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Archive for the ‘Jimmy Åkersson’ Category

Just in case Rump or those who vote for him might wonder, it IS the people who have the power! In one sense it was shown in last nights results, in that a large unhappy part of the population took their frustrations out on Washington D.C. and truly made themselves heard. As Hillary Clinton said, we found out that we are a much more divided country than we thought. Oh how i wish it had taken another form. It is typical for the outcast, the underpriviledged white angry male voter to turn to fascism. It happened in Germany and it’s happening now across europe and today in the USA. Our job is to listen better and find ways to fight off Rump and his insanity all the while working to heal a nation divided and in a great deal of pain.
#NowPlaying People Have The Power – Live by Patti Smith

https://open.spotify.com/track/3AMTprQwcxLj0b5NZoS5d7

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The door.  Introduction
This photo was taken last night as i waited for the bus to take me to work. As you can see it’s of a normal entry into a normal apartment building.  The outside is covered up with scaffolding and netting now because they are putting a new facade on.  I started to wonder who lived there? What stories do they have?  I’m going to use this door to tell their stories. Just a couple of paragraphs for each tenant together with a new edit of the pic, the lady who turns 100, the quiet guy no one remembers, the angry young man, the asylum seeker. I hope you find it intriguing

The first story in the sequence, The Door, part 1, Gunbrit

Early morning 25th of November,  a cold wet morning, Gunbrit awakened and thought back in time. Tomorrow would be her 100th birthday and she wondered if anyone would remember. Bengt, her husband had passed long ago, and she had not spoken to her only child, Ole, in years. She remembered the last conversation they had together. It was the First of May, International Workers Day. She had just found out that he was going to demonstrate with the Nazis. She told him she was ashamed of him and never wanted to see his face again. Those words haunted her as she faced the morning, as they had every morning since then. Sweden was, to her, the most free country in the world and her pride in that reputation was enormous. She had been a lifelong member of the left party, strong and proud in her belief in the equality of all, a fact which no doubt fuelled her adamant refusal to make amends with her son. She had, in fact, not spoken his name in years.
Though she was fragile of course, at her advanced age, she was still spry mentally and maintained a semblance of self sufficiency surprising for someone at 100 years. She got out of bed and went to start the day. Her home assistant would be there soon to help her with breakfast and all that went into her increasingly limited existence. She rarely left the apartment anymore for health reasons she felt  her world was collapsing in on it’s self.  She turned on the radio, the volume very high so she could hear it, Always station P1, she hadn’t missed the program “God Morgon Världen” in a very long time, she felt like she was friends with the hosts. It brought her pleasure to hear their voices. She remembered the flower shop that she and her late husband had opened down the block. They had owned it for 30 years before retiring. The money the had made selling it went to travel. They both loved life and always went with the moment, a fact that she never regretted even though she had precious little money now.

In the many years in the neighborhood she had made many friends, but sadly she had outlived those who had not moved on and she was always bad at staying in touch. That meant that there was no one around that she felt close to, that she could talk to or invite to a fika. Her upcoming birthday was a reminder of her isolation.

Maria was to be her assistant that day, she tried to be nice to Gunbrit but it was difficult. With her own problems to deal with and the work conditions, constant understaffing causing the most unreasonable demands, Maria didn’t have the time or energy to do what the job required. Gunbrit loved the flowers she brought, but always wished that Maria could stay longer. Maria had made plans to have a small celebration for her birthday tomorrow, a princess cake and a card together with flowers, but that was tomorrow. Today, she was running late and trying hard to get there on time. She knew that Gunbrit, even with her stubborn self sufficiency needed much help.

Digging her keys out of her handbag, Maria opened the door to find Gunbrit on the floor. She rushed to determine what had happened and if she was breathing. As she leaned over, she heard Gunbrit mutter a word with her last breath, a word she hadn’t said in decades, “Ole”

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After giving the fascist Sweden Democrats an unprecedented and unbelievable 49 seats in Parliament, how could anyone expect the new  minority government to form an alliance?  Sweden prides it’s self on its open society. A society of acceptance and coexistence, an ability to get along at a level that I find almost unparalleled. The catch 22 is this very ability that has, in a sense, created this problem. The average swede abhors confrontation. They go to great lengths to avoid them. The Sweden Democrats know this and hope that it continues. They can’t exist in a society that is aware and active in the preservation of its rights.

What has happened over the last couple of days is that the new left-of-centre government has been unable to pass its budget. The swing vote in the parliament is held by, (guess who?) the fascists. The Sweden Democrats have refused to support any budget proposal that increases money for immigration. They want to “keep Sweden Swedish”. (A direct quote, btw) They have basically collapsed. A new vote is scheduled for March 22 next year. The former governing parties are chomping at the bit for a new vote hoping they can steal their way back to power. The fascist Sweden Democrats are hoping to become even bigger than the 3rd biggest party and the ruling government is hoping they stay in power, as do I.

The fascists have assumed an enormous amount of power in Sweden and it doesn’t seem to be diminishing. This is the confrontation that most Swedes have wanted to avoid. Gee, sorry. You can’t. If you truly have a conscience, if you want Sweden to remain truly Sweden, and not  a government ruled in some corporate back room, or some fascist misconception based on racism and the spread of hate, then you have no choice but to undo what should never have happened in the first place.

I’m quite sure I’ll be posting more on this so stay tuned!

http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-30306992

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Ahhhh,, Allen G. It’s hard to think of a poet who had a bigger influence on me than you. Ezra, yes, tiger cage or not, Kenneth Rexroth and Kenneth Patchen both have opened my eyes to the beauty of taking on a social cause and of love, as has Neruda.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, “
 
I was one of those angel headed hipsters, I was one of the frustrated youth, busted without a reason, inclined towards the inevitable decline, ousted with nowhere to go and no way back in, climbing a ladder that I didn’t know didn’t exist, where are the fucking steps? Where am I going? Following a hollow leader, leading nowhere but up and ending up nowhere but down, tearing my clothes in a flagellants rage, whipping my back with all the insipid uninspired rules of the military, the crucifix burnt into my skull, he is risen he is risen, Dylan, no, not Thomas, Bobby, no not Kennedy, a poet for no one but words for all, stuck in my throat, gagging  like a cock at an orgy, a hero running the streets at dawn, now, here in Stockholm luring me into a storm of calmness, denying me my rage until i couldn’t hold it anymore shooting it out into the worlds great gloryhole, with no one on the receiving end,
 
Well, I digress. Allen was simply one of the great minds of our, or any, generation. It is a pleasure to read and share his work. I’ve been planning on writing something for my 60th birthday a few weeks ago and I still hope to do that soon. It would be massively incomplete if it didn’t include this magnificent fountain, this famously censored HOWL.

 

Howl by Allen Ginsberg : The Poetry Foundation.

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