and everytime I tell her uncle Osvald played the trumpet and was a bandleader and played for kicks she shuts down and says no, Osvald wasn’t a musician, he was an engineeer and chief and worked below deck and never showed himself upstairs, not even on shore leave, and I don’t care if he sailed from Stavanger, Norway to New York and back again, he didn’t play the trumpet, he was an engineer and a chief and worked below deck, and I say OK mom, he was an engineer and didn’t play for the cruisers and stayed down all the time, and I love you, mom, but come on, he played the trumpet, and knew how to jump and shout when that bottle felt empty, and
Friday, 28th June 2013. Greece.
Friday, 3rd May 2013.
Saturday, 18th February 2012,
and we ride the D-train up to Harlem.
december saturday. I go downtown to talk to one of the bartenders who had a bad day yesterday and make sure everything’s all right. then I visit an old friend from school , and give him a bottle of whiskey. the children are high on sugar. we talk about them being born in Bergen and how they don’t talk like us.
Monday, 26th September 2011.
Tuesday, 24th May 2011.
Friday, 23rd July 2010. Odessa.
she goes to buy some more shoes or something, and I stay behind at the Frapoli for mojitos and a cigar.