eh bien, ce n'était peut-être pas pour rien, après tout

 

And as I stare out from another window away from Jörn’s kitchen I think ….that at the end of the day…. it is the awareness of falsity and.what used to feel right —was it ….just because I ….thought ….that I mattered.but ….I think I have….and I think I still do, so…. I don’t understand 

Electra writes as e.d.

 

of course I could not write of Jörn’s case from last year as things happened and there are gaps on here where I have had to leave out details since about around this time last year as he was in deep cover —somewhere ….close to where the war has been— let us say for now

penthouse reflections e.d.

I realize now that he was lying to me even further back

it is later and I am back at the penthouse.I pace the bedroom  like a mad woman ….like a mad woman ….disappearing photos…. yes, mad woman, indeed—who used to say that—those old Greek choruses never shut up….Paris was a lie too I guess, and this new shock —I feel so sick ….I go to the window and —think ….

then realize the view from his kitchen is right where I’m standing ….

    and he is watching me….what is it then?— either let me go or come clean ….I want to tear through all the false promises with just one scrap of proof that ….

any of it was real ….to think he just wanted to play me for a fool makes me 

I draw the drape in one raging move and turn my back to it

how can I ever think I actually meant anything to him if he could be so duplicitous with zero qualms for all his disregard toward me —so I rage at the walls for awhile ….and stomp across the bedroom looking up at the walls feeling as if I am thoroughly trapped by them

and want to run.but where. and so tired of running.

Noir smörgås varm röra/orrefors Crystal clear (jmmusechroncont)

 

I look straight at Josef as I come back —he sits at the head of the table. A bit breathless. Then I notice that his sleeve is caught on the edge of the table —as though he just heedlessly rushed to his seat 

I glance at Elsa 

  who similarly ….is sat with part of her skirt oddly twisted beneath her, trapping her legs 

but it is Andreas of whom— what is he doing?

I walk over to him by the tall console table as he has his back turned so awkwardly as though he—

“Do you need help?” I go around to look at his pose from another side 

“Oh my god!” I exclaim as I see he has a tall Orrefors crystal vase cradled precariously in his arms as if—he just accidentally  ran into the table recklessly 

I catch the vase. glance as Elsa. She looks away quick but—I see the gasp of relief she tries to hide 

I pretend not to pay any mind but I do look at Josef with his caught sleeve pointedly and decide to help him. He sheepishly smiles up at me,

“tack, kära du,” he pats my hand affectionately mustering a show of composure and a glance at Elsa 

I walk over to her next as she is actually now sat at the other head of the table and as I walk towards her I look at Josef as I go,

“so, explain the purpose for Jörn to marry me. Is it the citizenship or is it the property legal clause on the Swedish opera house?”

“Svenska operahuset,” I hear Elsa whisper to herself 

“Well before—“Josef starts to say 

but at the very exact moment Andreas says,

“Both.”

Andreas’ voice is louder 

Andreas my ally. I look at him. But at that moment I hear a tap on another door behind me. This one leads out to the corridor to the bedrooms, but it is usually open, like now. So the tap cones loud on the panel of the open door. I turn to see Hanna 

“If pappa marries you, it allows him more freedom with his work in your country and—affords some extras for friendly family members; if you know what I mean,” she winks at me

Trust kids for honesty at awkward moments ….as I see Erik is sneaking out behind her 

I groan,

“smörgås varm röra,” and sit down next to Elsa as I take a moment to think ….they seem to be watching me

After a second to reflect, I get up and walk around as I think 

“I marry him—“ I point to Jörn, “you benefit because then you keep the opera house,” I say and walk to the window, “so—how does that benefit Jörn? ….diplomatic immunity?”

“It’s ….” Jörn starts to walk over to me shaking his head, “it’s more ….complicated ….”

Josef clears his throat. It a signal throat clear. Warning?

I glance at Josef 

“If I’m going to be in this family I think I deserve some ….explanation—is it work—his platinum brand —corporation? Taxes? Or is it just the usual of surpassing the visa/green card dilemma?” But no…. there’s the obvious again, 

I spin around to Josef,

“Of course! If Jörn marries me—then you as —director— are free to ….” it all dawns 

I glance at Elsa but she glances at Jörn who then shoots an angry look at his pappa ….

Jörn turns to me,

“duva….he’s my cover”



An e.d. Marker; somebody’s past/tie in

It was about 1857 or so. She was a trade with the white-man, tobacco plantation owner; she was Indian; she had long, black, straight hair and tan skin; her eyes were dark. Her beauty was spoken of.

But there was more than one of the plantation owners. There were two other sons and some daughters. This tobacco plantation was not just owned by some anonymous wealthy confederate; they had been there for generations; this plantation owner was among the country’s original forefathers via King James; and part of history. 

But the one who made the trade made her instead her concubine ….and the child that came about 

seemed not to like the line his blood came from on the male side because any rights they had was lost when the man died a confederate general on the battlefield ….that boy decided to never embrace that side of his dna and aligned himself with those he identified with; freed slaves 

He found a unity in the church and a brotherhood he needed. Not realizing he was continuing the pattern of our dna 

 

I have always felt a bind with the earth. In objects buried deep inside it, I feel so many worlds.with coins on the ground dropped yesterday —I feel their emotions who dropped it

the connection to a place is a calling for reconciliation —

as I reflect on dna memory, I have felt the imprint upon me

constantly 

All my proclivities ….all my obsessions….all my nightmares ….they draw me constantly back to the shores of those very places 

you see? I am thst screaming banshee that haunts the willows snd the groves; along the cliff sides ….and upon the paths to the hallways where once portraits hung and even longer ….so long ago, before a stone or brick changed the landscape and I felt it call me 

each time I came near

and nearer

each time I heard a familiar name ….that chill….that jab into the heart….that flash of lightening with ….all that once was….and all your faces.you were there.that is dna memory.sometimes a physical bond is passed to 

scene steal

 but then I stop to look into his face. That face I know….I stare …..and run my fingers over his cheekbones …. and oh I think as I stare into such lovely vampire eyes….

this face of his….I know every line and crease ….as if I put it all there myself ….

and want to say—I need you back, that you I knew, but—maybe I don’t say that….i feel the weight of life instead and walk to the door,

“let’s not keep them waiting.”

“Duva—they are trying to arrange our marriage,” he says with an arched brow

I sigh,

“it’s just an arrangement.and…. guess what?—it offers me protection. I don’t care about the sex.”

vampire bot

 

a cache of people kept. like a menagerie.filed and sorted for his every mood….but i am more than one box.and overfloweth 

Scene/e.d. noir

I walk and pace, then stay by the window as I think of what he said…. the deceptions were not intended for me ….but I receive the fall-out don’t I —with no bother of explanation nor —mention of any importance. for everything

I say to him,

“it seemed you actually were the first person who bothered to see me,” and the sad realization renews. That sense of ….but I shut out the thought. Instead I say,

“why did you stop looking?”

mid evil 

it is the remoteness of life.nobody is real anymore. that is why. we live through internet and that screen. it is a two way screen. nobody is real. I don’t belong here.as I am

 

dear electra,let’s go home 

Jörn’s side

 

“Duva—don’t say that,” he says now to me as he stands up slowly as if with the weight of the world on his shoulders

“What?” I ask

“I have not lied to you,” he says somberly 

I consider his ….demeanor 

and for a moment I am rather taken aback by something I had not seen before,

“Jörn —to omit a truth ….or a white lie ….but I won’t play judge—but, you see…. I am only —reacting from what has happened and —what maybe is truth?—ok, I know that I don’t know everything ….the whys and the wherefore’s …..but—I think you know what I mean. Don’t pretend.”

He sighs heavily,

“can I ask you then to—wait before you draw all your conclusions ….what ever you might call what you call lies —were never placed in efforts to particularly deceive you; that was not ever the objective.”

musings/(jmmusechronCont)&e.d

 

I turn to look at him from the window with my arms folded,

“I think it is that I embody your emotion. You put me in a box with your emotions. You step away. You then pretend not to feel or care and you behave as badly as you please. 

the worst thing anyone can do though, I am afraid to say, but it is to make me believe I am taken for granted because there I cannot exist nor breathe so, I am resilient; and have self-respect and therefore I am quite tough….” on the outside to protect what nobody has come near and that is why there is the boomerang effect with the barbed wire and chains….because they believed they got so close to finding that very thing  …. which ….I’ve never ever given away to anyone 

in this lifetime

“but, if you cannot be truthful to me, the last thing in my life that I’d need is a liar and I can see right through you. How could you do that to me—I’m ….disappointed—I guess I ….must revise….”

 

I think I shall have to grow bored of you so that I don’t have to ….feel this kind of pain with you ….I don’t think you value my sincerity and ….” I push him with a jab so he falls onto the bed and I walk to the window to look out before I say, 

“and— I think for me, ethically, that has to be a problem, because you have decided to only see me as one of many other ‘things’ and —by doing that —tarnished my ….”

but I stop because I run myself into split and splinters of which side to see it from

“because if I am bored, then I won’t care—like you don’t.”

 

“No wait— “ I say, stopping Elsa and Josef and even Andreas as I ask them to let me speak to Jörn alone 

….because it has all suddenly caught up with me and ….

I even pull Jörn back to his bedroom to speak my mind 

an aside/apocalyptic emptiness en masse/side notes

this personal search; this explorative artist’s journey; the ‘pilgrimage’ first started a long time ago for me ….which forced me as an artist to require this outlet…. to deal with the emotional weight of how isolated I felt from the rest of this world…. who seemed wholly unconscious of —I believe ….what has become the present reality

I felt it very young and growing up—a suffocating emptiness that there was no consciousness at all; that everyone is as Hume suggested

I think it was from the apocalyptic sense which quietly germinated in this terror of an awareness of meaninglessness

that lead me on this headless horseman journey 

you question :

do I look for meaning where there is none

I guess that my devil’s advocate reply must be

what if there is meaning where no one has bothered to see  ….?

the subcategories are part of what supports my personal searches for meaning and purpose; 

That is Electra’s dictionary

and these ….karma; dna memory theory; the evolution of the soul and the universal consciousness ….are the flags 

so, if you argue there is no meaning and I am naive to search 

I can only reply that, you can have that opinion in your world; in the world that I live in there is….and if that means to you that I am a lunatic, so be it, because this is my dictionary and I define myself and I don’t live in your world

e.d.noir/jmmuse; voyage pilgrimage; Voyeur

And as I stand there in Jörn’s kitchen watching him do the carafe …. but I am somewhere else 

I think about —and turn to look out the window of his kitchen ….and….I just noticed this …. At this angle from his kitchen window ….and how the sun is in the morning coming from the north almost like the dream memory and get a chill; but no….

you can see directly into the penthouse bedroom ….

my bedroom 

I swiftly turn to look at him now

“So, you need to marry an American?” I say this but all the while I am calculating new information ….I keep a poker face as good as anyone…. why should I let on information —does he? 

“Well….” awkward now with the plunger —no, he is pretending; what.a.faker. “that’s Mama—“ he shrugs with a half searching glance at me but covered up with a laugh. Forced.

I get up real close to him. 

I put my hand on the plunger 

as I lean up against his hip and look up into his eyes ….veiled kryptonite as deadly as a barbarian but I say,

“it is that, isn’t it? A war crime….” I have my hand over his but I move it. I lightly use my fingertips to run up his arm but stop when I get to his hip level and grab another plunger 

“Who did you fuck with this?” I ask him 

He takes my hand,

“it was a case,” he says this steadily 

“That you fucked up,” I say ….because my mind rewinds to the time frame of these events. His odd behavior toward me. I look up at him, “fucking liar!”

“Duva, it has nothing to do with us—“

Shit. 

Again. 

Like a tick. 

I do it again without realizing. 

Slap.across his face.

“How did your mother put it? ‘Sleeping under a metal curtain,’ that was brilliant, because now I get it!”

“It was sheer ignorance because she never gets the phrases right.”

“It was brilliant.” I say this as I think but I say, “so what happened? Was your cover to fuck her? Did you enjoy it? Was it drudgery work, oh, poor you? Were you getting out secrets tying her up—or him?—was it a him or a her?—or a them or—whatever….I really don’t care except for the fact that you acted so innocent to me and ….no, it’s not that it’s ….I think you got scared. The loss of control. And this job; this case—you lost your head, and I’ve always thought you had anger issues ….did they push you and you went too far—“

“Ahem!”

I jump

There is Elsa by the kitchen entree-way 

“How is that coffee coming along?” she asks as she glances at first me and then Jörn ….and I swear, I don’t think she misses anything 

She walks right over to us

By now my hand has safely landed on the kitchen counter. But she looks right at it. And then at me . And then she pats it,

“good girl!” she says with a sly smile and looks up at Jörn 

She mumbles something to him in Swedish that I cannot even try to make out the sounds but what ever she says makes her giggle as she walks away 

Jurassic 

the call of the open road 

a friend 

   

snake in the grass

 

birthday flowers for lucky me

….from the corner of Jörn’s kitchen I write into my phone….

….from the corner of Jörn’s kitchen I write into my phone:

And as I am nudged and pulled along to Jörn’s kitchen it seems that is what always happens 

pulled and nudged along and 

always right before landing into a trap 

I always am better on my own I remind myself; the abuse I never needed 

I don’t need anyone 

I am Garbo; don’t I just want to be let alone ….?

mostly 

only, there is a riddle about that which of course I have hidden all through this. it was not put there to be found. rather for me to figure out 

a study in pink & teacups & one cup that smiles

 

 I have been ignoring myself. I think all my life. I never noticed. Not until I realize how I turn off my own pain. And see the damage it has done to me. But i see it now. It was a behavior I was taught young and I —have always been well disciplined 

But the tragedy really is

I’ve put my celves last and the quest that I have believed myself to be applied to

And all my selfless acts have been for nothing because nobody even noticed 

so stayed up late

 

https://youtu.be/KA2n60NoOwY

missed R.E.M. sleep

Film Noir Smörgåsmassa

but you know, I find his wording so odd— ‘I may be guilty of….’

But then ….I think about Josef; why is he asking me about my divorce when—?

A tap on the open door causes us to look to see that Josef is actually standing there now 

“I hate to interrupt but….” Josef puts a tone of emphasis on each word 

Slowly it all begins to come together in my mind and first I look back at Jörn and then at Josef 

“Wait a minute ….the Swedish opera house…. “ I look straight at Josef now, “does the apple not fall far from the tree?”

“Vad?” Josef cocks a frosty, bushy brow at me and pierces me with the ferocity of his Nordic stare and….

what was that before about the Folkmoot? And the image of the dream comes to me with Raoul stood before the big Viking lord/king…. what a strange and cryptically odd thought ….that has popped into my mind at random it seems, 

but often thoughts as such prove to develop a picture in the dark room of reflection 

such as now, I say aloud looking at Josef 

“you’re the director!” 

At first he plays it off with a laugh,

“directing these characters is always a challenge and then of course we have Elsa and when she hits the right note, she breaks glasses!”

“No—you are the Swedish director ….you work for Interpol, I can’t believe I just figured this out!”

“Jörn, did you say you were going to make coffee?”Josef suddenly asks before, directing a cryptic glance at me now says, “I’m so glad Duvan has offered to help you with that. Don’t make your mother and I wait,” the last part he directs at Jörn, “her blood pressure….”

“Since when is coffee the cure for that?” Jörn snaps but repents, “we’ll start the coffee,” and without any warning, takes hold of my wrist as though to do what I did to him before

But Elsa appears and smacks his hand,

“where did you learn this savagery to women? Something you picked up here or sleeping under a metal curtain? You better make that coffee extra black!”

Electra’s dictionary & film noir(jmmusechron); a stampede of elephants in the room

And so to find myself back in Jörn’s Manhattan bedroom again ….and 

for a moment it seems I swing as a saloon door that is snapped to extreme 

and actually fall against the inside of the door frame as I look again upon it. As. It looks exactly the same. Like no time has passed at all in here

Almost like a vacuum

But no. It is ….I find a comfort. 

That he is ….still who I believe him to be ….because I don’t want him to be …. I can’t even think the thought…. I don’t want him to be anyone but who I know him to be; the spy who carries a cello to the philharmonic and is writing an opera …. about me …. ? ….I walk willing myself not to feel anything. But I go anyway to ….his side of the bed that he sleeps on and touch familiar things he always has there; a random pile of change; passport, random ticket stubs, there’s one for the philharmonic I see…. and touch it…. 

“What is going on Jörn?” I look up at him standing there. As if frozen

but he looks blank

so blank 

“It is like you have disappeared,” I look up at him as he looks at me

“It is something to do with ….a case,” he says

But he stands there so oddly by the door as he stares at me. He stares at me. In that way. Again. What does that mean? He looks so strange 

“So—what is it? Are you in trouble?” I ask him

He turns away. He is clearly tense. Then clears his throat. It seems he is about to say something. But nothing comes out. He walks hesitantly and as if interrupting himself, he stops at the chest of draws that line the wall beside the bed and there he stops to lean against. He folds his arms and presses his thumb to his lower lip staring at a spot on the floor

I feel my mouth go dry. I do not know why, but I feel his chill, feel his ….mood; it sweeps the air like a cold, humid fog and chokes 

“Tell me,” I say but it hardly leaves my throat 

Finally he looks at me, and then with that empty stare shakes his head,

“I ….uh…. I am not at liberty to say the details but, I —may be guilty of a very serious ….thing.”

“‘Thing’…. ” I repeat and wait. 

But he says nothing. 

“You mean—like a war crime?” I ask and ….inwardly flinch as I can hear the note of hysterical rising in my own tone as I ask as I stare at him. But I seem to know; intuition; I  already know. I feel my head become strange and my face seem to go cold 

Electra’s dictionary & film noir/checkmatepawn(JMMuseChron)

…. it has never been a question of what it is about —as far as all of This

And this thought I am split upon as I balance between the plains 

Josef says,

“Elsa is being satirical!” throwing up his hands, “it’s all under control….” But he stops himself and glances at Elsa. He looks back at me, “so, where are you exactly on your divorce from Chris—is it final or in the works?”

I push the chair out and stand up. This is my cue. I walk around behind Josef and straight to Jörn and take him by his lapels without looking. I just reach up as I go, with a glance and ….then I start to drag him that way

I get him about three paces that way with odd coughs and laughs behind me and dragged feet. Until…..

 my fingers are wrenched away

but by then we have made it through towards some privacy as I start for his bedroom

“Now, duva—“

“No, don’t ‘duva’ me—it is amazing to me—amazing Jörn!!!—how you really thought I was not onto you and your odd coverups of saying you are one place but being somewhere else and it gets old so, why am I the target in this scheme, I don’t understand because clearly your lust is for an entertainment —“ I wave my hand vaguely meaning to suggest —the recent elephant in the room. The discrepancy. 

“Where do I really stand in all of this, Jörn—am I just a pawn?”

sometimes it feels as though life hurts so much

the Smörgås Noir scene continues

you know…. as the metallic taste fills my mouth with that dread as I think about it

every time he says that everything is fine, everything is quite boring and normal it is like a tragical comedy that smoke screen may not be meant to fool me actually

I look at Josef as he sits at the head of the table and it suddenly occurs to me that the way the light is at this time of day —it could be a Folkmoot flashback because it hits me with a smack…. 

but glance back at Jörn ….I see him staring at me as I glance his way and it is that look ….right before I catch him I can see it there and 

it catches me to the quick 

 those capers of his

I’m always uneasy when he travels especially on a mission and …. well, I think about so many times he —messaged that everything is normal; it is like a flare gun going off or—a red flag? every time he says that everything is normal not to worry —the sirens blow 

“Before I would agree to anything,” I look at Josef when I say this, “I want full disclosure ….” 

But now I look at Jörn. I say as I look up at him,

“I will not agree to anything until you tell me —everything….” 

and keep my eyes steady on him. I don’t look away. I hardly blink. And I find this time I need to know how far he would push his luck about me; how far

Scene continues/e.d.Noir;demiSexual melt down

….and so in that moment of dazed confusion and slightly stunned 

I eject out of my head sitting there with them and think about ….my grandmother ….then my mother and their instructions in life

Such as, “you could do better,” my mother would say about every boy I brought home 

and for the rest of her short life 

And in this foggy state of surreality ….I think, “well just because I could do better does not mean there is any better out there to be had ….they are all creeps, liars, frauds who fuck with your head for the laugh….there is no point even bothering to look for better, you know?”

So 

I sit there pondering this quite seriously.

…. Because it is so true. They don’t exist. And I think, like  “there is no human.capable.of—of…. fuck, whatever—and besides that they mostly love themself more or their body part to even bother to get their head out of their ass, how could one of those ever fucking get me?”

Why are they looking at me that way….?

Oh god —did I just say all of that out loud?

we don’t plan on emotion 

while busy making plans 

Deep smörgås noir

 

I cannot turn back; that is to say, I cannot undo where I am, it is where I —am at

so thus surrender, there is nothing else for it…. and the water in the tall glass is held to my face and

for a dumb and long moment it seems I am frozen on the precipice of ….sheer and ridiculous epsilon soundlessness and decide that it is best to just give up to it ….

and drain 

the glass

the dots disappear.but that could be just coincidence 

So there is Josef —what….?no, I don’t wonder as he is at the end of the long table waiting for us with ….a strong sense I get

like a ‘disturbance in the force, ….Luke’

only he smiles at me as I walk into the room and I’m not sure what it is but a surreal sense of Fanny and Alexander 

Only, instead….. Josef comes over to me snd takes a firm grip of my arm as I feel Elsa let me go. And so maybe it is the concussion as I seem to feel so removed from myself. Almost as if I don’t care about any possible consequence anymore 

As though I have really abandoned myself to the will of chaos because ….well, maybe it would do a better job with my life than I have trying to always keep my feet on the ground 

carpet ride is clearly needs must  immediately because there in Josef’s expression is this highly tolerant look of indulgence that appears before he just lightly pushes my arm so that losing my balance I fall into that —convenient seat; flop. Land with an unfortunate sound that carries more humor with the following silence  

“So….” Josef says as if all of us know what is about to happen 

I look around for cues. Andreas sighs with irritation but takes a seat at the other end. Elsa sits near next to me on the left as Josef, with a dramatic flare clears his throat loudly and looks at Jörn. Everyone is looking at Josef looking at Jörn. Which Josef knows. Then he points to s chair as he glares at Jörn 

There is a dramatic sigh from Josef as he rolls his eyes 

“Duvan ….” Josef says as he looks at me

Why do I feel like I am on the edge of s cliff 

“The Svenska Opera House stands s chance of becoming a liquidation …..”  he stares at me with —that note of his son’s kryptonite; now I know where it originated 

“Is that the right word?” Josef looks at Andreas

I look too. Andreas shrugs and appeals to me with a shrug,

“they are saying that they do not want a Swede as a property owner there—basically— is what I get.”

I am further lost. 

I look at Josef. But Josef looks uncomfortable. 

I feel Elsa pat my arm,

“they are trying to say that we are in trouble unless we find an American wife for Jörn.”

thoughtsfleetrandom;bk of days

don’t you always see faces and scenes in the shadows and creases….? sometimes you know there are words too

e.d.

and sometimes i want to to take him into my arms and say that he is not the one in control. Sometimes I think he wishes it too, but he just cannot —let go to it.it is not part of the vocabulary encoded into his cerebral brain cells…. to say….and instead, just tell him to shut up, that he needs to be quiet because he makes no more sense and stop the wild ride for five minutes of breath and ….me.yes, me. just shut up and let me tidy up the mess you have made and make him stop all his commotion and let me kiss him like he is a little boy into submission. why is he so bad

A random observation (the mind reflects upon during burnt out moments in life) …. so I have noticed that squirrels are more stupid out in the country. 

  perhaps it’s best this way

will he ever find his way back to me….?/notes of a stranger; Ed noir

****

as I walk through the pass from the penthouse to the vestibule that leads to the main part 

I breathlessly wonder …..

will he ever find his way back to me….?

and this thought confuses my independent nature —that it should matter, why do I care….if he is a worthless scoundrel ….will he ever find his way back to me….

because there was ….something worth knowing there and if it is lost then ….

because I cannot ….

my head is weird like a balloon about to pop

     and only when I stumble do I realize I have been leaning on Elsa’s arm for most of the way —and now ….I start to see a lot of black polka dots ….everywhere and I feel so strange 

they seem to take over 

“Get her water!” I hear her shout, “Andreas!”

as the horizon turns sideways