Fast forward, I’m standing still

I was supposed to write about how American politics suddenly got sexy, and about how I find myself saying "Well, in my country .. " one extra time every single day, but all I can think about is that I cant sleep which means I wont be getting up early to do all the things I didnt do tonight. And I think about corny songs stuck in my head, songs that somehow perhaps maybe sum up the new New York experience. New York 150 blocks up, and several avenues west. A New York where half the people I knew have left, and four fifths of those left are slaving in the corporate machinery, their souls fleeting restlessly above their heads, receiving no stimuli, and with no time for Norwegian nomads.

But Norwegian nomads dont complain. They find ways of adapting. They expand their horizons, they find ways to enjoy their own company, they take pleasure in learning and exploring .. and then they wait. They decide they wont take any bullshit, and they toughen up. And when the going gets a little bit too tough, they have at least one phone number to call, on person to take it out on and a hope that someone will make them laugh.  

And as they lie in bed, waiting to be swept away to the land of dreams, and they daydream about being kept company in a bed a little too big for one .. Then they remember only weeks from now, nomads will be flowing into the city from both North and South. Wonderful norwegian nomads in one piece pyjamas, mamacitas from Noruega, the ultimate partner in crime, the bestest most wonderful nomad is on her way .. Soon to be followed by Scottish, Californian and hopefully the odd migrant nomad from Connecticut. 

And till then, the Norwegian Nomad is enjoying her solitude, the primary elections, and the big bed that allows her to spread her arms out wide (feel free to belt Creed songs at this point .. )