excerpt from Norwegian Ugjere (2010)
The prefix u- in Norwegian depicts the negative or opposite of the word, like un- or in- in English.. Here the verb gjere - do (perform, execute), make. Since the opposite of doing or making is not to do or not to make, the verb undo was not an actual choice here. So I went for the noun of non-doing instead.
This play has not been staged.
The umworld (in italics)
The money box
The Justice. Justifiable. Quite. Just. Fantastically straight ahead. Just about. Straight. Without detours. Wonderfully clear and straight. Just clear and justifiable. Not reasonable. But. Listen now. Do you listen. Not reasonable. But. Do you listen. Justifiable. Just. Not reason. Just. Just. Just. Only then is justice just. Justice is erect. Straight towards the heavens. Just straight. Just straight. Beyond the horizon. Justice doesn’t lie. Doesn’t lie down. Justice can’t lie. Down. Justice soars. No. Not soaring. Justice is in constant movement. Justice is constantly moving. If justice stops. Is arrested. It sinks. It dies. Drowning mackerels. Justice doesn’t have a swim bladder. That’s why. The justice. Justice is furious. Just fury. Is furious. Justice is filling the streets furiously. Is over the whole world. Is in the mind of all people. Morals are flying just above our heads through our heads of us all: It can’t be this way. The world. We confess an urge to do good with our whole heart. We desire justice. Justifiably justice. We demand justice. We change the world. We can do that. Now. Or quite soon. Change is cherishable. That’s why we cherish. We are many. And happy. Unbelievably many. Me too. And then I. But. Is this. Is. Is this revolt the revolt we desire. A moment of cries and furious cries rhythmically asphalt marching. A second indignation over the injustice of the world. Painfully gazing the pain of the world. We are many. We are many watching. We are many listening. We are many. We want something. Something. Me too. And then I. I wish I wished to be a good person. I wish I wished not to long for so much. Longer. More. Something more. I wish I wished I had a longing for being different. Something more. Something much more. More much. Many. Me too. Me too. I am many. I am many too. I see well. I hear well. I imagine I could possibly do something. We are many. Hello. Do we listen. Have I broken any chains lately. The crumbs I wipe of the table I eat by. Are the wretched full by them. See we. Do we see. We are so many. Here are we. Many. I uncover my naked body my wonder my body full and free from the clothes I wore I wore clothes. Do they warm the naked poor. I have a headache. Hello. We are good people. We listen. We see. Have anyone seen my glasses. The justice I send ahead of me. Is justice. Is justice behind me. Is justice. Can justice be. If i do just I am justice. If I do not do just I do injustice. Do. Not do. Is. Not good. My head aches. Do anyone have a tablet. Do I neglect my appearance to show my just walk. Am I gloomy to show how serious I am. Do I make myself stupid to get away. We are many. We are quite wise. We are just right. Me too. This is yesterday. Today is today. Now. Here it comes. It comes now. A word now. No. The word. Here it comes: News. This is the news. Here comes the news. This message is aimed at you. It is a new message. It is new and novel. Now. I have a headache. Here it comes. Now. Now. News. The world is full of misery. Now. Full of sufferings. Filled with injustice up till brim. That is why we demand justice. Because of all the injustice. We are many. Me too. Our sufferings are ours. I am power. The power is me. I am power too. And then I. I am we too. Are you so blind you can’t see. But what about me. I am alone. Are you on fire. Are you so blind. Every day is the news of the news of the end of the world. Every day the world end violently. Every evening somebody counts the dead before nightfall. Or before the night fall upon them. Somebody counts the dead and give the number to the news. Five. Sixtythree. Almost one thousand two hundred. Fortyone. The bonus number is thirteen. Who wins and who loses. See if you can see. Hark hark. If you can hear. The world is full of suffering and news are full of news of the end of the world. Where are you in the world. Where are you. Where. That’s the news
Now. Now I regret. Today I regret. I regret today. Yesterday I do not regret. Yesterday I was just happy. Yesterday I was smiling. Eyes wide open. Mouth wide open. I was wide open yesterday. Sweaty loud laughing yesterday. Speaking passionately. Happy open. Beer. Booze. Joy. Everybody was happy yesterday. I was one of them. I didn’t know any of them. Yesterday I was one of them. It was only tuesday. Today is wednesday and I have a mouth full of ashes and regrets. My head is turning. Just not away. It is not possible.
The world is big. The allworld is bigger. Because it all around the world. The world is just a world. The allworld is like a universe. A whole world with all in it. Cosmic. Godly. Godlike. The allworld is so big. We are so many. The allworld sees it all and cares none. Can anyone see the world around himself. Or herself. Can you. We can. We are many. Where are you. Now. Where. Where in the world are you. Oh my word. We are we. Now.
For forty seconds. Forty minutes. Or years. For forty moments I regret forty moments. The other numbers don’t count. I can’t count the other numbers. I count on doing. Something. Because it’s tempting. To do something. I am tempted. I work. I move numbers from one column to another. I place numbers on one side of the paper and more numbers on the other side of the paper. I put all the numbers in the moneybox. The box is full. Sometimes I remember that the numbers are money. Other times I work. And I ache. My head aches. There are numbers there. The numbers ache. In my head.
In the name of all solidarity throughout the generations. Are you not done yet. With justice. How long do you think we can wait for justice. I am furious. Me too. I am so fucking furious. At them. The fucking. The fury. Who the fuck do you think you are. I am so unbelievably furious. They ruin everything we stand for. Solidarity. Unity. The news telling of news from all over the world. There are so many fucking dead people. Other places. Other countries. Sometimes it happens that new thing happens in the world. Fuck. Soon it is labour day. Can’t you go easy on the swearing. It’s not nice you know. Say damn or something. Me too. And there are other people killed today. The people killed yesterday are not the same people killed today. Venzuala. Kongo. Burma. Chechnya. Iran. Sudan. Fuck. Nomansland and Borderland. This is the news of the world about the world. We shall show the world what justice is. The allworld has all rights in our hands our powerful hands.
My head aches.
Solidarity and unity. How much money do we have. Fuck we are going to. I’ll fuck too. Fuck you. And me. We are many. Fuck. Hell. We’ll show them bloodsuckers. Do not be astonished. Brothers sisters. If the world hates you. We demand. Strike. We demonstrate. We know that we have passed from death to life. We love one another brothers and sisters. Fuck you. We will fucking strike for better wages. For better. Us. Ours. We. Justice starts at two point seven percent. Everything less than two point seven percent is exploitation. An unbelievable injustice. An abuse. A massacre. Everything more than two point seven percent is my victory and you joy. I. Mine. My shopping list is extensive. Where is my money. Mine. The money is mine. I am furious and ronald. Me too. My helmet reflect the shining sun. Thousand await my victory. My sword. Cutting straight through the injustice. Through your sacrifices. Bleeding cowswines with exquisite lactose coatings. O saint cheeseburger. E127 and E151 are on my shopping list. O sacred victory. Where is the supermarket. Where are the sausages. Where is the canned fish. Where is our money. Whoever does not love. Whoever does not fight. Is one of them. The evil. The gross. They abide in death. In exploitation. They are murderers. Whoever hates a brother or sister is a murderer. Is grateful for two point six percent. Whoever hates a brother or a sister is immoral. I know. They know. Everybody knows. And you know that murderers do not have eternal life abiding in them. We know love by this. We will show them they cannot proceed with their injustice. Their exploitation of the world’s fucking poor. We are hungry for more.
I have a headache.
Shut up. Open your mouth. Watch out. Stay in. Hold your tongue. Hold me. What love is. What love is did Jesus tell us. For fuck’s sake. Never right. Nor true. We are. Too. We are many. We are fucking good. Fucking righteous. That’s right. Or true. That Jesus laid down his life for us. So we should lie down our lives for our brothers and sisters. You fucking fuck. Nothing’s right. Do I. We are so many so fucking furious. Nothing. Right. Can I. I cannot. Whoever can see. See. Whoever can hear. Listen. Whoever can come. Come. Don’t look at me. Do I. I am always right. Do I have to do everything. Take care. Of everything. By myself. Right. Let me. Do you burn. Please. Don’t let me see you. Shut you eyes. Whoever can shut. Shut. Your eyes. Our shut eyes are beautiful. Behind the eyelids. Your eyelids. Shut. Your mouth is shut. Don’t speak. Don’t look. At. On. Must I do all by myself. We too. Do it. Is it.
And. Somebody. Somebody can’t even. The world mirrors me. Sees me. Needs somebody. Do anybody need a helping hand. My head aches.
It’s not pretty. I do nothing. Nothing is all I do. It is not pretty.
I have a headache. I have to do. Something. It is not pretty. Or wait. Not doing something. I must. Do something I don’t do. Something not pretty. The world is bigger than I. I am incredibly little. I do nothing. I don’t revolt. I don’t do. Good. I don’t do. Use of myself. I sit here and watch how justice hurls by my eyes and I don’t do anything. I sit here and listen how justice carries the world carries the justice. I understand the world is not good. Not painless. Not pretty. Not friendly. Not my friend. The world is enormous. The pain is enormous. I am so little. My head aches. So I turn off the television. I turn off all sounds. I can only hear myself. My own voice. My own judgement. I am not pretty. I am not good. I am not enough. I am not present. In stead of living I am doing nothing.
(from the beginning of the text)
Copyright © Willy Walder