Naïve. Super

by Erlend Loe

Everything seemed meaningless to me. All of a sudden. My own life, the lives of others, of animals and plants, the whole world. It no longer fitted together.

Once a day I go down to buy some food. And if there is any mail, I open it and fax it to my brother. It is an amazingly long fax number. I feel increasingly sure he is in Africa.

This is what I don’t have: – Plans – Enthusiasm – A girlfriend – The sense that things fit together and that everything will be all right in the end – A winning personality – A watch

There’s something very good about throwing. I don’t quite know what it is. More people ought to throw. We ought to be throwing, every one of us. Things would look different then. We would be happier.

My grandfather is a really good guy. I wonder whether I am a really good guy. I wonder whether there are any really good guys at all in my generation.

In one of the photographs I am standing next to my new bike. It’s green and has five red ladybirds on the crossbar. I’m wearing a yellow and brown pair of dungarees. I’m going cycling. That was the only plan. When I awoke in the morning, I would think; the bike. One thought. Today I wake up and have a lot of thoughts. At least five. It’s a hassle.

The reason I opted out of physics was because we sat drawing protons and neutrons without grasping how it all really fitted together. I was bored. I’d much rather turn to face the girls and make a ring with my left thumb and index finger, and then move my right index finger in and out of this ring repeatedly. Time was never mentioned.

I speculate about making a list of things that excite me today. I find pen and paper, but notice that I am hesitating. I am afraid the list will be a short one.

Once I played until I fainted. I had just got slalom skis and was so excited that I forgot to eat. I skied the whole day without eating. In the end I fainted from exhaustion and crashed into a lamp post. I had concussion, and Dad had to take me to the hospital. The doctor said that playing all day long was fine, but that I had to remember to eat in between. I fainted because what I was doing was so much fun that I didn’t have time to take a break. Something about that is incredibly good. That eagerness. It’s quite far away.

Because there’s something the matter. There is clearly something the matter. What I could really use is an older man. A mentor. One who could tell me how things fit together. He would have asked me to do chores that I felt were meaningless. I would have been impatient and protested, but done them nontheless. And eventually, after several months of hard labour, I would have realised that there was a deeper meaning behind it all, and that the master had had a cunning plan all the time.

I know a helluva lot. I’m not the only one who knows these things. Many people know more than I do. That’s fortunately not my problem. My problem is what I am supposed to use it for. What do I do with it? It’s confusing. I could of course appear on Jeopardy and win a trip to Greece. For two. But I don’t have a girlfriend. I would have to go alone. And what am I supposed to do in Greece? There is no reason to believe that I would feel any better there. I am not so stupid that I don’t see the use of a certain amount of knowledge. But I don’t feel convinced about what is important and what isn’t. I lack direction. An overview. How does one get an overview? Maybe it comes with age. But maybe not. Am I supposed to just go around waiting like any other idiot?

Kent works at the Central Statistics Bureau. He knows how many litres of milk Norwegians drink per annum and how often people have sex. On average, that is. And he is a member of Mensa, the club for the two percent (or whatever it is) of the population who have an IQ higher than some number or other around 140. He loves exercises that are meant to define the intelligence quotient. Patterns that are meant to fit together. Association tests. How many litres of water run through such and such cylinders, and when the trains will meet if the southbound one starts in Bodø and travels at 80 km/h, and the northbound one starts in Lillehammer and travels at 84 km/h, but stops for 27 minutes in Trondheim. Sometimes he brings those kinds of tests to parties. He keeps trying to convince me to take the Mensa test. He says I am probably not dumber than he is and that I’ll pass with flying colours, but I know he hopes that I’ll fail. I am never going to try. Kent is a really bad friend to have. Useless. I have indicated several times that I don’t think he’s anything much, but he doesn’t seem to take it seriously. I’ve known him since primary school and we have done fun things together, a long time ago. He’s not so easy to get rid of. I also feel a bit sorry for him. Kent’s world is full of what I don’t want my world to be full of. When he opens his mouth, there are almost invariably stupid or unpleasant things coming out of it. He is a human being living in disharmony with almost everyth...

I walk in and sit down in a room where there are lots of computers at the students’ disposal. My password (Vann6) still works, and I get on the Internet. I think it is over-estimated. It consists largely of information I am better off without. It gives me the sense that many people are in a position similar to mine. That they know a helluva lot, but don’t quite know what to do with it. Nor are they certain about the difference between what is wrong and what is right. I’ve found frightening amounts of worthless information in there. For instance, I think I was a little happier before I knew all the organisations of which Norway is a member. Not a lot happier. But a little. Enough so that it matters.

When I was younger, every youth programme on TV and the radio was about being yourself. About daring to be yourself. Actually, some programmes were about having a place to hang out. But the rest of them were about being yourself. It’s only now that I am starting to get a sense of what that means.

There’s something very strange about girls. First they’re not there and everything is a little difficult. But then they’re there, and things become nicer. It happens incredibly fast. It only takes a few seconds before everything is nicer.

I want to avoid making a decision about the contents of this particular fax. I take the ball and go down into the courtyard. I’m throwing now.

I am saying that I tend to dream my way into relationships. It happens by itself, in no time at all. Suddenly I’ve thought it all out. I picture her in all possible situations, I picture the house we could be living in and the places we could be going on holiday. And this is happening without me even having talked to her. It could happen while I’m walking down the street and meet the eyes of a girl passing by.

I think I’m more concerned with things that are very big and things that are very small than with all the stuff in between. This becomes apparent after only a few hours in New York. Most things are very big here. The houses, for example. The skyscrapers. They’re everywhere. And they’re big. I have a suspicion that it is partly about prestige. First, one guy built a house that was fairly tall, then his friend built one that was taller. And then everybody went hey guys, let’s build some goddamn houses, and let’s make them tall. Never mind what’s in them, let’s build them tall. Let’s build them fucking tall.

I think he’s got problems with time himself, but that he still hasn’t found out. One day he’ll be the one who hits the wall. When that happens I’ll let him hammer as much as he likes. Then he’ll have a guilty conscience about refusing to let me do it.

I always buy Nike. And Levi’s. I think they’re the best. I really do. I don’t even consider buying other brands. Somebody must have done their job very well.

I have only brought one bag, so when Obi sits down to crap for a second time, he makes me embarrassed. He’s crapping on the pavement. When he is done, we cross the street and pretend nothing happened.

Walking a dog in the streets of New York is absurd. But it gives me perspective. Lots of it. I’m so far away from home. In a big city. All the people. And I am only one. The only thing I can be sure of at any given time is what I am thinking myself. I have no idea what the others are thinking. Do they think space is big and dangerous? I do. What do they believe in? I think nobody ought to be alone. That one should be with someone. With friends. With the person one loves. I think it is important to love. I think it’s the most important thing.

My brother asks me if I am happy with my day and I say yes. I tell him I want to play more tomorrow. He smiles at me and says there’s a good boy. He says I must wean myself from all the scary thoughts. Forget all that stuff about space, he says.

I drop a coin into one of the binoculars and focus on the street below. It’s full of people and cars. I see a man coming out of a bank. He is trying to hail a taxi while at the same time glancing at his watch. He looks like you and me. Completely ordinary. He probably has a wife and kids and a little house in the suburbs. He is doing everything the best he can. I follow him with my gaze, thinking; I can see you, but you can’t see me. We shall never meet, but there is something I want you to know. My time is not the same as your time. Our times are not the same. And do you know what that means? That means that time does not exist. Do you want me to repeat that? There is no time. There is a life and a death. There are people and animals. Our thoughts exist. And the world. The universe, too. But there is no time. You might as well take it easy. Do you feel better now? I feel better. This is going to work out. Have a nice day.

Presents are important. Little presents are often better than big ones. And those in between don’t often amount to much.

We are on the plane. There is just sea below us. Water. I am full and sleepy. And I have a smile on my face. Something is different. I still don’t know if things fit together, or if everything will be all right in the end. But I believe that something means something. I believe in cleansing the soul through fun and games. I also believe in love. And I have several good friends, and just one bad one. And my brother is at least as friendly as I am.