Attended a party last Saturday when suddenly they decided to play Leva's Polka and show some kind of affixed video. Despite my acute sobriety (unfortunately mixed with total exhaustion from doing Högskoleprovet) I experienced something dangerously close to a frenzy. I missed the time in Århus, I missed my Oddballs, I missed alcohol. Mostly I missed alcohol. And leek. Yet all I could do was to sit rocking to and fro on a sofa, put my hands over my smiling mouth and try not to shout out loud. People stared at me while Britta attempted to explain my behaviour by mumbling something about "Elsa and her *friends*, they... uhm... they really like leek."
I got over it. I had some coffee and Kexchoklad. What I didn't get over, however, is that this person, who almost exclusively listens to heavy metal, had Leva's Polka on his computer. I mean, if he's got it, then who doesn't? Think of all the people who can't possibly appreciate a leek for what it is.
If you haven't already seen it, the video featured Holly Dolly the cow-like whore. Extremely tasteless. But at least you can glimpse sweet leek girl in the background.
Anywho, my point is, it turned out exactly like we feared.
2006-10-26
2006-10-24
I don't know what you mean by that
I don't do literarly.
There is something in my head that prevents me from seeing things as for what they truly are and instead my mind feels a need to explore and see what could be.
Why can I never appreciate a thing for what it is and move on?
To some extent I do blame the Oddballs for this constant metaphor-syndrome that I seem to suffer from. Because I do know that the company of my friends will alter the very fabric of reality and when we spend time together we are never in the present reality, but in one created by and for us.
However it is not just the Oddballs fault I suffer from this, my sister is just as big and accomplice in this matter. She brings out that metaphor thing, but in the sense that she never sees it until I tell her about it, which I feel a need to do when she's being her usual clueless self.
Don't expect me to take anything you say literarlly, because I will twist your words and have them mean what I want them to. As long as we're clear on that I think I can survive despite this syndrome.
There is something in my head that prevents me from seeing things as for what they truly are and instead my mind feels a need to explore and see what could be.
Why can I never appreciate a thing for what it is and move on?
To some extent I do blame the Oddballs for this constant metaphor-syndrome that I seem to suffer from. Because I do know that the company of my friends will alter the very fabric of reality and when we spend time together we are never in the present reality, but in one created by and for us.
However it is not just the Oddballs fault I suffer from this, my sister is just as big and accomplice in this matter. She brings out that metaphor thing, but in the sense that she never sees it until I tell her about it, which I feel a need to do when she's being her usual clueless self.
Don't expect me to take anything you say literarlly, because I will twist your words and have them mean what I want them to. As long as we're clear on that I think I can survive despite this syndrome.
2006-10-11
How utterly considerate
So I was brushing my teeth yesterday. Now that’s something I do practically every night. Ha. Practically every night. Practical! Anywho, during this particular toothbrush-session, I was pondering about whether my co-workers will feel obliged to give me something, presumably flowers, when I leave them and my job in December. I settled for “probably not” but couldn’t help speculating about what kind of flowers I probably would not get. And don’t stop reading now, because this is an interesting fact. Not eyebrowraisingly interesting, but at least...
Hm. I seriously think the word interesting was an exaggeration. I am sorry.
Oh well. All I wanted to say was that we usually give people flowers in pots, and not cut flowers in bouquets.
Why?
Because we’re considerate.
It’s painful to see flowers rot and decay in their vase, still you can’t throw them away before you see any sign of death. Such a quandary. Flowers in pots, however, are meant to live and, most often, flourish and are therefore more suitable to give to someone you like and appreciate. (The possibility of flowers in pots giving their masters OCD because of their apparent need for water and care has been entirely disregarded by the author, i.e. me.)
That’s why the gorgeous but short-lived cut flowers are mainly given (in abundance) to people at their very funeral. Or, in smaller amounts, when they for some reason have awoken jealousy and/or bitterness in other people. I’m talking graduations, weddings or tv-appearances.
It’s all extremely obvious to me.
I know Ape, I was supposed to post something on the Danes, their close to obsessive love of pork and their now somewhat logical hostility towards Muslims. But I thought about it and came to the conclusion that neither topic was very oddball but flowers were more contemporary.
Hm. I seriously think the word interesting was an exaggeration. I am sorry.
Oh well. All I wanted to say was that we usually give people flowers in pots, and not cut flowers in bouquets.
Why?
Because we’re considerate.
It’s painful to see flowers rot and decay in their vase, still you can’t throw them away before you see any sign of death. Such a quandary. Flowers in pots, however, are meant to live and, most often, flourish and are therefore more suitable to give to someone you like and appreciate. (The possibility of flowers in pots giving their masters OCD because of their apparent need for water and care has been entirely disregarded by the author, i.e. me.)
That’s why the gorgeous but short-lived cut flowers are mainly given (in abundance) to people at their very funeral. Or, in smaller amounts, when they for some reason have awoken jealousy and/or bitterness in other people. I’m talking graduations, weddings or tv-appearances.
It’s all extremely obvious to me.
I know Ape, I was supposed to post something on the Danes, their close to obsessive love of pork and their now somewhat logical hostility towards Muslims. But I thought about it and came to the conclusion that neither topic was very oddball but flowers were more contemporary.
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