Read us. Whatever.

www.laparis.blogspot.com

Just came in from my evening walk...

Have you guys ever walked down a seemingly nice but dark street and feared that you any minute will get blinded, start screaming like mad, fall slowly to the ground while sobbing wildly, biting your thumb bloody and thinking about the River Styx, only to wake up drowsy in a yellowish hospital with a grim doctor leaning over you, mumbling something about anxiety attack?



Because I haven't.

Knutmasso Carnival 2007

I've got much to say, yet none of the inspiration to formulate anything reasonably serviceable. Anyway, here goes... Yesterday was party day for two of the Oddballs. Ape was in Denmark and I can't see how that could've been anywhere near as partyable as Knutmasso. Lolita was with us but feeling low and generally uncomfortable getting dressed up. So she didn't. Somewhat of a bore, as she put it, before she got on the early bus home. However, Me and Marty were on top of the world, together with Knutmasso-veteran B. I also happen to be a veteran within these fields, but I am keeping THE LOW PROFILE. As always.

So we had some food and wine, dressed up in funny clothes, filled our hipflasks with vodka and got out in the Street. This is what we looked like (Thank yous to Lolita for acting photographer, despite feeling low)

I aimed for mime but ended up a transvestite.

Marty also aimed for mime and ended up, very expectedly, a cheap hooker.

B had few clear goals, looked like a mime for a while and landed up matching like crazy.

We fought and we drank and then ended the night with lots of ballroom dancing with several odd creatures. (Ape, I waltzed with a white, furry bear! I silently called him Kodiak and Berith and he excused his stumbling on my feet. No scratching! No blood!)

It was a beutiful night.

Read more: http://www2.unt.se/avd2/1,3908,MC=78-AV_ID=569977,00.html

ytterligare en bok

Du borde läsa "Bonjour Tristesse" av Françoise Sagan
ingen revolutionerande handling, men ett underbart språk.

"Kylan är hennes livsstil, det finns ingenting av beräkning bakom den; hennes likgiltighet skyddar henne för tusen små tarvligheter, den är ett tecken på nobless"

"Anne var inte elak, jag förstod att hon var alltför likgiltig, hennes omdömen hade inte elakhetens stingande udd. Det gjorde dem ännu mer förkrossande"

Well, det kanske inte var världens bästa exempel. But give it a try!


Olika citat (hon är bitter)
http://www.livet.se/ord/k%C3%A4lla/Fran%C3%A7oise_Sagan

Concerning Ape's booklist and the design of our German bordello...

I tried to project the perfect brothely home furnishing idea onto you hoes yesterday. I think I failed. Especially since Ape started to make it into some kind of Wild West theme park. Kodiak bears? Girls, it's our future we're talking about, can't we at least try to make it classy?

Let me just encourage you to read Alain Robbe-Grillet's La Reprise. It's got all the cozy/nasty decadence we need. I say we copy that style, minus all the pedophilia, the rape-murders and the incest, and we have ourselves a high-class whorehouse.

Now, read!

Safe word

http://sv.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stoppord

This, my ladies, is beauty.

I refuse to keep my own blog, so this is where I go to vomit. Please, do complain. Any sign of life is welcome.

So I am back from my vacation. I had a grand time. Christmas was spent with a crazy Thai Santa who gave gifts to everyone but me, New Year's Eve I was drunk and the day before yesterday I followed my little brother and our roomie to the dark alleys of Ao Nang while they loudly shouted "Prostitution bar! Where is the prostitution bar?" We found several. What is more, I can inform all of you who lie sleepless wondering about the rumours concerning Pete Doherty getting married in Thailand that we spotted him in Phuket. Kate Moss - not so much. Me, I missed him and his one assistant in pink slacks. But I did see Babben Larsson and yes, she is fat again.

Anywho... I hope to see you lollipops tomorrow. I have truly meaningless gifts in funny-colored bags to hand out. You do not want to miss it.