Erik Pethersen "The Ball"

В«Should I quickly make up a list of my priorities, putting in people from the opposite sex? Like playing golf, cars, red wine, white wine, sparkling wine, whisky, women? Something like that?В» I say puzzled.

В«Yes, correct. Even with less alcohol. When have you taken up golf?В»

В«I have never played it.В»

В«Exactly. Now, whereabouts is the female world?В»

«I can’t make up a list now: how can I compare activities, objects and people in one list only?»

«It’s a simple hedonistic list, let’s say. Think about all the things that give you pleasure...»

В«It depends on the situations.В»

В«You are nearly there. Are you telling me that you would rather have a good wine than an old Fiat Uno Diesel?В»

В«Yes, sure.В»

В«Do you prefer a Nebbiolo wine to a Vermentino wine?В»

В«Without any doubt.В»

В«Alright. Are you telling me that you would rather sip a good islay, on your own, at home than spending the evening with one of those five girls?В»

«I don’t know, maybe if you are with them on their own, they wouldn’t be as bad: the prettiest one, maybe after dinner, two hours at the most, if she was not talking. Are you talking about an islay, a good one? One with a strong peaty tang?»

В«A very strong peaty tangВ» the notary says.

В«I think I would surrender to the whisky with a peaty tang in the end: less hassle.В»

«It’s okay: I would go for it myself, with no hesitation whatsoever, but the half generation gap that separates us plays in your favour.»

The notary takes a sip of his wine and puts it back down on the table while I do the same. «Anyway, your strong list of priorities seems already unstable because of a young girl dressed like a hooker. You were referring to the girl sitting at the head of the table, with her bare shoulders, weren’t you?»

«Sure, but I don’t think I said hooker, I think I have just figured it out in my head.»

«No, I said it, don’t worry. Anyway, we have a priority list that can overturn any minute, in constant turmoil because of wine varieties, and new issues of Auto Express magazine. It could be adjusted: if you think about it, you could come up with something better.»

«Yes, I have just said the first things that have come into my mind, but I do think that I wouldn’t know anyway.»

В«We are not talking about moral issues, anyway.В»

В«Uh, musicВ» I interrupt him.

В«Music: good, great indeed. You can see that with a little bit more commitment, the priority list improves.В»

В«Northern Europe, NorwayВ» I interrupt him again.

В«Anything else?В» he asks.

«No, it’s enough, for the moment, I think.»

«Fine: let’s add it all up to the priority list. The point is another one, it is not the priority list itself. I mean, what is the connection in this priority list?»

В«I am not too sure: alcohol, maybe. And some music to listen to travelling by car around northern Europe. Can you see the connection in all of this?В»

В«Yes, Brando. Why do you like music?В»

В«I love listening to it, I love the sounds put together properly.В»

В«Excellent. Why do you like northern Europe?В»

В«I love the scenery, the tranquillity. I am drawn to those places. I feel a bit of a northerner myself, as if I come from there: it is probably the story of the fennoscandian genes.В»

В«What about the alcohol?В»

«I don’t know: it gives me a sense of peace, it relaxes me, when I feel the need to relax and get away from it all, I think it is a useful thing in those situations. Just the taste of it...»

В«Here, we are getting there. Passion, attraction, desire: they are emotions that everybody feels. Do you know how all these feelings together are called?В»

В«In one word, do you mean? Are we heading back to lexical semantics?В»

«No, it’s not that difficult: they are called love.»

I look at the glass and the bubbles whirling and spiralling upwards. I take a sip and I look at the notary staring at me.

В«Fine. Love is attraction, passion and desire: right... Anyway, where is the female sphere?В»

В«Sorry but what do you match with love? If you think about love, what is the first thing that gets into your mind?В»

«Instinctively? I don’t know. I would say a woman. I associate love with a woman.»

В«You see, we have gone back to our primary list. It is not only at the top, but it takes up all the positions.В»

I grab my glass again while I realize that this rosГ© liquid is not enough to deal with the notary, a stronger chemical substance is now necessary, as I had already considered in the afternoon, right after the discussion over the slut.

«I got lost a little in the logics of the primary list. Passion and feelings trigger everything and I would agree with that, but what if passion was not connected to the female sphere? People can be passionate about going fast with the four wheels underneath them, propelled by a four- stroke engine; for sure that is pure passion, attraction, desire to meet or overcome one’s own limits. If we put the three feelings together, we get love: love for speed, love to run on a stripe of tarmac. It’s okay so far and I think it is all romantic but what has the attraction for a woman or for another person got to do with all this?»

«It’s love! You don’t have to force it into all this: it is already in, it is the feeling that triggers everything off. Everything works because of love. It is already in us and it interacts with the outside world: we do not make that feeling by ourselves» the notary said.

В«So, there is nothing without love? And that is because love triggers off everything. So, you run around a racing track in your own matt black car because you are unconsciously pushed by love?В»

В«Yes, Brando, you are getting my point. If you want to go back to lexical semantics, which you seem to fancy so much, we could put ГЁros into play too.В»

В«Love is ГЁros: they are not synonyms, Alessandro.В»

В«Not quite. Г€ros is always a life instinct, impulse, desire: love is the same feeling, the same life impulse.В»

The notary takes a sip of wine.

I look at my glass and at the few bubbles left.

В«Passion, attraction, desire, impulse: love, eros. It all makes sense, Brando.В»

«Èros pushes everything: I could almost agree with you» I say. I look out the glass window: two youths are hugging each other walking up the street, towards me. The blue glow materialises again in my mind. The vision I had in the morning is certainly perfect to trigger off a considerable feeling of attraction: an urge, a simple instinct not slowed down by a lengthy neuronal processing.

В«Why almost?В»

В«Not to make you feel that you are quite right.В»

I take my glass and I get rid of the bubbles left. There could be more to it, though. Life is not just based on impulses, there is more to it, a bunch of different feelings and emotions, without taking into account the reason and all the rest of it.В»

В«Brando, look at this table between us: it is square and wooden. Look at it all, in its whole.В»

I push my vertebrae against the back of my chair, I move the chair a few centimetres back and I look at the table.

В«Can you see the table completely from where you are?В»

В«Yes, notary. I can see it all, in its whole.В»

В«How many legs has it got?В» he asks laughing.

«I’d say four» I reply, looking at him askance.

В«Are you really sure?В»

В«Yes, I am sureВ» I reply, shaking my head a bit as a sign of disapproval for his sneaky and vindictive rhetorical question.

В«Do you know why you see four?В» he asks. В«Because this table has four legs, like the one in my office: sic et simpliciter!В»

1.3 IMPULSES - FOUR

I lower down the windows of my car a bit. The cool air lashes my face, while I set the volume on 24; this morning I played the Solstafir album, it is not that bad.

I glance at the display, looking for the title of the track now playing, and I identify it as SjГєki skugginn1 (#ulink_31e2798e-6e05-59e6-8d94-804e3e265722). As I have already done now more than twelve hours ago, I think that each track should have a meaning, no matter how difficult the language is. I am going to read the lyrics again, or at least to give the titles some sort of meaning.

Bass guitars play really low: let’s higher up to 32.

I overcome the humps and I swirl to the left, I cut through the roundabout, keeping an eye on the central kerb, I merge onto the avenue that leads to the university. The lanes are all free from traffic.

I get it into second gear, driving along the wide roundabout of the emergency room and I press my foot on the accelerator. In about three hundred metres, as soon as I get to the roundabout of the baseball field, I have to drive along it and take the third exit, towards the avenue leading to my house.

When the engine is around 4.700 revolutions, I take a wide turn on the right and I see an electric blue car coming in front of me, in the opposite direction. It seems quite slow and quite far away: it will get to the roundabout after me.

I press my break and I put my car into second gear to prepare for the narrow roundabout, while I am looking at the porphyry stripe that borders the central island, where I want to drive over with my two inner tires. I steer to the left, while I just feel a sudden tingling in my nose: I sneeze. The air that comes out so suddenly from my lungs makes me jump. My left hand swerves the steering wheel and brings it back to the standard position.

Bloody hell, I lost control, I ended up in the camellias. The car jolts a little. I go straight and I slow down. I stop by the roadside, and I put the hazard lights on.

The electric blue car drives past me and goes on.

I get out of the car and I head to the porphyry stripe which runs around the camellias. I made such a mess. I have driven over the three plants on the outer side.

I squat down and I reach out to the plants: they snapped, crushed into the soil, broken up. Poor them.

I get back to my car, feeling sad.

The electric blue car too has stopped with the hazard lights on beyond the roundabout. I look at it for a few seconds: the LED light bulbs off the lamppost light it up from up above, making it a more sparkling blue.

I make a U-turn and I take the road leading to the university. I drive to the very end, I turn left and drive into my driveway.

1 (#ulink_92047517-7303-5f9f-802c-cbad6e3f1601) SГіlstafir (artist), Svartir sandar (album title), SjГєki skuggin (track title), 2011 (year)

2 A DAY IN THE LIFE

2.1 INTRO

I say hi to Mauro, busy reading the Giornale di Brescia every morning in his small glass house, and I head for the lifts.

A dark spot materializes down there. I continue with a slow pace and reach the area in front of the push button panel. The black spot greets me and I reciprocate. Maybe I smiled too much, but I did it naturally, surprised by the friendliness of a character with such a gloomy appearance.

The central lift reaches the ground floor and we go in. I’ve never seen him, but he behaves as if the place is very familiar to him, so I don’t think he’s an occasional visitor in the building. His gaze is gentle as he asks me what floor I’m going to.

В«Seven, pleaseВ» I smile. Maybe too much again. But this time I smile because of his hair, really messy.

After pressing the buttons, he sticks his two thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. His other fingers stroke his thin legs, not very masculine, which look perfectly straight though, inside his tight jeans.

I am examining him. His appearance looks a bit dark to me, but with an implicit elegance: educated and from a good family, quite probably. The body is lean and his height is probably a few centimetres above average. He has green, almost phosphorescent eyes. I think he may be an alien.

The elevator reaches the seventh floor.

В«Hello.В»

The black spot wishes me a good day. I get out and walk to the office.

I get a sense of restlessness and warmth all over my body: if I weren’t stoned, I would think that I had never seen anything so amazing.

2.2 LIFE