A sudden urge to travel

June 30, 2006

This morning as I was sitting in the garden, sipping a cup of green tea and smoking a single cigarette, I read a heart-warming article in the paper. It was about Iraqi Kurdistan, and the hopes you Kurds have for the future. I tell you, it was front page stuff, boasting a big picture from outside of the university in Suleimaniyah. How I wish I could be there with you, right now!

A couple of years ago I was travelling with a friend in Iranian Kurdistan. We ended up in Merivan close to the Iraqi border, and opted for a night in the local mosaferkhune. While there we met a young Kurd from Iraq, currently living in Frankfurt. He went to an art school there, and mostly did video installations.

He was on his way to visit his family in Suleimaniyah. As there wasn’t any flights going in that direction, he had stopped by in Teheran, picked up an old Ford Mustang, and was now cruising for the Iraqi border. We wanted to go with him, we wanted to go with him real bad, but apparently they didn’t let people without Iraqi passports or special invitations across the border. That’s how we reasoned, anyhow. I’m sure, if we hadn’t been so lethargically Danish, we would have gone for the ride, and arrived safe and sound in Suleimaniyah the following day.

Reading about that cosmopolitan hot-spot of politics and arts today makes me even more regretful that we didn’t at least attempt to get there. But as it looks we might get a second chance without having to go to Merivan again and hooking up with stray video artists from Frankfurt. Recently, a small airport was opened in Suleimaniyah, and there are weekly flights going there right from Kastrup, Denmark. Something to do if I can still manage to climb the wall they built to keep you guys out. It’s sure getting higher and higher.

So, for all my unknown friends in the world that matters – see you in Suleimaniyah!


An utter lack of necessity

June 28, 2006

I’m staying in a monastery at the moment. I haven’t donned the robes or anything, I’m just using it to get out of the city for a bit, be on my own, straighten thoughts out, that kind of thing.

Well, and then there is that book, of course. I’m supposed to be writing a book, or rather, I’m supposed to begin writing a book. Problem is, I just can’t seem to care about writing it. In an act of desperation I’ve decided that the book is to be about necessity. About the necessity of life, keeping it up, getting it on, expressing it.

Sadly, my strategy hasn’t proven very effective. I can’t for the world of me think of anything worth writing about. I just don’t know the word ”necessity” anymore. Not since I started working in the IT business, and my bank account gets recharged once a month. What’s that for necessity?

At one point I thought I might be suffering from a depression, but I’ve decided against it. I mean, everybody around here is suffering from a depression, the only question is whether you admit to it or not. And I positively don’t. That would be going too far with the flow, if you get my drift. If people took some vitamins with their meals instead of all those funnier-than-fun pills, hell, we might start seeing things for that they really are.

I’m sure there’s necessity out there somewhere, I just can’t seem to grasp it anymore. I’ve travelled the world, I’ve written thousands of pages, I’ve met a million different people, and I ain’t even thirty! Sounds like a sure recipe for success and happiness, don’t you think? Well, this isn’t Afghanistan, this is Denmark. We’re so privileged we can’t even look at the world outside without feeling pity and shame. The first amounts to arrogance, the second to resignation and self-suppression.

At the end of the day, all I want to tell you is that I ain’t exactly proud of the way the planet is revolving these days. If I had a gun I wouldn’t even know which direction to shoot it. Well, I’d probably contact the Faculty of Theoretical Physics, ask them to point out a worm-hole extending back to the beginning of time, and fire away at whoever started this whole mess. Most likely, however, I would stagger forward and slump to the ground with a bullet in my back.