Whats the lyrics about? 11 april 2017

This is from me when listening.

Listening then, as a mother: To Wide Lovely Eyes from the Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds album Push the Sky Away-2013.

Wide Lovely Eyes

its Hide & Seek, and a song to a child, yes- I get the impression that the lyrics is written to a child, so:

The mother stands in the window as the father takes their child to child-care. Though everyone does, it feels strange to send the child away all day. As a family they are still working on that: The absence of child to get work done. And the child,

to cope with the absence of mom and dad. The child, with a small childs open eyes, and strides in her dress, waves to her mother, saying goodbye with her hands that still cant wave, instead they look like butterflies with fluttering wings, butterflies bending, and she is waving butterflies into the sky, and her mother answers the waving,  or  does the perspective change here, does she - the mother, suddenly,  see herself as from  a loved ones perspective: His eyes on her  as her brain  implodes and her hands goes up, up, a goodbye to a man, no,

and when she gets to her computer she wonders what world her child now caves into, perhaps a magical landscape that she  herself

has  left, yes through a tunnel of leaves down to the sea, and as grown-ups we can only try to imagine what our children do all day, and how they struggle to cope without their guides in life for many hours in row, yes ,

grown-ups close down the fun fair in our minds, and the the competitiondrive in men end up  killing mermaids and creativity, and so we try to

keep the real threats of terror away by telling jokes.

In the experience of becoming a mum her brain is expanding, growing, the world is full of  worry, and that while she and all organize surroundings to cope, and try to fill gatherings of friends with laughter,

and yes, me, sometimes I miss organizing shoes after shoesize and color and to look onto the world with curiosity.

Or as some girl said,

after she accidently had over-

heard a grownup conversation:

 Næmanæmma died? She  asked

with a serious look in her eyes. And I jumped at her having heard

my words, which were not

for her ears, and  at her

already there to look for

answers I was afraid to

give. So, the world has

changed, I, we know.

And thats what 

Wide Lovely Eyes

reminded me of.

-Sørli

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Radiohead,

Oslo Spektrum 6th June 2017

Alle Ble Flaue/ Aa Bb Fau

Aaa Bbbb Faaau

(efil ym fo flaH)

(half of my life I fooled my loved)

Thoughts on daydreaming and a concert,

writing then as some strange lady

amongst audience,

and how do we listen to noise,

its in the background,

and what I hear is on

men in a row

they love(hope that you) it when you choke,

happy to serve you, was he,

Thom Yorke and every true musician,

no glam or glitter,

but knowledge, warmth and a strange glare,

some affects perhaps,

moves o a girl I cannot see,

she moves her body and Thom

does too,

sweetfaced ones that

we all can love,

thats whats happen when

you think youre in place,

perhaps a future in a song,

creator has a kit to make

an identity to come forth

in a once loved,

sadly, Groundhogday makes

no way,

no, truth will mess you up,

the true tale of your life will mess you up,

him a grey jacket, that hair,

always a new door, endless corridors

and then the sudden smirk.

All this just to say:

lovenlove to Radiohead.

Nähe, Thankful Song

Thought On

the ballet Sleepless Beauty,

Nasjonalballetten,

Oslo 7ht May 2017

Persefone & the rest

it a mans hand on your chest and neck

and me walking into

the foajé

as I say abuse, abuse, abuse

to lay in love

is to have man above

till the mothers eyes

turn sore

blackn white suites

and them holding apartments

for little lovers

without regard to any other

like a child walking into

sleepless nights as her mum

working double shifts again

couldnt that make

a beauty, blackened eyes

till the mountain as a curtain

his finger pointing to th sky

and then they fold

her green dress and possible

evil plans for futuristic towns,

till the end that I loved:

Curtain, drapery, and the

lift of her

yes

he lifted her.

-H Sørli

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Noen Anmeldelser som er blitt gammelt nytt  >>>>>>

Lines, on Motivation, in Norwegian

hvis eg skreiv, verkeleg skreiv og ikkje oppfatta dette med hovudet i skyane og ballongar under føtene så ville eg ha spurt kan eg skrive på nynorsk for det var eg god til på ungdomsskulen der eg hadde verdas beste norsklærarinne er nynorsken min no blitt kavete og rar så var det ein gong ho som hjalp og lærte meg å skrive skildringar eller var det da ho krevde det av klassen at eg oppdaga korleis eg såg på verda for vi skulle skrive ei skildring, ja eit sommerminne, og da skreiv eg korleis det var å rusle opp Karl Johan ein sommerdag alle luktane og lydane, bandet som spelte i gata, og ein gut som kikka på meg og så las ho mi stil høgt som så mange gonger seinare, for klassen, eg prøvde hardt å ikkje bli for stolt, men kvifor, endeleg var det noko eg verkeleg kunne, som akkurat eg var god på, eg kunne skrive, og om det seinare skulle bli noko som ble brukt mot meg så visste eg det ikkje da, heldigvis, det var lenge før folk stimla saman over ein pc på ein fest mens dei kikka spakt på meg og mumla at dei skulle finne noko, vi finn dei ikkje, filane er borte, ikkje sant, ja, men kva hvis eg hadde ein motivasjon anna enn å skrive om det eg såg og hørte fordi eg samla på sånt, så skal eg åpenhjerta nå si til deg at hei, eg har kapsla inn desse minnane, dette hendte meg, og eg har ikkje sagt dei til nokon, og då dei hadde vokse og brunne opp inne i meg til eg ikkje orka meir så putta eg dei inn i ei ramme og den ramma heitte ei forteljing, og hvis du finn forteljinga vil du kanskje klare å se dei øyeblikka som eg egentlig ville si deg men som eg ikkje turde  på grunn av ei trussel om utsletting, og det er sørgeleg men det er menn, dei øyeblikka og den utslettinga  er menn. Og eg skal leve kvar dag med hovudet på denne halsen og ryggen og eg skal fortsatt ikkje vise at det som kan skake nokon inn i ei anonym tilværelse er menn, for så tidleg, altfor tidleg tråkker unge jenter inn i menn, eller er det omvendt, men ja dei har nett  sprunge ut med frekner over nasen og små knoppar av bryst, ja akkurat da tar ei grov hand tak i deg ikkje sant og du skjøner at no for alltid så må eg være på vakt, og det berre fordi du ikkje er eit barn lengre.

^selfportrait from 2014/15, old stuff,

on being in love when people and places are toxic: the result is brainfog. 

Waves of Guilt,        15.03.2019

Friday Morning

tried to start the day

with Pretty Pimpin,

by Kurt Vile,

then I turned to

Closer My God,

of Mikko Joensuu,

just to remind

myself of how the thirties

slowly changed to forty,

n cant anything but say

we always used to

see things in a humoristic way,

but then crosses come, right,

n as we are turning grey,

most of us rightly closer to a god,

but then, this morning, we started to sing,

with a little musicly guilt

One uf Us,

one of is,

yes, always in love.*

-Sørli

* Musikk gjør livet bedre, men hva gjør du med musikken?

Den burde jo overstrøs som krymmel men blir bare hufset vekk inn i ungdomstid og selvforakt. Men her i mitt hjem, sang vi i dag, også gikk vi til skole og jobb med roser i kinnene tross alt.

FFF*

high heels heading out-

I was told to leave a lovers night,

heard him whisper

fff

fff

fff

as I walked,

oh no oh

my pinkerbell,

I that got so many things to tell,

had a folder

with that name,

started in a kitchen 2000,

a sudden comfort

from a man

gave me a secret crush,

so

I wrote poems

that later accidently ended in all ears

-Sørli

Manhood

laugther filled

but then you are

an instrumentalist

to the core

my hand against

your neck to

put the collar right

your comment

on this

would be

already you are

correcting me

my hand against

your neck to

put the collar right

it my grandma

hands in move from

inside me

and I never questioned

it to be anything but

care.*

© Tonje Høydahl Sørli

* and I still think it is: an act of care.

Reverse in Hand & Backwards Give

oh why

dont give me

whats mine,

50 000 from my

solitary fund

and she wouldve

had a room on her own

did he regret it

as he stopped

my reverse in hand

no dont do this to me

I I I  that wrote songs

and verses from my

little town

we sat on the beach

and he fell in love

with any other than me

piles of books and him

perhaps as south

as any man

in north can be

so you lay me down

said

if you dont behave

your belt lit a light

till I scratched myself *

left marks

on my chest

didnt I

him road

was a backwards give

said

did you hurt yourself

or me

-Sørli

* This lyric is written to describe retraumatisation by violence, and self harm. To inflict self harm is a way to control your feelings. Its a normal reaction to/after abnormal experiences or abuse, but often scary to  witness for those you love. If you know anyone that inflict self-harm, know its a language thats about outer harm turned inward. Help him/her to get calm, help him/her get out of harming relations, and in the length he/she will also need help to place shame where it belongs.

V

V

Numbing and Immobility

they say this movie

is a eye into someones

world, elsewhere,

I think we make too many a girls life a struggle

living in Norway as well,

stimes its like this world likes to think that shame and family first dont exist in white middleclass

------

if you find yourself in offices or in schools with silenced and frightened youngsters, help them

-Sørli

Sth I care about:        (rettmessig innehaver av diktet er meg Tonje Høydahl Sørli, som skrev det):

chloroform isnt for a

fourteen yrs old,

lipstick neither,

and if she wanted be a woman,

she did also think he cared,

but in the toilet god.

see stains of coagulated blood,

a child always taken away,

n this is evil in me you know,

why living girls is this our world

why living girls is this our world

why living girls is this our world

in the car so quiet,

and where to drive with he,

then without a towel in the stairs,

to drain her from this life and veins,

she did think he was a vet,

the oldest in this town,

to get the curse and shame away,

she was wanted and a child with child,/plenty,

why living girls is this our world

why living girls is this our world

why living girls is this our world

n this is what they say:

willing and without shame,

when truth is threatning (he was a man) and she: a girl who tried to be kind.

why living girls is this our world

why living girls is this our world

why living girls is this our world*

* 

This lyric is my thoughts on abortion and pregnancy in very young girls, and older too of course. I believe, in Norway, we like to think of ourselves as a country that treat women and girls well. Im not to say I think so. The shaming of girls is still alive and living in this country. This perhaps isnt true to you, or perhaps it is. Myself, I believe that very few think of feminine values and virtues as important today. So listen: What is life in a stomach but to be a child, however who wants this or not, if she wants it.

Letter too, 12.07.2018

Denne teksten er ment som en kommentar til de som velger å avføye metoo. Likevel er mitt perspektiv at det å offentliggjøre folk ikke burde høre med som en del av metoo. Å sette lys på erfaringer som skader eller gjør utrygg, i oppvekst, utdanningsløp, tidlig karriere eller yrkesliv, var en gang mitt ønske for en metoo-bevegelse i Norge.  Drop-out understreket dette i 2004.

*

det er lenge siden jeg skrev til deg,

jeg pleide det, Kjære Du, og hilsen:

Evig Din. Du var dagboka mi. Men selv

ikke i deg skrev jeg om sånt som

tidlig skremte meg. I dag tenker jeg

det var fordi jeg ikke hadde et

vokabular om eller en innsikt i

sånt som var motsatsen til det å

være god, som gjorde at jeg kunne

skrevet om det. Det var ikke ord der,

i forhold til de som handlet og valgte slemt, men heller følelser, reaksjoner og handlinger.

I dag står det igjen om megogså på nett,

og jeg tenker noe som forsvinner, og som og bør nevnes

i debatten om hvem som "egentlig

trakasserer": kvinner eller menn,

er psykisk vold. Som er en vold som dessuten

ofte kommer før fysisk vold.

Psykisk vold er det å bølle med,

herme etter, avvise, neglisjere, isolere,

ignorere, nekte å høre på, dominere,

gjøre mindre, true, invalidere, la

være å inkludere, diskreditere, benekte,

kritisere, og kommandere.

Er ikke det da, slik, at den som nekter

å ta inn over seg #metoo, megogså,

som en del

av en virkelighet mange kvinner lever i, egentlig på indirekte vis driver med den samme volden som var med på å kickstarte hele #metoo bevegelsen?

Og hva slags følelser oppstår i farvannet av det å igjen få sitt perspektiv og sine erfaringer avvist annet enn følelser som følger nettopp psykisk og fysisk vold? Som avmakt, skam, redsel, følelse av skyld,

depresjon, pessimisme, unngåelse

og tristhet.

Å leve i stillhet

for å slippe å bli avvist burde ikke

være et valg. Så da skriver jeg til den

som har problemer med #metoo, megogså:

lytt i stedet for å fortsette den neglekten det å avvise andres stemmer er.

-Tonje Høydahl Sørli

This is why, With a referance to Bakhtin and his thoughts on polyphony, I Write and Make Art:

Industriell Rock.

industri med bismak., liten tid til treff i helga. gikk forbi i 5 minutter. mistet røyken. mistet umbreroen. gikk mot henne i 2 minutter. gikk inn igjen. mistet tiden underveis. gikk pervo på pcen hennes. tok ansvar etterpå, og lot være å gi henne filene. dro på ferie. gikk langt på ferien. likte mange bilder på insta. gikk tur med bøfler også gikk jeg ikke mot henne etter det. etter det ble jeg liten og bortgjemt. så gikk det bort alt sammen. morsomt med musikk i livet mitt. det liker jeg. men så er jeg musiker egentlig. ikke sånn som du tror. istedet gikk det ikke. minsten ble redd og så gikk det ikke bra. han lot være å si ifra, til det er altfor få likegyldige og derfor har jeg mistet fokus.*

* Slik som dette skrev jeg for 16 år siden. Ikke her på nettsiden, som ikke er eldre enn 4-5 år, men inn i et skjema for bilder til en utstilling. Senere mistet jeg teksten, som ikke er helt utrolig til meg å være, siden jeg alltid skrev, men som du likevel vil se av nettsiden min

formidler jeg at jeg savner tekster og manus, som ikke er i mine hender lenger. Blant annet derfor har jeg skrevet litt om Mikhail Bakhtin, og hans tanker om ytringer, og det å bli sett og hørt. Det jeg liker med tekst er å være min egen sjef, uten å ha noen som involverer seg eller bestemmer hva jeg kan si eller ikke. Derfor mener jeg også at alvor er der, ikke ironi eller avvisning. For hvis jeg ikke kan si, hvor står jeg da som menneske? Dette og da med Bakhtins tekster om respekt for den andres stemme, og ulikhet, i tankene.

Music. innskutt. setning./snurr film /hestehale/hodefoting

iiii messages

i i messages

music

Id do it again

Id do it again

I I I I messages

I I messages

you me

me am you

its you in me’

and you me

in

I I I I messages

I I messages

music

Id do it again

Id do it again *

-Sørli

* your voice. your thoughts. your feelings.

Bakhtin is my refernce on this,

Sailing in Stripes*

uniform at sea

it a salty eye and candyme

sayin you are my only friends,

made me feel sorry for all of us,

and then as always someone faked a traged death

me crying then to pier

and lay lifless as always too

in printed summerdress

and then you lifted your glass

evil and unmature

or was it me imagining your

cruelty

salty eye, queen and Anna(e)

salty eye, queen and Anna(e)

king and all the rest

cowardice was to never tell the truth

wood, wood,

I see your mother

And now I am scaring you.

©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

I Am Another,

shuffled through the streets

a tired santa with

his white beard

came to my door

and said he was

another too

: I am a woman deep

inside, was that

the thing then,

: Just as you are

a man,

his eyes were scared,

so I thought, oh no

I know who sent you

to climb my stairs,

once I saw that in

m m m m m  too,

and to say goodbye to

people that I like,

yes Id rather stand in

a crowd

and see you do well

on stage,

and now to tell you:

I was never a man,

but once, in a moment,

I took a mans best traits

just to survive.

-Sørli

This Spring

they say

with windows open

little is to fear,

but you know

the truth:

There are nothing more dangerous

than words,

in the bar their eyes gleiten

they want him to switch

just to have proof

if he muttered,

no but he wont:

I will never greet you as

the old friend you are

I know your gaze, posture

and hand

I remember a sentence, the shock

and smells,

in the bar their eyes gleiten

they want him to switch

just to have proof

artists learn skills noone else does

they play with genders and feelings

and become what others are

its not the same as

being a man.*

-Sørli

* To explain this lyric I write this: Many female artists and writers have done this throughout the history: taken a mans name as pseudonym, or tried to write or create with the "gusto" of a man. This because of perspectives and expectations of women, both now and then.

Perhaps this is also why summers become strange and foggy for youngsters in May:

Men før det, i bilen på vei hjem så hadde de en samtale som var omtrent slik:

Hun: (fortvilet) Hva sa jeg, altså jeg bare, sa jeg at jeg hadde skrevet en Monsterhit?

Han: Ja, nå har det snæppa for deg altså, ALLE vet jo dessuten at det er jeg som skriver låter.

Hun: Herregud så flaut.

Han: (stille)

Hun: Kanskje jeg bare et lite øyeblikk skulle ønske jeg var deg, var i dine sko. Ja, tok noen av dine eh..ja du er jo så vellykket..ikke projeksjon, hva er det, attribuerte noen av dine karaktertrekk?

Han: Godt mulig, du er jo i en fortvilet livssituasjon.

Hun: Ja,*

-Sørli

When Talking, /Humour and the Spirit that Slipped of the Page or / When I Tried to Stop Being the Altruistic and Anonymous Writer but Failed and Started  a Yearlong Mourning /

When Talking

I didn`t

All lyrics ©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

That is what a text once was about: The trigging everyday life in the aftermaths of traumatic experiences. Be kind.