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Sunday, 19th February 2012. New York City.

Saturday, 18th February 2012,

and we ride the D-train up to Harlem.

Whitney Houston’s being buried today, and outside the Apollo people have put up posters declaring their love to her.

a black woman all dressed in red sells compact discs out of her car trunk. she’s playing 50ies gospel music from the speaker system, and I cannot help but love it and tell her so. – ah, really, she says, it’s Sam Cooke And His Soul Stirrers, and immediately pulls up a copy for me and puts it in my hand. – where you guys from, she asks, and when I tell her we’re from Norway she smiles and says she’s sure we’ve heard of Sam Cooke. – sure, I say, but never these recordings. – they’re great, she says, I’ve placed all their gospel sessions from -51 to -54 on this cd here and on volume two I’ve put the -54 to -57 sessions and after that, you know, he went on to invent soul music, you know, she adds, and oh, by the way, I know you guys in Norway really love soul music. I’ve got a copy of the Stax/Volt Revue Live in Norway in 1967, and you guys went wild, the police had to hold back the girls, she says, and me, suddenly I feel like crying. – you’ve  actually seen the recording, I ask her, of course I’ve seen it, she says, I’ve got a copy of the unedited tape right here in the trunk and it’s like the holy grail of Southern Soul and it’s shot in Norway. - sure, she says, sure, Otis Redding, Sam & Dave, Booker T And The MGs and all the others, and she’s right, they’re all there in glorious black and white thanks to the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation.

saturday, and we ride the D-train up to Harlem, and it’s all there. in glorious black and white.

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Thursday, 16th February 2012. New York City.

Wednesday, 15th february 2012. New York City.

- no, I said, whatever made you think  so? I was the first bartender here, I added, over there in the corner where the bar used to be.

I was amazed he didn’t know that. he was barely born when we started, but still he’s worked in the kitchen for some years now, and I took it for granted that everybody knew.

(I woke up at five AM with a terrible pounding in my right ear. the ear’s been bad for five years, but never like this. I’d dreamt of man-apes in the Filipino jungle and women drowning in sewers.)

- because of the suits and the boots and the tattoos and cigars and ties and all that shit, he said. you look like an old sailor because of the suits and the tattoos and all that shit.

M lived down the street.

he was long, tall and dumb and strong and his family always kept Alsatians and always named their dogs Rocky. this was in the early 80ies. M started doing steroids when he was sixteen, and tried to kill himself a couple of years later.

(I’ve been having these nightmares the past couple of months. I wake up at least a couple of times every night, wet from sweating, muscles all tense and my mind drowned in abject death.)

last time I saw M, it must’ve been ten years ago now, he walked past the windows where I used to live, and I asked my mother if that was really him. I could barely recognize him, but it was M all right, all bloated and dead inside.

I’ve been having these nightmares the past months. I wake up at least a couple of times every night.

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Saturday, 4th February 2012.

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Saturday, 28th January 2012. Stavanger.

Thursday, 26th January 2012. Moss Airport, Rygge.

Friday, 20th January 2011.