Alt er så mye bedre når det er ekte, ikke sant?

Oh, HONEY! I wouldn't know, even if it bit me in my arse!

"No, no" -laughter- " the Tiramisu is best if you like it sweet and stuff!"
"I sure like it that way! I bet y...it can melt my sorry Irish heart..."
"It sure will, it sure will"

Violet shamelessly flirts with an Irishman at work.

you've got blood on your hands, and I know it's mine

jeg blogger nesten ikke mer. det er fordi jeg ikke vet hva jeg skal si. jeg har ikke noe å si. eller. jeg føler det jeg vil si blir feil. og derfor sier jeg det ikke. men noe må jeg skrive. Det er en tvingende nødvendighet.

men. jeg kommer til å savne dere.
og. tenk litt på meg når dere sitter i hagen til suzz-me og drikker limonade. så kommer jeg hjem. snart. Jeg må bare reise først.

jeg føler forresten det blir vanskeligere å utrykke seg her. det er ikke lenger bare 4 lesere, noe som er litt sykt.

farvel.

bzzzzzzz

Hahaha!
Idag såg eg ein veps i humleklær! Den va vepseforma, svart, oransje, svart, hvit, svart, og hårete. Eg lo.

Sie Liebe Dich

Takk for alt, Kjell Erik Bergjord

Vi kommer til å savne deg.

Lykke til videre!

Blister in the sun

Åh, for et herlig vær! Og, mine vakre venner har reist på hyttetur mens eg e stuck på den fordømte/hersens/ryggødeleggende vaskejobben. Alt eg kan gjøre e å nynne på Violent Femmes klassikere og glede meg til helgen og "Min fåkkings bursdag" og her quote eg d elskede bursdagsbarnet Eika og seie "jævli random!"
Så, då avslutte eg me å klaske meg selv på kinnet mens eg synger "Im high as a kite I just might stop to check you out, Let me go oooooon like I blister in the sun..."
SATAN!

Hooka!

Mr. Bungle + Unkle + røyk + støvsuger + stearin

Beware, or I will kveal you!

JEG ELSKER DERE

Love Violet

As if I didn't know it all along star dust makes me shiver every time a heart breakes it ads colour to my eye

As if I didn't know, this dress was never good enough for you. The thaughts in my head were too childish and I was too complicated, and this world too blue for you. When you sat there looking into my eyes last night, I knew, I'd be thinking about you later on, but I couldn't care just then. You looked so funny to me, I didn't see what I once could see. You took some colour from my eye. I wonder why, I want you, in my life, there are only bad things I adjust too, and the good things they are lies. I wonder why they care so much. Everyone expecting my heart to break or something. I think, but the moon looks so much better now, you know. Somehow it makes sence to me, that I'm not sad at all.

I knew this dress was too pretty, the flower in my hair was too much and the white shoes too expencive, but did I really care at all? It was like dressing for a party that I knew would never come. For all the right reasons. As if I wouldn't have turned those other guys down for you, it's sad but allso true. I would. Again. I wonder about this friendship though, the dress was such a waste too.

Vett du kor vanskelig det e å få tak i ein sprayboks i Tyskland!?

- Cochem 255 moh. -

Wir fahren auf der Autobahn

And to be honest, I've never felt more alive! ---> quote cliché

Eg e i Tyskland, og dette skjedde: Oma (mormor) spurte om eg va med barn, for det såg i hvert fall sånn ut. Så eg snakke ikkje mer me hu. (I won't even be at her funeral! ---> quote Eminem) Vel, eg gjekk bare, og så gjekk mamma og. Me satt oss i bilen, ein jækla fine Mercedes med BASS. Og ka va soundtracket? Prodigy - Smack my bitch up

vil du ikkje ha ein UFO* din lol?

Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!Lage Aase!

*Unidentified flying object

Flere typer kjærlighet, litt om og men

Jeg retter på slipset ditt, du smiler, vi venter på de andre. Solen er på vei ned, men den var egentlig aldri oppe. Plutselig ser jeg noen som får hjertet mitt til å slutte å slå. Det blir kaldt og jeg mister følelsen av tid og rom. Du ser litt bekymret på meg og følger blikket mitt. Du ser hvem jeg ser på, men du forstår ikke. Jeg vinker til vedkommende som stopper opp. Vedkommende ser mistenksomt på oss og legger på telefonen, jeg gir ham en klem. Rart. Jeg søker trøst i det faktum at du står rett ved siden av meg. Du napper meg i kjolen mens jeg snakker med ham som er fremmed for deg. To av vennene hans slutter seg til oss og jeg får lyst til å krype under en stein og dø. Jeg får lyst til å kaste meg ut i havet. Adskjeden kommer fort, for fort. Jeg blir så lettet når du tar tak i meg og fører meg til et bord inni restauranten. Du holder meg opp. Du prøver så hardt du kan å få meg til å le resten av kvelden. Du finner en metalltråd hjemme hos meg. Du viser meg metalltråden, fikler med den i et par sekunder.
Se her, jeg laget en ring til deg, sier du og smiler fornøyd
Jeg smiler takknemlig, men jeg klarer ikke se deg i øynene.

* "Seriøst, eg gir deg et komplement og du bare ler."
"Hahahaha, ja?"
"Okai, fortell meg kossen eg ska få ei jenta fra Kongsgård t å lika meg då?"
"Hmmm, d e enkli hemmeli då...men, på ein elr aen måte må du ta hu me storm..."
"D hjalp meg virkeli ingenting... Eg sa dåkke va rare"
"Dust!"
"kjerring!" *

gralla med dagen, f-Israel!

NOT

In my place

Rommet mitt er ikke så stort, men det er fullt av hyller og skap og et stort skrivebord.
Og en massiv treseng.
Møblene tar alt for mye plass.
Det er alltid mørkt, og lukter parfyme.
Blomstene visner alltid. Blir tørre før jeg tar dem ut.
På veggen er et maleri av et romvesen som lever svart og hvitt.
Skrivebordet mitt drunker i musikken fra boksen.
Og skriveplaten er kamuflert av cdene:
Jeff Buckley og Marvin Gaye.
Herregud, gitarene!
Rommet mitt er ikke så stort, men det er veldig fint og jeg liker når det er 30 grader celsius.

Studiedag

Btw, ftw, lol

Studiedag er chill

om 3 dager; verden slipper ut et utemmet beist!

Actually, the truth is written on the subway doors

Subway - Carrer de Pelai - Barcelona

Du finner oss skjult i Spanias mørke smug, men det er ikke ETA

- Barcelona -

Lucy Violet

Someone once told me; if you love something, set it free.

Dørhåndtak og Norsk time..

Great discovery!
Det har skjedd før, og nå skjer det igjen
Me vett ikkje kor lenge det vare, men lyden av luftfiltrene har aldri vært så vakker

The Attic is again open

My new favourite thing to do, is wasting my time with a bum like you

Fake tales, the undone part that is just some sort of scribbled crap

It's morning by the docks of the old town. Seagulls are screaming, flying high up into the sky. Pale blue sky with some white clouds drifting above their heads. Rabbits, and kings and cherries. A cold wind is blowing and wave upon wave is roaring into the shore. Is this fake tales as we know it? No it is fake tales at peace, when they meet up in a dream where everything is real. A man without face is walking the boulevard, he senses there is something in the air. He can't see, but he can feel. Feel them. All four of them. And in his head an image pops up, the image of four girls. All four of them wonderful creatures embraced by the salty air. Wind in their hair. Black mascara scars on her cheek.

She is holding a bottle of Vodka Martini in her hand. She switched to something stronger then vodka that night. How she regrets it. How could she not remember. That stupid phone call, she could have lived in sheer ignorance.

Happy and bliss, she'd do anything to do it over again. How simple the choice was, how simple it was to choose wrong. One wrong and you fly, another one and you end up by the docks. She can't even remember taking the choice. But did it really happen?

This is just a dream, remember. This is just a dream, and as the sun leaves the sky, the whole of the moon pops up from the water. And the stars. The stars are chasing each other across the water. Like little kids playing hide and seek on a late night.

She can't remember a thing.

One catch herself wanting to capture the stars, capture something so beautiful. How horrible of her. She was so drunk and he just beamed her up. He hit so hard. She didn't know what to do. Was it his way of showing her his love for her. He hit so hard. A soft hand touches her back, and tells her it's okay.

It's not her fault. But isn't it really? Didn't she drive him to do it. He didn't even really touch her. She wishes he had. She wishes he had hit her. Hit so hard. Something, something legitimized. Just so she could feel it. She misses him, it, that. The ghost of it all. The feeling.

They all look at the sea, the old man knows, but he feels that it is not the sea alone they are looking at. He senses something, another presence. And then he knows. He just knows, that what they are looking at, is the very same thing he's been searching for his hole life. He never found it...
Is this a dream he asks for himself. This is a dream...
and a nightmare

She sees him, standing there in the deep water, at the bottom of the ocean. She wants to reach for him, the whole of him. Something is keeping her back, she wonders what it is. He's so beautiful,

she wants this beautiful piece of heaven. He plays the guitar, softly strumming the chords. She wants to hear his voice. She walks to the edge of the docks, but a hand takes her own and holds her back. She want's him so bad. «You can't jump» she tells her.

«You just can't, what are we to do without you, I am not whole without you.» «But I am not whole without him», she bends down and touches the cold surface of the water, water in her face. Is it tear? «I want it so bad. But it's going nowhere. He is stranded at the bottom of the ocean and I'm high up here in the sky. I just want him to hold me again.»
«There is an ocean of differences separating us...» She falls apart and blows away with the wind.

She smiles, she is not like that. She has something, something beautiful filling her opp, as if she is ready to burst, right there, by her side.

He is holding her hand. Holding tight. She has never been as free as she is in that moment, the moment that lasts for ever. The moment she is sharing with him. The others, they can’t see him, they know he is in her head constantly, but they can’t see the way his hand gently wraps around her own. How perfect they are. How perfect.

She is about to fall asleep, the blue notebook slips out of her hand and falls gently to the floor. On it, tales are written. There is something in the air, the scene changes, there are light everywhere, but the moon, its upside down. She is sitting on the roof top of an empty compartment store.

And when her eyes close she feels his hand on her back, soothing her, comforting her back into sleep. She feels so safe in this utterly strange city, knowing that he is out there somewhere. She looks into his eyes and they totally stone her.

I can't stop thinking about you,
how your eyes make me tremble.

I can't stop thinking about you,
how your touch haunts me in my dreams.

I can't stop thinking about you,
how your absens gives me sleepless nights.




The old man drowned himself by the way.


To A.T.A
I'm so sorry for my absence lately. You all know where my mind has been...

ÅHERREGUD ER DETTE LOV OGSÅ NÅ?

Location: en strand, Maspalomas

Det er en pandemi, gratis munnbind til alle (Ånei!)

location: Maspalomas, et sted i havet

smiling Ells back in town

ln ønsker seg suzz-me & violet på café i morgen. ja?
phridur kan bare ha det så godt, fordi hun er på FEIL STED TIL FEIL TID (BITCH) ånei.
Miss you.

Til Ellen, Lea og Frida

KOM HJEM!!

NÅ!
...og ellers God Påske

Mellow

I need that smile Ells...

-----> fluorescent adolescent- arctic monkeys

Fysikk + Violet = watching through the looking glass

Listening to Prince - It's in his kiss (thats where it is)
Thinking about "You're disappearing my love,I need louder than this, Please fill me up...I cant fake it my love, I need filling come on, I need it louder than bombs"
Wanting, I think you know what I want...
Finishing FT
Going, somewhere, wanting to go nowhere
Reading The lost art of keeping Secrets
Drinking Milshake, oh Mum, I'm a millionaire, but I ain't going towards the right direction
"The higher you climb the lower you fall" v. "Reach for the sky so when you fall, you land on a cloud"

##"#¤%%&/(%¤"%#%

Eg sga aldri drikke så møye igjen på lenge...

And so I leave you

WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE!

I miss you already.

eg ska tenke medlidende tanker når dokkor har norsk på mandag. (mehehe)
men. eg sko ønske dokkor kunne bli me. fordi. <3

farvel!

(this is our last goodbye, lalalalalalalalalalalaaaaa)

love, ln.

Urban Dictionary

Internet never lies

Ellen

Pretty, 'girl next door', type of females, who are intelligent and rational. Ellens are fun filled, giggly, characters who provide others with endless amusement when in their best moods and/or intoxicated.  Very self critical, and appear to be tall brunettes who sometimes act like blondes.  Often associated with old-school music and people starting with the letter 'L' 1. Hey is that girls name Ellen?  2. yeah how'd you know?  1. You dumbass, of course i knew, She's eating a peach!

lea
	a girl who makes the guys go crazy with her charm and sexappeal. she flirts extremely with them but never ends up hooking up unless she is in a relationship. not to be comfused with leah who ands up in bed with every guy.  oh man i spend my whole night fliting with her but she was a lea so nothing happened.

Susanne

A name that is seldom correctly spelled, given that it is predominantly spelled with a "Z" (this is a bastardization).  Women with this name are are usually very bookish--many carry advanced degrees and teach at the college/university level.  Women with this name are blindingly attractive. As such, they are also extremely competent lovers, and are incredible between the sheets. Their tongue control and power are unrivaled.  In addition to brains and looks, Susanne has a heart of gold. She is a woman of amazing moral constitution.  "Says here this gal's name is Susanne. That must mean she's got a lethal combination of brains and beauty!"

Frida
	Very cute girl that likes tequila. You can say that's a really frida when you see a hot girl "If she can drink tequila, she's a real frida!"

Barneselskap

Alle 10-åringene sitte rundt bordet og diskutere røyk og alkohol mens de spise kake.

"Du må ikkje prøva någe for då bler du hekta!"

"Mormor røykte på nyttårsaften, men hu greide å slutta"

"Mor drakk vin igår og på fredag"

"Eg tror at hvis du røyke får du mer rynker."

Here it is

CoCkY cHaMpIoN!

- nam, eg savne Tou Scene og Cocky Champion


-memories

Livet jeg lever er vakkert

Når jeg lukker øynene sitter jeg i en skog. Det er din skog. Den er ikke borte lenger, den eksisterer i tankene mine, og hvis du finner veien inn kan vi plukke kongler og leke sammen.
Jeg vil ikke at du skal finne veien. Jeg vil ikke at du skal lese meg før du kanskje en dag åpner den blomstrede boksen med livet mitt. Du har lov. Men da skal jeg være langt borte først. Derfor skal jeg heller skrive om skogen til deg. Så kan du blande den med skogen i dine tanker. Kanskje vi på den måten kan møtes likevel. Og klatre i trær. Selv om vi er alt for gamle. Kan man bli for gammel til å klatre? Det er lenge siden jeg klatret i trær. Håret ditt er grått. Jeg ler. Smilerynker. Du er eldre enn du virker. Og hvis jeg vil leke i skogen, hvorfor klarer jeg det ikke? Hvorfor kjenner jeg ikke gleden jeg pleide å kjenne når jeg halvhjertet plukker opp en pinne og blir Jeanne d’Arc? Jeg er eldre. Nostalgi. Jeg forblir den jeg er, jeg blir aldri mer den jeg var. Jeg er postmodernist. Jeg er alle i hele verden. Samtidig er ingen i hele verden meg. De brukte ikke øks når de drepte skogen din. De jevnet den med jorden. Det er trist. Det er fint om sommeren. Ryggen inntil et tre med en slitt moleskine eller en kjærlighetsroman. Dere er heltene i historiene jeg skriver. Det er dere som er riddere i skogen min. I år skal jeg blåse såpebobler. Hviske hemmeligheter mens jeg blåser dem opp. Jeg vil at vi skal være venner for alltid. Blasfemi. Jeg skal skrive det ønsket på en vegg.

Pirates, Virgins and Witches

-nye kolleksjoner på Agent Provocateur, check them out babes!