Tag: Doodles

Work, haircut, sci-fi

Got up early this morning in practice for the coming next four weeks when I’ll be joining the ranks of the proleratiat in getting up fucking 04:30 to haul ass to work. Not certain what it is I’ll be doing, but as far as I can make out I’ll be carrying things and perhaps stacking things as well.

The store in which I used to work during weekends or whenever one of the regulars was hung over sick moved, and will no longer have use of my services. As boring as that job could be at times, it was kinda sad to pick up my junk that’s collected there over the years. Like the nametag that I only used the first week or so.

I got a new haircut that isn’t supposed to look as fluffy as it does in the image. I like it. Nazi but in a good way. The barber that made it appearently cuts most rockabilly and such head in Gothenburg, although I’m sure it’s an exaggeration considering how many rockers and the like we saw just at the new years party at Krete.

Yet another test:

I am:

John Brunner

His best known works are dystopias — vivid realizations of the futures we want to avoid.

Which science fiction writer are you?

It’s like running. Only it’s not.

Ok, a short rundown of the past week. In a very condensed fashion, because I gotta get out of here in a bit due to stuff.

* The MFA essay is going slower than molasses. Sweet, sweet molasses, but molasses non-the-less.

* I’ve been helping daddy-o out by spreading the awareness of his car catalogue far and wide through the tubes that make up the Internet. In the process I’ve stumbled upon some horrendous Internet pages I haven’t seen since Mosaic 1.2 back in -95, and I’ve noticed that some people don’t bother to show any contact info. It’s actually an interesting concept; Creating a very personal site and then hiding yourself from view. Then again, since I’m actually trying to get in touch with these people it’s annoying.

* Going for a job interview tomorrow regarding a two week stint at a warehouse. I’m so enthusiastic that I can hardly contain my joy and radiant happiness.

* Meeting up with Ann-Charlotte Glasberg tomorrow, who is the person who’s handling the essay thingy. And there’s this unnerving sense of shame at not having written more than the two-and-a-half pages of feces that I’ve put to print. I’ve been told that a man always has to be ready to perform, and it’s depressing. (although I might be taking that saying out of it’s proper context)

* There were some suggestion about a punk concert tomorrow evening? And beer? Neat!

* Christmas is coming. Here’s the upside of having divorced parents and a fractioned family: I don’t have to get gifts to everybody. Yay. The amount of IOU’s that I’ve given as a present over the years is ridiculous, and if I once get called on those I’m gonna be their bitch for three months and would prolly be required to quit smoking (mom actually has asked me for such an IOU).

Now I have to finish sending off a few emails, and then home to heat something. tea most likely. And watch Sopranos. There’s been a lot of that lately (Anna got hooked).

welcome to DiZZ-EZE-citay

goddam blasted viruses and bacterium! a pox on them!

they are treating my body as a time-sharing condo in the tropics; coming here to chill out for a week and try out fun activities. like “oh, let’s take the kids down the upper colon and frolic the afternoon away!”.

my throat and head is aching and at the moment i do more spitting than swallowing. ha. ha.

the betrayal of the subconscious.

i slept really well last night. standing in the shower i recall what i was dreaming about.

somehow, i had done the mafia some favours, and had gotten a check for 60 million SEK. i carried this check around and fell very lighthearted.

now. what do you think that i was going to do with all this money? in my dream, in what is supposed to be a bastion of the wild and unfettered imagination, what did i do with 60 million SEK? did i plan a trip to the moon or hire milla jovovich to sit on my face?

no. i was looking forward to paying my student loans, and my biggest concern was if i was supposed to pay tax on the money since they had originated from the mafia anyway.

so, to recoup: i am so boring right now that you cannot believe how boring i am. even my dreams are boring. seriously, stay away from me people, lest you catch whatever brain rot has me in it’s grip. i’m done for. think well of me when i’m gone or something.

note to self:

* there is a good reason why you hate windows: there are no standards, no accountibillity, you get pushed between vendors who point the finger at the other one, your browser plugin might interefere with the copy-past function in a sound application that doesn’t install properly anyway.

* the main reason why you hate windows is because you don’t know how it works and it makes you feel like a stupid child.

* if you’ve lost the 9$ you had invested in online poker, the first impulse should not be to transfer more money unless you plan on learning from your mistakes and not go all-in with two pairs against an obvious flush. fuck.

in progress

i don’t want to sweat the poster too much. currently it’s six different variations along the same punky theme. i need to spice it up a bit, twist it a bit, and tweak it a bit, but i’m hoping to be more or less done tomorrow.

two colours + paper white works. less colours, less mess – i’m silkscreening this and the alignment is never perfect.

feedback is much appreciated. oh, and would you buy this for yourself or someone else? what price point? i could go the limited edition, signed prints way, or the hey, a cute & bitter & trashy poster way, and the price will change accordingly.

i’ve already spotted one spelling error, and i’m sure there are others. lemme know.

and going through my music library i found this: DJ nono / Fuck Happy

[audio:http://www.monocultured.com/audio/Happy_Happy_Joy_Joy.mp3]