The guilty pleasure of shameful music

I remember everything!
I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday.
I was barely seventeen,
and I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar.
I don't remember if it was a
Telecaster or a Stratocaster
but I do remember that it had a heart of chrome
and a voice like a horny angel.
I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a
Stratocaster
but I do remember that it wasn't at all easy.
It required
the perfect combination of the right power chords
and the precise angle from

which to strike!
The guitar bled for about a week afterwards
and the blood was sough dark and rich,

like wild berries.
The blood of the guitar
was Chuck Berry red.
The guitar bled for about a week afterwards, but it
rung out beautifully
and I was able to play notes that I had never even
heard before.
So I took my guitar, and I smashed it against the wall!
I smashed it against the floor!
I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader!
Smashed it against the hood of a car!
Smashed it against a
1981 Harley Davidson!
The Harley howled in pain! The guitar howled in heat!
And I ran up the stairs to my parents' bedroom...
Mummy and daddy were
sleeping in the moonlight...
Slowly I opened the door, creeping in the shadows
Right upto the foot of their bed.
I raised the guitar high above my head,
and just as I was about to bring the guitar crashing down
upon the centre of the bed,

my father woke up, screaming: "Stop!"
"Wait a minute!
Stop it boy! What do ya think you're doin'?
That's no way to treat

an expensive musical instrument!"
And I said: "God dammit daddy!
You know I love you...

But you've got a hell of a lot to learn about

rock 'n roll!!"

I was looking for some music for my workout, when I came upon on old Meat Loaf album I have...Its one of those albums you're afraid to admit you love...so you kind of hide it behind some of the more "respectable" ones...Anyway, I put it on and realized I still know pretty much every song on the album. In case you are wondering its the "Bat out of hell II (back into hell)" album and the intro above is from "Everything louder than everything else".

"A wasted youth is better by far
than a wise and productive old age!"

Im not entirely sure I agee with that statement, but the song kicks butt. You can say whatever you want about old meaty, but he can make rock n'roll if he really wants to.

I admit that this is the first CD I ever bought (being 13 or so...), but I still love it...so shoot me.

A female secret revealed

I like to cry...

There. I said it. The cat's out of the bag. No turning back.

I like to cry. -But only if I can choose under which terms the crying takes place.
Example: You've had a long week, work has been a bitch, Uni has been a bitch and all you want to do is hang out and relax with a good movie. Now, any other person might choose a comedy. Gotta laugh to feel better right?
No.
I would choose a sappy chick flick.
Why you ask?
So that I can cry.

There is something cleansing and liberating with a good cry. The more tears you can produce and hence the more swollen you can make your face look, the better you will feel afterwards (-unless you have to step outside in the public eye of course)...And if you can manage to bring forward the sob that starts in your toe and moves up your legs and lower waist, through your stomach and out your mouth in short, deep moans, you've really hit the happiness-jackpot. We're talking a happy-trip better than any drug can induce. A good cry like that is cleansing, but it has to be a good cry...None of that "my boyfriend broke up with me"-cry, or "I just lost someone I love"-cry...-cries that make your stomach hurt for days and weeks and months. Those are awful and no one should ever have to go through those....I am simply talking about the voluntary cries. The cries you will have forgotten 30 minutes after you had them.

A good cry gives a feeling very similar to sexual release and I will bet my ass (if I just had one...) that you can ask any girl out there, -and possibly some guys too, about it and they will tell you this is true. A good cry makes your body relax, and it makes you feel twice as happy about your own situation as you did before you initiated the crying. Why meditate when you can cry?

So now you know guys. The secret is out.

Im sorry girls. I know I am telling one of womanhoods deepest secrets here...but I think the male population needs to know. They need to know so that they will leave us alone the next time we watch Ghost. No more of that "Poor baby"-shit. We aint crying 'cause we're unhappy! We're crying cause it makes us feel good.

So there.

Various forms of the Happiness drug:
North Country
Finding Neverland
Ghost
Philadelphia
City of Angels
Pay it Forward
Brokeback Mountain

Feel free to add your drug of choice.

One of those days...

-”You’re unlucky” is nothing more than a frame of
reference for the lucky, Mr Fisher. You are unlucky so that I may know I am not. Unfortunately, the lucky don’t realize they are lucky before it is too late. Take yourself for instance; Yesterday you were better off than you are today, but it took today for you to realize it. But today has arrived, and its too late. You see? People are never happy with what they have. They always want what they had, what other people have.

Sometimes when all your friends have other plans, and you are forced to spend a Saturday night home alone (yay to single-life...), what you need is a good movie (can you figure out which one?), rain hitting your window so hard you can hardly hear yourself think (if you could hear thoughts that is...) and something good to eat; For instance a good steak with potatoes and vegetables...a white russian to drink while making said steak with potatoes and vegetables, spanish pepper-& olive pringles and a big bag of chocolate...and a bunch of candles to heat up the cold apartment.
A decent end to a blue day.

October 1st

I saw a butterfly today.

First day of October…in Norway….and I saw a butterfly. You gotta admire that kind of stamina and will. That poor larva has probably waited all summer for its wings…getting fatter and fatter in the pupae, before it finally one (unusually) warm day of October broke out of its organic prison, happy and content of its newfound winged life. It looked happy. Poor ting wont get old with this weather forecast…

I wonder if you can be happy enough for a lifetime in one day.

Underwater photography

Don't you just love a good picture? Ive spent the afternoon checking out the pics on a friend's website. He has promised me to add some shark pictures he has as well (Ive seen 'em, and I will make sure he keeps his promise, - cause those are some F'ing good pictures).
I have added the link to the site over there ---->

But just to make it easier for you, I will hand feed it to you right here (on a silver tray even): http://www.gislesverdrup.com/

Enjoy!

Potatoes and traveling

”So…” You say. ”Where the F[insert obscenity] have you been?”-“And where the F[repeat obscenity] is my annual postcard?”

“Well…” I say while moving my right foot vicariously across the asphalt, pushing the gravel on top of it into little piles. “I meant to send you one…but I just never got around to do it. I was too busy.”

-“Im really sorry…” I quickly add.

Im not lying when I say I have been busy. For some reason unknown to yours truly, the summers get shorter and shorter every year. I had so many things I needed to do, - although I cannot for the life of me remember those things at the moment…So you ask “What DID you do?” And I tell you to shut the fuck up (why bother with censorship?) and let me do the talking…or typing…or whatever. I DID work…made some money that I spent on traveling, -which I will get back to later. I moved into a new apartment,-which I guess is the main reason why I haven’t been able to update this mess called a blog. I didn’t have any internet access for quite some time…”But you could have used an internet café or something like that” you interrupt.

This is the part where I slap you with the student newspaper I am holding in my left hand. You look surprised but you let it go.

Yes I could have used a café, but this is where the busy part takes over. When you spend most of your day at work or moving boxes from one side of town to the next, a puter is not the first thing on your mind when you are done….the bed is. Besides…whats the point of updating a blog when nothing new has happened in your life?

“But you could have written another one of those meaningless entries you always write” you say. I just shake my head. You are starting to get on my nerves…

So…back to my summer. The best part of it I spent with my friend Beat (lets just call him Beat to protect his privacy…between you and me; I think he is on the run from the law) and his family. Before I got there however I had a 26h travel from Norway to the US…and on the way I had to explain at least 4 times what a bottle of Aquavit is...(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akvavit). I also had to convince an immigration officer that I was NOT going to Idaho to marry some potato-farmer and that I was in fact going back to Norway after 10 days. “But there’s nothing to see in Idaho! People don’t go to Idaho…they go to California or New York…Chicago even!” I had to bite my tongue and try not to laugh…Laughing at an immigration officer is a sure ticket back to where you came from…

After a delay in Minneapolis I finally got to hug the Beat and his youngest daughter who hugged me despite the fact that I looked like crap (probably smelled like it too). Bless her heart. Summer couldn’t have started better.

I never saw the immigration officer again…but if I had, I would have told him that Idaho has a lot to offer. You can climb sand dunes and burn your feet. You can look for snakes and other creepy stuff in the bushes. You can go to the horse tracks and win money on a horse that no one believes in (Go Bruneau!), you can fly rockets and loose ‘em in a cornfield, you can go to the drive-in and the Flying M (great coffee) and you can go to Hailey and listen to music and eat at diners.-Even party a little. But most of all you can relax and unwind…forget about the stress that is waiting for you at home. If you’re lucky and get to hang out with people like Beat and his family as well, you’ve really hit the jackpot! The sweetest family you can think of has its base in Idaho…the secret is out.

So its safe to say the immigration officer was wrong. I personally think he should be fired. For most foreigners the immigration officer is the first American they speak to upon their arrival…and he or she should be a representative for Americans in general. To have such an ignorant dork behind the Plexiglas is a shame…I should have told him to get out more often…The air must be pretty thick in that glass-booth. Next time I will hand him a bottle of Aquavit and tell him to come see me in Idaho when he gets off work. Who knows…maybe I can marry him and get a green card...Potato-farmer my ass…

I hope you had a wonderful summer as well. And I promise you next year I WILL send you a postcard.