Hurra for verden.

And yes, this time I actually mean it. A big freaking hooray to the world for bringing me so many crazy amazing people. One of my friends has a talking couch, another sows big buttons onto practically every garment she has, a third friend never knows when it's appropriate to laugh and just does it when he feels like it. Gotta love it. As for me I have always been a sucker for changing my mind, so I'm doing that for a while. Yup, I'm pleased for once and happy to say that the weekend is here bringing me an awesome Jarle, some wine and hella cool people without a commonplace thought. Happiness.

This picture is from a commercial some Italian guy showed me. Mwahaha. Sure hope mr. Shakespeare's couch is nicer. I'm sure he is.

I love...

...Dylan Moran.

Why?

Because to him THE FOLLOWING is life as a poem:

“Go and get a job.
Go and find a flat.
Find somebody else.
Put them in the flat.
Make them stay.

Get a toaster.
Go to work.
Get on the bus.
Look at your boss.
Say, “fuck”.
Sit down.
Pick up the thing.
Go blank.
Scream internally.
Go home.

Listen to the radio.
Look at the other person.
Think, “WHY? Why did this happen?”.
Go to bed.
Lie awake!
At night!
Get up.
Feel groggy.
Put the things on – your clothes – whatever they’re called.
Go out the door, into work – same thing!
Same people, again.

It’s real, it is happening to you.

Go home again!
Sit.
Radio.
Dinner – mmm.

GARDENING, GARDENING, GARDENING, death.”

Mwahahaha.

Serenity

So now I'm old. At least older than I was two weeks ago. And it feels like the older you get, the more relaxed you get towards most things, even towards the people you know and the people you love.

I don't mean this in a bad way as I actually think it's healthy. Nothing is the end of the world as we know it anymore, things just flow more easily and you feel calm. It's almost this serene feeling of knowing that everything will work out just the way it's supposed to because the universe has to align itself as it needs to wipe out the threat of the nothingness that doesn't exist. (dolce far niente and the science of empty space and all that jazz).

Even just a year ago my thoughts were all over the place and evere little obstacle seemed like the steepest hill or something. Now it's wiped out and I think people can feel it in the presence of little old calm peopleroos. Yup.

So now I'm old and life has never been more peaceful.

Out of place. Buono.

love and rockets to me. please.

journalism is not writing.
journalism is telling a story in the way it needs to be told.
journalism is not making social calls.
journalism is calling people and making them shout profanities at you.
journalism is not running around taking pictures.
journalism is standing in a corner trying to stay out of the photographer's way.

So, I've smelt it, touched it, licked it, tasted it, chewed on it for a while. I think the conclusionlike thing is that I'm spitting it right out again.
Miss journalist-reporter-interviewer-picturetaker-woman-lady is leaving the building in exactly 29 days. (Yes, I'm counting).

Yeahyeahyeah, at least now I know what it's about and I've told a couple of stories. They'll probably not go down in history or anything, but they're out there. Sort of.

- chup