nocté

Something out there is squeaking.

morandi

The air by the river smells like tadpoles. I had had no idea that I remembered the smell of tadpoles, but I do. I remember other things. At this time of year (pokeberry time, not yet acorn time), she would scoop water out of the river near the bank where the roots of the damp trees twisted down and carry it back, and later it would turn out that the water swarmed with little things swimming and creeping. We pressed up against the glass sides of the tank. It was amazing to us that such wild and alien life could be found so close to where we walked every day, obliviously swinging our lunch boxes. It was as if someone had pried up a slab of sidewalk to reveal a herd of gazelles springing over the packed earth.

sleipt

Gliding along, not so much a svaðilför this summer as a sleipiför. (Let's put an asterisk on that, shall we?) Of course it's time sliding by, án þess að láta vita af sér, just moving on without you like that damned bus driver up in Hólmavík who didn't seem to want to drive anyone to Ísafjörður.

No, not at all like that. Steingrímsheiði is a bouncy ride, I'm sure. More like a clutch-free rental car (clutch-free, I was assured, and not clutch-less), little blue toy car fishtailing around on the loose gravel. Fuzzy little seabird hatchlings diving off the road in both directions. Like that.

The grammar, too, has been fishtailing. No other word for it. You know you're sliding into the wrong case, and you just have to steer into it. Don't haul the wheel around trying to get the thing into the dative. You'll only spin out entirely, total the vehicle, and (once regaining consciousness) open your eyes to find yourself resting in an uncomprehending ovine gaze.

It's because you aren't as sleip í málinu as you were. Do you suppose you can buy a little tube of tungumálsleipiefni? The apótek must sell it, or if they don't they ought to. A linguistic lubricant would make reentry into the language much more comfortable for everyone, to say nothing of more pleasurable. Until then we'll go on using the product made by ATVR: alcohol. Góða gamla.

See? There it swings around around and zooms past. The stereo is blaring a pop-tune from, what, 1997? Can it possibly be so long ago? Zzzzzzrrrrm. Even with the doppler you can make out a few words:

slike ting får minnene på gli når sommeren er forbi

glaumur

Tink, clenk. Mugs do not ring like glass does. The ceramic is, at, base, stone, and stone makes a poor bell. But then the chime of bronze post-dates other, older signs of the tiny realm of men ringed about by the great Wild. Is this like the sound of drinking in an ancient hall? (--less the clamorous voices; we are hard at work in our books even as we hear the coffee on its way.) Re-read Beowulf and watch for it: the cold heath stretching to the horizon, the flicker of warmth beneath the roofbeam.

hádegismatur

• Apple (cored, halved, sliced)
• Tomato (cut into wedges)
• Flatbrauð (a half-round, folded over on itself)
• Cheese
• Household bread
• Hangijköt

þjóðargersimi

Á Kolaportinu:

Já, takk ... ég var að spá í Flateyjarbók hérna, en mér fannst hún svolítið dýr.

Dýr? Nú. Það finnst mér ekki.

Já, sko. Hún er ekki fágæti, þessi útgáfa.

Tja. Hún selst oft fyrir meira. Fyrir 16.000.

En þessi útgáfa hefur ekkert fræðilegt gildi.

Það eru fjögur bindi.

En það ekki ekki hægt að nota hana í neinu fræðilegu samhengi. Ólíkt til dæmis Heimskringlu hér, sem er útgáfa Finns Jónssonar og er notuð ennþá í dag. Og þær eru á sömu verð.

Báðar fyrir 16.000.

Mig vantar nefnilega ekki Heimskringlu.

Það er mjög sanngjörn verð.

Hún fýkur ekki burt úr hillunni heldur. Þessi hefur staðið hér í þrjú ár. Ég kem alltaf að öðru hvoru, og hún er alltaf hér.

Nei, nei. Þessi er ekki sú sama og fyrir þremur árum. Ég er búinn að selja eitt eintak á hverju ári í þrjú ár.

Er það, þá? (Hefði átt að segja: Þá er hún engin fágæti.)

Áttu Njálu?

Já.

Þessi er mjög skemmtileg útgáfa hér.

Já, og eldgömul. Vel þess virði að borga svona mikið fyrir útgáfuna frá um miðja 19. öld, sé maður nógu ríkur. En þessi Flateyjarbók er ekkert gömul.

Hún selst mjög oft fyrir 16.000.

Mm. Hvað með 8.000?

Segjum það, já.


(Sjitt. Hefði átt að bjóða 6.000.)

*reg-

rík
rich
Reich
reach
right
Recht
rectilinear
regular
rétta
rectum
regent
rétt
rex

för

• the grooves in the asphalt from studded winter tires
• the worn dip in the wood from thousands of hands pushing open the locker room door
• the smooth, blank faces of the keys from hours of typing
• the sueded patches on my boots from the scraping of lava
• the streaks down the flanks of Esja and Akrafjöll