Culture differences and the death of a publisher

I have spent some years in Belfast.

The city is not like you read about in the news. It’s much better. Even though I have many chips on my shoulder regarding the whole city of bins and garbage, I have even more when it comes to Oslo, antd the cultural life here.

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When Oslo have something called “Literaturhuset”, where all the famous bigwhigs come to write their criticaloly acclaimed books and toilet poetry, run by a bloody “socialist” politician whom are not a fan of freedom of speech, just thinking his moronic elitist friends and contacts, I have become a name in certain circles in Belfast where no other Norwegian writer have ever gone before.

when all the PC pundits and “writers” get things in their laps, I used to get death threats 7 years ago for columns I used to write in Dagbladets “Fundaqmental”… In Belfast, I swore never to write more poetry after writing my short story collection “The Birds the Bees and a Bottle of Whisky”… Until I met local poets and writers in a completely different setting than here in Oslo.

I cannot emphasise how much I loath this city, and how much I miss Belfast, for good and ill..

In Ireland, poetry and arts is a lot more socialized than in Norway.  In Ireland, there’s practically one artist pr. family.

I know this. Atleast if i should count the women I’ve been with there.

Artists and writers in Belfast have almost a carte blanche when it comes to getting fucked up on booze and drugs.

I remember vividly an experience I had in a NI drunktank in Newry. Look up Newry on the map. I drank a bottle of cognac on the train downthere, and completely lost my memory. somehow Iæ managed to blubber out that Iwas a writer and had just finished writing a book, and I had just broken up with my 1st girlfriend there.

They gave me full understanding the next day, even after I made a bulb on the door kicking and yelling half the night. they told me to relax, and gave me smokes when nerves were getting to me. They only gasve me a warning, a small slap on the wrist. No frine.

This is something you won’t experience in Norway!  An ingrown respect for creative artists. Norway is a fascist country with elitist ideas that sickens me.

After i got home to Norway after some hard times in Belfast, I’m being met with a soulless official apparatus. What’seven worse is that my old editor in the “Street Parliament” had kicked the bucket. Andreas Tselentis, (may he rest in piece) had the bloody nerve to go and die just when he had promised me a publication on my writings in book form.

Many times i ponder on the circumstances over his death. *If someone can give me some information on this, I will be very appreciative.

If any one of you want to read my shit, contact me directly on my email, or give notice on this forum. Asa writer, I must charge a small sum. I hope you understand.

‘Morten Alme

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