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still not over

coffee and decaf coffee and hours and hours and hours of writing
small breaks, like managing to step on the stones almost without slipping, reaching the ocean at some point
zoom calls and confusion
pride and prejudice 1995 BBC as a reward
coming up with ideas and changing them and typing them out and changing them again, pressing send at some point
coming home
seeing friends and family like nothing had happened, like the inside of my head was still the same
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jonathan gelfond from “social studies” / Katrine in a perfect office

fun admin



social studies-documentary and notes and lunch / quote from animal farm / animal farm

a normal troll
in between: various notes from various projects or ideas
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Det er så vildt at jeg stadig,
efter alle de her år,
kan glemme hvor meget jeg fucking forguder ord
Dem, der benyttes til beretninger
Dem, der beskriver omstændigheder
Dem, der tydeliggør følelser
Dem, der kontekstualiserer associationer
Dem, der er mig udlånt fra artigeardits interview
Du ved, når jeg så en dag snakker lidt som ham nede i netto, forstår du hvad jeg mener bror?
Dem, jeg har læst i tove ditlevesens tekster og forsøgt at oversætte
as if i was the other woman,
dem, mine venner pludselig begynder at sige på samme tid
som jeg MÅ kopiere
og dem, mine bedsteforældre troligt benyttede som et anker i en anden tid, fornemt og standhaftigt
dem, der engang var engelske
men som jeg finder mig selv bruge hele tiden
og dem, vi nogle gange finder på, når min emhætling og jeg er alene i lejligheden
alligevel tror jeg, jeg kan blive lykkelig på en natklub i berlin
på electronic Monday uden tekst
og jeg er lykkelig, det er jeg, for det minder mig om new york
og på klubben i new york var jeg lykkelig fordi jeg ku få lov at være hot på fremmed på en ny måde,
men i de 28 foregående år har jeg sunget med på tekster
skrevet dem ned i notesbøger
utrætteligt citeret som råd og som jokes
248 siders ord er dette dokument
og jeg har ikke hylder nok til notesbøgerne
forskellige farver af eufori
eller bare forskellige euforier, måske
er dans og ord og musik
jeg har ikke danset til alphabeat eller shawn mendes siden sidste gang jeg holdt privatfest
jeg kan ikke huske hvornår jeg sidst har holdt en privatfest
det her efterår er i ordenes tegn
jeg MÅ skrive
og jeg må tage mig tid til at dagdrømme
må fortælle min kæreste om den artikel, jeg læste, og ikke tro at det er nok at have den for mig selv,
må lytte til andres refleksioner og implementere fremmed-for-mig-ord til min bank
må høre mere rap
må skrive i hånden for at nyde bogstavrimene mest
må prise mig lykkelig for at jeg kan bruge alle 10 fingre på keyboardet
må hygge mig over at jeg havde glemt at det hedder tastatur
det her efterår bliver ordenes sæson
lad dem lege frit og konsekvensløst,
lad dem parre sig og skilles og mødes på rutsjebanen
under mit opsyn,
med mit selskab og klapsalver
vil ordene få nye venner og blå mærker på knæene
så er der noget at skrive om og evnen til at gøre det
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these lil waves having a completely different structure than the sky, and that i never thought much of texture when i thought of paintings, i wonder about all the other elements i haven’t noticed in art that isn’t live performance

clear surfaces, newly wiped, no visible mess, ready for the day

the beginning of a new routine, something that will grow because it has to, implementing a system for something before it turns chaotic

family being friends

this outfit i didn’t use to think i’d be cool enough to pull off but now seems v chill

acronyms and this actress from bring it on: all or nothing

a stunning light design that made me wish i’d eaten mushrooms

these two lil plants finding each other without dating apps or planned interior design



writing new lyrics
for old songs
to show someone i love them, recording the singing
to slightly weird piano instrumental tracks
so the other ones who also love them understand it better

these 18 lil people checking out my website
what are you up to? are you a future colleague? mom? my friend anna? actually the same person 18 different times just bored or a lil stalky?

hoodie hair upside down

flipping the paper instead of rotating the image

finding out what they use as weight to keep the lil helium balloons from floating away

making something for my mom

this lil warrior

its not that major things aren’t happening at the same time
but as a hurricane of everything is about to burst inside,
(or maybe it already has)
lil things are happening too,
and i still have this apartment,
and we’re allowed to tear down the wall,
and it will take a lot of time to get it done,
but when it’s done it’ll be different, maybe better, or we’ll redo it if it sucks,
and we still haven’t fixed the wire to the lamp, and justin bieber is still singing about peaches, and two days ago i cut nectarines for somebody’s party, a huge celebration of her life, and i’m trying to stay hydrated and somebody gave me a ride home after dark, and these little things are all the same and have nothing to do with the hurricane in my tummy, and they’ll keep happening however my tummy feels, and that
feels nice
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En sød skilsmisse siger jeg, når folk spørger hvordan jeg har det,
Vi vil bare forskellige ting, mig og min elskede arbejdsplads,
så jeg skal en anden vej,
fandt jeg ud af, her nu, og nu er deadlinen om 10 dage ikke længere usynlig men rædselsfuldt tæt på og lysende af hjertebørn jeg vil føde,
Og jeg har
Skrevet til rikke hun havde ikke tid men kaldte mig en force of nature, ringet til marianne hun tog den ikke, skrevet til marianne hun svarede at ja måske men hun kan ikke hjælpe mere end at sende mig til noget der hedder borgen og så måske et gæstespil hvis jeg selv kan finde et venue, ringede til borgen de svarede og jeg uddybede på mail, skrevet til kube de svarede, om fredagen ringede borgen tilbage og de kan ik stille lokaler til rådighed for de har ikke officielt overtaget bygningen af kommunen, kube ringede tilbage og vil gerne hjælpe og slå meget af prisen men da jeg ringede tilbage til marianne vidste hun ikke hvem jeg var men så sagde jeg hvem jeg var og skrev til hende hvad kube havde sagt, og så svarede hun i email at jeg da hellere skulle være hos hende, ”hvis du alligevel rykker ind i en kulturinstitution kan du ligeså godt være hos os – billigere” det var min drøm hele tiden, bortset fra da min drøm var rikke, men det er alligevel meget bedre hos marianne for hos rikke kan man aldrig fjerne en publikumsopbygning, og der var en misforståelse åbenbart men måske kan alting lykkes, i mellemtiden havde jeg skrevet til veronica helt modigt uden et hold eller noget, hun ringede tilbage og hun ville gerne, og ringede til cille, som vi havde snakket om vil hun gerne, og alex vil jo gerne for han er min one and only best supporter og video maker og har pæne øjne, og jeg skrev til emma og jeg måtte ringe og hun sagde ”alt for dig” og jeg ringede og hun vil gerne, og jeg ringede til daniel og han ville fandme også gerne, og marianne sendte mig priser og det så godt ud, og jeg skrev nej tak til kube med helt dårlig samvittighed, ringede til svante og han ville gerne, skrev til marianne og så skrev jeg til tue om han kunne hjælpe mig med en samarbejdsaftale om at jeg må låne deres udstyr og lokale til møder når det er ledigt, og marianne sendte interessetilkendegivelsen, jeg blev rædselsslagen for fjerde gang det døgn fordi det jo ikke er en magma-produktion som hun skrev i dokumentet men i eget navn og bliver det mon et problem? Nej det var det godt nok ikke det var det hurtigste nye dokument jeg nogensinde har fået tilsendt, rettet til eget navn nu, kube har ikke svaret det gør de nok aldrig, og annette svarede at jeg godt måtte sende hende budgettet så hun ku se på det, og min far ringede tilbage og gav mig feedback på budgettet, og emma videresendte den redigeringsvenlige word-fil med projektbeskrivelsen til aron og i mellemtiden sendte mathilde mig kånstkollektivets gamle ansøgning og budget så mens jeg lavede ændringer i mit eget sendte emma mig arons noter og så lavede jeg endnu flere smukke ændringer, og så svarede både katrine og jovana på min story om hjælp til budget og de havde modsatrettede råd så jeg valgte det ene af dem, annette svarede ikke men runes voicenote var usandsynligt konkret og alt blev implementeret i budgettet og så sad alex ved siden af mig da vi blev enige om at mit layout faktisk var godt nok uden hans specielle programmer, og han rettede en kreditering jeg havde fucket up og jeg rettede ting på hans cv han havde fucket op og så sendte jeg den afsted i går nat og ku ik sove, adrenalin, vi så anden sæson af the rehearsal som carol fortalte mig var på hbo, og i morges lå jeg i sengen med min telefon og så gik jeg i gang med en liste af ting jeg måske havde skrevet forkert, er det overhovedet projektstøtteudvalget der vurderer netop den her ansøgning, i en bemærkning i budgettet har jeg skrevet projektstøtteudvalget, okay ja det er projektstøtteudvalget, og jeg havde jo glemt at rette den der kreditering, så jeg ændrede krediteringen i word dokumentet så jeg ku lave en ny pdfside og indsætte i den store pdf og så uploadede jeg den nye pdf til min hjemmeside uden at publicere den og så kopierede jeg linket til den nye pdf og satte ind i en anden pdf så henvisningen er rigtig og så læste jeg vejledningen igen for at dobbelttjekke om jeg ku redigere og ikke miste det indsendte, ja de læser altid den senest indsendte så selv hvis den digitale portal er helt fucked fordi deadline er om tre timer så mister jeg ikke det hele, de får det jeg sendte i går, hvilket var derfor jeg sendte den i går vel vidende at jeg ville tjekke igennem i dag, så jeg trykkede på redigér og så redigerede jeg og uploadede filerne igen og så trykkede jeg send og nu har jeg to kvitteringer, den hedder ”gammel kvittering” og ”ny kvittering” i den mappe jeg lavede i mappen i drev og den nye hedder ”vedhæftede filer” og jeg slettede alt andet fra downloads mappen håber jeg, og jeg sendte den nye kvittering til svante og jeg tænker på om jeg skal gå direkte i gang med at kontakte nordeafonden, OK-fonden og Trygfonden eller om jeg lige skal give mig selv et par dage, tænker jeg
skal give mig
selv et
par
dage
måske svømme
tatovere alle deres navne
det er så sygt at være solo selvproducerende men fuldstændig afhængig af at gøre alt sammen med andre,
og vi er ikke engang gået i gang med det kunstneriske endnu
jeg lever for en team effort
og de er ikke engang på mit hold, dem der svarede på stories, dem der sendte et budget, hvordan kan vi snakke om spidse albuer når det er så tydeligt at vi skal hjælpe hinanden, kom og bo på min hems og spørg mig om hvad forskellen på et gæstespil og en co-produktion er, næste år anbefaler jeg dig at indsætte et citat i en tekstboks i selve ansøgningen, ikke som bilag, og så køber du mere mælk i netto mens jeg tørrer mine chokoladefingre af i et gammelt stykke køkkenrulle på spisebordet, vores kontor, der hvor alting starter sammen, parallelt
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Thursday may 8th
2025
09:07 (am), Shabaz café in Nordhavn
All right.
here we go in English. Here we go – OK go – music videos from a time when youtube was a teenager. I stole a line from bo burnham’s second best song about the internet and I put I in both the script and in the speech I gave in the foyer in front of the preview-audience. “The whole world at your fingertips”. Just like he would’ve wanted me to. This could have been more about the internet; the global village, how could it not? It turned out, in the end, it was humans all along. And of course it was – we are the ones with hearts and longing and tears streaming down our cheeks as we realize we’ll possibly never meet in physical life. I wrote a line about data centers and the 1% of the 1%, but my mr. robot references didn’t make it to the final version and in a week’s time I’ll be happy about his decision. Maybe even tonight.
Tonight is opening night. Do you get that? Do you know what that means? Do you know that I’ll be pressing the panel to unlock the door to the theater in exactly 40 minutes? Do you know that it’s a little crazy to be doing that on opening night – day?
I wouldn’t know it was crazy if someone hadn’t told me. I’ve never been great at listening to my body, but this time around I’ve heard its calls for sleep. Moved into the spare room in my parents’ apartment and gone swimming in the harbour two out of three days. This morning I went here instead. To clear my mind.
I thought, in this performance, there would be more, actual, hyper stimulation. I’ve been talking to two of my people last week, the only people in my life that aren’t colleagues right now and one of them kind of is, about ADHD. I’ve been thinking about notifications and brain pauses, and about the only way to fall asleep for some people is to listen to audiobooks because it makes the brain not think about everything else. I thought the play would be about this, somehow, with notifications and visual claustrophobia, of sound in frequencies to kill your concentration, maybe it is about this but I thought it would be done differently. I didn’t know that the way would be to see the streets of Mumbai and listen to a wise and incredibly kind man talk about a constant state of stress, of people, of over population, wondering where his body might ever feel at rest.
I’m realizing I haven’t had time to pre-mourn. I sometimes do that, just to take the edge off the actual goodbye a little bit. Usually a successful strategy, but this time around there has been no, well, time. And after tonight, when they log off vMix it’ll be over. For me. I’ll come back in a few weeks and the week after that, but I’ll have left the village. I’ll have moved out, possibly to the big city, in the search for something new with someone else, and I’ll be longing to go back. At some point in August I’ll be completely mindfucked that I haven’t spoken to Okan in months, and that Christi’s probably still sleeping as I suddenly remember Nnamdi the next time I see someone wearing a red tie. Possibly I’ll pass Mette on the street and we’ll almost cry and it’ll be like we’re family, but we’re not family, we were neighbors and when we open whatsapp and return to the village we’ll be the same. Or I’ll actually make another show with Katrine, next year, and we’ll feel bad that our connection lives on when the others don’t have the same options. Will the village only exist digitally or will we ever change the format? Will our 3D bodies finally hug, and are we gonna pick up Abhay in the airport when he goes to Berlin in December?
Or it could go completely differently. We could speak. We could talk, text. Still be sending memes and send love for each our countries’ struggles, heart their stories of going to demonstrations and cross our fingers that the flooding won’t be too bad this time. That they will get the fires under control and that someone, somehow, will see the light and legally stop the accumulation of wealth. We’ll be each other’s hypemen and hypewomen. And everything in between. We’ll surf the Bosporus river of being kind of connected but also not at all, and hopefully the line I wrote was a lie; “and once I log off, to me, you stop existing”.
Too much? Brutal? Dumb? Simple? I have no idea, but a wise opera singer from Canada/USA/Germany told me that this is it, we’ll have lives everywhere, and we’re going to have to figure out how to make it work.
Maybe this time the audience can help.
All the times I’ve been traveling alone and returning, with no one to confirm stories with, no one to hold me accountable or to remember with, when I’ve only had my diaries and scrapbooks to consult, to stay sane and remember that it wasn’t just a dream, all the times I’ve done this it’s been fine, it’s been ok, absurd but ok. But this time maybe the audience could help?
Is anyone out there? Are you seeing this too? Do you hear Christi as well? Do you see the streets of Lagos and hear the honks from tuktuks in Mumbai? Did you also feel like smelled the romantic cigarette on Okan’s fingers even though he was all the way in Istanbul? Did you listen to Nnamdis line about police brutality too, or were you lost in his charming eyes and beautiful lips?
As the landslides cover the Bollywood Hills, we’ll still be here. Needing to remember that it happened, and just because something happens digitally it doesn’t mean it’s not real. It’s been a beautiful chaos of imaginations and lines that got cut, of cowboy scenes that got cut, of meditations that got cut, of botox that got cut, of cockroaches that got killed and of hearts that were broken and mended and broken again.
Thank you for letting me into the village. I loved living next door. I promise I’ll come visit.
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okan + nnamdi + abhay + christi + mette / set piece / title / miniature inhabitants of the global village / globe / eyes of the global cast / katrine as spideydiva / set pieces as kitchen / mette in artificial airplane / katrine filming mette on artificial grass / set pieces










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Crossing the street to walk in the sunny side
Deciding to turn right at the church after all, so; abruptly stopping at the green light waiting for the one on your right to switch
Meanwhile,
a beautiful dude looks up, more vertically than anyone else that day,
and stretched his arms up in front of his face,
almost not catching the fannypack somebody throws out the window
but after all catching it, reciprocating the gift with a thumbs up and a grin like it’s not the first time in a while,
perhaps it’s become a tradition and they’re enjoying it because it’s a very apartment-core thing to be doing on a Sunday in Nørrebro,
and as the bagpipe-intro of “run away with me” by carly rae Jepsen blasts kindly through your ears you enter the park on Central Park West and 72nd, and you turn up the music to avoid the singer-songwriter paying endless tributes to john lennon in the Strawberry Field section of that particular entrance, and you’re almost hit by a horse wagon except
now the song is “daydream in blue” by monster and you don’t know whether to associate it the most to “mr. robot” or “severance” so you’re almost hit by a bike and there’s obviously no horse in sight,
vi er jo ik I indre by og du har sgu aldrig set hestepolitiet på den her side af søerne
og du tænker på at de aldrig rigtig fandt ud af hvor sjov, du egentlig er, selvom de roste dit engelske til skyerne,
du blev så træt af at høre dig selv sige ”that’s amazing” og ”that’s so, so great”.
Derovre sidder victor lander vist, ham komieren du engang snavede med på nørreport
Ellers er det jesse plymouth fra den scene i Civil War du aldrig glemmer,
Fortsat skuffet over ikke at have set andre ægte kendte end Sarah Jessica Parker og Donald Trump,
Du tænkte at 5 måneder måtte betydet at du rendte ind i Adam Driver mindst én gang, det er jo ik fordi du ikke var i DUBMO hvor han bor eller i midtown Broadway hvor han spillede, men sådan går det jo nok bare når man ikke har råd til en billet og ikke rigtig vidste at det var normalt at hænge ud ved stage dooren
På stefansgade leger børnehaven yggdrasil, og petra og clive render rundt på det væltede fly men solen skinner og ingen vandpytter er at finde på denne fastelavnssøndag,
You can’t believe this is supposed to be the danish version of halloween because there are absolutely zero costumes around, and the only scrappy versions of them are hidden. Underneath layers and layers of jackets, and it’s only children, tiny children,
Where’s the fun in that?? You thought Europeans were supposed to be fun and slightly extravagant, at least in a stylish city like Copenhagen but maybe that’s the point, maybe the city’s too vain to dress up its adults. Not very solidary, you contemplate, as-
En fyr I shorts cykler forbi med en guitartaske på ryggen der er så lille at det næsten må være en ukulele og det orker du slet ikke
Mon du kan slippe afsted med ikke at købe en kop kaffe her på det udendørs bord, eller tror hun at de efterladte kopper var dine? En fremmed mand der sandsynligvis er på vej ind for at købe en fadøl (til) stopper simpelthen op og kommenterer mit klimahandling-klistermærke på min laptop med en thumbs up, og sikke dog et cute community af tommelfingre vi har os i dag her i verdens næstbedste by?
Jay-z rapper om tribeca og det var rart for dig at finde ud af at der faktisk ik rigtig er nogen grund til a ttage derhen,
Det var mindre rart for dig at finde ud af at der faktisk ik rigtig var nogen grund til at skrive det her,
Lettere ubehageligt at erkende at din dagbog måske bare er netop det
Og du gider ik læse mere om at være en ung kvinde i københavn så hvorfor skriver du det så,
Tænker du,
Måske hvis du krydrer det med krydsklip til new york kan der findes relevans i glitchene,
Ellers er det bare dobbelt op på metropolitan white life
Og så hårdt har fjerdebølgefeminismen heller ikke brug for din stemme,
Specielt fordi den ikke er udtalt men bare flyder lidt rundt i dit blod og aktiveres når du nægter at træde et skridt til siden i fodgængeroverfeltet når mændene stormer imod dig,
Alicia synger om inspirerende lys og du må indrømme at høje gladsaxes betonboliglys i nattemørket i går fik dig til at tænke på et eller andet du ikke har tænkt på længe i det minuts tid, du kørte forbi, før 4A allerede var bumlet forbi din gamle folkeskole
and you think of a difference,
Suddenly you give a second to the entertain the though of having a past
New york is different to you because this is where your stories were born
These are the corners you turned when in love or looking for a boy to fall in love with,
The bagel store on the corner of 68th and westend avenue is where your father used to bring you on Tuesday nights after ballet practice,
And the golden roof on the midtown building is the mythical place you projected all your fantasies into,
And walking up the circular hallway of the round tower in copenhagen will never do that to you
It can’t give you anything but instant appreciation without lore,
There can be no lore if there’s no past, or at least the lore can never belong to you, and so Copenhagen will always begin right now for you, now is when you’ve begun and you can never alter that timeline, only proportionally can it become a long time since the first time, but the case of the childhood stories are forever lost, the adolescence as well and you gotta get moving, sweet girl, you gotta get moving if here’s wher you wanna experience the rest of your youth, so much in fact that I’d advise you to not really leave, because multiple lives and recurring alienation will take it out of you in ways you couldn’t anticipate because you’ve only heard it from other people’s lore and like I just told you, –
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I used to have photos of my Danish friends glued onto my new york wall
Now I’ve got front pages of new yorker-magazines glued onto my Danish wall in a desperate attempt to not forget
I got the pictures from the disposable camera
They’re dark and grey and blurry
There’s some of josh and colleen
But it’s like dan and caitlyn never existed
I don’t know how to start my scrapbook
I started it but I did it wrong, I should have printed more photos,
I don’t want to immoirtalize them in my scrapbook I wanna keep them alive in my life
I could just go back
And forget all about the nest I’ve been building
I’ve been saying over and over this week,
“I wanna live small for a while” but it’s a motherfucking lie
I miss the scyscrapers
I miss the park
I miss le bain
I miss here arts center
I miss the director, the composer, the stage manager and the performers,
I miss the colleagues
I miss the roommates
I miss the administrator of the house I called home
I miss grays papays
I miss the breakfast rolls and the bagels with lox scallion cheese
I miss my view
I miss the colour of my duvet cover
I miss the sink
I miss the rats and enjoying the fact that I hate them a little less than most of my friends
I miss the memes
I miss the trains
I miss coney island
I miss the locations of mr. robot
I miss the frozen dumplings
I miss having places I wanted to go to
I miss having a list of places I wanted to eat
I miss being on a train and googling a mr. robot shooting location and getting off at the next stop and there it was
I miss essex house
I miss the shuttle to grand central
I miss Ronkonkoma
I miss gates ave
I miss other people’s clothes and i miss DuPoint
I miss bossanova and I miss the M train
I miss st. ann’s
I miss alex
I miss the secret rooftop and the view of Brooklyn bridge
I miss the view of Manhattan bridge
I miss the view of the Manhattan skyline and the stupid statue of liberty
I miss redhook
I miss Hannah who was a visitor like me
I miss knowing where to go
I miss my mountain bike and the memory of how I got it
I miss josh
I miss the tiny plant I bought after 3 days and I hope Claudia and alberte has kept it alive
I miss the stupid elevator
I miss the stupid marble steps
I miss the glorious skylight
I miss the trash bags on the enormous sidewalks
I miss off-off-broadway theaters
I miss discount websites with $12 tickets to LaMaMa
I miss writing everyday
I miss drawing every week
I miss reading on the subway
I miss walking through the meat packing district in the sun
I miss learning about opera
I miss using my text analysis skills
I miss carly and hope to see her again
I miss dan and wish he was here
I hope colleen’s job will continue to be exciting
I hope caitlyn’s well
I hope alex will reply to my text
I hope justin’s ok
I hope the homeless man outside of gray’s papays isn’t too cold
I hope there are trans flags in the windows
I hope sidse’s doing good
I hope kristin’s taking a break
I hope the new resident of my apartment is chill
I hope the sun’s back at the rooftop after a long winter that went by in 3 seconds
It’s almost been 2 months
And I’ve been so busy rebuilding my life in Copenhagen
That I’ve forgotten to nurture the life I left in new york
I’m gonna text josh now
And this will be my life for a while
Bouncing back between missing friends abroad and appreciating friends nearby,
Grieving the loss of endless opportunities while building other, smaller ones
Buying an apartment with my boyfriend,
living out one dream,
Knowing it’ll never be 36West 74th
I wanna live small for a while
but how small is too small and how long is a while
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