my watch move as my thoughts go madly and wildly in circles; dangling between logic and panic

And I brood inwardly with anxiety, fingers at the ready to start the Volvo engine

and poised there in mid space my mind disengages from my physical moment ….and sink into deep space thought….

And I start to think about how different life is without all those people who are now gone. When you have no one left, you look at life differently

I reevaluate purpose whilst in a semi trapped   and contained 

and when you are no one to anyone and you have no one, the fears of abandonment are long realized so…. behind the anxiety itself comes the sheer panic having to be contained and knowing nobody is there to care to look for you 

and suffocate ….in a container 

when I loath being contained at all

has kept me in this hirghtened state of terror mixed with panic because I am used to flight and running for freedom 

I have not been able to; instead trapped …. I look at the interior walls and …. my body wants to jump out of my fucking skin 

I hate being contained. I need space. I need freedom. I need to walk and pace and do physical things and …. this place is driving me crazy ….and the fear is …. what if nobody ever finds me…..?

 Jag skulle vara helt vilsen om det inte var för dig

Electra’s dictionary & film noir; And the reemergence of arch enemies

 

We must have reached some kind of rest area for trucks, I think, for I feel us slow down and drive past other loud motors. I start to nervously play with the excavator’s functions as I crash course attempt to teach myself how to turn an excavator on (pun not intended) whilst I feel us slowing to a stop to park

My fingers shake as I try to focus on what’s in front of me, silently telling myself that the plan was to somehow go Terminator on who ever I was being held captive by—-and why don’t I remember the moments before it happened ….? Although, I suspect strongly I had to have been hiking locally….so, how many semis do I see tearing through the dirt roads? Quite a lot, come to think of it ….

and wait—yes….it was ….a loud semi —I remember now, and I moved towards the ditch to let it pass me, and ….someone must have jumped out of the back of the truck as it was about to pass me —because I saw a flash of bright blue and red nylon; the kind of accent detail you see on athletic track suit clothes, as it seems, yes, now I remember —there had been a very sickening kind of taste —or smell ….just before things flatlined in my awareness and …..then I—awoke in here…..

I feel a jolt. 

Oh my god. 

It’s working! I feel the excavator spasm awake but just at the exact moment I hear the universal sound of a mobile ringtone….!

I reverse what I just did on the excavator so it shuts down quietly as the mobil alert drowns out any noise before the call is answered 

“Yes, everything is on plan, not one hitch….” I hear the voice of the driver

And it is now that I recognize the person’s voice as belonging to Deiter

Electra’s dictionary; locked in prisms

 

~the truck interior container scene continues~

When there is mostly dim shadow and nothing to look out at, thoughts always seem to go inward, especially without the distraction of a mobil device 

….and so I think over and over about the day’s details for possible missed clues and when I have exhausted these thoughts of any possible enlightenment 

defeated, I think about the larger picture ….of my life

….and to say ‘larger picture’ seems like an extreme exaggeration 

So in this dim darkness going inward, I ask myself those tough questions —those reflecting upon life questions but then, really that is nothing new so I think suddenly …..no, none of those questions ever tell me anything and in the event I am out of time because of whatever fate awaits me when the truck stops …. what is it that I think really really matters in life and in the world ….. and thoughts arrive with a most simple answer ….love….and so I think of my daughter 

And in the dimness of the truck interior I look out into the shadows. And I think, why am I so far away from her? Even as I know why; these years…. 

and it seems as if I feel like how I used to imagine it felt to be the lady the magician saws apart ….

like I feel I am all apart; all in pieces ….not whole 

and…. I think of love ….that other kind of love ….and it seems it has taken me all my life to arrive at the obvious conclusion to what really really matters ….and what I have somehow never allowed myself …. but somehow, it seems I cannot let myself put it off anymore because it occurs to me at this very moment …. how desperately I need it ….god willing it is not too late

(a tiny short) Electras dictionary & film noir/intersection towards a somewhere (jmmusechron)

I seem to forget what I do for hours as I stare into the dimness of the truck interior listening to the hum of the wheels as they spin

It is when I start to become lulled back into a daze from the motion of the truck that my mind starts to relax and I think for awhile I might have fallen asleep.

Until somehow something awakens my awareness. Perhaps hours passed because there is a sense that …. it is much later and yet I feel rather well rested; my thoughts almost clearer than they have ever been ….with a feeling of heaviness about life and time 

I reach to touch the stud in my ear ….it is the one Jörn gave me ….when he said that as long as I wore this he would always be able to find me 

it was that day in the silo …. And now I feel that old familiar ….rush

Electra’s dictionary & film noir; excavation unknown

stare at the container wall seeing scenes in my mind real and imagined; past, present and future…. and think of immediate defense tactics for as soon as the truck stops and the back opens up….

and in between such panicked plans I 

 silently brood upon the ‘bigger’ picture of life and ….the ‘meaning of it all’ 

and without my phone for baring of place and immediate events I feel like Dr.Who jettisoned through space

as the Mack truck goes barreling through the great mystery road that is on the other side of the truck container unit and ….I look at my watch ….as I notice how daylight is noticeably dimming 

the glow in the dark hands of my watch tells me that it is a little after half past six…. Oh where are we going, I wonder …..

I lean back in the seat and try to access my situation…. I mean, I should be a lot more upset about my circumstances, you’d think…. but maybe…. I guess I am actually getting used to trauma 

just take it under my chin

hardly notice it ….but really, where the fuck am I going? 

I am so sick and tired of being upended by people and situations that I never brought on myself, I just stood too close to the view of the twisted perceiver—whoa!!! The truck takes a hard turn ….. ok…. Shit! As I am nearly thrown out of the carriage 

It startes me and I start to wonder ….chance ….and events 

Maybe I’m looking at everything wrong ….I grip the steering wheel of the excavator and glance around into the dimming interior ….and I start to think about the last time something like this happened

Do I think Stina is behind this? Maybe it was time, maybe she saw something was about to go down and ….or….

  

Electra’s dictionary & film noir/of Volvos and other things (jmmusechroncont)(more teaser)

 

looking back now, it is hard to remember all the little details ….as my phone was separated from me at the time 

but it seemed such an enormously long while that the truck drove as the pace it was at and all without incident 

I suppose too that during that time I was lulled into a hypnotic feeling of focused calm as I reflected intently ….upon truly everything …. the immediate situation I found myself in…. the state of the world and things going on in countries everywhere…. Sunny and the life I have been living underground—no, I meant undercover as ….as…. 

Beth who is what yet again ….what am I, who am I ….and what the fuck am I doing here?

I thought about the neighbors, the author/actor who ….

and how or why do I find myself again in danger and there seeming no way out….? 

Yes I think about this, I remember this part well, thoughts going in circles as I martyred myself with unkind words aloud over how sad my life turned out and angry at…. oh…. but it no longer seems worth it you see….you know….anymore….as the truck rolled on….and I thought: this is a professional driver , not a regular criminal, exactly, because I can feel the attention he takes as he rounds the curves….yes, he…. as I heard a cough earlier on …. And so I think…. Was he hired only to transport ….? Or does he even know I am in here? ….scream? I decide against this based on a strong hunch 

Instead I just play with the Volvo buttons snd levers as I look for how to start the engine 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir/teaser (jmmusechron)continues

 

….as it slowly comes to me that where I am is in motion, I force my mind backwards to try and recall what I last remember ….as I look around the interior of the truck’s unit, which is mostly empty

in fact, I realize that it was this fact that caused me to wake out of the sleepy fog I somehow got put under ….put under…. ? for now, as the truck takes a turn, I am thrown across the floor of the truck’s studio sized container unit like a pinball and have to reach my arms out and search for something stable to hold onto —as I’m jettisoned and rolled around, and no, I don’t really need to search, though, as I collide into the answer; the only other object in the truck’s container unit besides me, I now am struck against as I encounter it—a Volvo excavator 

should I wonder? But no, out in the middle of farmland and rural country, these really are everywhere. I don’t question. Instead, I grab hold of a part of the step up to the door to stabilize myself and wait for the truck to return to its normal speed on the highway. When it does I haul myself up to the carriage of it and climb inside it, anchoring myself into the seat. I look around inside it trying to figure out if it could be useful if I found out how to start it and managed to…. specifically as a defense or way to get out of here

Electra’s dictionary (film noir 2b ….continued?)

It is on my way back from a walk when someone drives up alongside me and —for just a flash of an instant I think it’s someone I know….only I don’t get to find out 

as it seems either something hits me on the head, or I trip over a rock in the road ….and it is only later when I start to wake from a foggy dream that I realize I am in the back of an empty moving-truck that feels is going at full speed and, without windows for baring— I have no idea where I was going or what time of day

 

Electra’s search for peace found in pieces;thoughts along the journey at the bend 

the dialogue within my head has been paused. it seems. like a submarine that sinks down into fathomless depth to avoid 

the pause of ….the flow of the flow of streams of consciousness ….it is because I am guarded; it is to go into stealth all my truths because I find that where I am now I cannot be myself. So it is not possible to toggle between the artist me and this other me, who isn’t me at all, but has to be this me now because —it is a role ….in order to survive. No I cannot speak my political leanings, I cannot defend even my views….whether it be for humanity or not

but I don’t know how to be fake. how to exist. that way. day to day. 

but it happens another way too—the gray seeps in ….and creates a plastic; empty; fake feeling ….in the end 

 and it is like being the sock instead of the foot; stretched out, empty and misshapen 

I start to suspect that this might be the storm blowing itself out and that I am about to be —I believe—recalled back to the Celf again 

but only if I get all the pieces right