Drunken Writing, like drunken boxing only with words.

Like last time these words are written with some amount of alcohol fueling them, and sadly I must say that even though my alcohol consumption tends to be parted by weeks, my hang of writing while tends to follow these events with gleefull delight. I have not painted tonight however, much because I have not enough hairs to do so. I wish to take a part of my hair and make a makeshift brush for the next part, but I'll have to shed some more first. Not cutting, nonono. THAT is insane thinking my friend. But then again I dunno what's up around me, at all. 

Today I painted,

I am indeed smashed today, yes this is a truth. But I painted. Why? When my mind is such a blur? Why, when is it ever a better time to paint my friend? When can the colors be more vivid and the mind more open? Whenever maybe, but that again is relative and highly up for questioning. All I can say is that I drank, I saw and I painted. Now I wanna shoot zombies while the grounding for mah painting sets..... sadly a task that takes hours. But I have hours and stuffs. So all is well in this town, yesssiree. That I noticed are three s's, probably one too much and hardly correctly writtated. Nossirreeeee. Yup. But since all I want is some egg and stuff it's all fine. Randomness is really about time, and I all hope you have readed what I have written here, cuz your soul sorta needs it. And somewhy you know I's right? Right? Oh man, Flava To The Bone is randomely singing about the rain.....mmmm rain..... I need some rain I think. Can you bring me the rain? If so I WILL love you, forever. For a reason.

Don't dream it, be it

"Give yourself over to absolute pleasure 
Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh 
Erotic nightmares beyond any measure 
and sensual daydreams to treasure forever 
Can't you just see it?
woah-oh-ohhhh...

don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it
don't dream it, be it"

                                                                                                                                                           

Have you ever sat down to specify what your dream is? If so, have you ever just told the world to fuck itself and pursued it? I thought not, cuz who ever has the guts to do that? That fucks up everything don't it? And that's probably why it's still a dream. But what if? What if all the dream needed was for you to be it? All that was left was that little push? Many a man has pondered upon this topic many a times, and more often than not the thematic has become mostly polluted by love, sex, relationships and whatnot. Polluted of course in the sense that all the other dreams have been pushed back, obscured or forgotten. But now is the time for all dreams, no matter the form, function or intention; it doesn't matter. Tell yourself your dream and be it. "Don't dream it, be it"

Opinions

Opinions are funny things. There are currently thousands, if not millions, of people who's pissed off because they dissagree with whom gets awarded the nobel peace price. Here is where I start to think, who decides who gets to win this famed price? The answer is sadly: 5 politicians. So my conclusion on this is that a buttload of people are really moved by the fact that 5 people have an opinion that doesn't match theirs. And yet I am the crazy one for not giving a shit about these 5 peoples' opinions. Funny world this.

Ramblings of a drunk wanderer

This is going to be a slight repetition of the "Fuck All" blog as that is the red line in my life more and more often, sadly. I find myself in a mood that can be described as nothing less than downright pissed of. Why? Because of this web of lies people seem to find mandatory for more or less everything and everyone. It pisses me off every time I have to find out, usually by myself, that I've been screwed over in one sense or another. Sure I am somewhat gullible; deriving from some sort of mad sense that there must be good poeple left in this world, but why must it always be exploited? Why can I not find the one who sees my gullibility as one of the few last stands of honesty and good nature in this here world and cherish me for it rather than punish? Can there not be relief for the tired wanderer who just want to rest? Or is this world barren for one like myself; able and willing to share my soul as it is, flawed and inperfect, naughty and full of life, wild and yet so tame? And what is the very most sad thing about this blog? That my conclusion is that I should stop writing stuff when I have drunk Whisky... So there you have it.

Mobsters and cheap Whisky

I haven't written since my seeming attack on the world. I'm not going to comment on my current situation now, just affirm that I am alive. But with a bottle of cheap whisky in one hand and Bruno Coulais on the stereo it is a curious mood in this room, not completely bothered to be described by words anyways. I want to wear a suit and sunglasses, have a typical black suitcase in one hand and a cigar in the other, with my beard closely trimmed. For some reason. And I want to carry a gun, not for the wish to ever use it, not even for the comfort of the added protection. For what I care it doesn't have to be loaded even. I just want to wear a hip-holster with a gun in it. And I want to have a flask with the cheap whisky on the inner pocket of my suit-jacket, taking regular sips from it. And that's about it. I wanna look like a mobster right now, like a true Corleone or something along those lines. But I don't want the themesong from Godfather, nah, I want the remix of Purcell's "Funeral march for the death of Queen Mary II" from A Clockwork Orange to be playing from an undecidable source behind me. But I don't want a cane, or makeup, or white. Just the song. I dunno why this is, it might just be the weird mood that is my room today.

myargh

Cuz the times, they are a-changin' Indeed they are. I knew something bad would have to happen to weigh up for the two months of seeming happiness, but I never imagined exactly HOW bad it would be. Makes me really wonder who the fuck I pissed off up there. I'm gradually becoming one of the drunks my gran had to care for at work. Bitter at the world, check, a loser in the game of love, check, fond of whisky, check. What a match I am, yay.

FUCK you, FUCK me, FUCK all.

New PC, New World

Oh happy days! I live in a bubble of pure joy nowadays, being sent up another peak today with the arrival of my new computer, the one of which I'm writing on now. I'm actually feeling quite on top of the world as it is. And as Bob Dylan sings it over my speakers right now: "How does it feel?" Well Dylan, it feels fucking great. Sun tomorrow and I'll be awestruck. Who am I kidding, right now I don't need no sun. I lift my glass to thee in salute Lady of Fate, and along with thee, the great ant-queen, my sun to lead me through the valley of darkness. As two kindred souls we have found eachother and hopefully as such we shall thrive.

Write write, smile smile, work work

Cuz that's basically what I do nowadays. If I'm not writing or working I'm going around doing enjoyable things. And I do write more often than ever. Page upon page of worthless bullshit fiction. Oh how I loves it. I forget to mention reading as well, but that's ok 'cause I always read, and I feel one should read alot if one is to be able to write alot. After all, writing is hard and usually requires some breaks in which are purrfect for reading stuffs. So that's what I do, hardly something to write here about really, but I did anyways. Meh, well, workday tomorrow soeh, good night and all that jazz.

How many rolls could a Roller Coaster roll if a Roller Coaster could roll rolls?

May came hard, and brought with it alot of things. Mostly good things and an almost broken toe. And I am yet again reminded that life is a roller coaster and I'm just a passenger. I get the ups and the downs but all I can do is sit here and watch as it goes towards the inevitable end. I can, and I do, hope that I get most ups and that the ride will keep on going for ages still, but you never know. And I look out on the moon, the gigantic, yellow piece of sun-reflecting rock hanging thousands of miles away in a whole lot of nothing, and I think "Wow, glad I'm not really thinking anything big. Gee wouldn't I feel like a dumbass." But it IS big, this roller coaster, it encompasses every aspect of me, which in a true sense is what I'm basing all this on. So in a sort of introvertive looking glass I realize that I must look through myself to see what's going on outside, and thus I have to take my life into consideration. And it all becomes so blurry, fuzzy with static and unfocused. This little mind of mine, looking through itself to see if it can see the bigger picture out there. I'll be damned if I'm supposed to see all that in this state, no way, not going to happen. So I look at you instead, feeling you make all less complicated, here with me on this here roller coaster. Hakuna Matata, there are good things and there are bad things, and that's all there is to it, really. The existence can be as big and complex as it wants, but it's where you are on the roller coaster right now that matters.

Sucker for Love

Here I've thought I'm a sucker for love, but all this time I've just been a sucker. I guess it figures in a sort of way. Some have the looks, others the wits, the smarts or the charms. All I got is the blues, and that's nothing attractive. Even in my dreams I get turned down by the ones I think I feel something for. It's shit like this artists write songs about before they paint the walls with their brains, or whatever goo that may fill their cranium at that given time. Somehow I feel this might be linked up to my endless frustration towards my species, life, fate and all that bullcrap. People say it's hard to understand the minds of those who choose to end their lives. How hard can it be? It's as simple as realizing that not being alive beats being alive. You chose to end the stream of events in a realization that they'll probably just make bad worse. It's not insanity, far from it, it's a perfectly reasonable train of thoughts that often occur with depressed people. I however, would not do it. Not that I haven't thought of it as a simple solution, but simply because I want something good to happen. I'd suffer for years to come, in a stubborn anticipation that SOMETHING good should eventually come my way. By gods, if some of the primates I am ashamed to have called friends once, have been able to find a form of happiness, then there should be hope for me somewhere out there. Now I realize this ramble probably didn't help my chances at all, but fuck it. I give the world my shit so I won't have to cope with it all myself.

Coronations of the Night

Hi, I've read some really old blogs from another page recently and recalled a thing I did for a while. I called it "Nattens Kåringer" which roughly translates to: "Coronations of the Night." It was mainly a way to call attention to the mood I was in, and what had happened that night, without actually writing anything. I had several bulletins; Band/Artist of the Night, King of the Night, Queen of the Night, Cat of the Night,  Dissapointment of the Night, Achievment of the Night, Thing of the Night. I wanted to do that again, once, to call that memory back from the dead. 

Artist of the Night: Regina Spektor
King of the Night: Luis Royo

Queen of the Night: Maria
Cat of the Night: Cat

Dissapointment of the Night: Me

Achievment of the Night: Clean Room

Thing of the Night: Laphroaig Quarter Cask Single Malt.

And that's all there ever was to it, and I feel somewhat awkward having made a tribute to the younger me.

Replay value rose by 100%

I can remember it all so clearly now, and I miss my childhood paradise; how we used a part of an ice cream box when we cleaned the swimming pool, the sound of the pool when it was low on water, the small creek with the young trees that passed under the road, the rock where I went to be alone, the secret blueberry-patch, the shed where I first saw a girl naked, the field where we did most our mischief, the rotten bridge between my uncles' property and my aunts', the taste of burning straws, my neighbours' dog, the details about my schoolroute that I just can't remember, the mousetraps in the attic, the legos in my roof, the pine-cone-animals we learnt to make, the sap we chewed, the fantasy weapons we conjured up, the amazing view from our veranda, the plowing of snow from the yard and the various other flat areas, the annual christmas breakfast, our wheelbarrel, the huge rock next to the stairs that led to our main entrance where we occationally climbed just for the pure heck of it, grilling in summer where my dad incisted to sit in the shadow and eat hot dog, our huge and old couch, moms' puzzles, the carpet we had rolled up in the attic of the garage that had to be cleansed from a beehive, the painting and oiling of the outer walls, the little tube that constantly spat out water without me really ever understanding why or from where, the lamp that got smashed during a rough game of basketball, the garage where all our weird stuff and summer furnirue was stored, the dried out dragonfly I found and lost again, the scared cow that brought down our fence in a failed jump, the sheep, the berries my mom would make jam and/or lemonade out of, the chewing marks on my old bed, the puzzle of dogs which gave me nightmares for years, the smell of wild Globe-flowers, the bouquets of forget-me-nots that I picked for my mum, that part of a road in which there we just a path full of rocks and dirt where we rode our bikes cuz it was cool, our mailbox on the end that could be tipped sideways, all the houses that are returning to me with great speed right now, selling lottery tickets to neighbours to raise money for our football team or school......

*Sigh* I want a replay one time...

Raaaaage!

I woke up today to a good day, I wished. It seems good days are all parts of fairy tales and bullshit. No, the good day probably exists, somewhere, just not in my cursed life. For what happens the moment I get up with a healthy attitude to the day at hand? Something rushes through the woods of improbability to intercept what could turn out as something as horrible and unspeakable as a friggin, good day. "Everybody says that Jeppe drinks, but nobody asks why Jeppe drinks." Oh I bloody wonder. Let's see if running water and cleaner body helps at all.

*showerbreak*

Well, I'm cleaner, that's for sure, but other than that there is little difference. I'm still in a black mood. I see little point in furter writing. 

On Crimes and Dreams

Would it be a crime if I were to dream a dream?
Would it be heard if I screamed a scream?
Was it you who lay your head there on my pillows?
Resting your eyes to the sound of the willows?

Serene as the light, you're in my dreams tonight
For with your memory I will sleep with delight

Even though you're far away from where I now sleep
You will forever surface from my deep
To bask in the moonbeams of my dreams' pond
To take me to happiness, bliss and beyond

Now I sleep deeply with you on my mind
Resting so sweetly, laying worries behind


So there you have it, my latest writing. Inspired by an anonymous beauty. However somewhat unexpected. Maybe it is love? Maybe it is destiny?... or just one of those things that happen. Who am I to know anyway? I can barely keep my head out of a somewhat dense, fictional reality anyways.

A rose petal

A rose petal falls

     Contemplation

Ripples spreading out on serenity

Tiny waves of potential

Throughout the magical universe                                                                                                                  

A rose petal falls

     Reflection

A face in the forest pond

Looking towards the sky

Thoughts and dreams heavenbound                                                                                                                  

A rose petal falls

     Destination

With steady wingbeats  through the clouds

Heading headfirst for destiny

Going for that beautiful horizon                                                                                                                         

A rose petal falls

     Determination

Through wind and rain with ease

Standing tall in the eternal

Always vigilantly watching over                                                                                                                         

A rose petal falls

     Salvation

Mind leaving withered body

Going for that place

Where minds are laid to rest

 

The frustration of love.

"Go on and kiss the girl" I would if I could, damn you. But raising an angry fist towards the gods of fate doesn't get you anywhere does it? So as days pass you get force-fed with all the happy people, being happily in love, living happily forever after. Everyone knows that humanity is frustrated, but none ask why. And it's the power of love that binds us together and lifts us up. And it's the power of love that keeps us alive and well. And it's the power of love that drives individuals into despair, that kills, that maims. GOD bless the power of love! Worthless piece of..... Alcohol keeps us alive and uplifted, damnit! I think the past had a great deal on the whole "love" consept. "Love is ok, but let's keep a practical view on it. You two look like you're the proper age, so love each other!" Or maybe I'm just ranting. Point being I guess: STOP RUBBING IT IN YOU ASSHOLES! Bloody *mumble mumble* I might be in a bad mood.

Sad puppy says miao

A cry for attention sounds through the halls of existence. Rebounding off every wall trying to stirr up people, animals, ghosts, whatever. A shriek, a howl, a roar. You turn your head for a moment, more out of surprise than care, but honestly you don't. So when the sound fades from your hearing, you pay it no more attention. And why should you? It's not like you don't have your own worries. And so time passes. In time even the memory of an echo melts in with the surroundings and the attention so desperately sought after is never given. But no new cry will be heard, no. One learned the first time around the futileness of hope. The well grows deeper and one accepts its depths with less effort. And inevitabily one drowns, in despair.

Mass Effect

It's really a shame to start the new year with something as banal as this, but this is what I shall do nonetheless. I'm going to do my very first game review. The simple reason for this being that I have been sitting up all night playing Mass Effect. However rather than pulling the game apart like most reviews I want to try another aproach. Heck, I'm not even going to mention the actual game that much. In the words of one of my favourite artists, Regina Spektor, "It started out as a feeling, which then grew into a hope, which then grew into a silent thought..." I'm just going to let you know my feelings, then perhaps you can make the thoughts? First feeling is slight discomfort at the fact that I never use an X-box controll-pad, however I am easily distracted away from that as soon as I get to make my character..... Weeeeee, I love that! Seriously. And again we see the oh so common transformation as I become Fatali. Be it Fatali Shepard or Fatali Dawnmist or even Fatali Arcanum. Then I get to the actual game and I'm slightly agitated. "KoToR!" And I have to admit that with that exclamation, a certain anticipation is made. I play some, plowing through the introduction to the main story, somewhat halfawake throughout it all, with some glee during a couple of nice details... and then, I am suddendly God. I swear, that's the feeling I had as I got the universe at my fingertips. And you DO have the universe at your fingertips, cuz you have a HUGE spectre of stars and planets to explore. But I digress, for the real feeling comes when the story peaks towards an end. As I planted that last slug into the main bastard's chest area I could feel my heart beat as a drum in wartime. The controller which started out as an awkvard plastic chunk in my hands had at some point become an extension of myself. That happens only a few times, with only a few games. True enough I had some moments where I wanted to throw the controller around, and one where I actually did, but some flaws had to be I guess.... It's still night.....