In Trondheim I picked up the book 69 by Ryu Murakami (probably the lesser known of the writers named Murakami). I read Coin Locker Babies a long time ago, so long ago that I had almost forgotten it. 69 was on the sale table at a Trondheim bookseller, and I needed something to divert me while waiting in dentist offices and airports that day (little did I know I would fly through the book in a couple of hours, leaving me empty-handed during the evening wait to fly back to Oslo).
The book was not memorable particularly, but there are always passages in almost any book that grab me (and I tend to jot them down on scratch paper, often losing them before I manage to commit them to some more permanent place). In this case:
“…don’t get me wrong. Your ideas or whatever, the things you think up, are great, but, well, you never really do anything, right? I mean, I don’t mean you never do anything, but it’s like, girls, food, whatever’s right in front of you, right?”
And even better:
“A guy like you, if you stopped being self-centered, there wouldn’t be anything left.”
I contemplated this while passing the Rica Hell Hotel by the Trondheim airport.
“Iwase was a gloomy fucker.”
I am baking a lot right now, but it is more to gauge the passing of the time… there is so much to do, so many things going on right now… I am in some dire straits, really, so I am baking to take my mind off the bad stuff. Channeling energy however I can.