..comes responsibilty..or thats what I tried to convince myself having just posted a letter and hearing the glorious sounds of "Slayer" playing from the frihamn in Gothenburg. A favorite band since 85 when I met them in a record store on Princess Street in Edinburgh, and now my evening was booked with making pancakes for 6 hungary kids who had been hanging at Liseberg all day and ended it in a game of football.
In under a weeks time the remains of The Who are playing at Globen...maybe that would be worth watching, as well as a tour of "The Police" and of course ticnet was visited and a ticket booked for the return of "Rush". But to miss "Slayer" in my home town hurts and actually follows my bad luck with missing them, twice before I've missed them due to broken bones and operations..Oh well, hopefully there will be another time but we're all getting older and none the wiser..(although even this time my knee popped and over extended on thursday...coincidence?)
Its a sleepover and the boyz are moaning and groaning at a part in a film they're watching with the main couple making out..how these boyz will change sooner than later..All three are tweenys are their rejection and disgust of the opposite will soon flourish into the question regarding woman being from mars or venus..
My own existence returns to normal on monday after two and a half weeks of having my sons and the first part on the agenda has already started by the removal of names from my phone book. The next part will be to try and return to a more wholesome being as opposed to a "hanging on" as this has been the form for too long.
Somebody kicked started a chain reaction by turning 180 on me and this was also raised in a conversation with a friend this afternoon over coffee. Turning the page.
Looking forwards to it!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
synchronicity and the End of Gonzo67?
Contemplation of killing the Blog came up unexpectedly.
The entire soul of the blog is a synchronicity;
'It's very good jam,' said the Queen.
'Well, I don't want any TO-DAY, at any rate."
''You couldn't have it if you DID want it,' the Queen said. 'The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday--but never jam to-day.
''It MUST come sometimes to "jam to-day,"' Alice objected.
'No, it can't,' said the Queen. 'It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't any OTHER day, you know.''
I don't understand you,' said Alice. 'It's dreadfully confusing!
''That's the effect of living backwards,' the Queen said kindly: 'it always makes one a little giddy at first--
''Living backwards!' Alice repeated in great astonishment. 'I never heard of such a thing!''
"--but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both ways."
''I'm sure MINE only works one way,' Alice remarked. 'I can't remember things before they happen."
''It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen remarked.
Carl Jungs favorite one liner from through the looking Glass, and of course Jung being the old boy who originally developed the definition of "synchronicity".
So, I've been doing enough Abductive reasoning over the past 5 months......
lets end on da man,Dalai L,
"I am open to the guidance of synchronicity, and do not let expectations hinder my path."
The entire soul of the blog is a synchronicity;
'It's very good jam,' said the Queen.
'Well, I don't want any TO-DAY, at any rate."
''You couldn't have it if you DID want it,' the Queen said. 'The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday--but never jam to-day.
''It MUST come sometimes to "jam to-day,"' Alice objected.
'No, it can't,' said the Queen. 'It's jam every OTHER day: to-day isn't any OTHER day, you know.''
I don't understand you,' said Alice. 'It's dreadfully confusing!
''That's the effect of living backwards,' the Queen said kindly: 'it always makes one a little giddy at first--
''Living backwards!' Alice repeated in great astonishment. 'I never heard of such a thing!''
"--but there's one great advantage in it, that one's memory works both ways."
''I'm sure MINE only works one way,' Alice remarked. 'I can't remember things before they happen."
''It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,' the Queen remarked.
Carl Jungs favorite one liner from through the looking Glass, and of course Jung being the old boy who originally developed the definition of "synchronicity".
So, I've been doing enough Abductive reasoning over the past 5 months......
lets end on da man,Dalai L,
"I am open to the guidance of synchronicity, and do not let expectations hinder my path."
Time for a rebuild
Plans are now afoot to finally put the mc back together with the idea to sell.
Over the past couple of weeks I feel there have been several changes with regards to planning the short and long term as well as financing projects on the go. Sweden is the worst place in the world if you wanna ride a frikken MC, the insurance is a joke, the roads are lethal and they advertise more cameras all the time. I've ridden since I was fourteen for the soul purpose of speed. Never been interested in cruising around or long distance, then I'd rather sit in a car with a decent stereo and coffee cup holder having a yarn with someone.
Nope, its all about adrenalin and speed and you just can't do it without forever being scared of getting trapped by a speed gun, helicopter or road camera and on top of that you pay such stupid amounts for insurance unless you own a very heavy and slow bike, then its ok.
So, now I'm feeling the age and falling into perhaps a crisis concerning age I'm considering selling out to a bicycle and work on fitness. But forget the pants and helmet , it aint gonna happen.
At the same time I've been scouring everywhere looking for paintings to hang in my flat, and I just can't find anything big and bright enough that I like enough to hang.
So this evening I watched a documentry about Klimt and decided to give it s go myself. Can't be that hard to put paint to canvas..Why not. Although...maybe photography would be easier...
I will have to decide which period I'm in...or maybe thats for others to decide. Will I fail and get back to the spanners and wrenches and keep the bike..for those who know me you have probably already guessed correct..
However, what it does show is interest outside the usual which has been more a thorn than anything. I'm also getting the distinct feeling that I'll have a lot of time on my hands.
I'll keep you posted.
Soon its time to pack the boyz back north and then come back to the void. Time doesnt stand still after all..
Over the past couple of weeks I feel there have been several changes with regards to planning the short and long term as well as financing projects on the go. Sweden is the worst place in the world if you wanna ride a frikken MC, the insurance is a joke, the roads are lethal and they advertise more cameras all the time. I've ridden since I was fourteen for the soul purpose of speed. Never been interested in cruising around or long distance, then I'd rather sit in a car with a decent stereo and coffee cup holder having a yarn with someone.
Nope, its all about adrenalin and speed and you just can't do it without forever being scared of getting trapped by a speed gun, helicopter or road camera and on top of that you pay such stupid amounts for insurance unless you own a very heavy and slow bike, then its ok.
So, now I'm feeling the age and falling into perhaps a crisis concerning age I'm considering selling out to a bicycle and work on fitness. But forget the pants and helmet , it aint gonna happen.
At the same time I've been scouring everywhere looking for paintings to hang in my flat, and I just can't find anything big and bright enough that I like enough to hang.
So this evening I watched a documentry about Klimt and decided to give it s go myself. Can't be that hard to put paint to canvas..Why not. Although...maybe photography would be easier...
I will have to decide which period I'm in...or maybe thats for others to decide. Will I fail and get back to the spanners and wrenches and keep the bike..for those who know me you have probably already guessed correct..
However, what it does show is interest outside the usual which has been more a thorn than anything. I'm also getting the distinct feeling that I'll have a lot of time on my hands.
I'll keep you posted.
Soon its time to pack the boyz back north and then come back to the void. Time doesnt stand still after all..
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
I've been in relationships were it was considered weird when I watched any film in black and white.Obviously I don't include Woody Allen films, that always ended up in discussions about how disgusting he was and no more argument. So I watched the great master of films on my own.
Since moving over to Sweden and getting older I've realised that I have a bad habit of looking on the amazon.co.uk website and buying films I adored when but a young kid. Then I convince my own boyz that they really want to watch dads favorite films from nineteen oakcake.
The comments are priceless as well as the timing of them.Sometimes I forget its the MTV generation versus "The 39 Steps" .
Film;
The battle of Britain
Comment; Dad, its crap, just loads of planes flying around all the time...
Chitty Chitty bang bang
Comments; please fast forwards when they start singing...again..
priceless moment and apt; whilst the woman in the film is singing and dancing with her "dates" kids on the beach the youngest comes out with;
"leave them alone, she's not their mother"....
and last but not least;
"Why are the men wearing make-up, did men do that when you were young..."
I decided to punish them big time by making them sit through a dreadful edition of Gulliver's Travels with Ed Harrison..I was forced to switch it off and put on Scrubs instead.
Since moving over to Sweden and getting older I've realised that I have a bad habit of looking on the amazon.co.uk website and buying films I adored when but a young kid. Then I convince my own boyz that they really want to watch dads favorite films from nineteen oakcake.
The comments are priceless as well as the timing of them.Sometimes I forget its the MTV generation versus "The 39 Steps" .
Film;
The battle of Britain
Comment; Dad, its crap, just loads of planes flying around all the time...
Chitty Chitty bang bang
Comments; please fast forwards when they start singing...again..
priceless moment and apt; whilst the woman in the film is singing and dancing with her "dates" kids on the beach the youngest comes out with;
"leave them alone, she's not their mother"....
and last but not least;
"Why are the men wearing make-up, did men do that when you were young..."
I decided to punish them big time by making them sit through a dreadful edition of Gulliver's Travels with Ed Harrison..I was forced to switch it off and put on Scrubs instead.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Liseberg, Liseberg and more Liseberg...
"Gooble gobble, gooble gobble, we accept her, we accept her, one of us, one of us!"....
As I have stood and waited and waited and waited at Liseberg for two rather excited boyz the above resounded around my head despite being plugged in to my ipod and the MOS annual of 2003,Dee Dee's version of freedom...
I've met many people in my term who confess themselves as "Starers", which is to say they can simply be amused by staring at people all day. Well to them I say Liseberg is thou Nirvana.
Liseberg camping ground can't be too far away and this was fairly obvious..don't feel I need to explain how and why.
One fascinating scene was rather attractive milfs with optional tattoo and pram, walking around in high heels. How can this be done? The first thing I do when contemplating Liseberg is to change into sports shoes, but high heels..Holds the shape anyway..
Then of course due to the fact that it was midsummer's day it was delightful to have a salad or something healthy.But of course, this wasn't possible. Chicken wings with fries, eat as much pizza as possible, comics hamburgers, waffles with cream and jam..Get the point. This was mirrored by the increasing size "3 XXL" sizes seen wobbling around..scarey...yeye
Just hope the kidney stones didn't get too upset with the overdose of cotton candy, soft ice cream and all the rest of the Liseberg experience.Kids love it though.
Anyway, back to "Freaks".
Now, you'd think that after all the grouching about today's films etc.. you'd be used to just about everything and anything. But there are some films that really , genuinely leave their mark, and "Freaks" was one of them, along with Hitchcocks' classic "Psycho" and "Erazerhead".
This script and film was made in 1932. I wouldn't watch it again if I was paid. But that one line became synonymous and suddenly, after the third lap of the park, came to play. I laughed out loud and realised people probably thought the same of me..
Read on;
"Freaks" tells the story of a trapeze artist named Cleopatra (played by Olga Baclanova) who marries a sideshow midget, Hans (played by Harry Earles), for his inheritance.At their wedding reception, the other "freaks" resolve that they accept Cleopatra in spite of her being a "normal" outsider, and hold an initiation ceremony, wherein they pass a massive goblet of wine around the table while chanting,
"We accept her! We accept her! One of us! One of us! Gooble gobble, gooble gobble! One of us! One of us!"
The ceremony frightens the drunken Cleopatra, who reveals that she has been having an affair with Hercules, the strong man, and begins to mock the freaks and pours out the wine all over the circus performers; despite the revelation of being humiliated, Hans remains with Cleopatra.Shortly thereafter, Hans is taken ill (presumably from having to much to drink at the wedding feast, but actually from poison that Cleopatra slipped him) and Cleopatra begins slipping poison into Hans' medicine to kill him so that she can inherit his money and run away with Hercules.
One of the circus performers overhears Cleopatra talking to Hercules about the murder plot, and reveals it to the other freaks and Hans; in the film's climax, the freaks attack Cleopatra and Hercules with guns, knives, and various edged weapons, hideously mutilating them (and possibly killing Hercules; he is not seen again). The film concludes with a revelation of Cleopatra's fate: Her tongue cut out and her legs hacked off, she has been reduced to performing for children as "the human duck."
The original ending of the film had the freaks castrating Hercules, who would then be reduced to a soprano opera singer for the rest of his career. However, this segment was removed after negative reception in early screenings
Spliced throughout the main narrative are a variety of "slice of life" segments detailing the lives of the sideshow performers. The vignettes, while not advancing the main narrative, drive home the point that the physically malformed freaks are just as human as their non-malformed co-workers:
• The bearded woman, who loves the human skeleton, gives birth to their daughter.
• Violet, a conjoined twin whose sister Daisy is married to one of the circus clowns, herself becomes engaged to the owner of the circus. (In a risque moment, Daisy appears to react with sexual arousal when Violet is kissed by her suitor, implying that each sister can experience the other's physical sensations.)
• The Human Torso, played by Prince Randian, in the middle of a conversation, takes his own pre-rolled cigarette and lights it, using only his tongue.
Note: The freaks acting in the film were the real McCoy and not actors..this made things rather too unbritish and the film was banned for thirty years in the UK.
As I have stood and waited and waited and waited at Liseberg for two rather excited boyz the above resounded around my head despite being plugged in to my ipod and the MOS annual of 2003,Dee Dee's version of freedom...
I've met many people in my term who confess themselves as "Starers", which is to say they can simply be amused by staring at people all day. Well to them I say Liseberg is thou Nirvana.
Liseberg camping ground can't be too far away and this was fairly obvious..don't feel I need to explain how and why.
One fascinating scene was rather attractive milfs with optional tattoo and pram, walking around in high heels. How can this be done? The first thing I do when contemplating Liseberg is to change into sports shoes, but high heels..Holds the shape anyway..
Then of course due to the fact that it was midsummer's day it was delightful to have a salad or something healthy.But of course, this wasn't possible. Chicken wings with fries, eat as much pizza as possible, comics hamburgers, waffles with cream and jam..Get the point. This was mirrored by the increasing size "3 XXL" sizes seen wobbling around..scarey...yeye
Just hope the kidney stones didn't get too upset with the overdose of cotton candy, soft ice cream and all the rest of the Liseberg experience.Kids love it though.
Anyway, back to "Freaks".
Now, you'd think that after all the grouching about today's films etc.. you'd be used to just about everything and anything. But there are some films that really , genuinely leave their mark, and "Freaks" was one of them, along with Hitchcocks' classic "Psycho" and "Erazerhead".
This script and film was made in 1932. I wouldn't watch it again if I was paid. But that one line became synonymous and suddenly, after the third lap of the park, came to play. I laughed out loud and realised people probably thought the same of me..
Read on;
"Freaks" tells the story of a trapeze artist named Cleopatra (played by Olga Baclanova) who marries a sideshow midget, Hans (played by Harry Earles), for his inheritance.At their wedding reception, the other "freaks" resolve that they accept Cleopatra in spite of her being a "normal" outsider, and hold an initiation ceremony, wherein they pass a massive goblet of wine around the table while chanting,
"We accept her! We accept her! One of us! One of us! Gooble gobble, gooble gobble! One of us! One of us!"
The ceremony frightens the drunken Cleopatra, who reveals that she has been having an affair with Hercules, the strong man, and begins to mock the freaks and pours out the wine all over the circus performers; despite the revelation of being humiliated, Hans remains with Cleopatra.Shortly thereafter, Hans is taken ill (presumably from having to much to drink at the wedding feast, but actually from poison that Cleopatra slipped him) and Cleopatra begins slipping poison into Hans' medicine to kill him so that she can inherit his money and run away with Hercules.
One of the circus performers overhears Cleopatra talking to Hercules about the murder plot, and reveals it to the other freaks and Hans; in the film's climax, the freaks attack Cleopatra and Hercules with guns, knives, and various edged weapons, hideously mutilating them (and possibly killing Hercules; he is not seen again). The film concludes with a revelation of Cleopatra's fate: Her tongue cut out and her legs hacked off, she has been reduced to performing for children as "the human duck."
The original ending of the film had the freaks castrating Hercules, who would then be reduced to a soprano opera singer for the rest of his career. However, this segment was removed after negative reception in early screenings
Spliced throughout the main narrative are a variety of "slice of life" segments detailing the lives of the sideshow performers. The vignettes, while not advancing the main narrative, drive home the point that the physically malformed freaks are just as human as their non-malformed co-workers:
• The bearded woman, who loves the human skeleton, gives birth to their daughter.
• Violet, a conjoined twin whose sister Daisy is married to one of the circus clowns, herself becomes engaged to the owner of the circus. (In a risque moment, Daisy appears to react with sexual arousal when Violet is kissed by her suitor, implying that each sister can experience the other's physical sensations.)
• The Human Torso, played by Prince Randian, in the middle of a conversation, takes his own pre-rolled cigarette and lights it, using only his tongue.
Note: The freaks acting in the film were the real McCoy and not actors..this made things rather too unbritish and the film was banned for thirty years in the UK.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Midsummer and the scam of the century...Part IV
As I walked back from "Spiderman 3" I turned and mentioned I could smell rain was coming.
The answer I got back was one of scepticism.
It can't just be me , I thought. You must have smelt that freshness in the air before the rain arrives, you can almost feel the moisture filling the cubics..
Waking up this morning and I heard it first before I saw the greyness of the skys. All those busy bees working hard to make sure the party works must have been gutted. The frogs around the pole were gonna be drenched and there is something very uncool about holding umbrellas. Never hold them unless its out of manners for the opposite.I'm more a hat / Cap person or just get wet.
It was classic Highland style and despite the speed of the cumulonimbus it was obviously gonna stay around and last out the day.So plans are chabged accordingly and 6 hours of laundry goes ahead , and of course with this the question marks started in the greymatter.
For a start, who invented the following appliances;
laundry washing machine
Oven / cooker
Dish washing machine
It dawned on me today just how much we managed to reatin the small feet closer to the cooker.
House Wife. Awesome, well done warriors of the planet.(that would be us guys..)
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna burn a bra and I don't have bitch tits (yet) but after 6 loads of laundry, breakfast , lunch and a Chicken Tikka Masala all for three of us , as well as three shopping trips you kinda wonder when you have time for anything else.
As I don't have washing machines for either clothes or dishes this adds to the work and of course if you go out of this generations paradine box and actually make food that consists of more than pasta and sausages you use a lot of utensils.
So my point is that my mother, who held down a full time job and was also a part time house wife must have done more laps than Conan.
So we forced the title and it stuck and what we (male gender) have managed to produce with the evolution of the house wife, especially in case study of Sweden, are very good planners due to the fact that they normally have to plan for their "stories" on Tv so now we have transformed woman into the ultimate project leaders and managers as they are so effective.
Point being, I would never want to be a bleedin' houseman/wife as it's easier going to work at the very least for the social aspect.
But its all in the foundations that is changing, no shit the Awakening is gonna happen one day for real and I'm getting practice.
Ok, its been a long day and I have a bra to steal and burn...
Hopefully you have all done the Tradional midsummer fling, which is to say pretend it's about strawberries and cream, sill och Potatis and more importantly the neat spirit shots (where one can be really pretentious and get different tastes and after throwing one back discuss if it was nice..)and then get the hundreds of long slim green bags filled with white wine, red wine, bagnbox and tons of beer..cos it's all about a tradition and celebration of midsummer..
Bit like the santa thing and shopping..
I'm only jealous of course, I'd love to be tipping the box to get the last squirt and ending up at 4 in the morning on the last left beers, 2.8 pripps that nobody touched till all the piss was drunk.
Always an interesting read tomorrow regarding the aftermath..
The answer I got back was one of scepticism.
It can't just be me , I thought. You must have smelt that freshness in the air before the rain arrives, you can almost feel the moisture filling the cubics..
Waking up this morning and I heard it first before I saw the greyness of the skys. All those busy bees working hard to make sure the party works must have been gutted. The frogs around the pole were gonna be drenched and there is something very uncool about holding umbrellas. Never hold them unless its out of manners for the opposite.I'm more a hat / Cap person or just get wet.
It was classic Highland style and despite the speed of the cumulonimbus it was obviously gonna stay around and last out the day.So plans are chabged accordingly and 6 hours of laundry goes ahead , and of course with this the question marks started in the greymatter.
For a start, who invented the following appliances;
laundry washing machine
Oven / cooker
Dish washing machine
It dawned on me today just how much we managed to reatin the small feet closer to the cooker.
House Wife. Awesome, well done warriors of the planet.(that would be us guys..)
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna burn a bra and I don't have bitch tits (yet) but after 6 loads of laundry, breakfast , lunch and a Chicken Tikka Masala all for three of us , as well as three shopping trips you kinda wonder when you have time for anything else.
As I don't have washing machines for either clothes or dishes this adds to the work and of course if you go out of this generations paradine box and actually make food that consists of more than pasta and sausages you use a lot of utensils.
So my point is that my mother, who held down a full time job and was also a part time house wife must have done more laps than Conan.
So we forced the title and it stuck and what we (male gender) have managed to produce with the evolution of the house wife, especially in case study of Sweden, are very good planners due to the fact that they normally have to plan for their "stories" on Tv so now we have transformed woman into the ultimate project leaders and managers as they are so effective.
Point being, I would never want to be a bleedin' houseman/wife as it's easier going to work at the very least for the social aspect.
But its all in the foundations that is changing, no shit the Awakening is gonna happen one day for real and I'm getting practice.
Ok, its been a long day and I have a bra to steal and burn...
Hopefully you have all done the Tradional midsummer fling, which is to say pretend it's about strawberries and cream, sill och Potatis and more importantly the neat spirit shots (where one can be really pretentious and get different tastes and after throwing one back discuss if it was nice..)and then get the hundreds of long slim green bags filled with white wine, red wine, bagnbox and tons of beer..cos it's all about a tradition and celebration of midsummer..
Bit like the santa thing and shopping..
I'm only jealous of course, I'd love to be tipping the box to get the last squirt and ending up at 4 in the morning on the last left beers, 2.8 pripps that nobody touched till all the piss was drunk.
Always an interesting read tomorrow regarding the aftermath..
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Another day in the life of...
...and I'm not writing about a very good book by Ryszard Kapuściński.
The sword in the stone, well not quite. The stone in the sword, pork variety sounds more like it..
And just as the Volteraine speed balls are playing "Hannibal" with my guts and once again the sun is pressing the brownies my sons finally come home, and I receive two shocks.
The first being that my eldest returns the money I gave him yesterday and says he hasn't bought anything to eat as he couldn't buy everybody something...
..and the second is the youngest is running a fever at 38,5 degrees, has a headache and is burning up with only two sandwiches in him the entire day..
The youngest is usually a wee ball of energy with comments that follow him like "he can't even walk in a straight line without bouncing off the walls", so to see him creep up into a foetus position and look preconception at turbo wastegate temperature just aint fun.
The traditional midsummer is looming and the invitations have been dropping through the door...err, NOT! Well, to cut a long story short no real surprise.And once I've been told at first hand who has been invited and how much fun it's gonna be and drop the basset hound look for a fish, I realise just where I am in the "don't forget to send him a x-mas card" conversation.
Not to worry, best plans are laid at the last minute..
No shit sherlock that today will be one to remember for different reasons. Some of those reasons can't be written, as they are locked downstairs in a basement of sorts. Lets just say that expectation and rejection mixed with realisation make for a great cocktail.
The ship which I thought had come to shore and moored has obviously had it's ropes cut and is drifting in a sea of awareness despite believing the contrary. A year after a separation and I feel it's time to take a step back to heading into the ocean of uncertainty again and wait and see what happens as to be honest I seem to have come to shore, headed for the closest grog pit and lost all bearings which I'm paying a heavy price for.Time will cover the tracks I left in the sand.
But now it's out of this poetic justice I pay for falling into every trap and cliche and not listening the first time.
Plans have to be made and followed up.Foundations of papermaché have to be dug up and replaced with concrete. Lessons have been learnt for sure.
Okay, well if your used to reading this blog your used to be thrown into the dark side of the moon, which is my name for the brain of course until you mix up a cocktail and brighten it up.
It's been a while since I had a night of Masi and its about Masi time again.
Trust me, despite the stones, the fevers and all the rest, things are on the up and depsite the scripting sounding negative its only to move up and on.
Huge Positive is the new inclusion of a painting in the kitchen and I actually looked in Duka today AND asked for assistance with the intentions of buying something for the flat. I'm I finally a lost case?(Didn't really want to admit this but I've seen some plants I'm intending on buying...let the games begin!)
The sword in the stone, well not quite. The stone in the sword, pork variety sounds more like it..
And just as the Volteraine speed balls are playing "Hannibal" with my guts and once again the sun is pressing the brownies my sons finally come home, and I receive two shocks.
The first being that my eldest returns the money I gave him yesterday and says he hasn't bought anything to eat as he couldn't buy everybody something...
..and the second is the youngest is running a fever at 38,5 degrees, has a headache and is burning up with only two sandwiches in him the entire day..
The youngest is usually a wee ball of energy with comments that follow him like "he can't even walk in a straight line without bouncing off the walls", so to see him creep up into a foetus position and look preconception at turbo wastegate temperature just aint fun.
The traditional midsummer is looming and the invitations have been dropping through the door...err, NOT! Well, to cut a long story short no real surprise.And once I've been told at first hand who has been invited and how much fun it's gonna be and drop the basset hound look for a fish, I realise just where I am in the "don't forget to send him a x-mas card" conversation.
Not to worry, best plans are laid at the last minute..
No shit sherlock that today will be one to remember for different reasons. Some of those reasons can't be written, as they are locked downstairs in a basement of sorts. Lets just say that expectation and rejection mixed with realisation make for a great cocktail.
The ship which I thought had come to shore and moored has obviously had it's ropes cut and is drifting in a sea of awareness despite believing the contrary. A year after a separation and I feel it's time to take a step back to heading into the ocean of uncertainty again and wait and see what happens as to be honest I seem to have come to shore, headed for the closest grog pit and lost all bearings which I'm paying a heavy price for.Time will cover the tracks I left in the sand.
But now it's out of this poetic justice I pay for falling into every trap and cliche and not listening the first time.
Plans have to be made and followed up.Foundations of papermaché have to be dug up and replaced with concrete. Lessons have been learnt for sure.
Okay, well if your used to reading this blog your used to be thrown into the dark side of the moon, which is my name for the brain of course until you mix up a cocktail and brighten it up.
It's been a while since I had a night of Masi and its about Masi time again.
Trust me, despite the stones, the fevers and all the rest, things are on the up and depsite the scripting sounding negative its only to move up and on.
Huge Positive is the new inclusion of a painting in the kitchen and I actually looked in Duka today AND asked for assistance with the intentions of buying something for the flat. I'm I finally a lost case?(Didn't really want to admit this but I've seen some plants I'm intending on buying...let the games begin!)
story of the Clown..
the new pic is a wee bit special..
It was drawn on ms paint by myself whilst sleeping in the same hospital room as my young son after he had a nasty operation that went wrong due to burst stitches in his throat that had a nasty effect of making him puke blood as he looked as pale as a sheet..
To add drama to drama it was drawn on the same day that my father was buried. I stayed with the living by his request.
The clown is a soft toy he received by my mother when he was born and which he still has but has ended up hidden behind the games, dvds and cds of his modern present time.
He asked me to draw him something, so I did so, a magical soft toy clown that walked out of the hospital and into sunnier times..
I found it on a backup and it brought back some memories.
Just incase you wondered.
Maybe thats when you realise what "Dad" is all about.
It was drawn on ms paint by myself whilst sleeping in the same hospital room as my young son after he had a nasty operation that went wrong due to burst stitches in his throat that had a nasty effect of making him puke blood as he looked as pale as a sheet..
To add drama to drama it was drawn on the same day that my father was buried. I stayed with the living by his request.
The clown is a soft toy he received by my mother when he was born and which he still has but has ended up hidden behind the games, dvds and cds of his modern present time.
He asked me to draw him something, so I did so, a magical soft toy clown that walked out of the hospital and into sunnier times..
I found it on a backup and it brought back some memories.
Just incase you wondered.
Maybe thats when you realise what "Dad" is all about.
DEFenseCOMmand 3
Story so far is basically my boyz came down on thursday evening , I went to hospital emergency on friday for 12 hours and now several days later I'm still on DefCom3 and ready to make an unwanted trip for morfin shot number two.
The reasons being of course that something is definitely rotten and it isn't in the state of Denmark.Not sure if its the Volteraine speed balls every three hours but something is definitly not the full picnic basket and I haven't shot any pellets yet in the great white telephone.I'm sure the neighbours will know when I do..
Reading a pamplet supplied didn't really give any indications , as basically it said drink a lot of water at some point but didn't define that point and yet at the same time mentioned it was good not to drink much but cut down on the water if you hadn't shot the muskot..oops
On a more positive note , if all had been according to plan I would have been in the US of A in some desert dying so thank god it was a taxi drive to the local slaughterhouse..
Back to the Boyz, well they haven't actually been very visible. Sign of the times I suppose and just as well as I lay out on the sofa watching Led Zep Dvds. "Going to California" indeed...
They say that having children turns the boy of us into a man and for once I'd have to agree. And the downside to it all is watching them move further and further away as is the way of things.
Both have slept away the past two nights and of course been either too busy or too forgetful to phone. So much for quality time, but its a reality and of course in one way a sad one.
It is impossible to try and put into words the emotional chord and attachment you have to your own kids, when you see almost your own reflction when you look into their eyes, but it is there and the main difference is that it isn't your own reflection , just almost. They are their own person and thats an imperative to keep in mind. Mine are in my opinion still too young but once again through the generations and like the one's before they seem to grow up much quicker than we'd like them too, and yet quick enough for them. Remember that feeling as a kid, that you wanted to be older sooner than later. And now its the other way round for most of us, that we wanna return to our childhood as opposed to facing all this responsibility.Trust me when I say that some of us are still closer than others and don't mind..
Still, can't wait till they return so maybe they can take Dad downtown and point out the latest fashions for the teenyweenys. I'll expect it more to be a horrible 30 minutes looking at box covers with "World of fetma" pc games , online for only 295 kr a month..My kids know me too well for that..
So, back to the sofa and DF3. I'm falling behind with a number of things and just hoping I can get back onform asap.The earth is still rotating and its been beautiful weather,
"Oh let the sun shine down on your face.." Kashmir (Zepp at best)-live from Knebworth, just barked through the headphones ironically.
One message that has been made very clear over the past few days and has left a mark with indelible ink ,has been the fact that somewhere out there are those that do and those that don't- care. And I'm fortunate enough to have people who do and it has been an awakening with regards to those who basically don't give until they receive. Unfortunately sometimes a rude awakening but always a step towards the truth.
I'll end on typical lyric note;
Our separate paths might have turned
With every door that we opened
Every bridge that we burned
Somehow we find each other
Through all that masquerade
Somehow we found each other
Somehow we have stayed
In a state of grace
I don't believe in destiny
Or the guiding hand of fate
I don't believe in forever
Or love as a mystical state
I don't believe in the stars or the planets
Or angels watching from above
But I believe there's a ghost of a chance we can find someone to love
And make it last...
áyé
The reasons being of course that something is definitely rotten and it isn't in the state of Denmark.Not sure if its the Volteraine speed balls every three hours but something is definitly not the full picnic basket and I haven't shot any pellets yet in the great white telephone.I'm sure the neighbours will know when I do..
Reading a pamplet supplied didn't really give any indications , as basically it said drink a lot of water at some point but didn't define that point and yet at the same time mentioned it was good not to drink much but cut down on the water if you hadn't shot the muskot..oops
On a more positive note , if all had been according to plan I would have been in the US of A in some desert dying so thank god it was a taxi drive to the local slaughterhouse..
Back to the Boyz, well they haven't actually been very visible. Sign of the times I suppose and just as well as I lay out on the sofa watching Led Zep Dvds. "Going to California" indeed...
They say that having children turns the boy of us into a man and for once I'd have to agree. And the downside to it all is watching them move further and further away as is the way of things.
Both have slept away the past two nights and of course been either too busy or too forgetful to phone. So much for quality time, but its a reality and of course in one way a sad one.
It is impossible to try and put into words the emotional chord and attachment you have to your own kids, when you see almost your own reflction when you look into their eyes, but it is there and the main difference is that it isn't your own reflection , just almost. They are their own person and thats an imperative to keep in mind. Mine are in my opinion still too young but once again through the generations and like the one's before they seem to grow up much quicker than we'd like them too, and yet quick enough for them. Remember that feeling as a kid, that you wanted to be older sooner than later. And now its the other way round for most of us, that we wanna return to our childhood as opposed to facing all this responsibility.Trust me when I say that some of us are still closer than others and don't mind..
Still, can't wait till they return so maybe they can take Dad downtown and point out the latest fashions for the teenyweenys. I'll expect it more to be a horrible 30 minutes looking at box covers with "World of fetma" pc games , online for only 295 kr a month..My kids know me too well for that..
So, back to the sofa and DF3. I'm falling behind with a number of things and just hoping I can get back onform asap.The earth is still rotating and its been beautiful weather,
"Oh let the sun shine down on your face.." Kashmir (Zepp at best)-live from Knebworth, just barked through the headphones ironically.
One message that has been made very clear over the past few days and has left a mark with indelible ink ,has been the fact that somewhere out there are those that do and those that don't- care. And I'm fortunate enough to have people who do and it has been an awakening with regards to those who basically don't give until they receive. Unfortunately sometimes a rude awakening but always a step towards the truth.
I'll end on typical lyric note;
Our separate paths might have turned
With every door that we opened
Every bridge that we burned
Somehow we find each other
Through all that masquerade
Somehow we found each other
Somehow we have stayed
In a state of grace
I don't believe in destiny
Or the guiding hand of fate
I don't believe in forever
Or love as a mystical state
I don't believe in the stars or the planets
Or angels watching from above
But I believe there's a ghost of a chance we can find someone to love
And make it last...
áyé
Monday, June 18, 2007
Closet clean and a clean slate
I was rather surprised recently at some events and some comments put to me regarding situations and my blogg.
One common feature mentioned by more than a few has been regarding the fact that one has to read between the lines as I never really come to the point sometimes...well of course not.
Thats for the readers to come too , the point. It's a blogg of points of view as opposed to solid foundation as I don't feel anyone should right out what the score is.
So sure, read and work out, take out what you want.The most important part is, as hercule Poirot points out, "get ze little grey cells working"..points made, if your actually made to work something out or have an opinion yourself.
With Midsummer looming and the episodes that have been happening it's about time I started looking at a clean slate as well as realising that I'm never gonna use a certain undersized suit in my closet, which is to say I have to clean it out. And I have several suits in there to go..
How come you always convince yourself that your alright and can handle situations that quite obviously effect you and that you in effect can't handle? Thats where I am, I get reminded by close friends to move on and clean the slate and yet I make a poor argument that I'm cool with the situation and know I have solid footing. Well today and after my short spell in the queit room I realise my footing is on ice at the moment and I'm just an ego massage to some and one of convenience to others. So, just like the weak character that can't shake the nikoteen problem and counter argues the effects I'm gonna have to really dig deep and stop believeing my own poor publicist on this one. Typ, "buy the book of misunderstanding yourself-an autobiography".
I was surviving for a while. Doing well actually. Planning. My god, the car journey was more important than the destination. Then I took a swerve in the car and clipped the kerb which basically has had me at the side of the road changing the spare tyre despite a buckled rim on the old Red Barchetta. Think your getting my point now. So, time stands still and the sand got stuck in the hour glass. I have to give it a shake and despite the fall out live with those decisions that have actually already been made but which I haven't accepted, just like the fact that ciggs do kill ya..
As a certain Sting sang,
Monday, I could wait till tuesday
If I make up my mind ,Wednesday would be fine,
thursdays on my mind
Friday'd give me time, saturday could wait
But sunday'd be too late
C ya all
One common feature mentioned by more than a few has been regarding the fact that one has to read between the lines as I never really come to the point sometimes...well of course not.
Thats for the readers to come too , the point. It's a blogg of points of view as opposed to solid foundation as I don't feel anyone should right out what the score is.
So sure, read and work out, take out what you want.The most important part is, as hercule Poirot points out, "get ze little grey cells working"..points made, if your actually made to work something out or have an opinion yourself.
With Midsummer looming and the episodes that have been happening it's about time I started looking at a clean slate as well as realising that I'm never gonna use a certain undersized suit in my closet, which is to say I have to clean it out. And I have several suits in there to go..
How come you always convince yourself that your alright and can handle situations that quite obviously effect you and that you in effect can't handle? Thats where I am, I get reminded by close friends to move on and clean the slate and yet I make a poor argument that I'm cool with the situation and know I have solid footing. Well today and after my short spell in the queit room I realise my footing is on ice at the moment and I'm just an ego massage to some and one of convenience to others. So, just like the weak character that can't shake the nikoteen problem and counter argues the effects I'm gonna have to really dig deep and stop believeing my own poor publicist on this one. Typ, "buy the book of misunderstanding yourself-an autobiography".
I was surviving for a while. Doing well actually. Planning. My god, the car journey was more important than the destination. Then I took a swerve in the car and clipped the kerb which basically has had me at the side of the road changing the spare tyre despite a buckled rim on the old Red Barchetta. Think your getting my point now. So, time stands still and the sand got stuck in the hour glass. I have to give it a shake and despite the fall out live with those decisions that have actually already been made but which I haven't accepted, just like the fact that ciggs do kill ya..
As a certain Sting sang,
Monday, I could wait till tuesday
If I make up my mind ,Wednesday would be fine,
thursdays on my mind
Friday'd give me time, saturday could wait
But sunday'd be too late
C ya all
Red Cross package from Scotland
If there is but one person who can save the day it's my Mum in Scotland,
for today a package was received and contained a double DVD of "Extras the complete second series" which takes away the pain...
...and of course brings other pains as you sit covering your eyes entertaining the most embarrassing moments ever..
Psychosomatic pains today.Still feel as if I've been given a right beating from the old school and told the tale, tender as a sirloin and waiting for the pain to kick in.
Apparently passing a stone, according to woman who have had both kidney stones and given birth, is more painful than giving birth. Now, don't misunderstand me, this is coming from the neutral sector but it means I will never have to bother buying the ,"you'll never know how it feels " blether that we all have to put up with sometimes.
Instead, I will buy a t-shirt with ,"I've given birth" and wear it with pride..lets just hope there aren't anymore..
for today a package was received and contained a double DVD of "Extras the complete second series" which takes away the pain...
...and of course brings other pains as you sit covering your eyes entertaining the most embarrassing moments ever..
Psychosomatic pains today.Still feel as if I've been given a right beating from the old school and told the tale, tender as a sirloin and waiting for the pain to kick in.
Apparently passing a stone, according to woman who have had both kidney stones and given birth, is more painful than giving birth. Now, don't misunderstand me, this is coming from the neutral sector but it means I will never have to bother buying the ,"you'll never know how it feels " blether that we all have to put up with sometimes.
Instead, I will buy a t-shirt with ,"I've given birth" and wear it with pride..lets just hope there aren't anymore..
The Rugby Boys Comes Too Rescue As All Ways
Det finns ett monster som jagar mig vid någon slags lava.
Sen finns det små , små maskar som äter människor.Sen finns det ett Spöke som kommer och räddar mig.
Men spöket råkar tappar mig vid maskarna men då finns en skate bord som jag åker på maskarna och med dör.Men sen kommer monstret igen och har skaffat en klubba och slår mig så jag börjar blöda.Spöket kommer igen och fightas mot monstret jag springer i väg.
Monstret dödar spöket och kommer tillbaka och har hela sin familj med sig och hans bror har en kniv
Jag trodde jag skulle dö liksom jag var 1 000 000 % nära på att dö.
Men då kommer min pappa med sitt rugby lag och dödar monstren med rugby tacklingar tack pappa, och alla andra Rugby guys!
W.J first essay.9 years old
Not sure, but somehow I feel there is a wee bit too much tv, pc games and films here...
Sen finns det små , små maskar som äter människor.Sen finns det ett Spöke som kommer och räddar mig.
Men spöket råkar tappar mig vid maskarna men då finns en skate bord som jag åker på maskarna och med dör.Men sen kommer monstret igen och har skaffat en klubba och slår mig så jag börjar blöda.Spöket kommer igen och fightas mot monstret jag springer i väg.
Monstret dödar spöket och kommer tillbaka och har hela sin familj med sig och hans bror har en kniv
Jag trodde jag skulle dö liksom jag var 1 000 000 % nära på att dö.
Men då kommer min pappa med sitt rugby lag och dödar monstren med rugby tacklingar tack pappa, och alla andra Rugby guys!
W.J first essay.9 years old
Not sure, but somehow I feel there is a wee bit too much tv, pc games and films here...
long friday....
Despite the copy paste from my train ride friday morning started rather strange.
As I woke up on my sofa as my bed was preoccupied with my two visiting sons for their Annual "Wiking Cup" I had a serious pain in my abdomen area.
I started scathing my mind with what I had eaten if this could be gas related but didn't come up trumps.As the pain became worst I started getting a bit wooried about the logistics of getting to the emergency whilst at the same time keeping my boyz busy as I had to await a verdict.
I am fortunate enough to know people who actually make an effort and care as I was helped out with both problems in a short time and ended up at Capio Axcess emergency with 55 people in line before me..A rather pregnant woman looked at me and mentioned that perhaps i should go up and ask to be looked at as i wasn't looking so good...so for the first time i did and was quickly admitted into a doctor, laid down , ask for blood and urine and then transported to the main Hospital Emergency with a very worried looking taxi driver whose mercedes taxi's seats had a very rich smell of leather as I made some rather strange noises and asked for the window to be opened. I think usually he may have mentioned the AC but not today..
As I walked into my second emergency I realised I'd started sweating bullets which worried me as I hadn't had a temp at capio. However, it was over 20 degrees in the sun..
To cut a long story short I recieved very quick treatment , got two shots in the ass of neat Volteraine as well as a drip which also managed to ensure blood dripped on the floor from my arm as the nurse mentioned something about a good pumping artery...
The pain didn't diminish as I stared into the wall with a sore but, a machine that went beep attached to my chest with three round plasters and a crocodile clip attached to my ear.
I hadn't eaten all day and to be honest wasn't hungary..not even water was a requirement and I kept falling in and out of sleep with the only comfort of knowing that I was in the right place at the right time if needing an emergency operation on a busted gut or similar.
Not sure how many times I was awoken by someone rooting around the room but the hours flew by and at around 20.00 I was wheeled up to the datatomografi x-ray. As i sat outside I turned on my back and puked my guts of stomach bile into a trademarked SicSac. Cute name..
having been stripped to the basics it was hard to lie still and take deep breathes for a clear shot..
The answer came in finally from a male nurse who had played his rugby up in Karlstad and who knew who I was. He was the man who would take away the pain for the first time since 0730..
as he showed a new nurse how to inject a morphin shot into a stomach..and then came relief..
He stayed around for a chat about National issues and local issues and then i feel beck into a slumber. The verdict was in and a Kidney stone diagnosed.Only 2mm in diameter that I would have to pass myself..eventually..(its sunday and still not come..)
I slept again and finally got my release papers at 01.30 and once again was lucky enough to know someone nice enough to whom I owe a huge favour.
That was my friday.
I have now been feeling as if I've been beaten to a pulp and recovering and still feel it aint over till its over...
As I woke up on my sofa as my bed was preoccupied with my two visiting sons for their Annual "Wiking Cup" I had a serious pain in my abdomen area.
I started scathing my mind with what I had eaten if this could be gas related but didn't come up trumps.As the pain became worst I started getting a bit wooried about the logistics of getting to the emergency whilst at the same time keeping my boyz busy as I had to await a verdict.
I am fortunate enough to know people who actually make an effort and care as I was helped out with both problems in a short time and ended up at Capio Axcess emergency with 55 people in line before me..A rather pregnant woman looked at me and mentioned that perhaps i should go up and ask to be looked at as i wasn't looking so good...so for the first time i did and was quickly admitted into a doctor, laid down , ask for blood and urine and then transported to the main Hospital Emergency with a very worried looking taxi driver whose mercedes taxi's seats had a very rich smell of leather as I made some rather strange noises and asked for the window to be opened. I think usually he may have mentioned the AC but not today..
As I walked into my second emergency I realised I'd started sweating bullets which worried me as I hadn't had a temp at capio. However, it was over 20 degrees in the sun..
To cut a long story short I recieved very quick treatment , got two shots in the ass of neat Volteraine as well as a drip which also managed to ensure blood dripped on the floor from my arm as the nurse mentioned something about a good pumping artery...
The pain didn't diminish as I stared into the wall with a sore but, a machine that went beep attached to my chest with three round plasters and a crocodile clip attached to my ear.
I hadn't eaten all day and to be honest wasn't hungary..not even water was a requirement and I kept falling in and out of sleep with the only comfort of knowing that I was in the right place at the right time if needing an emergency operation on a busted gut or similar.
Not sure how many times I was awoken by someone rooting around the room but the hours flew by and at around 20.00 I was wheeled up to the datatomografi x-ray. As i sat outside I turned on my back and puked my guts of stomach bile into a trademarked SicSac. Cute name..
having been stripped to the basics it was hard to lie still and take deep breathes for a clear shot..
The answer came in finally from a male nurse who had played his rugby up in Karlstad and who knew who I was. He was the man who would take away the pain for the first time since 0730..
as he showed a new nurse how to inject a morphin shot into a stomach..and then came relief..
He stayed around for a chat about National issues and local issues and then i feel beck into a slumber. The verdict was in and a Kidney stone diagnosed.Only 2mm in diameter that I would have to pass myself..eventually..(its sunday and still not come..)
I slept again and finally got my release papers at 01.30 and once again was lucky enough to know someone nice enough to whom I owe a huge favour.
That was my friday.
I have now been feeling as if I've been beaten to a pulp and recovering and still feel it aint over till its over...
Friday, June 15, 2007
The Immaculate Conception of ....come again?
So the travelling is on again and once gain I’m standing beside a train with a fake grin on my face as a couple pick up a pram with a screaming kid still sitting in it, the ultimate curling föräldrar(?) and behind me a young girl trys to control a rather angry Doberman pincher who obviously isn’t enjoying the prospect of a trip..join the q buddy. As a voice reigned over the tannoy that the cattle had to get into the wagon as quickly as possible I looked at a bloke in a wheelchair looked bemused as to how he was gonna get on the train.Not sure if he ever did actually.
This trip will of course the launch the obtaining of a new laptop which in turn means I can script whilst on the go. Once again it’s a sad day to see the back of the IBM T21 wich has done formidable service since 98 and still works a treat, it’s the 10gb hardisk, PIII , 750PIII processor that’s getting a bit old tooth and of course on trips without an electrical outlet the thing dies immediately as soon as its meant to go over to battery. It’s the old tale of even my old laptop has a soul, despite being plastic and indeed also has a story.
I cannot reiterate just how things have changed within a few decades and the fact that I can now download 15 records of my favourite French band in a rar zipped folder and listen to everyone whilst on a train that if I want I can plug into the internet and surf to which ever country I want in the world is completely taken for granted..
NB: as I am writing this a rather chubby chucker just managed to spill orange juice on me which in turn missed my keyboard by inches…for those of you who didn’t already know the only genuine killer of electronics is orange juice…so despite the fact that I’ve had an orange cum shot on myself she survived. I will refrain from further abuse as I see she is sitting quite close in a pale clowd of over nourishment and was obviously caught up in the “must get a tattoo” phase of a few years ago of a funny little character on her haunch…
I really enjoying driving and my next conquest is to get a Honda s2000 and never take public transport again. I have to admit though the rat poison worked on the dog as well as the whiskey in the milk bottle. only joking.I have had enough abuse actually the past few days. Bleedin check to say that I take life as a joke, I mean really.
Just listening to some old dears sitting in the seats next to me. Have you ever noticed that the elderly seem to be obsessed with time? They seem to get really into details and they’re good at pointing them out. I suppose it must be such a new world for them. I mean, I find it kinda sad in a way how things have “moved on” , so I can imagine someone with another 25 years on mine. What a blogg!
Actually, details and simplicity should be the name of my book. No idea why, a minor detail right there I suppose…
Attention to detail is always a frightening concept, entering almost a world of “American Pyscho”..Its a bit like our new word for office donkey –project leader. Attention to detail- compulsive obsessionist.Is that a word?- I’ll get me coat.
Nice to know that one of my blogg readers has once again blessed the blogg with so many derisoury comments that I can’t understand why she bothers. Now it’s the Damp Blogg. This is of course from the very same person who wanted me to drop dead. As I never read over what I write I can imagine it is all swings and roundabouts and has enough dips and tips as “the Big Dipper” of Blackpool pre 80.
*The big Dipper- so called as it had at that time ,Europes steepest dip after the start . When I was a lad my single mother took my brother and I to Blackpool and we would go on all those rides including the Dipper. Of course, you’d have to be certified now to step on one of the wooden trolleys that went around this roller coaster. If you sat in the front wagon the front wheels lifted at points and sat at the back and the rear lifted at others. So it was always a case of “Mr and Mrs Shiturpants”. Quite a few of those old amusement rides have now been outlawed and I reckon they’re either dismantled or worst still ended up in Russia or a neighboring country to Mother R. Scarey thought…
I mean to say, Balder and all the rest is fun, but it’s comfort zone compared to a wooden trolley with 4 rusty train wheels on a jalopy track. Of course I write in hindsight.
I wonder what the circus is like nowadays. Are you also one of those people that always see’s the advertising posters but never actually sees the tent. I always notice those posters as I have a thing for clowns. I think they’re frightening in a some weirdo way. I reckon its Stephen King and “It” but I’m not sure for I cannot remember ever finding a clown character amusing me whilst pretending to throw a bucket of water but its actually bits of paper..Or the big shoes and kicking each others backsides whilst blowing a large horn…quick example, google ;famous mass murders / clown..
Wonder what makes you want to become a clown and join the circus. I know, it’s a family generation hand me down. Thanks Dad, thanks Mum, I’ll just got rip some bits of paper and make sure the water is filled in the squirting flower…There has to be inbreeding in the circus acts of Europe otherwise they would die out in this digital world. I suppose Ringmaster is an in joke in Circus circles. The bearded lady and the ringmaster invite you to drinks in caravan 3 , due to the lack of space dwarfs will be required to stand…please stand up…
Ok ok, sick sense of humour, and already informed that I shouldn’t take life as a joke and that’s all I do. That’s not true but at the same time I do seem to have inherited some ancient Scottish disease called “takkin the rise”. In the quarters I was brought up all humour was based on taking the piss outta everyone and everything. I seem to be caught in a rut- for the last 30 years..
If there was one thing I would declare I miss it’s the sense of humour. Of course Scandinavia has it’s own rare type of humour which after years of personal research I have discovered it’s based around the fact that they can mix the letter w and V without actually realising…
So you get, “ we are wikings… we eat wegetables…”…Just doesn’t work when you get some large blonde kiddo giving the old “Vi r Wikings”…the come back is of course, “wot a buncha Vankers”.
On a more serious note the humour is interesting , sarcasm and cynicism goes down like cheap Bulgarian wine. This can be alarming especially in relationships when they don’t know if your kidding or not. Every suggestion becomes a question mark and mas debate…
Eg;
“Ville du åker till Ikea på Sondag”
Why, that sounds like fun. We should go to Ikea more often, it’s so much fun..
Vad menar du med det? Ville du inte åker med, eller?
Sure, always enjoy the crowds, we can play happy famly who can’t find anything else constructive to do at the weekend. Whats next, planned sex on “myss” Friday after a bath with scented candles…
Hejdå!
Ok, bye
It’s around this time I realise that someone will be stomping their feet and stating the fact that there is nothing wrong with a planned trip to Ikea, that sometimes you have to plan the sex on a Friday as we’re too tired through the week as “desperate housewifes” and “House” can’t be missed as well as the other “Stories” and that scented candles and a bath are very romantic. Then of course comes the cutting remark that I’m as romantic as a splinter under a toe nail. And of course I would agree that there is nothing wrong with the above if that is the way you wanna go. I have yet to find a bath that takes two people and things remain romantic…usually “fredags/lordags godis” put an end to that…
Well I suppose if I’m unfortunate I’ll end up like Jacque Mesrine.
Ever wondered how the algorithms work in a zipped file. How they compress 5megabytes down to 900Kb depending on the program.
Ever wondered how the strings in C++ work to pull together lines of programming that run programs. Java programming or is it still something to do with Indonesia.
Why do I ask?
Question is, why do some care and wonder and others simply accept and get on.
I tend to rate in the 2 and 3 dimensional state.
2 dimensional is very flat. Obvious. Almost a shallow level to be working at., just scratching at the surface of basically anything, from hobby to personality.
3 dimensional is getting deeper, more into someone or something.
Analogy could be a coal mine(or gold mine). Question is are you starting the dig or is the lift already in place and ready to take you down it’s levels.
To dig deeper is gonna take more hard work without knowing if there is any gold/coal down there. So the first choice is if your willing to work hard enough to go past the 2 dimension. A classic example hear is the attraction game. You get pissed, you see a girl through the bottom of your empty jar and you move in based on..the 2 dimension. So does she, so no need to worry, your either in or out as you haven’t got your tool out yet (?).(I suppose your waiting for her to help you there)
If we move away from that and look at the one difference between many its not rocket science, its rather simple. Why? Thats all it is. Some people ask the question why and follow it up with how. Reading articles about Einstein and his theories are fairly amazing as it’s all based around a starting point where he asked himself why, how come, and follows it up dedicating himself so well that he ends up hanging out with Marilyn Monroe !
This trip will of course the launch the obtaining of a new laptop which in turn means I can script whilst on the go. Once again it’s a sad day to see the back of the IBM T21 wich has done formidable service since 98 and still works a treat, it’s the 10gb hardisk, PIII , 750PIII processor that’s getting a bit old tooth and of course on trips without an electrical outlet the thing dies immediately as soon as its meant to go over to battery. It’s the old tale of even my old laptop has a soul, despite being plastic and indeed also has a story.
I cannot reiterate just how things have changed within a few decades and the fact that I can now download 15 records of my favourite French band in a rar zipped folder and listen to everyone whilst on a train that if I want I can plug into the internet and surf to which ever country I want in the world is completely taken for granted..
NB: as I am writing this a rather chubby chucker just managed to spill orange juice on me which in turn missed my keyboard by inches…for those of you who didn’t already know the only genuine killer of electronics is orange juice…so despite the fact that I’ve had an orange cum shot on myself she survived. I will refrain from further abuse as I see she is sitting quite close in a pale clowd of over nourishment and was obviously caught up in the “must get a tattoo” phase of a few years ago of a funny little character on her haunch…
I really enjoying driving and my next conquest is to get a Honda s2000 and never take public transport again. I have to admit though the rat poison worked on the dog as well as the whiskey in the milk bottle. only joking.I have had enough abuse actually the past few days. Bleedin check to say that I take life as a joke, I mean really.
Just listening to some old dears sitting in the seats next to me. Have you ever noticed that the elderly seem to be obsessed with time? They seem to get really into details and they’re good at pointing them out. I suppose it must be such a new world for them. I mean, I find it kinda sad in a way how things have “moved on” , so I can imagine someone with another 25 years on mine. What a blogg!
Actually, details and simplicity should be the name of my book. No idea why, a minor detail right there I suppose…
Attention to detail is always a frightening concept, entering almost a world of “American Pyscho”..Its a bit like our new word for office donkey –project leader. Attention to detail- compulsive obsessionist.Is that a word?- I’ll get me coat.
Nice to know that one of my blogg readers has once again blessed the blogg with so many derisoury comments that I can’t understand why she bothers. Now it’s the Damp Blogg. This is of course from the very same person who wanted me to drop dead. As I never read over what I write I can imagine it is all swings and roundabouts and has enough dips and tips as “the Big Dipper” of Blackpool pre 80.
*The big Dipper- so called as it had at that time ,Europes steepest dip after the start . When I was a lad my single mother took my brother and I to Blackpool and we would go on all those rides including the Dipper. Of course, you’d have to be certified now to step on one of the wooden trolleys that went around this roller coaster. If you sat in the front wagon the front wheels lifted at points and sat at the back and the rear lifted at others. So it was always a case of “Mr and Mrs Shiturpants”. Quite a few of those old amusement rides have now been outlawed and I reckon they’re either dismantled or worst still ended up in Russia or a neighboring country to Mother R. Scarey thought…
I mean to say, Balder and all the rest is fun, but it’s comfort zone compared to a wooden trolley with 4 rusty train wheels on a jalopy track. Of course I write in hindsight.
I wonder what the circus is like nowadays. Are you also one of those people that always see’s the advertising posters but never actually sees the tent. I always notice those posters as I have a thing for clowns. I think they’re frightening in a some weirdo way. I reckon its Stephen King and “It” but I’m not sure for I cannot remember ever finding a clown character amusing me whilst pretending to throw a bucket of water but its actually bits of paper..Or the big shoes and kicking each others backsides whilst blowing a large horn…quick example, google ;famous mass murders / clown..
Wonder what makes you want to become a clown and join the circus. I know, it’s a family generation hand me down. Thanks Dad, thanks Mum, I’ll just got rip some bits of paper and make sure the water is filled in the squirting flower…There has to be inbreeding in the circus acts of Europe otherwise they would die out in this digital world. I suppose Ringmaster is an in joke in Circus circles. The bearded lady and the ringmaster invite you to drinks in caravan 3 , due to the lack of space dwarfs will be required to stand…please stand up…
Ok ok, sick sense of humour, and already informed that I shouldn’t take life as a joke and that’s all I do. That’s not true but at the same time I do seem to have inherited some ancient Scottish disease called “takkin the rise”. In the quarters I was brought up all humour was based on taking the piss outta everyone and everything. I seem to be caught in a rut- for the last 30 years..
If there was one thing I would declare I miss it’s the sense of humour. Of course Scandinavia has it’s own rare type of humour which after years of personal research I have discovered it’s based around the fact that they can mix the letter w and V without actually realising…
So you get, “ we are wikings… we eat wegetables…”…Just doesn’t work when you get some large blonde kiddo giving the old “Vi r Wikings”…the come back is of course, “wot a buncha Vankers”.
On a more serious note the humour is interesting , sarcasm and cynicism goes down like cheap Bulgarian wine. This can be alarming especially in relationships when they don’t know if your kidding or not. Every suggestion becomes a question mark and mas debate…
Eg;
“Ville du åker till Ikea på Sondag”
Why, that sounds like fun. We should go to Ikea more often, it’s so much fun..
Vad menar du med det? Ville du inte åker med, eller?
Sure, always enjoy the crowds, we can play happy famly who can’t find anything else constructive to do at the weekend. Whats next, planned sex on “myss” Friday after a bath with scented candles…
Hejdå!
Ok, bye
It’s around this time I realise that someone will be stomping their feet and stating the fact that there is nothing wrong with a planned trip to Ikea, that sometimes you have to plan the sex on a Friday as we’re too tired through the week as “desperate housewifes” and “House” can’t be missed as well as the other “Stories” and that scented candles and a bath are very romantic. Then of course comes the cutting remark that I’m as romantic as a splinter under a toe nail. And of course I would agree that there is nothing wrong with the above if that is the way you wanna go. I have yet to find a bath that takes two people and things remain romantic…usually “fredags/lordags godis” put an end to that…
Well I suppose if I’m unfortunate I’ll end up like Jacque Mesrine.
Ever wondered how the algorithms work in a zipped file. How they compress 5megabytes down to 900Kb depending on the program.
Ever wondered how the strings in C++ work to pull together lines of programming that run programs. Java programming or is it still something to do with Indonesia.
Why do I ask?
Question is, why do some care and wonder and others simply accept and get on.
I tend to rate in the 2 and 3 dimensional state.
2 dimensional is very flat. Obvious. Almost a shallow level to be working at., just scratching at the surface of basically anything, from hobby to personality.
3 dimensional is getting deeper, more into someone or something.
Analogy could be a coal mine(or gold mine). Question is are you starting the dig or is the lift already in place and ready to take you down it’s levels.
To dig deeper is gonna take more hard work without knowing if there is any gold/coal down there. So the first choice is if your willing to work hard enough to go past the 2 dimension. A classic example hear is the attraction game. You get pissed, you see a girl through the bottom of your empty jar and you move in based on..the 2 dimension. So does she, so no need to worry, your either in or out as you haven’t got your tool out yet (?).(I suppose your waiting for her to help you there)
If we move away from that and look at the one difference between many its not rocket science, its rather simple. Why? Thats all it is. Some people ask the question why and follow it up with how. Reading articles about Einstein and his theories are fairly amazing as it’s all based around a starting point where he asked himself why, how come, and follows it up dedicating himself so well that he ends up hanging out with Marilyn Monroe !
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Pounds for points
When you walk through a storm
hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8cffEaZGh0&mode=related&search=
hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind,
Walk on through the rain,
Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone.
Walk on, walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone,
You'll never, ever walk alone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8cffEaZGh0&mode=related&search=
Monday, June 11, 2007
Whole lotta Rosie..
...or as a very good friend said,
One hundred and eighty!! (*you have to have watched darts to appreciate)
as in;
"and Bullies special prize tonite..MUUUUUUUUUUU!"....in one...
Lets just the say the past couple of days have been rather Pinky and Perky.
As Blondie sang, "hanging on the telephone line"... for three days to be exact and it all ended peacefully at 16.10 today by actually recieving some contact.
I realise it's all cryptic but at this point thats the way it has to remain.
It's been in the air since I watched a rather traumatic documentry on friday evening with the main character being a sodomite, looking like a poor Elvis impression and managing to convince 909 people to do a revolution suicide..Sometimes the iq of Americans is simply astounding...
The man in question is of course the Rev.(NOT) Jim Jones of the imfamous Peoples Temple..
Some stories take the biscuit, this guy was an unopened packet of Cream Crackers..
Talking of Cream Crackers, in the good old days hanging around the playgrounds of Musselburgh and between drinking the thunderbird pocket rockets and shortie Regal we used to have a competition as to who could eat as many Cream Crackers within 60 seconds.
Try it, you'll be surprised how few you get down the old gullet....pass the pocket rocket...
Anyway, back onto the subject of iQ relievement instead of writing up the entire story I suggest strongly you google Jim Jones and read the story..and then think about our own wee Peoples Temple which started in Uppsala by a Mr Ekman. Livets Ord.Same same.I used to work in a building behind their own "temple" called the glass pyramid and we'd catch the crazy sons a bitches in the bushes "talking in tongues"...No shit Sherlock! They'd continue in their duty of dribbling verbal diaria as we'd be digging the foundations. Scarey, and by now they have infiltrated government positions, own huge amounts of uppsala land and are getting away with the same nonesense. Thats how 'ol Jim started, first it was killing a cat with a knife to perform his own funeral and that let on to being an influential person in San Francisco politics. He only left as he was a renowned sodomizer and got caught too many times..
Livets Ord when they first let their policies be known sounded more like a modern nazi party, having open condemnations against handicapped people and gay people..read it, its all on Wikylpedia.Since then they decided to get smart and ripped that page out of their manifesto.
No joke..
So despite a Mr Jones dishing out the Kool aid to 276 children spiked with cyanide and then several hundred "talking in tongues" persons who'd left all behind to move to their new Utopia in South America we still haven't really learned the lesson. It's a bit like cheating on your taxes isn't it. If you try and save a couple of hundred bucks you get caught and fried, if you embezzle millions and get caught you tend to get off with a lighter sentence.'cos we need them people..
Anyway, Jim Jones started the weekend with a cynical view of course and this just seemed to revolve into the weirdest of weekends for a while.
However, despite some rather strange episodes and serious dramas coming to head on saturday the weather was now officially the hottest since the 60's and it was awesome just to lie back and reflect.
Once again I managed to nearly burn my back as by then i wasn't told the secret of being single and getting suntan lotion on your back properly (I know know..)but I decided that I'd ask an old couple if they could help me out and to my amazement they recognised my voice from a radio program I was on last weekend. Cute couple actually and I only had to move further away when all their golden oldies turned up to have some food in Permabils and wheel chairs. The gathering from Highlander didn't really look the same...Nice folks though.
My favorite place to get some zzz's and sun is actually a small park next to a large graveyard which has an interesting engraved sign on the entrance, "Tänk på Döden"- not really sure how this should be translated or if it is indeed an extremely old and rare insight to the driest humour known in Europe..Think of the dead? no..Respect the dead?..Show respect to the graveyard..no sure but it makes for a really quiet place to lie down and reflect.And that just now is major league.
Life's choices can indeed be like a game of chess and you have all the options that you have made available to yourself but now it's time to make a move and the chess clock, like the sands of time, are getting away from you.Do you stay in the comfort zone? That's a nice safe place to be.Right.Or do you throw in the towel, bluff the cards and just take the hardest choice emotionally available. Like chess, your looking to make back and take back several moves later, but do you dare. I don't mean on a financial stage, I mean on the hardest stage of all. The feelings, the emotions, the history, the comfort and reliance stage.Whose move is it anyway and who are we playing against?
After the weekend I started to realise that some things are not as important as others. And with that I will start thinking about my next post and keep things positive, as the sun is shining, the earth is still rotating and despite all the cruelty's going down we still have that move to make.
King to bishop 4?
Time to go and join hands and sing Country Joe Macdonalds 60's "and its 1,2,3,4, what r we fighting for.."or better still, the FISH Cheer...
Give me an F
Give me a U
Give me a C
Give me a K
whats that stand for...
áyé
One hundred and eighty!! (*you have to have watched darts to appreciate)
as in;
"and Bullies special prize tonite..MUUUUUUUUUUU!"....in one...
Lets just the say the past couple of days have been rather Pinky and Perky.
As Blondie sang, "hanging on the telephone line"... for three days to be exact and it all ended peacefully at 16.10 today by actually recieving some contact.
I realise it's all cryptic but at this point thats the way it has to remain.
It's been in the air since I watched a rather traumatic documentry on friday evening with the main character being a sodomite, looking like a poor Elvis impression and managing to convince 909 people to do a revolution suicide..Sometimes the iq of Americans is simply astounding...
The man in question is of course the Rev.(NOT) Jim Jones of the imfamous Peoples Temple..
Some stories take the biscuit, this guy was an unopened packet of Cream Crackers..
Talking of Cream Crackers, in the good old days hanging around the playgrounds of Musselburgh and between drinking the thunderbird pocket rockets and shortie Regal we used to have a competition as to who could eat as many Cream Crackers within 60 seconds.
Try it, you'll be surprised how few you get down the old gullet....pass the pocket rocket...
Anyway, back onto the subject of iQ relievement instead of writing up the entire story I suggest strongly you google Jim Jones and read the story..and then think about our own wee Peoples Temple which started in Uppsala by a Mr Ekman. Livets Ord.Same same.I used to work in a building behind their own "temple" called the glass pyramid and we'd catch the crazy sons a bitches in the bushes "talking in tongues"...No shit Sherlock! They'd continue in their duty of dribbling verbal diaria as we'd be digging the foundations. Scarey, and by now they have infiltrated government positions, own huge amounts of uppsala land and are getting away with the same nonesense. Thats how 'ol Jim started, first it was killing a cat with a knife to perform his own funeral and that let on to being an influential person in San Francisco politics. He only left as he was a renowned sodomizer and got caught too many times..
Livets Ord when they first let their policies be known sounded more like a modern nazi party, having open condemnations against handicapped people and gay people..read it, its all on Wikylpedia.Since then they decided to get smart and ripped that page out of their manifesto.
No joke..
So despite a Mr Jones dishing out the Kool aid to 276 children spiked with cyanide and then several hundred "talking in tongues" persons who'd left all behind to move to their new Utopia in South America we still haven't really learned the lesson. It's a bit like cheating on your taxes isn't it. If you try and save a couple of hundred bucks you get caught and fried, if you embezzle millions and get caught you tend to get off with a lighter sentence.'cos we need them people..
Anyway, Jim Jones started the weekend with a cynical view of course and this just seemed to revolve into the weirdest of weekends for a while.
However, despite some rather strange episodes and serious dramas coming to head on saturday the weather was now officially the hottest since the 60's and it was awesome just to lie back and reflect.
Once again I managed to nearly burn my back as by then i wasn't told the secret of being single and getting suntan lotion on your back properly (I know know..)but I decided that I'd ask an old couple if they could help me out and to my amazement they recognised my voice from a radio program I was on last weekend. Cute couple actually and I only had to move further away when all their golden oldies turned up to have some food in Permabils and wheel chairs. The gathering from Highlander didn't really look the same...Nice folks though.
My favorite place to get some zzz's and sun is actually a small park next to a large graveyard which has an interesting engraved sign on the entrance, "Tänk på Döden"- not really sure how this should be translated or if it is indeed an extremely old and rare insight to the driest humour known in Europe..Think of the dead? no..Respect the dead?..Show respect to the graveyard..no sure but it makes for a really quiet place to lie down and reflect.And that just now is major league.
Life's choices can indeed be like a game of chess and you have all the options that you have made available to yourself but now it's time to make a move and the chess clock, like the sands of time, are getting away from you.Do you stay in the comfort zone? That's a nice safe place to be.Right.Or do you throw in the towel, bluff the cards and just take the hardest choice emotionally available. Like chess, your looking to make back and take back several moves later, but do you dare. I don't mean on a financial stage, I mean on the hardest stage of all. The feelings, the emotions, the history, the comfort and reliance stage.Whose move is it anyway and who are we playing against?
After the weekend I started to realise that some things are not as important as others. And with that I will start thinking about my next post and keep things positive, as the sun is shining, the earth is still rotating and despite all the cruelty's going down we still have that move to make.
King to bishop 4?
Time to go and join hands and sing Country Joe Macdonalds 60's "and its 1,2,3,4, what r we fighting for.."or better still, the FISH Cheer...
Give me an F
Give me a U
Give me a C
Give me a K
whats that stand for...
áyé
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Tradalan, Volteraine and a spare tyre..*suck*
There are some amusing tabs to drop, mostly based around enjoying trance music.
however once again I'm having to find and drop the unpleasant ones.
Shoulder feels like it's done a round with Mike Tyson and the strangest thing is I've no idea how it happened.Last thing I had was a very hard massage on my shoulders and now it's donald ducked..
At the same time I'm coming out of a Swedish Chernobyl winter/spring/allfuckedupthing flu and that has meant something resembling a spare tyre for a mini-moto has reared it's ugly frikken head..depressing...no fat tax here thanks..although have you ever noticed it's rather common you feel yourself like the size of a whale but others just get annoyed and see no difference..
Thats usually when they grab your love handles in a restaurant for a laugh..funny funny
So theres a lot of work to be done! Can't feel bad just as the sun trys to arrive anyway, gunz need building and we can rebuild the shoulder.
However, you do feel like a complete LOSER if you end up in a gym whilst the sun is up. For me its a Vampire job, only in the gym when it's dark.
Walking around my suburb (err..) I noticed just how many solariums have opened within the past weeks.Not sure if I've written about this before, (tabs u know) but it does strike me as being very strange that so many have appeared.
I remember trying to get a bank loan many years ago for a couple of thousand and to do that I borrowed a program and wrote an entire business / payback plan including the project. At the time the banks and sweden had basically stopped loaning out any money whatsoever , so they said no.
Nowadays and they're throwing money around again.Would yu feel that a solarium is a sound investment to open just before the summer..Something smells fishy and I don't mean the little dirty naked bald man lying in the solarium...
I won tuesdays pre-National day fika prize of "closest to the loony bin award" by the following;
At the age of 4, ask to pack bags from the American school of Geneva for trashing every ones drawings in the art class..then having spent some time in hospital with a blood disease moved to primary school in musselburgh and every break led a gang to assault as many Pakistanis as possible..At age 12 caught and charged for stealing a mini rugby ball and a top shelf playboy and penthouse magazine..at 13 expelled from a public school..
My Shrink has a field day and claims it's good to cry.Indeed.
Question is , does this reflect in anything today?
Society attempts to guide us with a hammer towards its own ideals and really doesn't like us having a go at thinking some own ideals.
It's like the old classic question, what do I use to day from all those days of being in school?
When was the last time you used a Bunsen burner to turn a liquid frothy, or when was the last time you used trigonometry? I used to know some people who would only employ people with degrees.I asked why and they actually gave a good answer back for once, they said it showed that the person could apply themselves through exams etc...and get through it with a degree..
I've always wondered about that. As you should know by reading previous scripts I'm not so enthralled by the intellectual pretentiousness , especially when pseudo which itself is a contradiction within a text segment..
I now sit here on my non Ikea sofa listening to Bix Beiderbecke Riverboat Shuffle and dare to use the "P" word. However, that's the difference between genuine and not the real article.People do things to try and fit into Society's ideal and then show their friends and neighbours.Well, okay let people enjoy themselves and do the things they find enjoyable and get a "feel good factor" from.
I would however suggest these people are the very same that I would suggest 6 months of cannabis to try and free some of that creativeness and freedom from their Dante's Inferno circle of hell that society has led them too..and which they embrace as they buy an Absolute Classics CD...
no, only joking.Everyone to their own thing. Not sure if its a crisis but I have a strong urge to drink more and smoke more illegal substances and listen to Marley.Very worrying.
Subject of "being a man" came up the other day at work. What is that? hmm
I have now asked many a lassie* what they call themselves between the age of like 21 to 31.Many dislike the word woman and then girl is very appropriate either..
So, I have now included "Amelians" into my dictionary, named appropriately after the magazine "Amelia" which claims to fill that market (look at a cover the next time u find a copy).
So, Man then. In my opinion my Father was always in my mind a Man. On the other hand he was 35 years older than me from the day I came out the bucket.So there you have it, we laddies never actually perceive ourselves as men until it's way too late and the Permabil needs its tyres inflated..Can't actually remember the last time I heard a guy saying , "well I consider myself to be a man"..must enquire more into this.
Gettin' some flash Gordon info in regarding the latest Scene and it may well be Farewell Vienna.
however once again I'm having to find and drop the unpleasant ones.
Shoulder feels like it's done a round with Mike Tyson and the strangest thing is I've no idea how it happened.Last thing I had was a very hard massage on my shoulders and now it's donald ducked..
At the same time I'm coming out of a Swedish Chernobyl winter/spring/allfuckedupthing flu and that has meant something resembling a spare tyre for a mini-moto has reared it's ugly frikken head..depressing...no fat tax here thanks..although have you ever noticed it's rather common you feel yourself like the size of a whale but others just get annoyed and see no difference..
Thats usually when they grab your love handles in a restaurant for a laugh..funny funny
So theres a lot of work to be done! Can't feel bad just as the sun trys to arrive anyway, gunz need building and we can rebuild the shoulder.
However, you do feel like a complete LOSER if you end up in a gym whilst the sun is up. For me its a Vampire job, only in the gym when it's dark.
Walking around my suburb (err..) I noticed just how many solariums have opened within the past weeks.Not sure if I've written about this before, (tabs u know) but it does strike me as being very strange that so many have appeared.
I remember trying to get a bank loan many years ago for a couple of thousand and to do that I borrowed a program and wrote an entire business / payback plan including the project. At the time the banks and sweden had basically stopped loaning out any money whatsoever , so they said no.
Nowadays and they're throwing money around again.Would yu feel that a solarium is a sound investment to open just before the summer..Something smells fishy and I don't mean the little dirty naked bald man lying in the solarium...
I won tuesdays pre-National day fika prize of "closest to the loony bin award" by the following;
At the age of 4, ask to pack bags from the American school of Geneva for trashing every ones drawings in the art class..then having spent some time in hospital with a blood disease moved to primary school in musselburgh and every break led a gang to assault as many Pakistanis as possible..At age 12 caught and charged for stealing a mini rugby ball and a top shelf playboy and penthouse magazine..at 13 expelled from a public school..
My Shrink has a field day and claims it's good to cry.Indeed.
Question is , does this reflect in anything today?
Society attempts to guide us with a hammer towards its own ideals and really doesn't like us having a go at thinking some own ideals.
It's like the old classic question, what do I use to day from all those days of being in school?
When was the last time you used a Bunsen burner to turn a liquid frothy, or when was the last time you used trigonometry? I used to know some people who would only employ people with degrees.I asked why and they actually gave a good answer back for once, they said it showed that the person could apply themselves through exams etc...and get through it with a degree..
I've always wondered about that. As you should know by reading previous scripts I'm not so enthralled by the intellectual pretentiousness , especially when pseudo which itself is a contradiction within a text segment..
I now sit here on my non Ikea sofa listening to Bix Beiderbecke Riverboat Shuffle and dare to use the "P" word. However, that's the difference between genuine and not the real article.People do things to try and fit into Society's ideal and then show their friends and neighbours.Well, okay let people enjoy themselves and do the things they find enjoyable and get a "feel good factor" from.
I would however suggest these people are the very same that I would suggest 6 months of cannabis to try and free some of that creativeness and freedom from their Dante's Inferno circle of hell that society has led them too..and which they embrace as they buy an Absolute Classics CD...
no, only joking.Everyone to their own thing. Not sure if its a crisis but I have a strong urge to drink more and smoke more illegal substances and listen to Marley.Very worrying.
Subject of "being a man" came up the other day at work. What is that? hmm
I have now asked many a lassie* what they call themselves between the age of like 21 to 31.Many dislike the word woman and then girl is very appropriate either..
So, I have now included "Amelians" into my dictionary, named appropriately after the magazine "Amelia" which claims to fill that market (look at a cover the next time u find a copy).
So, Man then. In my opinion my Father was always in my mind a Man. On the other hand he was 35 years older than me from the day I came out the bucket.So there you have it, we laddies never actually perceive ourselves as men until it's way too late and the Permabil needs its tyres inflated..Can't actually remember the last time I heard a guy saying , "well I consider myself to be a man"..must enquire more into this.
Gettin' some flash Gordon info in regarding the latest Scene and it may well be Farewell Vienna.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
TRUST!!!!
- Attention !La mise en vente des places pour le concert exceptionnel du 4 décembre 2007 à l'Olympia va être effective ces prochains jours.
Ne ratez pas ce concert évènement du groupe qui fêtera pour l'occasion ses 30ans d'existence !
Et oui, Trust était sur la scène de L'Olympia en décembre 1977 ! et y sera donc à nouveau le 4 décembre 2007.
- Un répertoire revu et corrigé afin de retracer toute l'histoire du groupe.- De très nombreuses surprises ! dont certaines énormes... sont prévues.- Un mershandising unique pour l'évènement- 2 backstages All Access VIP à gagner sur tirage au sort du N° de billet, afin de partager l'avant et l'après concert avec le groupe.
Donc dépêchez vous il n'y en aura pas pour tout le monde...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLZVbFiYjys
ticket already booked and payed for....first time was '81
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VklnGqRA4c4&mode=related&search=
avec moi..antisocial..chant!
Tu bosses toute ta vie pour payer ta pierre tombale
Tu masques ton visage en lisant ton journal,
Tu marches tel un robot dans les couloirs du métro.
Les gens ne te touchent pas, faut faire le premier pas.
Tu voudrais dialoguer sans renvoyer la balle.
Impossible d'avancer sans ton gilet pare-balles.
Tu voudrais donner des yeux à la justice
Impossible de violer cette femme pleine de vices.
Antisocial, tu perds ton sang-froid.
Repense à toutes ces années de service.
Antisocial, bientôt les années de sévices,
Enfin, le temps perdu qu'on ne rattrape plus.
Ecraser les gens est devenu ton passe-temps.
En les éclaboussant, tu deviens gênant.
Dans ton désespoir, il reste un peu d'espoir
Celui de voir les gens sans fard et moins bâtards.
Mais cesse de faire le point, serre plutôt les poings,
Bouge de ta retraite, ta conduite est trop parfaite
Relève la gueule, je suis là, t'es pas seul
Ceux qui hier t'enviaient, aujourd'hui te jugeraient.
Antisocial, tu perds ton sang-froid.
Repense à toutes ces années de service.
Antisocial, bientôt les années de sévices,
Enfin, le temps perdu qu'on ne rattrape plus.
Tu bosses toute ta vie pour payer ta pierre tombale,
Tu masques ton visage en lisant ton journal,
Tu marches tel un robot dans les couloirs du métro.
Les gens ne te touchent pas, faut faire le premier pas.
Tu voudrais dialoguer sans renvoyer la balle.
Impossible d'avancer sans ton gilet pare-balles.
Tu voudrais donner des yeux à la justice
Impossible de violer cette femme pleine de vices.
Antisocial, tu perds ton sang-froid.
Repense à toutes ces années de service
Antisocial, bientôt les années de sévices,Enfin, le temps perdu qu'on ne rattrape plus
Ne ratez pas ce concert évènement du groupe qui fêtera pour l'occasion ses 30ans d'existence !
Et oui, Trust était sur la scène de L'Olympia en décembre 1977 ! et y sera donc à nouveau le 4 décembre 2007.
- Un répertoire revu et corrigé afin de retracer toute l'histoire du groupe.- De très nombreuses surprises ! dont certaines énormes... sont prévues.- Un mershandising unique pour l'évènement- 2 backstages All Access VIP à gagner sur tirage au sort du N° de billet, afin de partager l'avant et l'après concert avec le groupe.
Donc dépêchez vous il n'y en aura pas pour tout le monde...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KLZVbFiYjys
ticket already booked and payed for....first time was '81
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VklnGqRA4c4&mode=related&search=
avec moi..antisocial..chant!
Tu bosses toute ta vie pour payer ta pierre tombale
Tu masques ton visage en lisant ton journal,
Tu marches tel un robot dans les couloirs du métro.
Les gens ne te touchent pas, faut faire le premier pas.
Tu voudrais dialoguer sans renvoyer la balle.
Impossible d'avancer sans ton gilet pare-balles.
Tu voudrais donner des yeux à la justice
Impossible de violer cette femme pleine de vices.
Antisocial, tu perds ton sang-froid.
Repense à toutes ces années de service.
Antisocial, bientôt les années de sévices,
Enfin, le temps perdu qu'on ne rattrape plus.
Ecraser les gens est devenu ton passe-temps.
En les éclaboussant, tu deviens gênant.
Dans ton désespoir, il reste un peu d'espoir
Celui de voir les gens sans fard et moins bâtards.
Mais cesse de faire le point, serre plutôt les poings,
Bouge de ta retraite, ta conduite est trop parfaite
Relève la gueule, je suis là, t'es pas seul
Ceux qui hier t'enviaient, aujourd'hui te jugeraient.
Antisocial, tu perds ton sang-froid.
Repense à toutes ces années de service.
Antisocial, bientôt les années de sévices,
Enfin, le temps perdu qu'on ne rattrape plus.
Tu bosses toute ta vie pour payer ta pierre tombale,
Tu masques ton visage en lisant ton journal,
Tu marches tel un robot dans les couloirs du métro.
Les gens ne te touchent pas, faut faire le premier pas.
Tu voudrais dialoguer sans renvoyer la balle.
Impossible d'avancer sans ton gilet pare-balles.
Tu voudrais donner des yeux à la justice
Impossible de violer cette femme pleine de vices.
Antisocial, tu perds ton sang-froid.
Repense à toutes ces années de service
Antisocial, bientôt les années de sévices,Enfin, le temps perdu qu'on ne rattrape plus
hmm
All of my life was a laugh and a joke
A drink and a smoke
And then I passed out on the floor
...Or a friend
TM / AC
A drink and a smoke
And then I passed out on the floor
...Or a friend
TM / AC
Monday, June 4, 2007
just too much good sound...
Steve ray Vaughn - austin opera house '84
Joan Baez New York palladium '75
Blue Oyster Cult santa monica civic auditorium '86
Bob Marley and the Wailers Music hall Boston '78 early show
The Who, Fillmore east '68
AC/DC Towson State College '79
and a personal favorite in my hypermania and cranked mind is of course,
Bill Monroe and the BlueGrass Boys playing Swing low , Sweet Chariot..
"this song is one of ma favorhites.....lord I believe....
......and it's just too much for anyone person who gets off on live sounds as opposed to studio material.
The laptop is wired up the some serious pc speakers and you just throw the "play this concert" on a list which covers evrything if your into the classics of old school rock to Reggae.
Throw your TV out, roll yourself a home grown and listen to a 9 minute of Bab playing Jammin', or crack open a tin of german import and listen to Bon Scott singing Highway to hell in the good old days.
Been warned, very addictable!
Where?
http://concerts.wolfgangsvault.com/
Wolfgangsvault and then performers.
You will enjoy!
áyé
Joan Baez New York palladium '75
Blue Oyster Cult santa monica civic auditorium '86
Bob Marley and the Wailers Music hall Boston '78 early show
The Who, Fillmore east '68
AC/DC Towson State College '79
and a personal favorite in my hypermania and cranked mind is of course,
Bill Monroe and the BlueGrass Boys playing Swing low , Sweet Chariot..
"this song is one of ma favorhites.....lord I believe....
......and it's just too much for anyone person who gets off on live sounds as opposed to studio material.
The laptop is wired up the some serious pc speakers and you just throw the "play this concert" on a list which covers evrything if your into the classics of old school rock to Reggae.
Throw your TV out, roll yourself a home grown and listen to a 9 minute of Bab playing Jammin', or crack open a tin of german import and listen to Bon Scott singing Highway to hell in the good old days.
Been warned, very addictable!
Where?
http://concerts.wolfgangsvault.com/
Wolfgangsvault and then performers.
You will enjoy!
áyé
well...TAX THE FAT
..hopefully you took the time to download and listen to the kids point of view from the Eco Meeting.There's a lot of truth right there as sad as it may seem and it does (or should) make you give a damn..
Looking at Cigg prices increase everytime I get the urge to started to really piss me off.
Why?
'Cos it aint the number one killer anymore but it's still the tax scapegoat alongside petrol and anything else the government know we either are addicted too or require..
However, what astounds me is the fact that they haven't taxed the easiest one which just took poll position in highest death rates and hospital beds, and thats Sugar..
People are eating so many pies that they're killing themselves and at the same time making our tax money get eaten as well as we try and save them.But when was the last mention of a supertax on fast food? And why?
Can you imagine if they supertaxed fast food and every other high sugar /gi index food?
Jeez, people may even take a step back in evolution and make their own food again as opposed to tv dinners which zz top immortalized..I remember watching teh music video wondering what all the fuss was about...and now it's here and even I'm guilty of sometimes taking the easy way out.A silver bucket of hydrafat please which never burns off..ever (u can fry potatoe chips in the same vat for at least a year without the fat losing its freshness...!!!)
Does anyone actually realise that fast food is one of the reasons the amazonian forests are getting chopped down to ensure we have enough beef farms to put together with pure sugar sauce and white bread (see fast carbs..)..so we would atually be helping the rain forests which in effect would help the O-Zone layer.We need plants and trees..
But is anything bigger than these big corporations? No.
They play with the planet, they ensure the right people sit in the right seats when it matters and they use base politics in unemplyment figures to justify slave wages..but it keeps the stats looking healthy at the polls and no government is strong enough to say no or uncorruptable..
When I arrived here there was one pizza restaurant in Uppsala, now you would be hard pushed to find a place in the country without those golden arches and close bya competitor, all serving either pepsi cola or the original using famous names in million dollar contracts to try and get the kids to buy their product.
The thing is it isn't the people who suffer who get to see those ads, its the spoilt for choice pull the ladder up and get obese generation.I wonder what percentage of kids will be able to cook real food in the future or are we heading towards a red or blue tablet to represent strawberry or rasberry desert?
Has it all gone too far? Can we actually make a difference? We tried no so long ago with documentries about how ill and near death you become eating junk food..didnt stop the stream as it's now the number 1 addition and knocks nikoteen off top spot..We have less people starving to death than eating themselves to death and if you find it rather repulsive in Europe then don't take a trip to the states. Brings a new concept to the word "batfass"..
Anyway, as usual we don't just need these negatives pointed out, we need answers and I think I may have it.
I should coax myself into starting a political party. The people would have to fund it obviously as unlike the other parties we wouldn't entertain funding from the corporations.
Then we would be ever so popular and supertax the newly called "Sugarites". As opposed to Sodomites but there is a similar "ring" in the name.
I would base the tax on the Gi index and of course sugar as opposed to fat content. All the Hydrafats would be illigalised and cannabis would be legalized just to ensure votes..
The tax would be on the same level as gas, ciggs and booze as sugar is indeed a luxury.
And who knows, people may even start making themselves more food..fruit and veg taxes would become less and anymore over the BMI / Waist test would be given concessions on their yearly tax.
Lets not forget we'd also have to ensure we safed the fish we're extincting, so that would also be a major job to handle.The policys will have to be considered more..hmm
The tune would be Joan Baez version of "Amazing Grace" from the New York palladium in '75.
Gotta get thinking...b right back
Looking at Cigg prices increase everytime I get the urge to started to really piss me off.
Why?
'Cos it aint the number one killer anymore but it's still the tax scapegoat alongside petrol and anything else the government know we either are addicted too or require..
However, what astounds me is the fact that they haven't taxed the easiest one which just took poll position in highest death rates and hospital beds, and thats Sugar..
People are eating so many pies that they're killing themselves and at the same time making our tax money get eaten as well as we try and save them.But when was the last mention of a supertax on fast food? And why?
Can you imagine if they supertaxed fast food and every other high sugar /gi index food?
Jeez, people may even take a step back in evolution and make their own food again as opposed to tv dinners which zz top immortalized..I remember watching teh music video wondering what all the fuss was about...and now it's here and even I'm guilty of sometimes taking the easy way out.A silver bucket of hydrafat please which never burns off..ever (u can fry potatoe chips in the same vat for at least a year without the fat losing its freshness...!!!)
Does anyone actually realise that fast food is one of the reasons the amazonian forests are getting chopped down to ensure we have enough beef farms to put together with pure sugar sauce and white bread (see fast carbs..)..so we would atually be helping the rain forests which in effect would help the O-Zone layer.We need plants and trees..
But is anything bigger than these big corporations? No.
They play with the planet, they ensure the right people sit in the right seats when it matters and they use base politics in unemplyment figures to justify slave wages..but it keeps the stats looking healthy at the polls and no government is strong enough to say no or uncorruptable..
When I arrived here there was one pizza restaurant in Uppsala, now you would be hard pushed to find a place in the country without those golden arches and close bya competitor, all serving either pepsi cola or the original using famous names in million dollar contracts to try and get the kids to buy their product.
The thing is it isn't the people who suffer who get to see those ads, its the spoilt for choice pull the ladder up and get obese generation.I wonder what percentage of kids will be able to cook real food in the future or are we heading towards a red or blue tablet to represent strawberry or rasberry desert?
Has it all gone too far? Can we actually make a difference? We tried no so long ago with documentries about how ill and near death you become eating junk food..didnt stop the stream as it's now the number 1 addition and knocks nikoteen off top spot..We have less people starving to death than eating themselves to death and if you find it rather repulsive in Europe then don't take a trip to the states. Brings a new concept to the word "batfass"..
Anyway, as usual we don't just need these negatives pointed out, we need answers and I think I may have it.
I should coax myself into starting a political party. The people would have to fund it obviously as unlike the other parties we wouldn't entertain funding from the corporations.
Then we would be ever so popular and supertax the newly called "Sugarites". As opposed to Sodomites but there is a similar "ring" in the name.
I would base the tax on the Gi index and of course sugar as opposed to fat content. All the Hydrafats would be illigalised and cannabis would be legalized just to ensure votes..
The tax would be on the same level as gas, ciggs and booze as sugar is indeed a luxury.
And who knows, people may even start making themselves more food..fruit and veg taxes would become less and anymore over the BMI / Waist test would be given concessions on their yearly tax.
Lets not forget we'd also have to ensure we safed the fish we're extincting, so that would also be a major job to handle.The policys will have to be considered more..hmm
The tune would be Joan Baez version of "Amazing Grace" from the New York palladium in '75.
Gotta get thinking...b right back
Friday, June 1, 2007
Shoulder to shoulder...
First of I will admit that if there is one thing that is a tear jerker for me, its watching or listening to national anthems being sung before a rugby match. Not sure if I'm alone in this, but suppose its the hypermania or Damp that kicks in and makes the feelings rush to hyperdrive.
Its an incredible adrenalin kick.
Here are some links , give it a go and full volume.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exHawsImGqc&mode=related&search=
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpYogExUngU&mode=related&search=
and of course
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XA6cnXFiE6I&mode=related&search=
and of course the Scots won..
Well, I suppose it doesn't help being woken up at half past too much on a friday morning with a mobile phone parked under one ear and a jacket still in hand..Seems like some habits, good and bad, die hard and going out on a thursday isn't making me the smartest cookie on the block..Stoopid became even more stoopid (tm)It's gonna be a quiet weekend anyway....However it was worth seeing somebody off who we may or may not see again.
Work was like juggling jello and I'll have to go in during the weekend to clean my bib and the floor having dropped everything over it...They say you should have a beer when this hungover.Who are THEY?
Well it's half past a freckle and friday evening.
Once again the anthems are blaring , the eyes are tempted to drop some and the TV is doing an impression of a coffin.
Actually, as I've written previously I do have this thing about sticks and stones and mechanicals having a soul, sofas included, so I have also come to realise that my tv must yearn for a new owner as I neglect it.It hates me, which is probably why it shows me so much crap when i give it a chance..
Today at fika I came up with a new concept for woman to defend themselves against potential male attackers. It all started with me playing with a 10 inch blade whilst cutting some "Fredag Fika Bröd" and I came up with the topic of how hard it would be to actually stab somebody through a leather jacket.
This led on to a story I told from the Honest Toon (Mussi in Scotland) when a mate got stabbed outside the labour club having decided to charge a bunch of neds who threw half-niddries(halved bricks,called half-niddries as the brick foundry was of course based there) at the punters walking out.
Then I asked one of the girls what she would do if attacked.
-I'd scream a lot
well, yes, indeed..
and then?
So..put away the pepparspray and the alarm as I have the ultimate weapon. Lightweight, small enough to keep hidden and more effective than anything on the market already.
A syringe.
Simple really, you get approached by a maniac, you take out your empty but air filled syringe and stick him. Dead.Immediately.
And for those really mean lassies, you can swap the air for HIV positive to offer the attacker a slow and painful end.
Looking at the costs side I would suggest the "Air Filled Injectum" at a retail $10.
Somebody from our technical dept. actually offered the idea to start cultivating human hiv farms...thats sick!
Well, its friday and the "darling buds of May" are being taken somewhere out in the wilderness but back here it's all quiet.Tomorrow will see the dawn of yet another couple of games and I have an appointment with somebody from P4.Better clean up and shape up and remember to refrain from the devils water and stick to Gods soup kitchen..
Now finally the Black Coffin screen will view a late nite "Woody Allen" and things will hopefully come back into perspetive..
áyé
Its an incredible adrenalin kick.
Here are some links , give it a go and full volume.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exHawsImGqc&mode=related&search=
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZpYogExUngU&mode=related&search=
and of course
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XA6cnXFiE6I&mode=related&search=
and of course the Scots won..
Well, I suppose it doesn't help being woken up at half past too much on a friday morning with a mobile phone parked under one ear and a jacket still in hand..Seems like some habits, good and bad, die hard and going out on a thursday isn't making me the smartest cookie on the block..Stoopid became even more stoopid (tm)It's gonna be a quiet weekend anyway....However it was worth seeing somebody off who we may or may not see again.
Work was like juggling jello and I'll have to go in during the weekend to clean my bib and the floor having dropped everything over it...They say you should have a beer when this hungover.Who are THEY?
Well it's half past a freckle and friday evening.
Once again the anthems are blaring , the eyes are tempted to drop some and the TV is doing an impression of a coffin.
Actually, as I've written previously I do have this thing about sticks and stones and mechanicals having a soul, sofas included, so I have also come to realise that my tv must yearn for a new owner as I neglect it.It hates me, which is probably why it shows me so much crap when i give it a chance..
Today at fika I came up with a new concept for woman to defend themselves against potential male attackers. It all started with me playing with a 10 inch blade whilst cutting some "Fredag Fika Bröd" and I came up with the topic of how hard it would be to actually stab somebody through a leather jacket.
This led on to a story I told from the Honest Toon (Mussi in Scotland) when a mate got stabbed outside the labour club having decided to charge a bunch of neds who threw half-niddries(halved bricks,called half-niddries as the brick foundry was of course based there) at the punters walking out.
Then I asked one of the girls what she would do if attacked.
-I'd scream a lot
well, yes, indeed..
and then?
So..put away the pepparspray and the alarm as I have the ultimate weapon. Lightweight, small enough to keep hidden and more effective than anything on the market already.
A syringe.
Simple really, you get approached by a maniac, you take out your empty but air filled syringe and stick him. Dead.Immediately.
And for those really mean lassies, you can swap the air for HIV positive to offer the attacker a slow and painful end.
Looking at the costs side I would suggest the "Air Filled Injectum" at a retail $10.
Somebody from our technical dept. actually offered the idea to start cultivating human hiv farms...thats sick!
Well, its friday and the "darling buds of May" are being taken somewhere out in the wilderness but back here it's all quiet.Tomorrow will see the dawn of yet another couple of games and I have an appointment with somebody from P4.Better clean up and shape up and remember to refrain from the devils water and stick to Gods soup kitchen..
Now finally the Black Coffin screen will view a late nite "Woody Allen" and things will hopefully come back into perspetive..
áyé
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)