NAMING OF PARTS

Victoria Concordia Crescit

To-day we have naming of parts. Yesterday,
We had bomb building. And to-morrow morning,
We shall have what to do after blowing up. But to-day,
To-day we have naming of parts. Arsenal is the only
Team to wholeheartedly support.
And to-day we have naming of parts.

This is the bomb belt. And this is the dynamite, which use
As you will find later, will bring you 42 virgins. And this
Is the TNT, which use you will see,
Will bring you just as many virgins
As the dynamite. And this is the abort button,
Which in your case you have not got. The glorious history of
The club binds the supporters throughout the world
Which in our case we have not got.

This is the contact-button, which is always released
With an easy push of the thumb. And please do not let me
See anyone do it away from innocents. You quite easily
Find innocents around markets. The philosophy
Is to find young talent and transform
Them into professionals.

And this you can see is the uniform. The purpose of this
Is to confuse the infidels. We can put it on and come close
to their soldiers, if not then innocents: We call this
Fooling the enemy. And as quickly as an attack is launched,
A counter-attack can cause even more immense damage
They call it fooling the enemy.

They call it Fooling the enemy: it is perfectly easy
If you have any idea of tactics: You walk in your uniform
With the bomb-belt strapped to your waist,
detonating it to get to the virgins in solidarity,
Which in our case we have not got; and the tactics
is in our advantage and the players will run around in dismay
For to-day we have naming of parts.

Helping Defining your New Life

You should stand there and cry.
I wish to cry myself a river.
You should be sited and
hit in your face until your teeth falls out.
I need to go to the dentist.

You were caught running from
officials that like me
owns you.
I am merchandise; oil to be
sold and combusted into energy

You will be imprisoned for life.
You will see the cell as your world.
I am the dark that
surrounds me, I am you.

Writing game 6: Pastiche / Parody , Lessons with the Wand-master: Naming of wands

Today we have naming of wands. Yesterday, we had wand cleaning.
And tomorrow morning, we shall talk about what to do in case of miss-firing.
But today, today we have naming of wands.
The sparks flutter at the edge of the wands illuminating the entire room.

Wand-lore is a kind of naming of parts.
_____
This is the mysterious unicorn horn model.
And this is the “upper twig of an old oak”-model, whose use you will see, once it chooses its owner.
And this rare wand has a mature dragon sinew coating, which in your case you will not get.
Dragons are massive creatures, which can shoot impressive flame waves.
Unicorns however are intriguing silent, elegant creatures.

_____

Choosing the right wand is crucial for your own safety.

However with an uneasy flick of the wand, you can easily hurt your finger.
Proper use requires strength in your thumb.
The material might be fragile and motionless.
But the magic contained can easily cause you to lose a finger.

_____

And this, you can see, is how you flick the wand.

The purpose of this is to channel your magic, as you see.
We can flick it rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this the flick of the wand.
And rapidly backwards and forwards the wizards and warlocks attack each other.
Just like in Wand War II.

_____

They call it the flick of the wand: how to channel your magic.

If you have any strength in your thumb: like the dragon, and the warlocks and wizards
And the oak-piece, and the sinew coating, which in our case we will not get.
And the unicorns; silent, elegant creatures, and the flicks going backwards and forwards; for today we have naming of wands.

_____

Niels

PM taken to cleaners

It was Sunday morning in Copenhagen. Elizabeth Madison, a woman in her thirties, got up from her bed. After she had taken a shower, she went to the mirror to put on her red Nivea lipstick while her husband Peter Madison tried to get out of bed. He of course ended up falling over the books lying on the floor; stepping on The Great Gatsby and a biography of Winston Churchill. He headed toward the toilet, complaining about the nasty cocktail of small potatoes and shrimps that Elizabeth had made for him yesterday. Peter worked in the food industry. He was a cook, used to handling everything himself from red onions to garlic, and he felt that yesterday’s meal was an insult to his profession. Elizabeth was a kinder garden teacher, used to talking in babu-babu-tongues all day long and did not think too much of his complaining. None of them were too happy with their jobs, and both were happy to try out their newest amateur endeavour: travel writing.

Their main plan for today was to go the zoo. So far on their trip the only animals they had seen were some annoying sea gulls. Those they already knew all too well from back home. Instead Elizabeth wanted to see a pretty peacock. Peter was more of a hunting man, and therefore he was more looking forward to seeing the likes of Danish falcons. He wondered if they would have them at the zoo or whether they should go look for them out in some forest.

But first things first, they had had to get some breakfast. Elisabeth was keen on writing down every thing which seemed unfamiliar to her. This included the food they had bought for breakfast. Danish Koberg Rugbrød and Arla skummemælk - or as Peter pronounced it: Cow-bread and Arla-milk. Haven gotten enough to eat, they went out to their rental car,but suddenly they found there's something wrong with the car, "Hey, we need some tools such as Saw, hammer and nails," said Thomas, "well, I'll buy some then".The wife said, heading to the store, but she wondered can his stupid who deal with onion can fix a car?? "why does't he want a colt"she said to her self and then laugh by herself! But Thomas did fix the car and steered toward the zoo.

“Stop!” Elisabeth exclaimed, and Peter who sat behind the wheel did just that. He put his foot down heavily on the pedal. This resulted in that the coffee, well placed in the cup-holder, was splashed all over Peter and his new clothes. “Look, there is some children playing!” Elisabeth continued. Peter turned right. A small discussion started between them as he pulled into a parking spot. “Look, I can’t go around looking like this” Peter said. Elisabeth agreed, and they went out of the car, and started striving down into town to find a cleaner. “Sign here” The cleaner said and so Peter did. In the end, they ended up spending more money on the trip to the zoo, than going to zoo in itself.

When they getting back to England, them heard a conversation in the airport. someone said:"The snow is falling heavily tonight."" Yes, it will be hard to get to work tomorrow" Good, Thomas thought. Then when them arrived home, one of Elisabeth’s friends asked her: “How were your weekend?”. Elizabeth answered “Good, I went to Copenhagen, and PM was taken to cleaners” Where after they would have a laugh.


By Lasse and Chuchu

Assignment 5 - Travel literature - The summer of 2006

The summer 2006 a couple of my fellow students and I decided to follow a course in Stockholm University, Sweden. Being poor students as we were, we could not just drive up there. We had to engage in the dangers of public transport. And we quickly learned that five minutes walk from station to station can be hell, dragging around your heavy luggage, not know your way. Five minutes easily turns into twenty. Before you know it, you are the last one arriving in a room full of people, just waiting for you, so they can get started. A nice beginning. Having the introduction completed – what a nightmare, thirty people saying their names all at once, like I was going to remember that – we continued to getting settled in the rooms we had rented at the dormitory. I was placed in a dormitory with only boys studying math, physics, and chemistry; I did not expect us to talk much with me being a girl studying literature.

Day 1 – Our teachers took us on a tour of Stockholm. Most of this day was spend in Gamla Stan, the heart of Stockholm still standing in its old baroque style. We walked on paths so narrow that if you stretched your arms out, you could touch the houses standing on both sides of it. We looked at a lot of churches. My favourite must definitely be Klara Kyrka. It stands as an enormous evidence of what the 1500 century people were capable of. The building must be five or six floors high, but with only one floor inside leaving a huge air space with magnificent religious paintings. Sitting inside this church gave me a sense of being very small in a big universe, and at the same time one could loose oneself looking at the paintings. Leaving the church I saw a guy sitting with a sign saying “Homeless my ass – I just want to get high”. It really put a perspective on the experience. I had been giving myself away to the past, and the glorious thought of life. Meanwhile, I had forgotten the realities of life. The sign also made me think of other signs I had seen through my time in the town.
- A sign outside another church saying “There are some questions that can’t be answered by google”
- A sign next to a open field saying “Obey this sign”
- A sign next to a dock saying “When floded turn around don’t drown”
- A sign next to a western-style bar – and my neighbour Victor’s favourite bar - saying “No service will be provided at this bar to anyone on a horse”
- And a sign next to my dorm saying “Caution – this sign has sharp edges”
It really made me feel like a foreigner, because I do not think I understood the humour in it - At least not in the same way that the Swedish people do.

Day 2 – the next day I got up around 7:00 AM. I was beginning to get used to living in the dormitory. Without thinking about it, I walked out to the others had breakfast with them in the kitchen instead of eating in my own room. It actually surprised me how quickly I was at feeling at home in this new place. It made me think that maybe it was not true that women were from Venus and men from Mars, or maybe I was hitting it pretty good of with these “Marsians”.

We spend the day in Uppland looking at different runes. The bus ride up there was a drag, and our teacher would not stop talking about some old politician called Olof Palme, who he apparently knew. I was sure this was going to be a long day. Our first stop was an old burial ground with old rock crosses that was almost falling apart and crows scouting the place for opportunities. When I was approaching the tomb with the runes, I realised our teacher was translating what it said, as he was reading it. I think it was then I decided that he was not that bad, and began to enjoy the trip. Around noon we arrived at Bällsta tingsplats. The place is in the middle of the wood just next to the sea, which of course gave us an excuse to cool down in the water. In the 1000 century on of owner of the thing place, Ulvkell, died, and his sons raised the rocks in his memory. Even though there are 10 meters between the rocks, they are to be read as a single text. What makes the reading even more difficult is that the text is written on the body of a snake crawling around on the rock in between itself. A spectacular view, only I could not really see the coherent sentences my teacher was reading aloud. We had dinner out there in the woods. Only I forgot to bring something, except the Dole raisins my son gave me before I left. He loved those raisins.

When we finally came home the boys in my dormitory was leaving to have a small party at the local beach, and invited us to come along. At the beach we parted into smaller groups discussing different topics. The physicists were talking about accessories to their computer.
- “Have you heart about Logitech’s new keyboard?, it perfect for gaming.
- I’m much more into their web camera, the solution is perfect.”
Next to them were some mathematicians with a little girl reading a book.
- “Daddy, is that a parrot?
- Yes, that was good. Now, what is that?
- Is it a penguin?
- No, it is a blackbird, look no white stomach.”
The beach was practically humming with life and joy. Walking down the beach with Victor made me think of one of P S Krøyer paintings “summer night at Skagen beach”. We were not husband and wife walking down the beach, but we still had the sun crawling down into the sea, reflecting its warm colours in every direction.

Day 3 – Before going to class I went over to the neighbour house to pick up my friend. It turned out to be a bad idea. There was an Asian couple staying at the same dormitory, very nice people. But, unfortunately, they eat big meal in the mornings. The entire floor smelt of it, as I passed the kitchen I noticed red and white onions and large baking potatoes, and I thought: How can they start out something as heavy as that. If I have more than a cup of coffee, I’m inches from puking all over the place.

Today we were going take a walk down August Strindberg’s memory lane, trying to experience things like he did. We had to read “Ensam” by August Strindberg, follow the movement in the text. Luckily I had already read the text. I found at home, put it on a flash cart, and read it during our terrible trip up here. What surprised me was that even though the text was from my favourite period I did not really like it. There simply is something special about the way the authors in this time explain themselves. Women were on the verge of gaining proper respect, many were stepping over the line, which resulted in very interesting stories. Nothing like the plot less movies we have to watch today, were some jerk jumps out and kill everybody with an Uzi. But I simply cannot respect a man like Strindberg that is so afraid of women, he even has to intimidate the one he makes up in his texts. Perhaps it is just a time thing. Me being too narrow minded, because I come from a freer time. One good thing did come out of it. I got a chance to see some very special places in Stockholm which Strindberg perhaps did not appreciate, but I definitely did. We started our walk on the narrow street Nybrogatan, with the high houses reaching up toward the sky almost blocking the sun. Just next to the royal theatre Nybrogatan with Standvägan, which view of the sea and Djurholmen. It is exactly on Djurholmen that Strindberg’s memories are spiked as he enters Djurgårdssletten. In his description it is a park where families meet to have picnics and enjoy nature, which should be a nice thing, but Strindberg associates it with negative emotions. I suppose it have something to do with his negative view of the family picture.

The rest of the trip I went clubbing with my friends and Victor, and finishing the assignments necessary to pass the course.

Writing assignment # 3

Author function: poet
Abstract notion: love and guilt

-
Songs of the Ocean:

Forgive my weakness, woman,
and my albatross-hands that roam
from island to island, in search of rest.

Forgive me also
for my fish-school eyes, they dart from side to side
in search of something that glitters - prey
or the great white Kraken, or both:
"I have wrecked too many ships, and seen
them scream, I have held them like a lover;
come, my children," it tempts, and lies
softly at the bottom of the sea, singing.

Forgive my oceanic absence,
and the lapping and the lapses of my tongue;
it writhes in my mouth like the Kraken -
a treacherous, twisted creature
is love, and I do, make no mistake.

Game 5 Travel writing

Bus stopped in a sudden woke me up. Finally I had arrived, and the “Velkommen” sign did not go well with the terrible weather that received me. I took my little suitcase and ran down to the bus stop since it was raining heavily. I had to walk to Annebergvej where she would be, but I decided to wait a bit because of the rain. I was starving but I didn’t eat my Oreo biscuits, as I hate it when my teeth turn black after eating them. Then I tried to light a cigarette in the strong wind, I raised my head and found out a sign of “Royking forbudt” – no smoking, and that is why the wind didn’t let me to light up my cigarette.

While watching how the rain was falling down, I was thinking about Norwegian that is a language difficult to understand. “Why is “royking” the same as “smoking”? And suddenly a child interrupted my line of thought with his high-pitched voice.

“...But mummy I want to go, mum, Peter goes....”

“Honey I know, but dad is waiting for us, we'll go later, okay?”

“No, I want to go, mum...”

“Johan, let's go, stop behaving like that. Mum is going to get angry if you don’t came right now!”

Apparently this little Johan did not want his mother to be angry, and so he followed her, dragging his feet as he walked. And I watched them until they were out of my sight and my phone rang. It was Aurora; she was “extremely” worried about me of getting lost. And once I arrived at her place, she hugged me tightly that I could hardly breathe. While she had prepared a typical Norwegian dish with Vidalia and yellow onions, marfona potatoes and three different kinds of fishes that I could hardly remember. What I remember is the delicious appetitive that we took the bread with Nuttela, delicious as take into account that I was starving.

Aurora is exactly the same as she was two years ago, the only thing that she had changed was her hair color – turned into reddish color, not only fits her name, but also the lipstick she always uses.

“Aurora, do you know where is my pen driver? I can’t...Oh, Hi. I forgot that today we have a guest. Please to meet you, I am Cécile” One of Aurora’s flat mates came in.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Sophie” I replied with smile.

“Mentioning about lost items, I couldn’t find my DVD of Harvey Milk, and I want to see the movie tonight” Aurora said.

“I have no idea, but don’t worry. I got it in my external memory-disk. And you should have it, as you are a big fan who can even name the gun in the movie is Colt Python.”

We all laughed, then Aurora led me to her room.

In her room, there was her favorite book The Time Machine, with a postcard of the painting by Munch, Vampire, as a bookmark. There were also a lot of paintings of owls, whippoorwills and rails on the wall, which she always say that if she could choose, she would like to be a bird, any birds that can fly. And besides the painting, there were a series of notice like “If I seem interested, I am NOT”, “Don’t disturb, genius at work”, “Stop staring my ass”, “I am Venus god”, which matches Aurora’s sense of humor.

Aurora, my good friend, your smile and the memories you gave me always make me feel like home, no matter how far i am from my hometown.

Writing game week 6

Wednesday we will be working with parody/pastiche, and our text will be Henry Reed's poem "Naming of Parts" from his sequence Lessons of the War (1942). Clicking the link above will take you to the text. Note that there are 6 parts in the sequence and it will make the task easier if you read them all, although we will focus on interventions into part one...

Ass. 6 Travel Writing

Dear Diary. 17th October.

Our trip didn't start of good. We arrived in Denmark at 20:51pm, five ours later than expected. Charles and I decided then and there that we're never taking a DSB train ever again. Outside it was so dark that the only thing glowing was the moon and one was definitely not in need of a fresh maker, so cold was it. At least our hotel lived up to our standards, or so we thought. When we got to our room we found a saw, a robe and an electric meter. Apparently they had been working on the bathroom just before we arrived, nice!
At Breaking Dawn we decided to visit Skagen Museum and boy was I in for a surprise. Even though we didn't actually see the painting 'the Scream' I felt like it.

The next morning it was raining heavily, so that wasn't much fun, even little Thomas who usually loves the rain said to me that he thought the weather was crappy.
Apparently it rains a lot here in Denmark. Something worth remembering in case I think about coming here again.
When we walked around in the city there was nothing interesting to eat, so Charles had made a small lunch consisting of Oreo's and a Petite D'anon – I was childish food, but anything was better than what they serve here. They actually serve blackbirds, great tits and even eagles at some restaurants here. That's not ideal as Ronald Reagan would have said.
Apparently they hunt a great deal in Skagen. Of course Charles didn't mind, but you know how he is about hunting. At least the only gun we brought along was little Thomas' water pistol *s*.

At one morning when we were standing at the desk in our hotel, we overheard a couple talking about a place in the city where one could go dancing that evening. I persuaded Charles and I took my favorite lipstick on, the Maybeline one I got last Christmas. (I'm not born with it, it's Maybeline:))
The dancing was amazing and I was just lovin' it.
Afterwards we went for a walk around the city and everywhere we looked people where dressed up. We saw people dressed as a red onion, a red tomato and even a garlic. Apparently they were celebrating Shrove Sunday – something similar to Halloween. Little Thomas was so jealous but of course as soon as he got a Happy Meal and a soda everything was okay again.

Well, that was the highlights of our trip to Denmark.
Diana.

- Jeanett

Ass. 5. "Hills Like White Elephants"

An extraction of the drama: “The Autumn has come!”

Characters.
Henry Waterhill, a barrister
Amalie, a young woman and mistress
A well build woman, the waitress

Scene:
Henry and Amalie are sitting outside a restaurant at a table opposite each other. They are traveling and are in a country where Amalie does not speak the native language.
Henry is on a business trip and has invited Amalie along. It is mid-September and all around them the leaves are beginning to drop from the trees. However, it is still warm enough for Amalie to sit in a flattering red dress, revealing her bosom.
Henry is in his late thirties, works as a barrister and has a wife and two kids, now expecting the third. He has trouble when confronted with the truth and tries to keep everybody happy. He is in love with two women, but clearly favors one over the other.
Amalie is a red-haired young woman who works at a pet shop. She is a free spirit with a strong opinion, and fell for the very awkward but buff barrister and has actually fallen in love with Henry – she just doesn't want him to know.
A tension is now building between the two because no one knows how to start the conversation.
A waitress enters the scene and breaks the silence.

Jeanett

TV FLY

I remember how, that afternoon, I lay on the couch, with my cheek pressed against the pillow, watching Telecinco and overhearing the conversation between two of my neighbours:
-How many garlics do I need to prepare “gazpacho” for two?
- That depends on how much your husband likes hot taste.
There were  some advertisements on the tv : Cortefiel and Mercadona. And then a documentary about birds, the swallowtail gull, the waved albatross, the snowy egret.
   And I remember the pounding of my heart when I gazed at them, flying in the blue sky, free, flying far away, on their magical wings.
  Are you sure?  Dad said when I asked for his permission to get married, 23 years ago.
  I am sure I love him, I said. He used to call me Venus before we married. I was nineteen and knew nothing of the world. Now I call him Polar Star.
But that afternoon I was sure only of one thing: I wanted to leave Carlos.
That afternoon, after the bird documentary, I went to the toilet and I watched myself in the mirror:  my eyes, my dark eyes, there were so lively, so bright. I opened the small cabinet and took a lipstick: “Istanbul Lovely Gloss”  it said  at the bottom, ISTANBUL! said my dark eyes in the mirror.
Oh! The sky! I thought while I was in the taxi, with its sign of  ”Seat belts must be worn” on my way to Madrid´s airport,looking with distraction  at the traffic signs on the motorway : “401 East” “All the roads out of Madrid” and listening at the football debate on the radio:
- Real Madrid is the team with more chances to win “La Liga Española”
- No, no! Valencia with no doubts!  
And I imagined how, at this very moment, my husband would be moving  nervously  about the narrow bedroom  with its kitsch furniture  that I had left behind forever, roughly opening  wardrobes and drawers with all the rage, fear and discomposure emotions of a man in his involuntary new life.
On the plane, I got seated next to a mother and her child who kept asking, "Mummy, can't we go home again?" I got annoyed, and things did not improve when the food was served, and the mother had to struggle with the food tray and the child. The child dropped the pickled onions and the potato chips on the floor, and I took refuge in my book which was "Istanbul" by Orhan Pamuk. Istanbul was where I was going, and I looked with interest at the many pictures from the city, among others "Beauties of the Bosphorus" by William Henry Bartlett, 1835. It was a long flight, but it came to an end.
When I arrived at the airport, a friendly Turk gave me a coin which I needed for the baggage trolley. It was a one lire piece and carried the portrait of Atatürk. On the way into town by cab, I saw myself in completely new surroundings, mosques with onion shaped domes, lots of high placards advertising all kinds of things from cars and soap powder to the latest James Bond movie with him and his Browning pistol.
Istanbul turned out to be wonderful, and it was a good place for contemplating. Along the way, I realized that I did love Carlos and wanted to return to him, irritating though he was, him never calling a spade a spade, but usually preferred to call it a showel or even an axe - metaphorically speaking of course.
So, in spite of the determined "forever" with which I left Madrid, I returned back home again.

A Bloody Travel

The walk through the city was more dreadful than usual. Stopping at the ‘STOP’ sign seemed meaningless as I could now feel the drugs kick in. Luckily the glorious drugs brought back the memory from last night, the sensational feeling he gave me, even just looking at him frying the egg white on the hot pan somehow evoked my promiscuity. As I strolled through the park, I heard the shilling sound of a swallow. It reminded me of the news of Epilson exploding last night. Epilson means ‘the swallower’. Such improbable hints of our forbidden affection. Being in the city that never sleeps has its advantages as the munchies were now starting to affect me. Oh how I craved some Dalloon spring rolls with Uncle Ben’s sauce and Heinz ketchup.

As I walked in to the store I somehow misread the sign they had on the floor, “Car rental” instead of “Caution wet floor”. It must have been the drugs affecting my vision. As I ran towards the list item on my munchie’s wish-list, I slipped and fell, knocking down all the Toms chocolates. A nearby child uttered "mommy! bamama!". "No Eragon, she didn’t slip on a banana". I got up and remembered that I had spent the last dollars at the dealers’. For a moment, I felt the barrel of my colt in my pocket nudging me as my ill-tempered companion begged me to rob the store. The barrel felt like the one of a musket, but then I thought about the poor Chinese shopkeeper who had to make a living selling unions in red, white, yellow, and try to push the sales of sweet potatoes or fries, just to get through the day. This wasn’t fair. As I had every intention of walking out of there with my conscience clear. As I walked past him with I noticed he had his hand on a shotgun. Did he hear my inner thoughts? I felt the anger within me rising up so I turned back and asked him for a pack of Venus razorblades and a M.A.C lip balm, situated next to the glue on the shelf. He nodded and slowly turned his back to me. My inner voice said no, but it was my anger that pulled up my gun and shot him, hitting him in the head like JFK and the brains splatter stained my dress. His frozen expression reminded me of the phantoms in The Lonely Painting. As the woman and child ran out, I flipped the ‘Sorry, we’re closed’ sign, and gazed at the 'No Smoking' sign. As if, I thought, and lighted another doobie without thinking of the ‘Fire Hazard’ sign. It was noon and so people would probably have heard the shot. I pushed aside a saw as I quickly grabbed some wood, a hammer and nails and forced the door shut. If only I had a ‘No trespassing’ sign.

I made my way to the centre of town, walking past McDonald’s. I was once more tempted to use my gun, the annoying birds flying everywhere. The garbage was everywhere, it was a feast for the doves and the waddling of seagulls reminded me of a penguin, I realised at that point just how much drugs I had done. I ran in panic away from the birds, only to find myself in a dead end. I looked at the ‘Cautious, Children at Play’ and realised it was a school yard. My travel through the city had come to an end, as an ominous crow’s cry drowned in the sirens.

By: Tinna & Hawkins