May 31, 2005

I didnt blog, as I am writing the last 3 procent of my bachelor. Coming to think that I have paid 25000 to get the education, last week week I decided to put a little hrumpf into the ladder part of the proces. Tonight at 0300 pm I hand it in electronically, a proud little fucker am I, and I am done and dope!

something strange happened. My neighbour knocked my door and asked if I could help her boyfriend get his car started. Why sure, so I went down to the parking lot, where I met Nick and his pimped up Cadillac. He had just installed a powerful stereo that sucked his battery dry everytime he started his car so he needed to get jumped. He popped the hood, and there in the shaft of the airintakes sits a RAT, a big sucker with a short tale, that looked like it had been cut off by mishab, It stares at us, the rat, then flees the scene. Thats what rats do.

I then backed my car up, attached the jump-cables and fired up, so did the Cadillac. Some roars, some friendly exchanges later I walk back up to our flat, and sit at the pc, from where I have a view of the parkinglot. I see Nick at the car, I hear him cranking up and down the stereo as he backs out, and theres like a squishi sound and he stops. Walks out and around to the back of his car and he goes "jikes", jumpes in the car - drive forward, and there I see a small but distinct bloody pool. I cant help it, I run down cause I here him laughing. And there flat on the parking lot, we are sure, lies the same rat, that only minutes before was under his hood.

no morals here, just - poor rat - how unlikely was that?

May 29, 2005

from the flottenheimer dictionary part 2:

roundworm: noun (c) any various types of worms with a round body that can live in the bowels of people and some animals and often cause disease.

May 28, 2005

Onomatopoeia: the creation of words which include sounds that are similar to the noises that the word refer to, like "pop", "boom", "squelch". "squirt"

from the flottenheimer dictionary, a new on-going...

May 27, 2005

I`ve been sitting on my hands now for about 10 months, with all kinds of shit piling up. I have complained that I have been able to paint, I have stated my case against big business, but still I am in a limbo. So yesterday it struck me. You gotta make a movie, you gotta write some manuscripts. You are in the Zone- now go: So I thought, how can I write a movie, I thought about movies I`ve seen, and I thought: I come up with titels, and the movie writes it self.

My work in progress includes the following…

The Wasting Of A Broken Arm
The Spell Of Hopeless Mantra
The Illfated Nun
The Shocking Truths from the Future
The Nigger Devil
The Phantom Limbo Dancer
The Loss Of France
The Sound Of Liberace
The Sound Of Liberace Fucking
The Shaking Of My Hands
The Loss Of Brotherhood
The Subtitle Colony
The Text Runs Out
The Thing That Came And Went
The Final Days Of Rock N Roll
The Field Of Lost Illusions
The Final Diagnosis
The 16 Bit Slotmachine
The Mad Skier
The Great Flush Day
The Great Perhaps
The Son Of Gravity
The Face Of A Smooth Gentleman
The Decay
The City Of Horrid Dreams
The Blonde The Raped And The Tortured
The Things That Do Not Walk Hand In Hand
The Weather In Europe Today
The Problem The Solution The Problem Again The Antisolution The Paranoia And The Destruction
The Ambient The Pure And The Goodhearted
The Things You Like Too Hear About But Do Not Want To Be In
The Funny Feeling Of Being Ditched
The Pleasures Of Imagination
The Oh No Johns
The Mortal Millions
The Art Of Humiliation
The Sweetest Hours Ever Spend
The Long Proces Of Getting Tired
The Fury Of A Patient Man
The Madonna Of The Future
The Secret Of My Sisters Tatoo
The Continuing Paranoia Of An Ex Cop
The Heritage Of Killing
The Boom Alter
The Clash You Might Have Prevented
The End Of Circus Days

And I do not see any reason why each and every one of these shouldn`t be followed by a sequel.

Me mirè la mano. Se veìa vieja, arraguda. Llena de manchas de la vejez. El telèfono sonò. Levantè el tuno y: "Hola, tengo 47 amos. Puedo llevar a mi muejer?" Y la mano desapereciò.

Soy un buen amigo?

May 26, 2005

stratospheric lingua on the first day exploding white dwarf stars rewriting story as it happens. the past is never dead. pills and sympathy adult loosers in welfare and health consumerism feeds the dog and the roots of democracy but it will not make america shot up. trade for the sake of trade. the absence annihilate my superego the loss of sense logoc and purpose in urban sprawl it matters not who you are it matters who you want to be and god cannot lie so get ready cause here i come like a postcard from hell. the devil is a nigger fuckballs! never trust a therapist and never highfive your guru - dont recycle, reload escape forward future mundomania the distracting stimuli its not even the past. more wants more as the stepping stone in to deep space water greed and deadlines floats adrift but free.

May 25, 2005

yellow captain cowboy merged identity with that of this favourite star, lucky boy burger on a jesus diet.

May 22, 2005

a daytrip the epicenter of the Loma Pietra earthquake (10.17 1989 5.04 pm, at which time I was hours in to celebrating my 25th birthday accompanied by the Aalborg posse at 1000fryd with three months of delayed educational support - the wonders of SU... ) just miles off our domestic turf. After a 6 mile walk through the breathing redwoods it was with some disappointment that the trail to the actual epicenter-site was cut off by undramatic mudslides, however so much that I would have to walk in a 3 feet deep creek the remaining 600 feet. However, in three weeks or so, the season will mean that the creek will almost dry out, so I`ll be back.

May 19, 2005

to use the term "anniversary" yesterday marking the 25th year since the death of Ian Curtis , was a mishab. Anniversary in my ears, means celebrating, celebrating means a uplifted spirit, a nice day, something...good. Though he chose suicide as a way out, the ultimate choise, you could say: hey, he did his thing, and this world is all about choises, so why not celebrate? Because its too early, I`d say. Celebrate is something you do hundreds of years after somebody noteworthy dies, like with HCA thing in DK these days. You have all kinds of jerks performing shit in his name, and somebody whips the cream and run away richer but calls it culture.
But not now. Not 25 years. His presence, voice, lyrics still holds a contemporary approach, and celebrations tend to forget the depths of work and up the icon. Which just beasiclly means: I dont celebrate, I sit back, listen to some tracks - contemplating. Concluding in general there is nothing to celebrate.

"Here are the young men, the weight on their shoulders,Here are the young men, well where have they been?We knocked on the doors of Hell's darker chamber,Pushed to the limit, we dragged ourselves in,Watched from the wings as the scenes were replaying,We saw ourselves now as we never had seen.Portrayal of the trauma and degeneration,The sorrows we suffered and never were free."

from decades

May 18, 2005

today, two strange coinsiding 25th anniversaries.

One: the death of Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis.

and two: the eruption of Mount St. Helens.

the strangest thing happened while I was playing tennis. Today had been a warm day, the sun had just set, we had turned on the strong court-lights, and went head on into the game, just slightly annoyed or disturbed by the Valley Girl Lingoettes (i`ll get back to that) playing on the neighbouring court, highpitched voices, long baeutiful legs, tanned and tops.

At first, only a few insects flickered under the lights - thats normal. Then a few more - the same spieces - a butterfly, a moth or a dragonfly, I couldnt really tell, but I consideed it a moth. But thats not the point. The point is that over the next ten minutes more and more - we are talking hundreds, maybe thousands, gathered around the the six lightpoles, some dropping down on the court, sitting on the net, flying around our heads, generally, they were everywhere. The one girl freaked. Sceramed her lungs out and ran, fleed from the site. We just stood there. Stunned. The mass of insects seemed beyond control. I tried to smack some with my racket, hit a few, they almost exploded, brownish fluids, wings sticking to my strings. Stepping on them, like the hopeless attempt of kiling a cockroach, only these...died. And there on the ground - dead, we concluded, they were not moths, they were butterflies, and they would have had to just have left the cocoon, maybe from the laguna at the beach - I couldnt escape the apocalyptic feel, the gathering of the masses, their first journey, the random deaths.

And then more sudden than they apperared they disappeared.

May 17, 2005

respect goes out to Norway for liberating themselves more or less from Danish imperialism.

hip hip

on Lennards side of the blog, I see he went to see The Ramones movie I am awaiting from corperate cocksuckers Netflix, but also from one side of rocknroll to another, it inspired me to post this quote I stumbled upon in an old Rolling Stone magazine (april 5th, 1990) Featuring notorious rockers Aerosmith, guitarist Steven Tyler is asked to describe the band:

"Jerry Garcia says that we are the druggiest bunch the Grateful Dead ever saw. They were worried about us, so that gives you a picture og how fucked up and crazy we are."

What can you say? Too much rocknroll for one hand. Thats a sure 11 guys!!

May 15, 2005

And when I` m not playing soccer you will find me in a treehouse with some treehugging hippies going through the newest trends. Hey man, we are all voices from the totally radical

man skal ikke snave på den gren man selv står på...eller...

after a few failed attemps I finally joined the oldboys soccerteam. Weather, general business and other terms had kept me of the turf, though I a month ago purchased a pair of state of the art adidas soccer-shoes. The 56 dollars which was the original price in Cross Dress for Less I easily lowered to 12 dollars by ripping off the sticker-barcode from another pair of shoes, which luckyli wasnt noticed at the register.
And the playing was great, the speed mellow, the violence non exisisting, I ran and breathed heavyli, even managed to kick my own left knee missing an open strike for goal. That was saturday, now its sunday...

the with a view

May 14, 2005

it opened, the new Star Wars movie. "Revenge og the Sith" or is it "Revenge og the shit..". I think i wrote that before, but...the sun is drying me out today where I am missing Mads`birthday party in 9000 Aalborg, DK...Mads, the mental mayor of Aalborg. Respect!

and 2860 there is another...

you can be lonely but never alone

May 12, 2005

in the New York Times
under the headline : Thanks to surgery Fashion develops A New Silhouette, an article enthusiaticly embraces the present heydays of new tits for its innovative impact of the design and fashion industry.

From 2001 where around 280.000 american women had a breast-implants till 2004 this numer skyrocketed to 415.000. The 9.11 effect maybe..but the makeover is extreme. States like California, Texas and Florida has the highest numbers tits in the US. These numbers being a major tendency out of the 3,2 million plastic-surgeries made per year in that there country...

it just makes me wonder..The Tit healing of a nation...i dont know, but I think its deranged. Silicon Tit Valley Girls...oh lordie, forgive I for I am a-rambling....

May 11, 2005

in the 80s,
the longest lasting mental down- conjecture so when the drugs ran out we turned to...

May 10, 2005

Viva la evulucion! Oh lordie how I want to go and I will...

May 09, 2005

a little crossdress fun to kick off your week.

May 08, 2005

I`ll hang him on my wa-a-a-a-ll. Once during a key point at the US Open, a butterfly distracted him. Ulrich later mused: "Was I then a man dreaming I was a butterfly? Or am I now a butterfly dreaming I am a man?" Very zen - but boy, could he play...

May 07, 2005

It is that time of the year. Oh Lordie, how I want to go, but can I? The answer my friend...

yesterday is over

May 06, 2005

I think...Anyways, today,

I have been surfing danish websites but havent been able too find the news So ApPareNtLy it TAKES MORE THAN A TooTHLESS mOUTH TO SHOt ME UP, BUT D-JEsuS!!!!!! THIS TIME FOR A GooD REASON....I NO LONGER HOLD ANY PATIENCE OR BELIEF OR EXPECTATION ABOUT a PosTive OuTcOme of THE IRAQ smaller print...The NeW York Times wrItes today that US have mishandled 96.6 million dollars in rebuilding Iraq, that is: money not accounted for, a large part of those iraqi oil-fonds frozen by the US as the invasion happened but opened up so they could be spend before June 28, 2004, where iraqi administration took over that part of the job.
But stories of american individuals fleeing with up till 780000 dollars, and so on, the mess has no end, and as superwoman Naomi Klein stated head on... : it seems a crucial part of corperations working to rebuild or redrain or what ever the fuck they are doing...merely is considering that this option - Iraq- equals fREE MoNEy.
I said before and I will say it again... There is no FREe LuNcH!

Thus I conclude in the final part(50) of WHY THIS secondrate poet DOESNT LOVE BIG BUSINESS. Its been fun,interesting, enlightening, but I am getting...I dont know, my immediate need for tranqulizers has rosen proportionally with the amount of info: The core of capitalism is without regret, consiousness, ethic or moral. There is no control, the money has become invisble, soulless and without a body, thus even harder to love.
And as at any decent funeral I`ll end the thing with a song...or rightfully quoting lyrics from another Bob Hund tune - though here not written in affluent swedish, the point is clear:

så en film på Bio
den var saemra end kalkun
så pråttat vi om penga
vi boerja taba tråden
sen kom jag hjem på nattan i dårlig kondition

May 05, 2005

only this: my postings will untill june 1st be short and superficial...finishing my last authorized exam ever is pulling teeths out by the numbers.

Anyho: From the world of war-mongers: Did you know - I didn`t - that Pakistan was buying misilies from North Korea as late as in 2003, only short time after Pakistan had become the numero uno ally of the US in the war against terror and only a year after El Presidente announced North Korea as the eastern front of the axis of evil?

In that context we are all cunts so...anyone for a facial?

May 03, 2005


Approaching the 50th posting in the ongoing … WHY THIS second rate poet DOSENT LOVE BIG BUSINESS™, I am thinking it should stop at 50, with a grande finale, 50 being a magic number, a breaking point. Though I can not doubt there are millions of reasons to not loving Big Business™, I would say I for now should have made a point. But then what?

In an earlier posting months ago I fiddled with the thought of writing on CARS, and today I`ll introduce the successor to WHY THIS….from here and on under the collective headline: THE ANTHROPOLOGY OF CARS™. I have in fact posted three already, one on the DeLorean and one on the Jensen sportscar and, on bumper-stickers SUVs so this one, today is in fact.... hmmm part four (numbers means stuff to me), and a follow up on the HumVee posting yesterday.

One the most patriotic signals today in America is to drive around in a Hummer, or HumVee, the SUV of SUVs. The Hummer especially earned is fame in the 1st GulfWar , and have become as symbol of American patriotism and craftmantship.
The Hummer have now within the last couple of years hit the streets in a converted makeover, set up to the needs of an over-average soccermom SUV, but still with a clear militant design…
The commercial pushing the saletags up goes “Hummer like notning else” and ends with a clear shot of planet Earth seen from a satelite. Word we never thought of that.

The Irony of the situation is allthough the Hummers engaged in Iraq. Due to lack of proper armor it is said to have been unsuccesfull in protecting the troops it carries, thus resulting in numerous killing of american Gi`s:

It has not been unnoticed especially by the privates. Vicepresident Dick Cheney got caught with his pants down at a presidential rally at an army base late autumn 2004, when a private stood up and asked the trick question: “Why can`t we get proper armor on the HumVess…?”
Cheney had no immediate answers and mumbled something about the “Will of sacrifice”, but could not explain why the GI`s had to armor the HumVees with scrap-metal, and why one Captain Kelly D. Rover had been ousted from the army for taking pictures of the HumVees in which his troops died. And now more than two years into the war the armouring program that did get initiated is not yet completed. The program takes a 33000 dollars makeover of each HumVee being snd to Iraq, and consist of – for the Transport HumVee, a tempered steel plate around the troopcargo area, 3/8-inch thick, which is capable of withstanding 155 mm howitzer rounds, windshields more than 1,5 inches thick and are capable of withstanding AK 47 rounds, doors and side panels, and and armoured undercarriage to prevent damage from roadbombs.

So there you have it: one of the strongest symbol of war, patriotism, and American imperialism are roaming the streets states in – tacky – shining armor, depicturing the the success of war, or the mere defiance, and in Iraq we have the same model, the same HumVee being blown to bits, in a war that I bet looks different from a HumVee on a dusty Baghdad backroad than on any given stretch of tar in America.

I strongly recommend the movie “Gunner Palace” if it ever opens in Denmark.

I would have written a posting on the Hummer, the HumVee, the military vehicle that roams the streets of USA as a pround patriotic symbol, and are being blown up on daily in Iraq, but its 4am, the sun is beaming, I have shitloads to do, I have a choice so I will leave it hanging

May 01, 2005

As oldschool the subtitle today as naive this posting: but why is it that only rich white guys are allowed fool around with nuclear weapons without interventions from - lets say the UN? And isnt it like this that rich white folks tend to forget that white is a colour too, even more than any other?

blow it up your ass