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27th-Jun-2006 01:29 am - My movie year
I will now attempt to summarize the last 6 months of my life like it was an epilogue of a biographical picture. Try to imagine a picture of me, freeze framed for the entire duration of the recap, being zoomed out and repanned around in slow speeds. Also, the main theme of the movie is being played yet again, but this time with a full band, sounding bigger and more fleshed out than before. Also, the actor playing me gets credited, which according to some people I know should be Steve Buscemi. When I'd object, they'd ;going "Oh, but he's got character!" and "Why not? He's cool as hell!", even though they know as well as me that he's primarily chosen because of our similar hideous looks. Well, what can I say? I can't really deny the resemblance, but it's definitely years off in reality. So now, on my own, I've on some occasions found myself to be more like, and please don't laugh, the now grown-up version of Macaulay Culkin. Hey, we've got the same noses, and the same sunken yet beady eyes. Still, I've kept this discovery to myself ever since.

So yeah, imagine Macaulay Culkin, for the early years at least, then maybe later Steve Buscemi with these words next to them: "After writing his last entry he spiraled into numerous depressions, and things never looked up from there. Still, the girl at work he'd mentioned earlier turned actually out to be pretty cool, and through socializing induced by his far more outgoing roommate, they hung out on occasion, watching campy horror movies with her, her boyfriend, and their friends."

The picture of me, or Macaulay, will change to another one, to illustrate that either more time went by or that I was in another state of mind for the rest, or some other reason I wouldn't be able to place: "He ended up buying one of those apartments he fretted over for months, but due to laziness on his part, not the one directly above his soon-to-be former roommate as intended."

A picture of the girl would now show, played by some boyish girl, you know the kind, the ones with more guy friends than gal friends. "She ended up quittig the job to pursue an education in graphic design, exactly the same field he once dreamt of studying. For the summer she's off to Peru with her boyfriend and her family, since her cousin is marrying a peruvian girl."

By now you can just leave, you know: "Even though they sometimes didn't communicate all that well, or not at all, he loved to make her laugh. It could mostly be because she looked so much prettier when she was smiling, but sometimes it worked both ways. That is, her laughing made him laugh and he'd on occasion feel a little less miserable."

At this point it's pretty much expected by the audience that they'd be up from their seats, either outside of the theater, or standing in line at the exits, maybe still half-heartedly glancing at the screen at the last few lines of text: "He thought at some point that he'd fallen in love with her, but really, he came to the conclusion that he wouldn't let that happen, and certainly not in a situation like this. But still, he sometimes wondered how things could've panned out if someone else wasn't in the picture. He wondered if maybe he'd have a chance."

Cue the obligatory lower budget sequel, starring Kieran Culkin.
25th-Jan-2006 02:50 am - Cured?
Mostly out of desperation, I've lately been applying biological terms to pretty much everything to make an effort making sense of them on scientific levels. Bio-logic, if you will. The starting point is easily identifyable; I was bored at work doing these various tests on the BBC website, eventually ending up on one going "are you easily disgusted?" which consisted of different images of somewhat disgusting things of more and less intensity. The twist was revealed at the end to really be about how we as humans find certain things to be disgusting simply in a subconcious attempt to avoid diseases. Thus I naturally found the image of tons of larvae rather repulsive, while anything synthetic, say a bowl of some bluish substance, was percieved to be harmless. So I was thinking, since this theory now was proven to be applied to the sense of sight, couldn't it just as easily be expanded to all the other senses? To some degree it seemed to be working; what we gather to be a bad smell, say a rotten egg, a sewer, etc, is something disease carrying we'd be attempting to avoid. The sense of taste would work in a similar fashion. Furthermore what we'd think felt disgusting to touch, say mucus or feces, would also be categorized as disease ridden. But going even further, the biological terms weaken as they're applied to senses combined to abstract fields I admit I'm the most desperate to rationalize by now. Is love just our attempt to reproduce, avoiding potential partners due to their weaknesses? Are the ones we end up with just the least disease carrying ones? Can all of this be applied to art or music? Do we find some music to be bad because we're avoiding some sort of spiritual disease? And if so, and if we'd be avoiding the same ones, wouldn't we all like and dislike the same things? And since we really don't, would it be out of place to ask the question, how many of us are sick? How many of us are dying? How many of us are already dead?
24th-Jan-2006 02:44 am - Office spaced
By now it seems like some sort of curse: at least once every winter I manage to slip and fall on ice or snow, usually leaving me behind with aching bruises or even deep scratches. Today, as I was descending the steep slope from the parking lot at work, the ground suddenly gave way and I hit the ground with my back first, thus getting the wind knocked out of me. The resulting pathetic display of me standing there gasping for air seemed to be rather amusing to some co-workers in the distance. Anyway, I should keep a record of every one of these "winter slips" as I've come to call them, but I can only distinctly remember the last two. 2004 saw me slipping on wet ice, resulting in scratched hands as I fell on the pavement. 2005 had me falling on my back on snow, getting slowly melting snow in my back pockets and down my pants. Following the current trend, next year I'll probably break something.

The new girl at work, I still call her the new girl since she hardly says anything, was called over to my department since there wasn't much to do over at hers. While getting instructed in various routines by Kristine, another girl whose level of talkative is in the other end of the scale, they somehow got to the subject of music. She waved me over to reveal that this new girl, yeah, she liked music as well. I felt almost as if I was being set up as we jokingly revealed our love for various terrible truckstop country music. Sitting at my desk nearby, still eavesdropping on their conversation, the new girl was asked to come up with a top 10 list of favorite artists. Though I'm not sure why, maybe she wanted to say someone that Kristine had at least heard of since she probably gathered rather quickly that she didn't care or know anything about music, she paused a long while before providing her answer. I held my breath as I paused my mp3 player. The continuing tones of Explosions in the Sky's The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place rang through my ears three seconds later after she said Iron Maiden.

Without really asking anyone, a date was suddenly set in stone for a trip to Denmark (read: drunken party) by my department at work. I would've been reluctant to go anyway, but as it turned out it fell on the same date as the Arab Strap concert, which really didn't make it hard to choose what to do. What I shouldn't have done, though - was to tell the truth when they asked me why I couldn't come. "A concert? So you're choosing THAT over this trip?" I couldn't really come up with anything clever to say in response to that, so I just paused and said "uh, yeah". Furthermore they were baffled by the fact that some bands actually have concerts on thursdays, especially since that spoiled my possibilities of drinking alcohol. As soon as they started going on with the same arguments I've heard a few times now every time I've prioritized concerts over other things ("Surely you've got this bands' albums? You can listen to them whenever you like, you know"), and I'm not even sure they were joking or not, I just lied and said I'd bought the ticket already. At one time I would've tried to make them understand, maybe playing them a song or two, but now, today - I'm just left feeling sorry for them. Following the current trend, by next year I won't feel anything.
15th-Jan-2006 04:47 am - Fuck This Place

So what's happening with the apartment thing? Well, not a whole lot. I'm repeatedly putting off calling the brokers office due to ridiculous reasons; one day I felt more like napping, the other I felt more like sitting around doing fuck all. There's a nagging feeling in the back of my head, is this really what I want to do? How can it be when it doesn't feel right? But then again, in another one of those life-altering epiphany moments, I realize nothing does. Still, I can't figure out whether I'm indecisive, lazy or terrified. It's currently crossing my mind that it might be all of them. Or, maybe I'm still fooling myself to believe I'm this free-spirited person, not at all ready to settle anywhere, at any time, much less one year in advance. Reluctantly I just checked if the apartments I had pinpointed as potential purchases still were available; upon my discovery that all 6 of them, on various floors, indeed still are, I come to the dubious conclusion that I can put this off even further.

9th-Jan-2006 02:53 am - Happy next year

I guess I was wrong, every one of these new years are actually second chances and new beginnings. I say that not because I've experienced it first hand, but because my previous approach of regarding every new day as the next day of the rest of my life surely didn't produce any results whatsoever. Consequently, I figured it had to be the other way around. Furthermore, I thought I had it all figured out back then, openly mocking those who figured the new year would be a decent time to stop smoking or start working out. Most of them fell broke down or fell apart a few months later, but still, I was blaming the method not the individuals. But since I never could initiate change my way, the joke's on me with me not even realizing it.

So maybe it's true then, all we have to do to change things around, is to stand there, lighting fireworks with frozen fingers; explosions in the sky coupled with fire in our hearts, and once again come to a conclusion so full of hope and optimism, also quite possibly fueled by enough alcohol in our veins, to make us truly believe that these next moments in time actually are different.

31st-Dec-2005 02:27 am - Taking off and landing

So as a huge surprise to me, these things usually are anyway, my roommate reveals he's going to move out, thus implying I'm also moving out. Not that I expected us to live there forever, but it doesn't take much time for me to feel settled, somewhat safe, wherever I am. So yeah, maybe I really expected us to live there forever. Mind you, there's not happening anything until late next year at the earliest, luckily that gives me ample time to start worrying, or preparing whichever comes naturally. Turns out there are going to be built new apartments just nearby that he's eventually buying, which he also suggested to me. I was obviously oblivious to this, again just living inside my own personal bubble, and while I'm somewhat tempted, the apartments look nice and come in various sizes, I'm reluctant for other reasons; again I'm just following without thinking, again I'm letting someone else do decisions for me.

My parents recommended me to go for it, backed up by common sense and years of apartment experience I'm devoid of, but I keep thinking if I really want to stay there, is it really what I want to do? If there really is anywhere I'd have a real sense of belonging, why settle for less? My reassuring answer is that nothing's forever, not even this. Even more reassuring and even somewhat vengeful, another answer points out this happens every day, all over the world; why should my relocation 500 meters up the road in any way be any different?

With the past new years eve entry in mind, I'm this time making sure I'm not going to again get stranded with parents and relatives. Plans are somewhat in motion, and I'm going to make sure along the way about whoever's departure who'd be able to pick me up. But still, infinitely disappointing, reading the exactly 366 days old entry, it puzzles me that I really haven't come any further.

29th-Dec-2005 02:44 am - Any year
Out of the blue it dawns on me, I feel confined to this chair, by just the length of this network cable. And it's all preventing me from what I really want to do, like writing the damn Dirty Three review, like writing this entry. At this point, backed up by sheer stupidity/overwhelming naivety, I'm for some reason fooling myself to think going wireless would solve all my problems. And as a comperative analogy, the chair's like this house, the network cable's my limited transportation options. Another one of these supposedly life-changing epiphanies, and I'll eventually realize, quite suddenly and completely unexpectedly, that my life consists of nothing else. In other words, right now, I'm having an epiphany that I'm obsessed with epiphanies. Go figure.

These days off back home are going absolutely nowhere; I get up rather late, wait around doing nothing, eventually eat a dinner that feels more like breakfast, then apathetically glares at the tv until someone calls me to arrange for watching a movie. If noone calls, like today, the entire day feels utterly wasted, totally spent, and forever lost. I wonder how many other ways I could've spent these days. I could've visited old high school friends finally without feeling entirely embarrased about my life, only somewhat, but it's definitely too late anyway, like a train that left six years ago. Yesterday while in a friends' car, I was jokingly faking a panic attack when realizing I'm due for a 10 year high school reunion next year, all the while thinking, give it another couple months, thinking, give it another six months.

But still, perfectly capturing adolescent youth, the moment of coming of age, and all that, The Mountain Goats' This Year turns out to be just as fitting to my now pre 30s soul searching, my post 25s obligatory mid-mid-life crisis, and is just as relevant to the rest of this day, the rest of this year, as the rest of the next, the rest of my days. Another epiphany, yet wonderfully hopeful and uncharacteristically optimistic, I really am going to make it through this year if it kills me.
23rd-Dec-2005 11:34 pm - Awake on a train / Asleep on a train

Taking the train on the night before christmas reminded me most of all of how much I missed it. Or, at least, the notion of it, an idealized conception, a fading illusion, or, an idea of traditions of old treasured, crystallized into one week of - and I hesitated before reaching this conclusion - joy. Passing by brightly lit houses covered in decorations, catching brief glances into their livingrooms with beautiful christmas trees illuded me into thinking this was the missing ingredient from recent christmases. Families gathered around nearby coffee tables seem frozen in time, caught in perpetual happiness. Parents mid-sentence, young toddlers mid-air. Apparently, fleeting glimpses of someone elses utopia my best hope for survival these days.

Eavesdropping on phone conversations of the cute girl in a dress in the seat in front of me revealed a major plot point in the new Harry Potter book, and thus the inevitable upcoming movie. I wondered for a brief moment how she would react if a complete stranger behind her would interrupt her phone conversation and proceed to yell at her, tongue in cheek I might add, for spoiling the story. There must be someone who'd pull that off successfully. Why isn't there any other way of finding out if I'd be that certain someone other than actually finding out?

Revisiting the albums I listened to exactly one year ago felt odd, as if I'd consciously tried to block out the memories of first listening to them. Now I ended up playing them in the exact same order as when I travelled back home 358 days ago. Season's Avatar, which I probably got a bit burned out on back then, sounds fresh and exciting despite its obvious derivative nature. Sufjan Stevens Greetings from Michigan, which I discovered during christmas 2003, which since then never exactly reminded me of anything, now brings me right back to early mornings right before christmas, getting to work by wading through heavy snow. Grails' Redlight brings me right back in the left back seat of my friends' car dipping in and out of consciousness as the familiarity of the scenery slowly but surely gradually improved.

Most of the passengers around me are young and beautiful. Reassuring like a premature homecoming, the various familiar dialects of northern Norway whispered amongst them gives me a strange sense of belonging. Coupled with the brightly lit and painstakingly decorated trees whizzing by, it feels just like Christmas.

16th-Aug-2005 01:25 am - Far/home/away/heaven

Getting back home from being away at home turned out to bring me right back where I started in so many ways. The pages upon pages I wrote during my dreadful vacation now seem entirely unpostable, simply because I can't and won't feel like that anymore. Every line looks like it's written by some other person, or at least some other version of me. Rereading the entries just makes me feel even more detached, and returning here just gets me right back where I was, again feeling exactly the same, again feeling absolutely nothing at all.

Admittedly a guilty pleasure, if nothing else The Starlet made me come to yet another at the time monumental epiphany as the aspiring actresses were taught how to express anger by directing it towards someone in their past. One girl cried while imagining confronting her father who abandoned her, another girl finally said all that she always wanted to say to her ex-boyfriend. Setting myself in the same scenario, not even in a chair in front of TV cameras, just right here, the only one I ever could imagine getting that angry at was myself.

30th-Jul-2005 01:42 am - Relate to relate to related
It seemed like such a good idea at the time, going on a cabin trip with just my parents and me. I thought i could be one of those proper adults who are able to relate to their parents like other proper adults, instead I'm still like a fucking kid relating to them like we're not related. We've yet to leave, but I can't for the life of me think that we're going to have an universally good time; I'm already more or less sick of their presence, and they're still expecting something of mine. I kind of wish my brother wanted to come along as well, even though it would really be one more person I can't relate to, but it couldn't in any way make things worse. I can't really imagine what we're going to do for a whole week, and it's now actually inducing small bouts of panic. Sure, during the day we're probably going on small trips, probably going fishing, but the evenings are bound to be atrocious. Not bore me, I'm ok with being bored, or rather, I'm used to being bored, but I fear it would get worse than that.

I'm duped into having an unlikely fantasy of me meeting a girl my age living in a neighbouring cabin, thus ending up spending alot of time with her, thus resulting in us exchanging phone numbers, thus with us sharing an awkward yet sweet moment and a highly anticipated kiss at the time of departure.

I have 3 record reviews I better get completed during this coming week, not having an internet connection will most likely help in that regard. I'm having troubles writing the one for Horses in the Sky, in the sense that I haven't really written anything about the actual music, just the feelings it conjure. I guess that's alright, but it's something new for me. For the record, I love it. The record, that is. Maybe that's why I'm having problems. Hrsta's Stem Stem In Electro and Kinski's Alpine Static should prove endlessly easier.
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