The mind of a crazy-person.

You've grown up, grown up to be one of the workers.
Like everybody else you've grown up to be the anonymous worker you've either always wanted to be or recently discovered you'd like to be.
Claim to be.
Claim to want.
Deceiving yourself to want.

Label yourself and blending in.

Contradictory. That's the way we like it.
The belief of a personality.
Being special.

Being.

Blending in, being special.
Like a snowflake. A snowflake in the sun.
Melting equally. Like the wicked witch of the west.


I have no idea what that was. But it was certainly as cheerful as a suicide note. Let's try that again.
Maybe a little cheerier this time.

I could talk about summer. How it makes my entire body swells up with allergies of the unknown variety, making me look more overweight than usual. Like a constant PMS-state of puffy bitchiness.
Getting crazier by the minute, the madness accelerating when "Hits for Kids" is being announced on TV, making whatever was on less attractive just because of that ad. Despairing for the kids today for listening to that sort of liquid shit.
Wondering if music is dead.
Summer is a lovely time. Time to have a vacation, relax and getting yelled at for not working.
I'll get a job, mum.
I'll become a full-time prostitute.
Not an escort, no. I want to be the cheap kind for your humiliation. Special offer today, you get a footrub and blowjob for only 100 kr!
Candy Sookalot. Greatest name ever. I'll call my prospective child that.
She'll be primary school's little diva.
When her brother finally joins she'll protect him. Bobby-Joe-Burton-Gordon-Burt is a tender flower, because of his mother's alcoholism.

Maybe I won't talk about summer after all...

Go forth, my children. Go forth and be anonymous.

Flat-plans

I can't begin to describe how ready I am to move into a flat of my very own. I have big plans of how I'd like it to be. So I'm gonna pink-blog a little with stolen photos from Google... As I have no way of taking these myself, the poor bastard I am....

So one of my childhood dreams is having my own library, filled to the brim with exciting books and atlases, with a giant map on the wall with pins in the places I've been, an old brass spyglass for the adventurer-feeling I'm sure we all secretly love from our childhood when we played pirates, spies or what have you. I love the look and feel of libraries, they are so calm and cozy. Imagine having a fireplace (however hazardous in a room full of books) that you can sit in front of, it's snowing outside, and you curl up by the fire with your favourite book in a room that smells like, well, old books. There is no finer smell.

I'd also like a mini-blackboard where I can write messages, shopping list and what have you. It's really rustic and very homey.
I can't wait to start drawing profanities on it, and eagerly push it in my visitor's face. Heh heh heh...

I'm only joking, of course...

 A bonsai tree. I have a soft spot for those bastards. They are so elegant, and after Stick, I feel like I need to keep one a little longer than 8 months before brutally killing it accidentally with balsam.

My sister pointed out to me that this is the 400-year-old Hiroshima bomb-surviving bonsai tree, which is hilarious. I guess I'm attracted to radioactive things. (I think the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb is incredibly beautiful.) :P

 Attics! Love them! I would really love a spacious attic flat. This particular one looks like a kitchen. I like it. I especially like it when the wood beams are exposed, and the contrast between those and the white walls.

 I would have liked some herbs on the counter, like these, to add to the cooking, and add to the ambience of the room. There's nothing like a bit of fresh basil in your omelet is there?
I sure as heck am looking forward to that.







And of course a great big window you can spy at your neighbours from.
Imagine looking out from that, over the city scape of, say, New York. That must be gorgeous.
I really cannot wait until I can buy a place of my own. People may plan their weddings at the age of 5, but I planned out my flat. And I'd really like a nice one!




Well that's enough of that. Pink-blogging is fun for a little while. Though I suppose it's not proper pink blogging. I didn't find nail polish and bragged of how nice it looked without mentioning the name... Or a sweater.

Anyway, that's enough of that nonsense.