Bi-curiosity killed the tomcat

I was out last Friday with my anthropologist soulmates Li & Fri (liking those abbreviations). Fri spent the night being a successful genderfucker. Li spent the night trying. Also, Li told me she thought I should hook up with "a man who sleeps with men". And I don't know why I thought it somewhat of a compliment. Anyway, we discussed the term "bi-curious" and how utterly lame a concept it is.

"Hello! I have a first name, a middle name and a last name. I sometimes wear blue jeans. I breathe air, I eat three or four times a day. I appreciate music, I have seen the ocean. Johnny Depp is a good actor. And yeah, I'm bi-curious. Who am I?"

Who the fuck are you not!?

I know. I am being ethnocentric. And generally lost. But help me here, who can honestly say they're not curious? Who? And what boring life they must lead!

Curiosity is the essence of creativity. An equivalent to lust, I dare say. You don't have to act according to curiosity, but you are nothing without it. You feel nothing. Is the cheese-hater not curious about what makes people eat so much cheese?

That was a bad example. But I really love cheese. And I think bi-curious might be a redundant word. Is there going to be a video today?

When Friday is the new Sunday.

Sometimes something is so right it's almost painful. Sometimes something could have been brilliant, but is slightly off, that's painful as well.

Lolita and I discussed the difference between being pretentious and arrogant. I love arrogance, but I cannot stand pretentious people. It might sound like a Catch 22, but it really isn't. There is a clear difference between the two. There is one thing to pretend you are entitled to the contempt you are feeling, another one entirely to just feel it.

I think the reason for the difference is because a pretentious person is often lacking self-confidence, but is full of self-esteem. Whereas the arrogant person often is very self-confident, but lacks self-esteem. Pretentious people think they are worth more than others, they just don't have the confidence to show it in a good and straightforward way like the arrogant bastard next to them. That makes them sneaky, they sneak around with their superiority and hold it behind their backs and laugh whenever they think you're not looking. I don't like sneaky people. The arrogant laughs in your face, then cries behind your back.

Lets conclude this post with a video of the man that made me fall in love with the arrogant attitude, he is its master. He will always be its master.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdrc2YT2ByI

(Better!)

An hour later, tiny and Lolly came by with cookies, and my day was suddenly bright and sunny. (It was actually sunny, but I hadn't noticed, having covered my window all day.)

Thank you, friends. I am much better now.

It takes Oddballs.

Hungover.

Yesterday was party day. Lolita and Tiny were at my place and I drank red wine, white wine and vodka until I started puking uncontrollably. Tiny and Lolita went home. I continued vomiting. Today I am very weak and have been undergoing a strict diet of water and porridge. It's four in the afternoon and I'm still not quite out of bed.

There is some kind of construction work going on on this building. I think they're cleaning the facade. This was fortuitous yesterday night, as my room was suddenly equipped with a giant party-balcony right outside the window. It was a bit tricky to climb over there, with the gap between my window and the scaffold, and the drunkeness to maneuver. I do live on the second floor, after all. But well there we could happily dance to this awesome youtube remix and blow Marlboro smoke into the cold night air. I think the smoking was what killed the party. And this whole day. I am a sensitive soul and tobacco is too strong a drug for me.

Anyway, as I lay in my bed this morning, feeling ill, with the blinds down, there was something of a circus going on outside my window. Around nine, it sounded like a man was sitting on the scaffold, singing. He sang for a long time and it wasn't particularly good, but it was ambitious. It made me happy. Also, random conversations between the construction workers:

- Have you ever been fishing salmon trout?
- (pause) No.
- Have you ever eaten salmon trout?
- (silence)

Now the construction workers have gone for the day, but someone on third floor is playing a saxophone. I am entertained, but still not well. I don't know what to do with myself.

Oh, I know what you're thinking - Get your own goddamn blog to pollute!

I will not.

So anyway...

I know you all hate me, now that I've brought Jesus to the show. So I thought I'd make up for it by devoting this post either to parenting or pirates. Parenting because the topic was discussed this last weekend, à propos me not planning on it. I had lots of bad excuses, the end of the world being one, and my father pointed out that ends of the world usually makes people reproduce at an alarming rate. I countered that with claiming "I'm not mainstream", which is an old lie. Over to pirates. Remember we were going to produce a book of short stories? And that all the stories would have to be about pirates? Well, I've started writing on mine. Just thought I'd warn you. It's going to be awesome. No pirates in it yet. That's a problem.

Well, that was it. Not going to elaborate on either topic.

I have two bad videos for you. The pirate one is worth watching. The parenting, of course, is not.

Bugs breathe armageddon.

Ape’s kitchen is growing refrigerators. Mine is growing insects. It’s really very sad. It gives me no hope for the future. I opened this brand new package of crisp bread. The pieces of bread were tightly packed together and I had to pull them out. Two pieces finally popped out, together with - and this is where sadness begins - two bugs. Two tiny, dark brown bugs, with nothing better to do than to spoil my breakfast experience with their appearance. I pulled out some more pieces of the crisp bread and looked in the package. There were at least two more bugs down there. And something that looked like bug poo. No eggs. I sighed deeply and considered burning down the whole kitchen.

The heavy sigh must’ve boosted my endorphin supply (oxygen is ace) and I suddenly found myself happily eating the bug-infested bread instead of burning down the house. I watched out for more bugs but saw none. Maybe I ate one or two. I hope they don’t thrive in stomachs, too. I later felt somewhat disgusted with myself and had to throw the rest of the bread away. I talked about it with christian boy next door, with whom I share cupboard. He quickly said that he had nothing old lying about in his part of the cupboard (I just know that I keep my onions cool, in the fridge, while he doesn’t). However, minutes later he tells me the very same thing happened to him in his old apartment. Yeah. I just need someone to blame that isn’t me.

I’m not a sensitive person. I ate bug bread. But it’s something about bugs in food that is so doomsday. Just like when we had a rat in the café in Paris. I can’t take it. And I can. But I don’t like it. I don’t like how they tell me that the world is going under and that vermin is finally going to win against humans. I feel so small.

Suddenly, I am the vermin.

Kristus hänger på korset och jag...

...jag har trasiga händer. Jag har städat en massa. En massa timmar. En massa vatten. Inte stigmata. Ibland känner jag mig tacksam att han tog på sig all vår skuld, Jesus. Men oftast inte. Åh, dessa arma martyrer. Dessa själviska jävla människor som tror att att allt är så enkelt. Men det är inte enkelt. Det som är sjävklart för dig är inte självklart för mig.

Martyrer är sådana människor som går runt och tycker att det är viktigt att man har en kaffebryggare på jobbet. Ja, så går kaffebryggaren sönder, och så mår martyren jättedåligt, för i hennes värld måste man ha en kaffebryggare på jobbet. Hon mår dåligt över bristen på kaffebryggare, men mest mår hon dåligt av att ingen bryr sig om att köpa en ny kaffebryggare. Hon tror sig nämligen veta att alla vill ha en kaffebryggare på jobbet. Hon har tejpat upp en insamlingslista också, som ingen skrivit på. Så till sist ger hon upp och går, bitter men sjukt bestämd, till affären och köper en kaffebryggare och ställer i personalrummet. Sådärja, nu mår jag bra. Lite fattigare, men jävlar så bra jag mår. Är inte alla glada nu, när jag har offrat mig och köpt en kaffebryggare till er?

Jag tycker Jesus gav upp för lätt. För fort. Hur gammal var han? 33? Knappt vuxen. Vi ska inte skylla allt på Judas. Inte skylla på den stora massan. Jesus gav upp. Jag säger inte att han gjorde fel, när han hängde där på korset och tog på sig allt det onda. Jag säger bara att jag inte tänker må så jävla dåligt över det.

Vi kanske var nöjda med att dricka te.

Huliganer!

Bara i Jämtland mina damer, bara i Jämtland.

This week on youtube, entry nr 100

So, since Mousse complained about the non-educativeness of my last entry, I decided to make this entry 10% more educative.

Sigur Rós

Det var meningen att det skulle bli söndagsinlägget. Men jag kunde inte vänta.

Super-ghey unicorn delight!

Unicorns being educative.

"ja.. för det är ju bara du, du, du, du, du hela tiden..."

PRETENTIONS

i watch myself in the mirror
don’t know that face
don’t know its place

i put on some make-up
a docile smile
i laugh, it’s a joke
and something

i try wearing a beard
a tie, a serious look
false, funny, façade
yet, this something

i try to be open
i want to remain whole
i try to see all, but dammit
i want to see Me

i see traces, patches, glimpses
i see a moment, try to fix it
but a moment is just that
there, and when you look
gone. but i’m still here, looking

is that what i look like?
(is that me?)

looking?

Kvinnor, Krut och Krig

Min kära vän, och numera fellow STEX-partner i Afgahnistan, Astrid (Hon med det båset ni trodde tillhörde en pojke ni ville gifta er med)skickade mig en ytterst underhållande länk.
Läs alla sidor i denna artikel, och ja.. förundras över kvinnosynen i det där landet i väst.
Jag känner mig faktiskt glad över att jag har rätten att få "slåss på marken", om jag av skulle känna för det.
Idag gillar jag sverige för andra anledningar än att man får visa intima kroppsdelar i tv utan ett de censureras. (kommer du ihåg de tiderna Moussie?)

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/20/AR2008022001954.html?hpid=topnews&sid=ST2008022201889

Flexible!

This Week - Flexible Keyboard

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj7PV2-vcy0

This week there is no text to go with the video and it is not embedded. The reason for this is that to enjoy this video you need to head over the youtube and watch it without reading anything else on the page. Once you’ve watched this little commercial scroll down and read the one comment.

Simplistic entertainment bordering on stupidity.

My kin. My blood. My white trash family.

I don't see them very often. Once or twice a year, at most. They hold somewhat of a mythical position in my family. In so many senses. But this weekend, my white trash relatives were under some kind of murder threat and had to relocate, until social services could arrange a temporary housing. So, in lack of other acquaintances, they stayed at our house. And, for some reason, I felt the need to stay at our house too, even if I have my own place, nowadays. I couldn't miss this. Not for the world.

So there we were, the five of us, plus ten (10) extra people in the household. There were mullets, there were visible buttcracks, there were babies, there was teenage mother, there were cousins, there were strangers, there were cigarettes, there were large amounts of coca cola, there was uncommunicativeness, there were sisterly childhood issues and there were different notions of the importance of personal space.

At the same time, I tried working on my essay, reading Foucault, thinking about society, and normativity. Also, I read about the modern human being and its ability to reflect upon its own situation and place in the world.

White trash is not "the norm". Being white trash could thus function as a sort of resistance against the power of normativity. (And I can sense that resistance!) That ought to make white trash cool. Resistance of power is cool, no? However, at the same time, you're only truly white trash as long as you do not reflect too much on yourself or your situation. Or anything. This produces a relatively dull person, which couldn't really constitute as modern. And if you're not modern, you can't be cool. Or...?

Anyway, to sum up, I've decided not to convert to white trash. Not for now. But it's been a memorable weekend. I love my aunt but, damn it, she derides people, and me, I really try not to.


But I just did.

Shit.

Uniform

Mina damer, som ni säkert vet/hört talas om, har jag införskaffat lädershorts till oss alla. Jag betvivlar inte att vi kommer att vara utomordentligt vackra, men jag funderar nu på komplement till dessa.
Jag såg senast idag ett par toppar på Gina Tricot (var annars hittar man den smaklöshet som genomsyrar..oss?) som skulle passa oss som handen i pringles-röret!

Det var ett par vita t-shirts med halv om halvt påsydda små västar! Det var så gulligt att jag nästan fällde en tår. (överdrift, men ni förstår principen) Västarna var antingen svarta eller Oddball-dräkts-gröna. Om vi vill ha, vilken färg ska vi ha?
Pris: 149 kronor/styck.

Ja? Nej?
Om Ja, ange din Gina Tricot-storlek så införskaffar jag dessa himmelska kreationer. (Ja, jag kan lägga ut)

A Little Poetry on a gloomy Wednesday

He is more than a hero

He is a god in my eyes —
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you — he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can’t

speak — my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn’t far from me.

Somehow it feels slightly wrong that I will forever associated Sappho with Kalat.

I wish to talk to you about a little something called "Hero-worship"

When you were a child it was all very simple and innocent. Now it is tainted by "adulthood" and the pressure of containing more complexity and sexual undertones. Yes I'm talking about Hero-Worship.

As a person having left puberty there does not seem to be any space left for the Hero-worship of those old childhood days. Now you are supposed to "Respect People" or have "Celebrity Crushes" which neither one is as fitting and rewarding as childhood Hero Worship.

Celebrity Crushes are laced with sexuality and sexual undertones forcing a primal and very bodily response from you. Respect comes with intelligence and is supposed to be based on logic and ideology.

Where is the Hero Worship? Why am I no longer allowed to fall down on my knees and exclaim "We're not worthy!" without having to logically or carnally be able to justify it?

The reason I have brought this up is because of the Hero Worship I at the moment am indulged in. There is nothing logical, sexual or complex about it. I simply worship Zoë Bell much the same way I did Bamse or MacGyver. They're just a little bit cooler than the rest of us and part of you kinda wish you could be just as cool yourself. It's a child's Hero-Worship in a post-puberty individual - surly there must be a shorter name for that definition!?

Damn She's Cool Man [Trailer for Double Dare]

This Week on YouTube - Kansas...?

You could've given me a heads up and I would've been able to offer you YouTube paradise. Yeah, I could've done that. Basically. Someone could've just said "Mousse, sweetheart, this special Sunday is your Sunday, because everyone else has forgotten about YouTube Sunday." Hm? I know, it's sort of contradictory. But so is forgetting about YouTube Sunday! It's like forgetting about yesterday's candy day. Or Resurrection Day. Or Kristallnacht. Or M. Night Shyamalan.

You do not!

Perpetual my ass!

Well, my ass!

Anywhore. This is what you get for messing with Today:

[embedding disabled by request]

Kansas - Dust in The Wind

I was thinking that I am the lead singer. It ought to suit me well. And Ape is the one standing next to me with the hair. For some reason, I always picture her with that kind of hair, even when she's standing right in front of me. Dream land is my kingdom and I will name my children after my toes. I think Lolly's the blonde and tiny the deep one. Yup.

Also, I might've turned into a man hater in theory. But I think it's extremely temporary. I mean, women are just as loathsome. And I can't go around hating everyone. Been there. Not cool.

Love!

Ride on a white horse

This week on Youtube

I liked the concept, so I'm adopting it.

This little YouTube-moment is astounding. I sorta showed it to EPE before, but she liked it as well, and recycling is cool these days. (hedlines in Metro blurted it out)

God and Dillchips

As I was sitting in the library on this dreary Monday trying to understand hagiography and their relationship to Christian Saints, my world all of a sudden was cast into light and on the page in front of me these words appeared.

I am the LORD your God,
who brought you up out of Egypt.
Open wide your mouth and I will fill it.
Psalm 81:10

Of course my first thoughts were of Mousse. How goes the oral sex and dillchips?

How to & Information.

This Week - How to Fold a T-shirt.




Sometimes I do wonder about the state of our intelligence as a collective, not the Oddballs, but the human race. At times I can’t help wonder if we are not a lot smarter than previous generation, not because of any higher intelligence as such but because of the constant stream of information we are exposed to. To gain knowledge in today’s society is so much easier than it was only 10 years ago. Now with a few presses on the keyboard and a few clicks with the mouse and the world is one big oyster of endless information for you to devour.

Perhaps I should rephrase my original statement because it is not intelligence, but rather information we are supercharged with. I think of my great grandfather who not only taught himself to read and write, but also taught himself English. His struggle for information must have been greater than mine yet I in no way think that my intelligence is greater than his was.

At the same time I am fairly certain he never knew how to fold a t-shirt in 5 seconds, or what a wet willy entails or what the ingredients of a New York Egg Cream are. Now I can’t help wonder what will that information do for us? Is this the dawn of a new type of human civilization with another approach to information? Or is it just my own curiosity that drives me into finding these things out? Perhaps those of us that use the easy access to information are few and far between.

I don’t know, but I do know that the definitions of intelligence and information are redefining. Can information continue to be a source of power when the access to it is so simple? Will this threaten or strengthen our society?

You're making it worse!

I just realised something. I'm a fairly gay person in my own right. Horribly queer, but I'm also fairly gay. Though being friends with you guyses is making it worse. You're making me gayer!

On your own you are not particularly gay neither one of you, but for me to be friends with you is adding to my own gayness.

One of my closest friends (who happens to be female) is a career soldier. Two of my other very close friends, both female, spent 4 months living together in a one bedroom apartment in Paris. Not to mention the lesbian love package. I mean c'mon you guys! Could you make me look gayer!?

That said, I'm not complaining. I really don't mind, I might even enjoy the fact that your acquaintance is making me look gayer.

Next time you see me, feel free to shout: "She's so gay!" after me, but do bare in mind that you are the ones who are putting the so in that sentence.

[-----------------------------------------------]
This is probably the gayest song - ever!
Click it!

This Week on Youtube - Boney M

What this blog needs is a constant. Something reliable. Something perpetual.

Hence “This Sunday on Youtube”. Each Sunday the you tube of the week will be picked and a few words will be written about it or something indirectly linked to the video.

This Week: Boney M - Daddy Cool



For those of you who don’t know who Boney M actually are here’s a short recap as to why you should love and honour them. They are something as exotic as a Euro-Disco group with members from the West Indies orchestrated by a German producer. Their music is pointless and highly camp featuring all from Russian legends to Baby G to Chicagoan women with an attitude. If none of those reasons are good enough for you at least worship them for their looks and performances.



Though the group still exist, this type of music does not and for that we as a human race have become a little bit poorer.

Jag såg Steve Buscemis mun på stan...

På en person som inte var Buscemi. Likväl fascinerande.

Nåväl. Hemma, vid matbordet...

Pappa: Ha! Mamma är ingen gourmet, hon gillar inte oliver!
Bror (mumlar): Pappa är ingen gourmet, han gillar inte tacos.
Mousse (skriker, från andra änden av bordet): Ha! Du inser att du säger emot dig själv där. Tacos är lågt stående mat. Alla gillar tacos.
Bror: Du inser att du någonstans i Sydamerika klassas som förståndshandikappad.



Vad tycker du?

34 sekunder djup

Det här är tiny på jobbet. Den där dagen jag kom på besök.

Remember how we used to discuss the perfect death...?

I know you. I know all your secrets. I know all your lies. I know your hands, know your eyes. I know how you speak, I know why you write. I know why you laugh, and how you make other people laugh. I know how you feel. I know who you love and how you love.

I know your scars and I know your fears. I know, because I've been watching you. Listening to you. I know why you cry.

I know when you were born. I know when you're going to die. I know you're dying. I'm here to kill you.



And I would be killed. Dead. Relieved.

Just wanted to share...

Bokslut 2007

Happy New Year Y'All!

Listen, I'm in a hurry, so let's not get our hopes up. But something ought to be written this last day of the year, or I shant be able to sleep for the coming 366 days, or however many days there are.

Anywho, I like music. Yes! Confession time, girls. Sometimes, I look at you guys and I fantasize. In my dream, we are a band. And we produce a couple of records.

This is the cover of our Christian Rock album. It's called "Jesus is out there". We get really good reviews, with describing key words like truthful, emotional and hip. We tour the forest-covered south of Sweden for six whole months.

This is our feminist album. It's called "Vague Vaginas" and all the songs sound like bad versions of Le Tigre's Deceptacon. We get no respect and few reviews, but we don't care.

This is our romantic album. Its name is "heart". We get no reviews for this one, and Tiny thinks it's because we used the symbol of a heart on the cover instead of writing heart with letters. Newspapers don't like using symbols in articles, she says. We think she makes a lot of sense.

Finally, we're out of money and we decide to produce a good old Smurf Hits album. Basically, we sing covers of our previous material (mostly the popular Jesus stuff) using the reliable technique of smurf voicing. It sells. Poorly.

Then we O.D and die.

OBS! VAR VÄNLIG TAG MED LEGITIMATION

Joha: hur går det med din 101-lista?
Hur många saker har du gjort?

Elsa: Lever du?

Mart: Lika trevligt som alltid att talas vid. (ja, faktiskt, jag och Mart förde ett aldeles normalt och trevligt samtal via msn härom kvällen)

Doin it elf-style.

Time for some Christmas Spirit Oddball style.

Enjoy.

Do a little dance. Make a little love. And watch us go.

Göra och Icke-Göra

Bruksanvisningar och skötselråd är underhållande.

På baksidan av min "Propyless - Mjukgörand Hudlotion" tub hittade jag denna lilla mys-text;


Graviditet och amning. För att det ammande barnet inte i onödan ska få i sig propylenglykol bör Propyless inte smörjas på bröstvårtorna under amning.

Google Me and Ye Shall Find

I was bored. I googled. I was amazed, google my (real "English") name and the 10th link is on me.

I did some more googling.

the oddballs lolita gave me this



the oddballs mousse gave me this



the oddballs tiny gave me this

Pam Ann

I'm really not sure what to make of it.



At all.

However I felt I needed to share the confusion.

Hihi, now I see Mousse and Tiny in everything.

Ny superkraft!

Jag och den magnifika Epe kom på den ULTIMATA superkraften, nämligen kraften att bebåda någon. Det skulle jag lungt välja före alla muskler i världen (typ).

Tänk så lätt det skulle vara att få Mousse & Mart att hålla tyst då och då!
"Är du inte tyst så vet du vad som händer" sen pekar man lite hotfullt på magen på väl vald skränig person, som då genast tystnar! Rena drömmen.

Något som också skulle vara kul, är att random-bebåda folk när man exempelvis är på stan, eller annat (o)passande ställe. Det skulle verkligen sätta guldkant på min tillvaro!

Awsome.

Rerun of review

It's getting tiresome, my movie review sharing. I can sense it. But when am I not tiresome? People, I aim to tire! Bad publicity is also publicity. And cookies for the people!

...aaaaaaaand they excused her behaviour. The Mousse is too cute, Lolita exclaimed smiling and gave Mousse a warm and friendly hug. Right? Right.


Next was not a great movie. But good. Jessica Biel was in it. And, to quote Tiny, she's just plain boring. Nicholas Cage did what he could and the film got, unusually enough, better towards the end. You know, it was one of those films that you think ok, it's an interesting plot, but they will screw up with the ending. They didn't. Anyway, the greatest attraction was our (mine and lil bro's) own side plot about Knut the Danish dwarf, Nichals Cage's little helper. He was awesome, making cameos a little here and there. We even came up with sequels, after the movie ended.

Turistas. Now this is the kind of movie where you think you have it all figured out. And we sorta did. Stupid, back-packing bikini-models get caught by super evil human organ dealers. And the ethnic minority gets killed first. And it was exactly that. And so much more! Great dialogue, plausible situation-handling, true characters. Felt like a documentary. It felt like me. Without, of course, the looking good in bikini. Do watch this movie!

Zodiak. I don't know. I had heard it was great. That's never a good start. I hadn't heard there was a real life story behind it. It got better when I did. Um... It was long. It was good. Cutie Jake Gyllenhaal was in it. End of story.

The Grudge 2. Haven't seen the first one. So what happened was that they tried to scare me with a little girl-boy with heavy mascara (we already have plenty of those carefree slouls walking the streets in reality) who was probably scary and mysterious sometime in the prequel. But just as in The Ring 2, you get too much visible monster for your money. And it would've helped if they had thought of an actual plot. Booo!

YouTube October

My YouTube Playlist:


Rome Wasn't Built in A Day

Jump!

Not even Waters does it this well

I still love this sound

Monkey with Guns

Itzhak

Donkey Rhubarb

Franziska!

Kära Moussie, här är en rescention av den underbara pjäsen jag pratade om.

Franziska!

Doppelgangers

Why does this clip automatically make me think of Tiny and Mousse?




Same with these guys. Who's who...well, isn't that obvious?!

Självutnämnd.

Här sitter jag uppe alldeles för sent. Min hjärna jobbar dock för högvarv, men är det någon hemma?

Man blir impulsiv, tankar som inte tänkts förut blir nu självklara.

Ja, jag vet för andra tycks det mest likna svammel, men I en himmelsk minut är det så rätt för mig.

Hur som helst så har jag tänkt på saker man kna vara. Jag är den siste att prisa placerandet av folk I fack, men attans om det inte är roligt att komma på saker man är.

Själv är jag “Självutnämnde BDSMare”, jag är även “A Dilettante With A Cause”.

Of which I am damn proud.

Daft Punk is playing at my house.

Oh, well, yeah, Whatever...

Varför skaffar inte Tiny Facebook?

Hur ska armbindlarna egentligen se ut?

Varför har jag inga bilder från Väddö?

Hur kommer det sig att jag inte ens börjat läsa 1984?

Varför köper jag så mycket musik?

Hur ska Leicester leva upp till min systers skyhöga förväntningar på England?

Frågorna är många, svaren är få.

I say

We lack an Ape, and for that we grieve. Having her physically close was an ephemeral luxury.

What we have, is the possibility to watch movies. So, in order of watching:

Scary Movie 4 was almost not worth watching. I’m easy when it comes to parody. Very easy. So it wasn’t a total waste of time. The problem was that the difference between parody and mindless repeating of long scenes without any real twists was... blurred. Or maybe it was clear.

Apocalypto. It’s rare, but sometimes it takes a megalomaniac with immense resources to create something that feels innovative. My anthropological self is critical, yet strangely pleased.

Bug. Loved it! Questioned things like are your personality enriched or impoverished by your relations to other people? And paranoia, how far can you let it go? Great dialogue, great actors. But I did feel a bit sorry for my hungover brother who said it was a simple movie about giant bugs and not as he put it, “psychological shit”. He was proved wrong.

The Pursuit of Happyness. A true underdog-achieving-the-American-Dream kinda movie. But without the magical solutions to your problems. You suffer with the main character, who is skillfully humanized by no less than Will Smith. And by letting us viewers suffer, we also gain something from watching the movie. The key with this movie is that it delivers. They successfully use details to make us get the picture. A 14$ debt and a panicked voice explains and makes you connect. At the same time, it’s never pitch-dark. Which is its point, really. And with that they succeed as well, without ever going anywhere near comedy.

one year later, i finally join the party.



sooo... who's doing who?

Den Högkulturella Hösten 2007

Med mina nya glassögon & nyfunna Viktorianska faiblesse, blev behovet av en "Högkulturell Höst" ytterst akut.

Under en gemensam tankestorm med Lolita, över en svart kopp kaffe & vinbärskaka med tillhörande vaniljglass utformades dessa tankar till en handlingsplan.

• Bokcirkel - Exempel på författare vi skall fördjupa oss i; Orwell, Palahniuk, Dante, Martin Svensson, Nostradamus, Sartre, de Sade.
• Korrespondens - Efter en tekniskt avancerad period törstar våra sinnen efter det okomplicerade, det vackra, det klassiska skapandet. Vi vill gå i våra mästares fotspår och göra det handskrivna brevet till vårt främsta kreativa & konstnärliga kommunikationsmedel. Genom denna korrespondens skall vi skapa ett arkiv för framtida generationers åtnjutande.
• Strukturering av The Odds-biblioteket - En aktuell boklista skall sammanställas över den gemensamma boksamlingen.

Med den nakne mannens magnifika turkosa rumpa í blickfånget avslutar vi denna sejour.

/ Lolita & Ape

Lars Brundin on Patrick Swayze

Needy.

Listening to Red Hot chili Peppers, wearing sandals, feeling dirty and eating salty waffles.

I need new music. A pair of shoes. A shower. Sugar.

And I need you to stop looking at me like I'm going to change your life.

I hate mirrors. Yet I'm unmistably drawn towards them.

Anywho, I've been watching films, with an urgent need to share.

Office space. One of those movies that have been on my to-see list because it's constantly quoted and referred to. It feels good to have seen it. I even got a few laughs.

The Omen was what I wanted and nothing more. The exact same story as in the original version (except for a 9/11 reference and whatnot), but a little more human and way better special effects.

The Devil's Rejects: As you might know, I loved House of 1000 Corpses. Now this film wasn't exactly what I had expected from a sequel. The sick horror/comedy feeling that you experience in the prequel has evolved into sick thriller/comedy/drama. It doesn't aim to shock, it aims to... explain. Or at least lets you dive into the characters' lives, relations and history. At first I think it's rather painful to watch them so closely, to see them as normal people, with normal trains of thought. They almost look pathetic. The pain! It's daring, what Zombie does. But as the film goes on, you start to love them again. And again. And again. And again. It's a great movie.

The Mothman Prophecies was a disappointment. We were promised a Mothman. What we got was a lot of indications, by both men and moths. But no Mothman. Note to self: Don't watch prophecy movies, they are built on nothing but loopholes.

Lord of War with Nicholas Cage, who I thought was going to ruin the movie, simply with his presence. Nothing wrong with Cage. It's just. His face. It's strangely stonelike. But he was great. Also, it's nicely shot and had an interesting and dynamic plot.

Planet Terror: Cool. Humorous. Absolutely tantalizing.

This is England: The best thing about this film was the high quality acting. And the successful projection of a genuine 80's feeling. It is quite enough to make it worth seeing. But don't expect to be offered any new takes on, or original explanations to, human behaviour. Or even interesting human fates. Expect to be a little moved and depressed.

The Number 23: I've liked Jim Carrey ever since Dumb and Dumber. He does a good job in this captivating thriller. See it!

Blades of Glory: It's entertaining, though not worth obsessing over. It has some beautiful Zoolander-passages, for sure. However, it is slightly exaggerated at times, without getting away with it by being exaggerated through it all. No, wait... It aims to be exaggerated and ends up unoriginal. Still good. The awesome final skate, to Flash, by Queen.

Which Oddball Are You, Truly? NEW!


EDIT: I've made improvements. Same shit. But better. I hope. Plus two new questions.

Which Oddball are you? (old version)



And after the quiz, take a look at your picture:

You are Tiny!
You are Lolita!
You are Ape!
You are Mousse!
You are the King! NEW!

We laughed when, really, we cried.

The Oddballs have been out island-adventuring. It was on a Swedish island. The biggest there is, as a matter of fact. Facts are usually of little importance to us Odds, but as I have little to recite, facts are helpful as filling in my blog cake. This is a blog cake. Don't get me wrong, numerous events took place during our stay away, lots of filling, but the words won't come to me. So I'm just going to keep on stating facts.

Who were we and what did we accomplish?

There was Lolita, whose greatest achievement was to arrange free and qualitative housing, various useful itineraries and guide-like anecdotes. Sometimes genuinely interesting, sometimes questionable.

Also, she made a very tasty sausage casserole and drank approximately eight litres of tea. Other things she entertained herself with was go shopping with the very impressionable Ape and exceed our food allowances by bringing home large amounts of chocolate, chips and celebrity gossip magazines.

tiny, or - the one whose name we tend to forget - was also there. We think she enjoyed herself. She wore a dress some days.

Ape spent her days trying to clean herself. I could post a picture of her sitting in an under-sized wooden water barrel in the garden, but it would in no way help us understand her behaviour. Apart from the cleaning, she was very energized, optimistic and playful. She terrorized the Nameless girl with different water-ejaculating weapons. But NG proved a vengeful soul and soon they were both wet. Mousse too, whose interference no one could explain.

The Ape later became ill and somewhat reclusive.

Me, Mousse, played a very important role. First I was sick and whiny. Then I got better, but kept whining. Moreover, I took it as my duty to provide the group with pills. Pain, diarrhea, pregnancy or boredom. I could cure all sicknesses with my personal supply. My lapdog Ape served as guinea pig and got weird.

Then one day we met my Oracle. It was interesting. She happened to be a heavily built woman on a farm somewhere out in nowhere with her very own overpriced flea market. We spoke of my pathetic love life and she told me not to sit and wait for the handsome knight on a white horse to come sweep me away, like she had done, and end up alone. My man might not look the best or even know how to ride a horse, but he will be the right one. I thanked her for the wise words, complimented her very large collection of 70's plastic utensils and bought Nana by Émile Zola for 5 SEK. She said it was lustful. The book.


Things we did together as a group was eating, eating, eating and reading celebrity gossip magazines. I like Lindsay Lohan the most. My friends are not so selective. They appreciate colorful pictures. We were happy together, crowded around a magazine, and that is all that matters.

These are my facts.