der bestirnte himmel über mir

cross-country skiing tracks after sunset, rather blue tint. looking into the eastern sky. A lone visible star in the sky, and lights of some high-rises on the horizon.

und das moralische gesetz in mir.

selfsame cross-country skiing tracks, but looking towards the west instead of east. Visible new moon. Very dark blue to black tint, some clouds and some remaining orange and pastel-blue visible from the sun which had already set.

gliding into darkness

knækprosa (broken prose) by ~fruit

i am not sure if i was tripping, but i think i met my high-school french teacher while skate-skiing this afternoon.

we smiled at each other, we were skiing our laps in contrary motion.

i was a horrible student in middle school, and she seemed to hate me. i did not like her, either.

i learned to pass by bulimia-studying.

a dozen years later still puking out my guts sometimes.

i did not understand why she was mad when i got a bad C

while some were even worse than me.

maybe she believed i could do better

(or my acne-ridden face was just particularly hard to like).

five years of French, and all i do remember:

est-ce que je peux aller aux toilettes?

i excused myself to the toilets, to win time

which was lost in hindsight.

i was afraid of her (of my own incompetence)

and found myself anxiously glancing at the clock,

waiting for the class to end.

still not sure if it was actually her,

but her notice sudden was,

and my shame was sudden, too. but we smiled.

it got dark, and i kept skiing,

when she & most others already had left.

i glided into darkness.

et lille lys i mørket
det står og blafrer der et sted
men hvis du vil kunne se det
så må du ikke være mørkeræd.
a little light in the darkness
standing shimmering someplace
but if you want to be able to see it
you must not be afraid of the dark.

Trille - Et Lille Lys I Mørket (1978)

when i see people who knew me as a young person,

i hope they don't recognise me anymore,

as i crave assurance of my own evolution.

i am relaxed. how peaceful to glide into darkness,

the world forgetting, by the world forgot.1

the soothing sound of skis on icy snow,

the gliding motion, rhythm

like moving to music or getting fucked.2

some skiers wore headlamps,

first floating lights in the distance,

then i could make out their bodies.

should i buy a headlamp

to see (in) the darkness like them?

the waxing moon so proud and frail,

the pictures above don't capture its cleanness.

i took out my disposable camera, enabled the flashlight,

found comfort in the sound of the charging capacitor.

the indicator turned red, as if it were ashamed or embarrassed,

aroused.

the flashlight illuminated the white, icy tracks,

which had been so throughly compressed by the track-making-machines:

i want to be compressed into something useful,

beautiful?

a cheap disposable camera does not like darkness,

how the pictures turn out

once developed

remains in the dark.

i want to be plastic,

like the disposable camera.

i want to be used so my face

will blush like its flashlight indicator.

i don't want to avoid the darkness.

i will step into darkness,

and it will be bright as the moon,

bright as the camera's flashlight on snow,

the cleanness i crave. a typographic tombstone using a very low-res crop of the night sky as a background.

1 Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope:
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.

2 in the ass.