Cake

B.O.B. akjson på Årnes

2009-02-24T23:35:00.005+01:00

Lørdag fjortende februar totusenogni ble en ny bande stiftet utenfor en Rimi-butikk på Årnes.

Denne nye - snart beryktede - banden består av Martin Gjøen, Skage Øvredal, Eivind Friis Hamre og Jørgen Strandheim, og fikk navnet Bar Overkropp Banden, eller B.O.B. på grunn av deres valg av klær under deres første aksjon.

Aksjonen var en generell protest mot FRP, som gikk ut på noe sånn som "gå inn på RIMI i bar overkropp og kjøp det du vil ha", som i dette tilfellet var et par pakker kondomer, litt brus og annet snop.
De prøvde å verve flere til Banden, men jeg takket pent 'nei' til å kle av meg i 20 kuldegrader, og tilbød heller mine tjenester som fotograf, noe som kanskje ble litt for godt mottatt, med tanke på all poseringen de gjorde etter at aksjonen var ferdig.

Fra venstre: Jørgen Strandheim, Eivind Friis Hamre, Martin Gjøen
Liggende foran: Skage Øvredal

Selv om ingen andre enn de selv, jeg og de få andre folkene vi hadde med oss vet hva budskapet var - de fortalte nemmelig ingen hvorfor de gjorde dette - vil jeg si det var en vellykket aksjon.

Lykke til videre!

Jon Fosse

2009-02-24T16:18:00.001+01:00

Jon Fosse est né à Haugesund en Norvège le 29 septembre 1959. Il est un écraivains et il a écrit beaucoup de romans, poèmes et pièces de théâtre. Son premier livre, ‘Raudt, svart’ (Rouge, noir)a été edit en 1983, et sa premier pièce, ‘Og aldri skal vi skiljast’ en 1994. Fosse a reçu l’Ordre national du Mérite du President français parce que ses livres sont publié en Françe et ses pièces de théâtre sont souvent monté sur les scénes à Paris.

Le poème Ein slik kveld (Un tel soir) traite d’un soir de tempete et une personne qui est allé à la mer par bateau. Je pense que la personne ne retourne jamais.

Ein slik kveld

ein slik kveld, i vinden, dreg du
båtane ut
og gardinene flagrar
og vindauge svarte
eit vindauge slår
ei røyst over fjorden
ein hund gøyr
eit vindauge slår og slår
og også du og vinden
så vind

Jan Erik Vold

2009-02-02T19:10:00.009+01:00

Jan Erik Vold est une célébrité norvégien. Il est né à Oslo en 1939, et il est un écraivain, un lyrique et un traducteur.
Il a contribué considérablement au renouvellement de la poésie norvégienne, et il à l'intérêt créé pour la poésie lyrique. Il habite à Stockholm.

Son poème ‘kulturuke’ est très populaire, et j’ai essaié de traduire dans français. C’est ne joue que sur les lettres.

Kulturuke
ulturkuke
tulkuruke
ultkuruke
ukturulke
tlukuruke
ukturkule
urtukulke
turlukuke
kulrukute
ultrukuke
kuleturuk
rulekukur
tulekukur
luretukuk
kukutelur
ruktukule
lurekuktu
luekuktur
kuktulure
rukletuku
tuklekuru
urukekult
kuruketul

Culturesemaine
uletrusemacine
truseceuleiman
limatruseneceu
museacterielun
satirelunuceme
cremetuleruena
macinelustuere
semulerunacite
malecenterusui
sameluerentuci
reiseluecutman
leicesterumanu
mancesteriulue

Son poème 'Så tok vi en stein' traite d'un couple qui divorcer. Ils jetent une pierre à l'eau et regardent les cercles qui ses propagé dans l'eau. 'Et au fond de nous'.

Så tok vi en stein

Vi stod og så
på vannet som lå
stille, himmelen/åsen
speilet
seg der.

Så tok vi
en stein og kastet
den uti: Ringene spredde
seg, ringene spredde seg, ringene

spredde
seg – også
inne
oss. De sprer seg ennå.

Morning Report

2009-01-28T17:36:00.005+01:00

Yesterday was Tuesday.
Every 4th Tuesday I start school at 2:30 pm.
Yesterday was not one of those days...

You see, all the other Tuesdays of the month, I start school at 8:50 am, and for those of you who don't know, I usually walk to school every day, which takes me like 20 minutes.
So I woke up yesterday morning wondering why it was so bright outside. I glanced at the clock which was to wake me up at 7 am, and my heart jumped.
It showed 8:20.

I sit up in my bed and swing my legs out of the warm blanket. I get up, but as I do, I can feel the wounds from the Millennium Bridge race aching like ****, and - halfway screaming and cussing - I fall back down on my bed.
When I get back up again, I rip open the door to my closet and grab the first t-shirt I can get my fingers on.

I take a look at it before putting it on, and I start laughing...
This is the first time a t-shirt has ever been so close to describe the way I really feel..:

And yes...
I also managed to put it on the wrong way at first.

The Millennium Bridge Race

2009-01-27T16:56:00.003+01:00

For those of you who don't already know, I was on a school trip to London last week (21st - 25th of January), and as London usually is in January, it was cold.
So cold, in fact, that when we were to cross Millennium Bridge my English teacher, Graça, suggested we should have a race to get across the bridge as quickly we could.
So the girls started running. I stopped halfway across to take a picture of the view to Tower Bridge and had to run as fast as I could to catch up with the rest of the people to even have a slight opportunity to win the race.
Now, the girls had all stopped halfway, and I also caught up with Linus, who had slowed down as well.
So it became a race between the two guys of the group to be the first to cross Millennium Bridge.
Pretty macho, isn't it?

It had been raining earlier this day, and Millennium Bridge is kinda like an escalator. Metal and a bit slippery. In addition to that, it goes kinda like an old bridge; up and down like a rainbow. So when I got past the middle and started running down towards the end, it started to go faster and faster and get more and more out of control. As Linus passed me I knew I was going to fall. The funny thing is though, I kept running.
I had my camera around my neck and two bags over my shoulder, and as I felt the bridge disappear under my feet, I tried as best I could to save my camera.

I flew.

I felt a bit like James Bond, flying through the air, trying to tuck my camera under my arm as I fall.
I remember thinking to myself in mid-air: “God, how embarrassing… At least I saved my camera.”
My knee hit the metal first, followed by my stomach and the rest of my body. I slid a few meters down the bridge before I stopped.

This was the result:

Lars Saabye Christensen

2009-01-15T21:13:00.004+01:00

Lars Saabye Christensen est né à Oslo le 21 septembre 1953 et il est un des écraivains de plus celebres en Norvège.
Il fait ses débuts en 1976 avec un recueil de poèmes Historien om Gly. Il a écrie beaucoup de livres sur les jeunes à Oslo.
Il a écrie beaucoup de poèmes aussi, et il compose des melodies à ses poèmes et il les présente avec son orchestre Norsk Utflukt.
En 2002, Lars Saabye Christensen reçoit pour ce livre le Grand Prix de littérature du Conseil nordique, prestigieuse récompense décernée annuellement par la Norvège, l'Islande, la Finlande, la Suède et le Danemark pour promouvoir la littérature nordique.

Le poème Gutta (Les garçons) traite d’un homme qui manque ses amis de son jeunesse. Le Noël est finit et l’homme rappele sa jeunesse avec ses copains. Il raconte les garçons pendant qu’il range.

Gutta

snøen som falt i fjor
er ikke lenger hva den var
juletrærne når ikke til taket
og alle pakkene er bløte
det er tredje dag
og alle kakene er allerede tørre
jeg rydder i korker og papir
og jeg spør meg selv
for det er ingen andre å spørre:
når var det det slutta
når var det egentlig det slutta
hvor er det blitt av alle gutta

hvor er Pål som stod i gål
og redda på streken
hvor er Nils som drakk pils
med sugerør og hadde teken
hvor er Jonny som sang money
med hockeykølla som mikk
hvor er Joker som spilte poker
og alltid tok siste stikk
hvor er Tobben som fikk jobben
som sjokoladetrekk på Ringen
hvor er Kaj som sjekka Mai
og hoppa av i svingen
når var det egentlig at båndene ble kutta
hvor er det blitt av alle gutta

våren er akutt
og sommeren er en lengre lidelse
det er høl i bademadrassene
morellene er sure
vannet er for kaldt
og gatene for ensomme
det er ikke lenger gøy på landet
kleggen blir større og større
det er for mye sand på strendene
og filmene er gørre
snart er det første skoledag igjen
jeg har rydda i pennalet
og pakket ranselen
og jeg spør meg selv
for det er ingen andre å spørre:
hvor var det det butta
hvor var det egentlig det butta
hvor er det blitt av alle gutta

hvor er Jens som slo lens
og tryna i hekken
hvor er Max som fiska laks
i Gaustadbekken
hvor er Jo som hadde sko
med femtiøring og jernbeslag
hvor er Lathans som sovna sankthans
og våkna tredje juledag
hvor er Elling som tok telling
da han stupte fra tieren
hvor er Finn som drakk gin
og sneik seg inn på nieren
når var det det slutta
når var det egentlig det slutta
hvor er det blitt av alle gutta

gutta sover nå
gutta sover nå
med lyset på

Bus vs. Moose

2009-01-15T10:05:00.005+01:00

I'm gonna tell you a story that happened to me some time ago.
I was going home to Trysil on the bus from Oslo one night. The bus takes like three hours and a half, and it's mostly through the forest of the Eastern and boring part of Norway.
This time, like any other time I take this bus, I put my music on and went to sleep.

Yea... I slept...

At least I was half asleep, cause somehow I heard someone shouting: "Moose!"
I thought "Gimme a break! I'm trying to sleep here! We live in the forest, of course we have moose! We've all seen'em before."
I could feel the bus slowing down, as if to stop to show the tourists the moose.
"Come on! They're not all that exciting," I thought. "They look like deformed horses with antlers. Keep driving! I wanna go home!"
I tried to go back to sleep.
The next thing I heard was the bus hitting a furry, soft and big something...

Choir clicks?

2009-01-08T22:16:00.002+01:00

Thursday night is choir night.
I sing in a community all-men's choir named Trysil Mandskor (Trysil Manchoir), and tonight (being Thursday night) we had our weekly rehearsal.
Something my American friend, Kayley once told me made me think about something tonight that I haven't really thought about before. Choir clicks.

Now, it was while I was in the US that I really started my so called "choir career". In January 2008 I started singing both in the High School Choir and in a community chorus in a nearby city.
Let me explain the differences in these three choirs.

My High School Choir was pretty laid back... I mean, we did some cool stuff, like we did the entire Holocaust Cantata and all, but it was pretty relaxed and groovy, except for when Miss Alt (our teacher) got really mad or something.
You see, most of the guys in that class where only there to get an easy A, not because they liked singing. So you basically had me (who was a tenor) and Logan (a bass) and maybe a couple of other guys "singing from the top of our lungs" to get some male voices in between the screaming sopranos and altos.
And you know... During class, we were mainly seated like soprano, tenors, basses, altos (right to left in the room) on two rows. But at some random point there would be a bass sitting with the sopranos, an alto on a bass' lap, a tenor over by the basses and so on, so there was no real structure.
But that doesn't really matter, if they still sing (which they didn't). I think a mix is good, at least you won't get the "choir clicks" where each voice keeps to themselves. It will be more like Kayley said: "Tenors love altos, altos love basses, basses love altos and sopranos love themselves".
It's so true...

The second choir I sang with was Liberty Community Chorus.
That's a mixed choir mainly consisting of old men and women who can't control their vibratto.
Still sounds amazing, though, and they sing advanced, fantastic music.
I started singing in this choir because both Miss Alt, my host sister Taylor and Kayley sang in it. So me and this other guy, Brandon decided to join. (I was kinda forced to by Miss Alt).
This choir is more of a pro choir. The director, Bryan Taylor sings with the Kansas City Corale, and is a really nice guy, but he also likes order and all that good stuff.
I don't think I noticed any clicks in this choir, except for the fact that Kayley, Taylor, Brandon and I were mostly talking to Miss Alt and her crazy friends Jim and Tamara during the breaks.

Back to Norway.
I haven't really thought about it before, but today at rehearsal, I noticed that the choir is split during the breaks. There's a table for the first tenors, one for the second tenors, a table for the first basses and one for the second basses. One table for each of the voices.
Surely, I have noticed before, but I didn't really think about it before tonight.
Other than that, the environment in this Norwegian choir is really good. Everybody get along and everything's cool.
Kinda ironic that an all-men's choir has a female director, though...

Cake?

2009-01-06T17:24:00.002+01:00

Alright guys...
This is a smal text thingy I wrote while I was in the US as an exchange student.
I should probably explain the background story.
My name is really Hogne, but most Americans can't pronounce it. So the people at my school were trying to find a nickname for me, when my smart, red headed neighbour said: "I've always wanted a friend named Cake. I think I'll just call you Cake..."
And after a day or so, this had spread through the whole little community of Weston.
Even my teachers called me Cake.

So this is a story about a football game I went to one night.
Enjoy.

”What’s your name?”
That’s a question I’ve heard a lot these past few months I’ve been here.
And well… For those of you who don’t know (which most of you should know), my name is Hogne, right? Since that’s a Norwegian name, and even Norwegian people are having a hard time pronouncing it, you can’t really expect Americans to get it right. Especially since they don’t have all the sounds in their language.
It’s something with the flow too… They say it like HÅNG-NA, when it’s really supposed to sound like Hångné. Maybe it’s just me being picky. But I mean… How would you feel if someone jacked up your name? (I’m not saying I can pronounce all these American names right either, so go easy on me here. I guess you understand what I’m saying, though).

Well, anyways, to get to the point…I was at the football game tonight (Friday night), and I had a really good time. (We won too, by the way). That’s not really the point… I don’t think there really is a point in this thing.
Well… These girls behind me stopped screaming for a second and asked me: “What’s your name?”
Me, being kinda fed up on that question, answered “Cake” (Which I believe most of you know is my nickname (invented by Patrick Browning) So you've got Cake and Brownie).
After a second, they asked again: “What’s you real name?”
The other people around me started trying to tell them my name, and kept getting it wrong, and I said: “My name is Cake. Cake, as in Chocolate Cake, Cheese Cake, Cup Cake.” (Wow, these all starts with a C). “I really prefer Chocolate Cake… Even though I’m not black, so I guess Cheese Cake fits my color better. However, some people like to call me Cup Cake, but I think that’s kinda gay.” I nodded my head.

They laughed their butt of.

Why did I make this blog?

2009-01-06T13:00:00.002+01:00

Ok...
So my French teacher decided to give us a more or less impossible task.
We are supposed to present Norwegian culture (music, art and poems) in French!
Good luck with that, right?
And as if that's not enough, we have to do it on a blog thingy like this one with texts, pictures and music.
And well, yea... I'm not very skilled in French, so it's gonna be pretty interesting. If you happen to be French or know French, please ignore my bad language and, if you want to, you are more than welcome to correct me!

Take care
Cake