Tanker rundt Halloween.

Når almanakken forteller meg at tiden er inne for Halloween, vil jeg gjerne komme med en kjernesunn oppfordring til alle husstander som regner med at dørklokken kommer til å kime på denne kvelden; la søksakene ligge i ro og mak i butikkhyllen, og gi heller ungdommen noe nevenyttig. Det har kommet meg til øre at man kan gå til anskaffelse av ti lusekammer for en skarve tier på Rimi-butikkene. Kjøp inn noen pakker, og gi en lusekam til ungdommene slik at floker og lang hår kan bli pleiet. Til de eldre; fortell om den gangen en vannkjemmet hårmanke fikk ungpikene til å snu seg ved Wiels Plass. Kanskje det får tankene på glid? Og til de hustander som har en potetkjeller; kanskje en håndfull settepoteter ikke hadde vært så dumt å gi videre? Jeg tror ungdom liker at det spirer og gror, og spesielt noe som kan glid nedover spiserøret.

The Thin Leaf - Red Bus

A:
How are you doing, Thin Leaf?

B:
Well, I must admint I`m doing pretty good. I have been down south on a strange, but comfortable bustrip. I even painted a wall.

A:
Strange, Leaf, strange.

B:
Yeah. Strange days. It was a red bus. Ten people inside. Five women. Five men. The driver was a tall man from Canada. Halfway trough the trip he went out to buy some beans, and he never came back.

A:
Never came back, you say?

B:
Yeah, never came back.

A:
Strange.

B:
Strange indeed. But, we got lucky.

A:
You did?

B:
Yeah. One of the passengers happen to be a retired busdriver from somewhere in Egypt, and he got behind the wheel. Drove slowly throught the night. I think his father were an englishman.

A:
Did he have a name?

B:
Yeah, I suppose.

A:
What was his name?

B:
I don´t remember.

A:
Could it have been Richard Henry Greenslide?

B:
As a matter of fact; it could. Yeah, I remember. His name was Richard Henry Greenslide. How did you know?

A:
I don´t know, Leaf, it just kind of got into my brains.

B:
Well, strange I must say.

A:
Yeah, pretty strange indeed.
Thin Leaf?

B:
Yeah?

A:
Are you hungry?

B:
No. I just ate a solid breakfast. Bread, milk, coffee, some beans, an apple, and a cigarette.

A:
Are you thirsty then, Thin Leaf?

B:
Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Water is good. Water is fine. I really would like a glass of water.

A:
You don´t say, Leaf?

B:
I sure do.

Green Radioknobs.

A:
Do you like sugar, Thin Leaf?

B:
Well, sometimes I do like sugar. I`m no stranger too sugar.

A:
What do you mean? Sometimes, huh?

B:
Yeah, you know. I don`t eat sugar everyday, you know. I don´t think about sugar all the time, you know. I don´t run to the store if I ran out of sugar, you know. But, in general, I do like sugar.

A:
How about green radioknobs?

B:
Green radioknobs, you say? That´s a pretty weird question.

A:
Yeah. Green radioknobs. Do you like the colour?

B:
What do you mean? Do you want to know wether I like the colour green or not?

A:
Well, not exactly. I want to know if you like green radioknobs, Thin Leaf?

B:
Yeah. I like them. They look good, I suppose.

A:
They do look good, Leaf. They sure do.

B:
The colour green is a good colour. I don´t tell you it is my favourite colour, but it´s pretty close.

A:
Pretty close to what, Leaf?

B:
Pretty close to being my favourite colour. The colour green reminds me of a strange, but powerful car.

A:
A car, Thin Leaf?

B:
A car. An old car. Green car, with a solid roof.

A:
Did you dance on that solid roof?

B:
Sure I did. One time, sometime in spring, I went to the shoeshop and bought myself  a nice pair of some black boots. I tried to dance with them boots on the roof of that car, but I fell down.

A:
Well, Leaf, did you land on your feet?

B:
I did, I did. I remember I went to the coffeeshop right after the accident.

A:
Black coffee?

B:
Sure.

The Thin Leaf and Crazy Coffin.

Thin Leaf and Crazy Coffin

TL: Crazy Coffin! Is that you, watching total strangers passing by on this cool day of autumn?

CC: Thin Leaf! Have a seat! Sit down on this laidback parkbench, put together by The Carpenter.

TL: You mean The Carpenter?

CC: I sure do, Leaf.

TL: Long time, no see....that Carpenter. How is he doing these days?

CC: He actually telephoned me last week. He´s in Spokane. He met a woman at some railwaystation. They are going to Porterville, by train.

TL: This is a good bench. I really like this bench, Coffin. I feel very relaxed just sitting down. Talking to you.

CC: Seen any good motion pictures lately, Leaf?

TL: I have. Last night I watched four movies on my television. First one; "This Strange Book Came in My Mail Today" starring Leonard Cooper. Then I leaped to "Seen my Key, Mr. Weatherbee"....a comedy from the late twenties, silent movie. And then, after a decent meal...

CC: Decent meal, huh?

TL: That´s right. Some boiled eggs, an omelettte and a glass of tomato juice.

CC: You like eggs, huh?

TL: I do. I really do. Nice, round eggs with a crazy taste of them open fields.

CC: I like eggs too.

TL: I want mustard on my boiled eggs. Then, after the coffeebreak I went back to my wooden shelf, and picked out the third one.

CC: As I sit here with you, on this lazy bench, I can´t wait hearing about your next choice.

TL: It was that Joseph Mexico movie from 1949; "Is there something wrong with my Stamp, Dear Mailman". Such a great ending.

CC: Crazy ending, Leaf. Crazy ending.

TL: Two airplanes falling madly in love.

CC: I did not know machinery had feelings, but Mister Mexico told us all about it, in that movie.

TL: Well, Mister Mexico I would say, was an genius. The last one from yesterday; "Drive me to Lexington".

CC: Starring Bud Bucky Starwater?

TL: No. Clement Harris!

CC: You don´t say, Thin Leaf?

TL: I sure do. I sure do, Crazy Coffin.

Shelburne River.

Gitarsoloen på Hard Headed Women, Elvis Presley låten fra 1958, er noe av det mest stilrene jeg har hørt. Det er feilfritt. Det er spilt inn i et rom uten støv og med et enormt luftfilter utenfor huset. Det er heller snakk om en bunker, en Vest-Tysk hvitmalt bunker med seksti overvåkningskameraer og en hvileløs vakttjeneste døgnet rundt som tilkaller kontinentets beste rengjøringsbyrå.

Men, på en annen side.

Intensiteten fra gitarstrengene i nevnte gitarsolo er lyden av Scotty Moore jaget mot Shelburne River av en svartbjørn og dobbelgjengeren til Kong Haakon VII, mens han spiller på gitaren. Han springer over elven, på steinene, uten å gå glipp av en note. Lynet slår ned i steinene bak han, lynet og de sorte lakkskoene skifter plass. Kampesteiner hagler foran han. Ved siden av han. Bak han! Uten å gå glipp av en note. Han springer. Han spiller. En Spitfire flyr og ligger en halv meter over hodet hans. Han spiller. Clint Eastwood kommer fossende nedover elven på en blekgul hest. Scotty Moore spiller.

Uten å gå glipp av en note!

Shelburne River!

Scotty Moore!

Potet.

Jeg bruker en potetskreller med bevegelig klinge.

Jeg liker det.

Jeg lar iskaldt vann renne over poteten jeg holder i venstrehånden, mens høyrehånden, hvor potetskrelleren venter, med utrolig sakte og rolige bevegelser, skreller av skallet på poteten. Virkelige rolige, men bestemte, bevegelser. Som når man ror en blytung trebåt.

Potetskallet blir liggende i utslagsvasken i noen minutter, mens jeg salter potetvannet og finner frem lokket til kjelen, før jeg med begge hender samler opp potetskallet og legger det i søppeldunken.

Noen dager senere gjentar denne hendelsen seg, men det er ikke alltid jeg plystrer på "Vårsøg".

Traktekaffe.

La det renne rikelig med kaldtvann fra springen.

Brett bunnen av kaffefilteret.

Rent utstyr.

Fyll til randen med iskaldt springvann.

Strø kaffe med en raus hånd.

Ikke vent for lenge med den første koppen, helst breddfull av kaffe.

Ikke vær sjenert med kjeksen.