hehehe...

Reverse Graffiti Check out this wikipedia article

And here's some of my own:

I feel much better

Why worry? Well, scratch that, lots of reasons to worry, the trick is to relax, says I.

I've been getting my creative groove on a bit, made a mock metal poster mock-up(!), as seen on the right. Also I finally loaded all the pictures I've taken with my mobile phone recently onto my computer. Only took me a couple of months... Yeah, I'd say I've been a bit preoccupied lately.

The upcoming exams, for which I haven't studied nearly enough, and probably won't get done in time either, have been weighing on my mind. That, and Cecilie's depression obviously.
But things are starting to look up, at least periodically. Which is fine by me, it indicates a slight upwards spiral.

On display today are my series of photographs, all of which I've entitled "Boo!". Enjoy.

Shit

I've just drunk 2 LITRES of 5% beer. I am at the moment finishing another pint. And I feel like more. It's getting... un-good. I had a bad feeling while I was buying the beer, while I was putting it in the fridge... at the moment my excuse is the whole "my wife is depressed". But that is, of course, not the one and only reason. I have an addictive personality, and will use any excuse to enforce it.

Powered by ScribeFire.

Oh noes indeed.

Here's something i wrote while fairly drunk a while ago:

There was a time when I got so many blowjobs, I, in the end, got bloody well tired of them. Funnily enough, this was back in my alcoholic phase, when I was acting like a complete arse towards the love of my life, the one person who understands me completely.

I am not completely sure what the point of that particular post might have been. A shortage of the aforementioned act of lovemaking?



On a more serious note, I feel a depression coming on. Normally I switch between being fairly creative, intuitive, and not so much of either. Recently, when I'm not actively doing something, I can't see past the next hour. Not a good sign.



Just talked, well, messaged, with an old classmate of mine. My number one nemesis back in the old days. I feel quite fondly towards him these days. i must be getting old. He's still not really my kind of person, but now I know all his bravado is because of basic insecurity. It helps to know people are inferior :P



Also, I just shaved my head bald. My hair was getting relatively long, and I've been dyng it green. Felt like a change I guess.

Powered by ScribeFire.

Beginning to feel it.

I am at my mom's, for the single purpose of finishing an exam essay. I wrote about 8 pages last night, nice, considering the assignment is for at least 10 pages, and I' not really going for the gold on this one.

At the moment though, I have the mother of all headaches, and instead of writing, am drinking vodka, and watching Jackass. That's university for you.

Powered by ScribeFire.

1/4th Century!

My oh my, how the time flies. This is the first birthday I've had in quite a while, where I haven't felt melancholy. At all. All day long. Wow. Pretty much a first for me, since approximately my 15th birthday.
I am contemplating the tattoo that is to be my birthday gift. Blue Celtic whorls for a background... and a myriad symbols, of all origins to go over them. Damn difficult to decide. Indoeuropean, "wiccan", nordic, christian, and loads of other symbolic realms colliding. Classic rock'n'roll imagery has been considered too. An Ace of Spades, a flaming skull... All valiant contenders.

On that note, I and my brother went to see Ghost Rider yesterday. And I thought it ROCKED.
It has gotten very bad reviews for some reason. Which just shows how hard is is to get to be a critic. It's a movie, based on a comicbook, about a biker with a flaming skull for a head, his powers vested in him by the devil, no less. What the hell do you expect? I've seen some numbskull compare it to the Daredevil movie. Nimrod.
The Dramatis Personae enacted by Nicholas Cage is perfect. Has everyone forgotten about CONTEXT? Historical, cultural, not to mention satirical? This movie is 100% rock'n'roll! WHY do Metallicas lyrics have any apppeal? Because they are realistic? Because they describe present political dichotomies? WHY does Ozzy Osbourne still command respect when faced with metalheads?

Because those exact characteristics are idiosyncratic to rock! A flaming skull is cool, because it's a fucking flaming skull! The Ace of Spades an ever present symbol of chance, and laughing in the face of the devil. Hello? Do any of you people keep informed further back than 6 months?

Rock on.

Edit: 25. april 2008. Okay. I bought the movie, and it really wasn't all that good. In hindsight, the villains aren't meant to be that satirical, the filmmaker actually thinks they're badass. Sigh. I blame the beer I drank before seeing it at the movies!

Once again...

Disease rears it's ugly head. This is at least the third or fourth time I've been sick this year alone. Excellent.

I'm getting worried about my studies, I do quite well at them, but faced with lack of reading, going to lessons, any studying at all really, even inborn intelligence withers to a husk.

Cecilie has been wonderful though :)

Degeneration

Why is it any individual possesing more than half a brain, is complaining about the youth of today?

No, not because they are old before their time.

I felt like I was sixty years old back in seventh grade. The people in my class were trying to fabricate cigarettes out of A4 paper. And they smoked them. Because that's cool. No, there wasn't any tobacco in there, just the paper.

And I'd sit in class, reading a comic or something similar. Being a geek. And already then, my sexual inclinations still unformed, wishing one of the girls would think I was cool, and maybe kiss me or something, I thought they were idiots. Not unintelligent, by no means, just idiots. For following the crowd.

What is it in man, that makes him strive for homogeneity? To want to look, smell, think, be like everyone else?

And it is not just in popular culture you see this phenomenon either. Amongst nerds, metal-heads, every imaginable sub-culture, whether it actively detests the mainstream or not, there is a set of defining rules. To make us us, apart from them. I used to wear my military boots and long black trenchcoat with pride back in my late teens, because I wasn't just another follower. When found out I was being quite fashionable by the standards of the goths/metalists back then, I... panicked. It felt good to belong, and I got... well to be honest, a lot of pussy from metal/goth girlies, but... I was a part of the crowd. And it felt, ultimately, fake.



Might just be me, being my own asocial self of course.



But I am me, you, and everyone else, isn't. Who doesn't think like that?

Harebrained

I've been very worried about something, for quite a long time now. My creative urge seems to have... evaporated.

Normally I'd find inspiration in... everything really. And I'd have to draw, sketch, paint, play, photograph, digitally manipulate.... Not so now.



As I am writing this, Cecilie is off with her colleagues, celebrating, Andreas is sleeping at his grandmums, and Clara is, of course, sleeping.

I am listening to Tool, a band I've heard of before, but only just discovered for myself. Deep metal, would you believe it.

And I just did a rather good sketch, of my hand, pure soviet propaganda style. Out of the blue.



And I realised something. Apparently, what I need to be inspired, to get creative, is solitude. Sadly, when I am by myself, I have a tendency to get depressed, introspective, even more solitary, and I eventually go insane.

Not the most sensible of courses, seeing as I quite enjoy having a family. Not that the two things necessarily rule each other out, but as I am already a bit abnormal, I think it would, taking everything into consideration, be wisest if I did not actually go completely mad.

Ah well, the painting will have to wait for another time.

Cogito cogito ergo cogito sum

I was, as previously mentioned, riotously ill at the exact time I had to turn in my exams, and haven't contacted the university about it yet. Which makes me, neurotic that I am, a bit nervous. I have a marked tendency to overreact to matters pertaining to higher education for some reason. I feel I need to prove myself somehow. I did say neurotic.

I've just downloaded some study plans for the following semester. Suddenly I feel much more secure. Ah, stone off my shoulders, acid seeping away from stomach... aaaaaah.

We who are about to shop, salute you!

Fisketorvet.

Hey, jeg fik lige logget ind på
et trådløst netværk der ikke var sikret overhovedet... spader.

Jeg er gået rundt på fisketorvet
siden omkring klokken ti, klokken er nu halv to. Et hjernedødt miasma af
shopping.

Man kan ikke fatte en tanke, der
er for mange indtryk, lyde, larm... perfekt og diabolsk i sin enkelthed. Jeg
har brugt... uha, over 500 kroner. Hvis ikke nærmere de 1000. Jeg har købt et
par bukser... og så ellers ikke rigtig andet end luft. Et spil her, et magasin
der... man køber noget for ikke at gå ud af butikken med blussende røde kinder.
Hvis jeg ellers var typen der rødmer. Øh. Man er ikke tvunget til at købe
noget, men alligevel... jeg ved ikke, pengene forsvinder bare.

Og hvilken underlig måde at
fordrive tiden på, bare at bruge løs af sine penge... tid er i varlighed penge,
det er uomstrideligt.

Så... hvis jeg ingen penge har,
har jeg så heller ingen tid? Eller kommer jeg over i den anden symbolske grøft,
og har pludselig masser af samme?

Og hvis tiden er den fjerde
dimension, og der bliver trukket lighedstegn imellem den og monetære enheder...
er penge så en dimension i sig selv? Optager de samme dimension som tiden?
Gælder relativitesteorien for dem også... Og i så fald, på hvilken led? Når jeg
rejser nær lysets hastighed, og tiden går langsomt for mig, er min femmer i
lommen så pludselig blevet til fem millioner kroner, via tidsinflation?

Nåh, Cecilie kommer snart, jeg vil drikke min øl færdig.

powered by performancing firefox

As is evident, I've just chosen a new template for the blog. For some reason, the Sinfest logo seems to have taken permanent residence on top of the header. Must be that God person mucking about.

Bogart never said "Play it again Sam".

Although I of course posess knowledge of the mythical Bogart-character, I have never seen a single of the actor's movies. Neither Casablanca, nor The Maltese Falcon, or any of the myriad other pictures he has starred in during his long and productive career. And I love movies. This must be amended immediately!

Exams

I've finished one exam out of three, and one essay out of two, which together make up one exam. I've decided to wait with the second essay, seeing as I've prioritised being home, fully at home. I am really hoping that i can transfer credit from last year for the essay I wrote then... So typically me, thinking of these things at the very last moment. Oh well.

We're redecorating our kitchen and bedroom on a whim, we went to IKEA this friday, had credit... shopping ensued.

Sorrow

Steven Erikson.

"There were so many ways of seeing this dreadful need, the vast conspiracy of motivations from which all shades and casts of morality could be culled, that Mappo Runt was left feeling overwhelmed, from which only sorrow streamed down, pure and chilled, into his thoughts...

...He had been turning over stones. Six since dawn. Roughly chiselled dolomite slabs, and beneath each one he had found a scatter of broken bones. Small bones, fossilized, and though in countless pieces after the interminable crushing weight of the stone, the skeletons were, as far as Mappo could determine, complete.

There were, had been, and would always be, all manner of wars. He knew that, in all the seared, scar-hardened places in his soul, so there was no schock in his discovery of these long-dead Jaghut children. And horror had run a mercifully swift passage through his thoughts, leaving at the last his old friend, sorrow.
Streaming down, pure and chilled...

...Wars in which the lawful battled the wilfully unlawful; in which the sane stood against the sociopath. He had seen crystals growing up in a single night from the desert floor, facet after facet revealed like the petals of an opening flower, and it seemed to him that brutality behaved in a like manner. One incident leading to another, until a conflagration burgeoned, swallowing everyone in its path...

... When the conflagration consumed children, then the distinction between the sane and the sociopath ceased to exist."