Mental Constipation

So, it turns out my future isn’t ruined after all (i know I didn’t post about it here, short explanation: those bureaucratic b/witches down at the office apparently needed a month to translate my 50-word grade transcript, and I needed that to apply for college). Turns out I dnd’t need that after all, though! Great news, really made my day (which would otherwise have sucked – New Norwegian all-day test today. No money for the train home, had to sit in the tiny train bathroom from Askim to Tomter). Buut, I’m a happy camper. Speaking of which, saw American Psycho the other, what a great movie! A really nice adaption of the book. Worth seeing. Loved the business card scene.. and the rampage scene. I’m actually ona bit of a Bret Easton Ellis roll at the moment, reading Rules of Attraction again, which is a really funny and well written book. And, of course, it’s relevant (sort of) to my college future. So there you go.

Fuck yeah, I went there.

Believe me when I say it, discovering new music is tiresome. As I have mentioned before (I think?), I recently decided to start liking The Cure. I’m not sure where it started, but I think I wanted to download some Joy Division, for some reason. Before downloading I read about them on Wikipedia, because, you know, their story is interesting. What I also came over was their genre – little did I know what I was getting into. Post-punk, it said. Interesting, I thought. I’ve always loved punk music and the narrative of “music destroying music”, but what kind of music came after it? Well, as I learned later, post-punk isn’t technically “post” – it developed alongside punk rock from about ‘77 – but it has a distinctly different sound.

The Wiki-article on post-punk directed me to a list of artists whose names I’ve heard many times but never really listened to a lot. I picked out a few: The Smiths, Talking Heads, The Cure, The B-52’s. I skimmed their respective articles, then checked their discographies and downloaded the three or so first albums of each of them. A few days later I was a fan. It didn’t stop there, however: my music player, Songbird, has a nifty function that shows information on the artists, directly from last.fm. I started reading those, too, and checking out the “recommended artists” section. More names were added to my To Listen To-list. Among those was Elvis Costello, which brings us to today. I had already listened to his three first albums and become a fan, but I just needed to check up on some facts. And that’s how I fell into the Wiki trap. Long story short, one article led to another, and soon I was reading about The Specials, Lou Reed, The Velvet Underground, Andy Warhol, then Dire Straits, The Police, and then Eric Clapton, David Bowie, Rock Against Racism and British fascists. The point to all this? Well; that the history of post WWII 20th century music is very interesting. And, the lesson: don’t enter Wikipedia unless you’re sure you have a lot time ahead of you. Hours may fly by unnoticed.

EDIT: This post should also be read as a gigantic musical recommendation. I whole-heartedly endorse every artist mentioned on this page.

EDIT II (or post-post scriptum for you latin spics out there): as I am reminded of maybe once a year, once upon a time this blog was supposed to have a link to good music in every post. Well, consider this a massive recompensation: every link in this post will lead to a video of an exemplary song from the respective artist. :)

Wow, I just can’t believe January’s gone! Time goes by so fast these days. It’s already March and soon the Russe-days begin and then it’s graduation and on to everything else and I don’t want to be so reflecting and all but looking back at some photos from one and two years back, life really has changed. Difficult to say exactly how, but looking at the photos.. it’s different. They’re all good memories at least. Very fun to see. Found some pictures from the spectacular/disastrous Toga party (depends on how you see it) we hosted 16th May last year. Man, was that an evening – in the fullest sense of the word, I think the party had to be stopped at about 11 PM? – of most depraved and decadent debauchery, or what? Tapas, grapes, pineapples; a water pipe and copious amounts of alcohol. Good times. More of those are needed. More, too, of sun, of happenings, of exuberance. More.

Also worthy of notice – right. – is my self-administered The Cure-spree: One Man, One Week, One Emo Band – Will He Like It In The End Or Still Dismiss It As Exercise In Robert Smith’s Self-Indulgence?

Finally, I will, without disclosing anything, tell you that I am really, really looking forward to this weekend.:)

Things noticed on a subway in March:

a woman eating a popsicle who despite the cold made it seem strange that everyone else weren’t having popsicles

two cute, diminuitive Asians meeting randomly then chatting pleasantly in their own language

many strange sights day after and apparently stream of consciousness is the day’s preferred manner of conveyance so let me tell you about the day I woke up was served great coffee and breakfast  and left feeling elevated going down to the subway station going home on the train now houses passing by many strange and interesting buildings along the railroad

unfortunately now whisked from memory, only distant blurs remaining even of the strange striped house or the beautiful yellow house on the hill with the waving flag or even of the little square pink-stucco brick house brazenly placed between the century-old villas who must have an incredible view the fjord meeting them every morning through the large windows in the living room sometimes accompanied by the rising sun

The result of going to Oslo on a Friday evening and going back home the morning after; all I could type down before being unceremoniously wrenched out that state of mind by a phone call.

Wild horses run freely, and although they may become tired from the running, and run slower for a while, wild horses do not run themselves to death; ridden horses do.

Today, a novel experience: wearing yellow-tinted, yellow-rimmed sunglasses and a hooded jacket, simple blue jeans and sneakers and with a slight hangover, I shovelled the snow from the driveway. There was just something glamorous about it, going outside and being immediately blinded by the snow, then re-emerging with the first pair of sunglasses I could find; the washed-out-yellow, yellow-lensed ones that no one ever uses. Of course, to complete the spectacle I thought I’d take a picture of the seance, but I decided against it, realizing that I didn’t really want pictures on the internet of me posing with a shovel.

I classify myself as a persistent non-believer, especially when it comes to predestination. For this reason, I believe fate deliberately confronts me with frequent strange coincidences (new game: Spot the contradiction! $10 to the winner). As observant readers of my blog will have noticed (ah, the fabled Frequent Reader, who am I trying to kid), events in my life are often strangely coincidental to the point of absurdity. Today, it happened again. Through a list for the foreshadowed top 25 blogs of 2009, I arrived at a blog called Zen Habits, which is dedicated to simple tips for improving your productivity. As it happens, I have recently decided to start drinking more water, because my current intake is way below the recommended daily intake. What’s scary is that my approach to doing this is almost exactly the same as what Mr. Babauta describes in his article on simple ways to form new habits – on the blog I arrived at more or less at random. I tell you, Fate is angry at my disbelief and is deliberately throwing itself in my path to prove me wrong. That, or I am simple a delusional paranoiac.

By some bizarre, uncanny twist of fate, both of the sellers I’ve contacted through finn.no regarding pool tables are named Tonje. Something is obviously wrong.

In other news, someone found my blog through the search term “jazz song about constipation”. Absurdity surrounds me.

It’s 23:30 and I want to play baseball. While watching a tech demo for a motion-sensing game controller (like the Wiimote, only more advanced), I thought to myself: “Wow, that looks fun!”, then “You know what? I just want to go outside and play ball.” Over the past six-seven years or so, I’ve hardly played any sports outside of gym lessons. Why? I’ve been taught, and have accepted, that I don’t like sports; be it as a long-haired metalhead or computer/role-play-gamer, my [kind of] people don’t do that. And to some extent, I’ve been comfortable with it. But really, you know what? I like sports. Physical exertion, team spirit, the feeling of mastering something, the exhilaration of winning – it’s all good. Not to go all pop psychology on you, but it’s just part of the classified, neutralized and stereotyped status quo that I’m making an effort to upheave. And frankly, I’ve been really just wanting to do things as of late. In this little moment of inspiration I jotted down a list, which looks approximately like this:

Things to do:

- (football, badmintion, baseball)
- Instrument (guitar, flute, sax)
- Paint?

Direct to-do list:

- Look up all the fancy words used in Catch-22 [that I didn't know]

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be outside hitting a ball with a bat.