2009-03-31

känner du räääven, sa cancer till ryssen

Apart from dreaming of croquet, my other only comfort is the x-files. I have reached the second half of season six and one of the best characters so far is Krycek, the butt-boy. He’s drawn to powerful men and they in turn take pity on him (in turns), not because he’s any real asset (yeah, apart from his ass), but for his beauty. Also, he is fickle, and this is what the men with the power and the secrets get off on. Cigarette-smoking man with friends. And enemies. Krycek has a special connection to Mulder, to whom he is drawn not only because of Mulder’s intellect and authority, but of his humanity, something Krycek is deprived of and fascinated by. Everybody treats him like shit, Mulder included, and that’s what Krycek gets off on. He doesn’t want to be loved, he wants to be hurt. He wants to be dirt. And Mulder is a dimwit for not taking advantage of it more. And that's the paradox of the Fox - too humane to really use people like he should, and too "out there" to really see people for what they are.

2009-03-30

sweet meat

Cannibalism is a thing it hurts talking about, as the risk of becoming a cannibal only can increase when doing so. It’s a theory I have, and it might even be a common theory. It all stems from that Russian guy I saw in a documentary, years ago. I think what happened to him was that people were discussing cannibalism in his very grim childhood, because of a severe famine that was… going on. What else can you discuss? Let enough time pass and the memory of the flavor of meatballs is tragically fading and all you can think of is what the starving person next to you would taste like. Doesn’t mean you take a bite. However, later in his life he became a cannibal. So his cannibalism was due to talking. Plus an apparently disturbed attitude towards food (in his case famine, but this could be sloshing or anorexia or some other oddity) or one’s ego or whatever. And I doubt that being an unusually impressionable person would help. I think you all know where I’m getting at.

I hate being the one saying this but for now, if the urge emerges to discuss something clearly inappropriate - as it most often does - beastiality is to prefer to cannibalism. As the general introverts I see ourselves as I do fear eventual endocannibalism. Such is my foresight, however flawed. Nor Jesus was flawless. Or a cannibal! I’ll do more research and come back to you. Now I’m going to go find out the latest on the topic of gender and biology in neural research. It’s going to be swell.

2009-03-22

On repeat.

Got stabbed in the back by psychology, again. Nobody should care how and why anymore. Not even I do. It’s become something of a constant. Mere exposure effect and I’m hooked on failure. Yada yada. I said I don’t care, which is part true, but I’m not entirely over it. Not over the fact that psychology wasn’t my thing. Or that I’m not psychology’s thing. I am about as shocked as my dear big brother, who can’t see why a nutcase like his sister fails on nutcase-science. Turns out it takes more, but I'm not the mustarded hotdog that accepts the simplest of truths.

Instead of worrying too much about the necessity of trying to be more than a nutcase, I daydream. I dream of my very preppy croquet tournament I will hold in the Ekonomikum park. I’m drinking copious amounts of red wine and I’m wearing a slipover and a golf cap. And a pair of those oh so trendy chinos. I walk around with a superior and amused-looking face, with my croquet club thrown casually over my shoulder. You're all there with me. I don’t win the game but I am perfectly happy. Of that I dream. Intensely.

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My songs today:

Peter Bjorn and John - Nothing To Worry About

New York Dolls - Dance Like A Monkey

LCD Soundsystem - Losing My Edge

2009-03-21

These Things Take Time

I was trying to find out at what age you're in high school with the help of Wikipedia. I'm not sorry. Here's what I additionally learned:

High school is the name used in some parts of the world (in particular Scotland, North America and Australia) to describe an institution which provides all or part of secondary education. The term originated in Scotland and spread to the New World countries as the high prestige that the Scottish educational system had at the time led several countries to employ Scottish educators to develop their state education systems.[citation needed] The precise stage of schooling provided by a high school differs from country to country, and may vary within the same jurisdiction. In all of New Zealand and parts of Australia and Canada, high school is synonymous with secondary school, and encompasses the entire secondary stage of education. High school can also be the point in life for many students where they mature and develop a deeper sense of understanding about themselves and the people around them. Alternatively, some students will undergo this transitional stage later on in life when they enter college or university, although this is usually a continued progression that originates in high school. People also like to 'make love' in schools.

It made me laugh. Hopefully, it'll do the same for you.

International Sexual Sneezing Awareness Day

I am here to spread awareness. I also declare today, the 21st of March to be International Sexual Sneezing Awareness Day (liable to change into something snappier).

Thanks to the two doctors/researchers Mahmood Bhutta and Harold Maxwell it is no longer simply a phenomena, but it's a recorded phenomena. In their report "Sneezing induced by sexual ideation or orgasm: an under-reported phenomenon" they have documented at least 17 cases of where sneezing is linked to sexual thoughts and desires. It is actually a brain switch-up where your synapses misfire and cause a sneeze as a consequence of either sexual release or ideation (ie thoughts). There is also an inherited element to this phenomena.

So don't be embarrassed, you are not alone. There are lots (or at least 18) of us out there. It might be mixed up synapses, but they're our mixed up synapses and we should be damn proud of our sneezing conditions.

2009-03-17

You two, fight to the death! take 2

Bara Bröst & Bak vs. Burkhaflickan

2009-03-15

You two, fight to the death!

In one corner stands Lolita, also known as the Father, naturally leading our thoughts to the values of The Old Testament. Lolita has served many years in the Swedish army and is currently serving in Afghanistan. Although she would never seek out fights unless she is well paid for it, she can turn tremendously aggressive when provoked and will not lay down arms until victory is hers. Lolita has no sympathy for the weak and believes every man and woman has to fight alone for their right to exist. She has a natural tendency to grow big muscles and she once walked almost all the way to Nijmegen in the Netherlands.

Lolita is wearing a black corset, a black skirt and a high heels. She’s holding a medieval longsword in her hand.

In the opposite corner stands M the Predator, the bullocky she-beast who can turn anyone into a whimpering fool. As a child, she cut off her hair in order to have an advantage over the other girls. In battle, she would grab hold of their long hair and they could do nothing but scream in agony and curse M’s tomboy hairdo. She fought her way into full blown womanhood and is currently a fierce spokesman for society's underdogs and the importance of a powerful, old school union. She has a fascination for the Dog Whisperer and once applied his more violent techniques on an unknowing Mousse, who ended up feeling utterly raped. Her strongest weapon is her libido, and she once dated MacGyver.

M the Predator is wearing a short, skintight, black leather dress and a top hat. She’s holding a leather whip in her hand.


So let the battle begin.

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Fantastic L and I were bored yesterday and decided to put our fiercest friends up against each other in a deadly battle. The one who survives gets to meet FL’s Turkish, lesbian carnivore of a friend who smoked ten joints a day for a year while addicted to porn. It should be entertaining. Lolita, sweetheart, I'm not usually asking for much, so can you please just win this one for me?

Alternative battles are of course welcome.

2009-03-14

What is the Matrix?

Like a bolt of lightning to my chest, it just occured to me I have a womb.

My very own personal womb. Within this physical thing of mine, I can - with a little help and luck - create another human being.

It’s not the potential baby that is the most thrilling right now. Just knowing that I have the technology is overwhelming. And I’m not talking about THE technology, as in “wow, I can probably create life”. Because, see, that is old news. I knew this before. We were taught this in school. Nothing new. Don’t get me wrong, baby production is probably way exciting, but I’m not really planning on finding out. What I would like to find out, is the character of my womb. I have a thing in me, which gets little or no attention, but holds certain unmistakable qualities. Like a heart, only I don't need it to beat. Or a soul that I never consult. I suppose the best way to get to know one's womb is to actually baby-produce, but in my case, I’m just going to fantasize, because that’s how I roll. My womb fantasies are naturally best kept to myself, as it involves some heavy navel-gazing. I can tell you that I am planning on naming her Gob, as he is my favorite character in Arrested Development, but that is all you need to know.

Having a womb, recognizing its grandeur, and then not use it. That is power. It’s like having 24 million dollars, telling the world about it and then live off of porridge for the rest of your life. Just because you feel like it. It bugs people.

And for now, dear friends, that makes me feel bigger.

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Let me just add that I'm partly doing this because my previous quest to explore and appreciate Ulf Lundell turned out a disaster. The man is not a "genius". So I'm into wombs now.

2009-03-13

The Landlord

fire freely or lose the game



Word of Today

flibbertigibbet
\flib-er-tee-JIB-ut\

noun

Meaning
: a silly flighty person

2009-03-12

Successfully aborted in the 16oo's.

Me and Ape have been in class together many times, but never voluntarily so. Drawn together in high school, we were struggling just to survive to lunch break or the end of the day. There were moments of extreme joy, no doubt. But the feeling you get when you choose to study something out of pure interest and inclination and you find yourself doing just that, and now together with a friend, is frickin' awesome.

It doesn’t matter that the current lecturer is best described as a person who seems to be making a bad impersonation of someone with an absolute lack of charisma and authority but really, and sadly, is only that. We had two goals as we entered the classroom. The first was to convince the class that reading Woolf’s Orlando was a good idea. The person without charisma proved helpful in this quest and we soon won great success. Our next goal was to get Wednesdays for the Woolf-group. We got Tuesdays. Why? Because the Aggressive-Sixties’-Feminism seminar group wanted Tuesdays and we didn’t feel like picking a fight with this lot and thus risk reviving certain tedious and old-fashioned preconceptions. We’re unbiased and we’ll stay unbiased. Tuesdays.

Actually, we sort of had a third goal going on as well. We thought it would be appropriate, almost expected, to dress up like “feminist classics”, as it WAS the name of the class. Turns out it wasn’t. Expected. But we still felt strangely appropriate in our light versions of butch/femme outfits.
............................

Lecturer: So, any more suggestions…? Yes?
Cuba boy: I want to read something a little more modern. Maybe social constructivist…
Ape: Judith Butler.
*Mousse looks at Ape with terror*
(...)
Lecturer: Judith Butler is a good idea.
Mousse (silently): No, it isn’t! *hits Ape*

The world bends to your will.

I've always known this, but it feels as if this is the first time I've really understood what that means. The world quite literally bends to your will.

I've been working again and that always leads to excessive thinking and after a brief conversation with my younger sister it hit me. Right between the eyes. You create your own world.

The scary notion with this though, is that nobody will ever be able to experience your world. And if that's true, which I really think it is, how will we ever be able to live together in anything even close to harmony?

We won't, will we!?

2009-03-11

Vi snackar inte tidelag.

Att JAG ska bli anklagad för att vara ”politiskt inkorrekt” för att jag kallar en paraplyaralia för benjaminfikus! Jag vet inte om det har gått überinflation i begreppet PK eller om människor (inklusive jag själv, kanske) nu slutgiltigt tappat allt vad naturlig relation heter när det kommer till den till flora och fauna.

I sådant fall gör det inte så mycket. Inte idag.

På väg hem från en sedvanlig impulsshopping på systemet finner jag mig helt plötsligt i mitten av en halvt euforisk folkmassa. De står utanför den udda ingången till Forumgallerian, den tvärs emot Jack & Jones. Förklaringen till deras spontana gemenskap finner sin upprinnelse i vad som sitter i trädet precis utanför gallerian. Det kanske är en asp. Hursomhelst, jag följer deras pekande fingrar och kameror och får syn på en fjäderklädd figur med svarta ögon. Jag vet ju inte exakt vad det är jag ser, men det är någon sorts storvuxen, uggleliknande fågel. I vad jag antar vara vinterskrud har den slagit sig ner där ovanför gågatan. Och dess uppenbarelse är uppenbarligen beundransvärd.

Den är så fin att jag också börjar le. Folkmassan.

2009-03-06

Literal Voyeur

Some like whiskers on kittens and mittens, some of my favourite things on the other hand, is to find old library receipts in books you've checked out. It's such a simple pleasure, but for that moment when you are reading it you get to peek at the life of a stranger. A stranger that through the fictional world you have shared almost feels like...a friend. You are connected through such a simple thing as shared influences. It's a rather amazing feeling.

And now I feel the need to check out more books from that person's list to make our connection even stronger. Plus from now on I think I will start leaving things in all books I return. For I am not only a voyeur, I'm an exhibitionist as well.

In case you don't know what to read, here are a few suggestions from the Unknown Sharer. Whoever the person is, seems to have very good taste.




2009-03-05

And her manners proved pleasing.

- Do I look fat in this?
- God no, that’s just… how the dress looks. And it looks amazing!
- Do you really mean that?
- Yeah, you’re looking good! *thumbs up*

What the fuck can I say. I hate having to convince unknown women outside fitting rooms that they look good. I have no problems zipping them up, however tricky the little zipper happens to be. I would never run down the helpful muscles. But when she comes rushing out of her cabin for the second time, now asking me how she looks, and I find myself convincing her that “you don’t look fat at all” I am slightly disgusted with myself. And as I later, for the grand finale, drop the overly encouraging line “Buy, buy, buy!” and get a smile from a nearby shop assistant, I know I deserve poison in my food.

Don't think I didn't know I was a capitalistic and girly product. It's just that I thought that maybe I had reached the point where I know when not to flaunt it.

My only capitalistic and girly comfort now is that she did look great in her dress and that she got it for a damn good price.

2009-03-03

three hundred posts and babbling

Serves me right. I diss psychology and it disses me right back. It’s a proper butt fuck. I failed! A whole test! For the first time in my life! It feels strangely releasing. I think, if someone would really piss me off now, I might be able to kill that person. Because I have failed in school I am now half-way to becoming a juvenile delinquent. Or wait, am I too old? Because if that is the case, it would mean I’d just embody the pathetic student who can’t deal with problems maturely. And that, dear Oddballs, would be the opposite of “Newsflash!”.

Where am I going with this? First, let me present to you my conclusion, however superfluous: Just because you hate something (psychology) doesn’t mean you don’t think the knowledge isn’t worth anything. To many nots? I do not disagree. Anyway, stay with me! I’ve been watching the first three episodes of Whedon’s Dollhouse that Ape gave me. And I have got to say, I was a little disappointed. Maybe Eliza Dushku isn’t the right person for the job. She is also the producer. Weird, no? I like her, and she is a good actor. But in this context, she’s not doing it for me. The first episode was ok, like, I think I might be liking this, give me more! The second one was good. The action! The beginning to crackle of the Echo! And then there’s episode three and I am on occasion downright bored. What is this? I had not expected this series to be so excruciatingly mainstream. Everything about it breathes déjà-vu, and not the eerie concept kind but the been there done that kind of DV. If it had just breathed a little more Whedon. This only breathes pleasing the masses and gaining little or no nerd-respect. But mark well, I have not yet given up on Dollhouse.

To move on, I was now supposed to elaborate on why I think psychology is made interesting when watching Dollhouse. Like how they approach the concept of personality and its psychological, biological and cultural components. Or how they don’t. I don’t know, I suddenly lost my inspiration. And I have also reached a higher, much better level of my previous conclusion. So basically, I’m just going to drop the part where I argue for my cause and skip ahead to my final and possibly incomprehensible words:

Just because you are disappointed with something (psychology, Dollhouse) doesn’t mean you don’t think it isn’t worth… Nothing? Funny, I’ve always pictured myself master of negations. Turns out I’m not. But then again, I never pictured myself failing a test.

I go now…?

2009-03-01

Lately Very Hungry II

Studying psychology sucks. There is nothing challenging about it whatsoever. Not at this level anyway. I need my mind to be fucked at least once a day to function properly

and I ain’t getting anything.

I can provide you with stunning statistics, I can estimate your IQ to be hereditary to an extent of about 70 %, I can I can tell you exactly why I almost had a panic attack just from having to go to school too early and I CAN draw a random graph where the variability is: high. I know the name of Freud’s daughter. I could point out Pavlov’s face among a hundred. I can perform an experiment on you and tell the world something mildly interesting about your working memory. I can probably - amateurishly - diagnose each one of the Oddballs within seven minutes.

But none of this satisfies. None of this makes studying really worthwhile.

Edit: What I MEANT to say with this post was that this shit affects my whole life. Without the challenge, without the mindfucks, I get nothing to work with. I have nothing to rest my mind on. I need a constant flow of new frameworks to help nourish my own weakling of Creativity and I don't have the power to provide myself with the tools. I'm spoiled rotten from earlier studying, and the reality of psychology is slowly killing what little self-grown spark I have inside me. I'm drowning in reason and I'm not allowed to scream. I picture myself older, and seemingly satisfied with just this, and I want to strangle that me with a chain.