Saturday, February 25

Interpretation



I can't wait for Netflix to show the new episodes. All I'm getting now are snippets from Youtube. This scene was very emotional to watch. I sobbed for almost an hour afterwards, then I watched it again and sobbed some more. You know that rewarding type of sobbing when the tears are plenty and come easily and all you have to do is go with it, when the mind stops questioning the feelings and you just feel them instead.  I don't know exactly why this scene triggered so much emotion, skilled producers perhaps, who know what buttons to push. Of course, for me there are private connotations that also evokes emotion. My crush on Thomas Jane for example, and the small likeness of the character Julie with myself. Well, we know people are cast mainly for their neutral appearance to facilitate the identification process. This meeting, however abstracted in this science fiction scenery, gives a feeling of authenticity due to Janes acting. The slow approach and the calm talking, the caring. I think that's the key to the emotional trigger, the caring. Miller seems to care about Julie, and he talks to her much like a father would talk to a child who's about to do something dangerous or stupid, talking her out of it. It's also emotional because she's not really alive as a human being anymore, but a recreation of what she used to be. Perhaps much like the after death experience, where she wakes up in a new reality and is greeted by a loved one, who tells her she can't go back home, that this is her new home, with him, whatever happens. We don't know what happens after that, if he manages to keep his word, or if some new evil forces will interfere, but it's terribly romantic. 

Well, now back to my real studies. 

Thursday, February 23

Time to start thinking.

About the big essay. What field, what topic and what angle? And why? I already did an essay on animal rights. I could continue on that path or go for the feminist agenda perhaps. Then I would have to order some more books on that particular topic, so it's also an economic issue. I've spent so much on books, but I see it as a solid investment. I regret ever going to library, I should have bought them all right from the start, because I will have to anyway. But ok, for many years I had a feline financial priority. Of course, it has to be media related. This semester we have studied television history and celebrity politics for example. Leonardo Di Caprio and Donald Trump were mentioned as examples in this area. I'm pretty sure two or three of my classmates will pick on of these, so I'm looking a bit further. It would be funny if nobody picked them, because they thought everybody else would. I'm considering Buffology. Just because. I'm binge watching the series for the third time now. First when it came to Sweden I suppose, then again when they aired the reruns and now on Netflix. It would be right up my alley.


Tuesday, February 21

Surreal Cartoon


The new version:

The old version: 

I think I managed to keep the feeling in the picture intact.  It goes well on the clocks, where it embodies the fear of running out of time. Time goes by so quickly. 


Yesterday he had been dead for ...12 years! Imagine that. Being dead for so long. Wonder how much of the spirit stays and what keeps them hanging around. 

This also made me think of the "knowing"- part. I wouldn't say that I know anything for sure, that would be pompous, allthough one can have a feeling of what feels right. Then again, who is to judge what is right and wrong? For example, I 'know' there is life after death, according to my feeling of what feels right to believe. To me death is just transformation, leaving this particular physical reality, or the body at least, to continue some kind of essential experience of existance on another plane/dimension/reality. Qantum physics backs up this belief too, so it's not so far out there, quite the contrary. To not believe in other dimensions is as naive as to belive Earth is the only planet with life on in the entire universe.

I think his website has been taken down now. I can't find it anymore. I should have copied all the poems he had written. Maybe I did, but have already forgotten where they are, on some dusty old cd perhaps. I remember parts of his poems though, and after what happened in Sweden 'last night' ( Friday) " I was just hungry, that's all.", comes to mind. Can you get aids from saliva? It's an unproven thesis according to Wikipedia. I kissed too many people and almost ate one.










Sunday, February 19

Aquatic




 Orginial.

What happened?

Of course we're talking about this: what happened is Sweden 'last night'? That would be Friday then. Well, le'ts see. I drank a bottle of sparkling rosé ( whole bottle, mind you, big achievement there) and sang the most beautiful songs standing in the kitchen. I have decided this is best place to sing at in my apartment, considering the shelves would somehow dampen the sound, or maybe it has a nice echo. The bathtroom has a very nice echo, but If I sing more than my normal showertime ( 20 minutes approximately) the soundpollution could be considered disturbing. Since I have such a wonderful voice, allthough loud, I take pleasure too in it's delight, just as my neighbours suffer. Thinking about this somehow brought me back to memories from a media pseudo-discussion about what defines courage? I will get back to you on that later, first Friday night report, since this is apparently essential to the entire world. Because, one persons interaction could have significance. I hear happier sounds now. So, when the bottle was empty and the karaoke session done with, I decided to contact a friend. I want to party more. As a general rule too, not just then, but then particularly. The thing with parties is that they tend to lead to sexual harrassments, especially if the girl is drunk. Then the predators hunt out their helpless prey. So these guys, three of them, sat at the same table. All immigrants: one from Libya, one from Turqey and one from Kenya. The rest of the company were Swedish women. My friend knew these people, I assumed, which she also did to some extent. I reasoned that if these women has deemed these three harmless then interaction would go smoothly. I have long enough experience to talk to these kind of 10-years or so new inhabitants to tune in to their gangtalk. Hahaha, they were so embarrassed. I made out with everyone, on and off the dancefloor. Dancing, having the time of my life, actually. Very good party night, if you create a pink fluffy cloud around the sexual harrassments. First I demonstrated how it's supposed be done. Then they all failed. If someones saliva doesn't taste ok, or the texture is wrong, it's not enjoyable, enough. Keep in mind I'm only sharing this in detail because it is very important information that must be delivered to the , I could say Trump here, would President of the Unites States sound more dramatic? We don't know why, but for the sake of "one person can make a difference"- altruism, is it an altruism? Doctrine, anyway. I got offered a job, as cleaning or kitchen personell. I didn't say no, I said maybe. Not summerjob though, because they worked with schools, so an extra job to be combined with my studies. They do take up most of my time though, so perhaps once a week, in a deserted office. Then I got her card, which later got lost, but I got her number again from the Libyan coworker that followed me home. Not because I was this time too drunk or damaged to walk, but because he seemed nice and funny. Alltough, I had to tell him to back down several times, already on the dancefloor and then at home. He got a cup of tea and then I sent him home. I didn't like his saliva. After that, well, I browsed the internet and went to sleep. So dear Mr. President, absolutely nothing happened in Sweden. Which is in itslef terribly upsetting, so I understand your concern. 

Yes, back on the real topic, the discussion about what courage is, and it's opponent cowardice. You see, when I was dragged into that mediahype in 2010, about the murders, this pseudodiscussion popped up. The news wrote that the killers act was an act of cowardice. I opposed to this, because the definition of cowardice does not fit the description of what emotional state the killer was in. Not that I know that, I could not have any way of knowing that, but I guessed, because it seemed logical. This is something I also mentioned in the talkshow. Now, I'm not so sure anymore. When you think of the concept of cowardice, the discourse surrounding it, the most common connotations are 'someone who's too afraid to act', isn't that the essence of the word? Of course, it has a wider concept than that, which involves fear. Cowardice is fear, and sometimes we act out of fear, but cowardice is a genre of fear that represents the 'being too afraid to act'- state. So basically, I'm a coward by day ( never interact with people unless absolutely necessary), but just add a few drops of alcohol and I am completely transmogrified. The guy was dancing all the wrong way too, banging his pelvis against my butt, who does that!? I'm 47, show some repect. What's wrong with these people? You can't do that on a dancefloor, it's not an accepted move. I am now also the dancefloor-police. I will watch your moves. I pushed him away several times, but he had already gotten obsessed by my dazzling looks and imagined chance of getting laid. Anyway, so here was the reasoning behind the pseudodiscussion. My definition of cowardice was and still is right. Once the survival instinct sets in, an no other option that fight or flee is left, and the fleeing option has been cancelled, the cowardice gets overpowered by biological survival insticts and can no longer be called a coward, because the creature has lost control of it's logical thinking. Cowards overthink. They are afraid. It's splitting hairs perhaps, but still. We had no time to finish this discussion properly. Are they two sides of the same coin?







Friday, February 17

Drunk blogging

This will be a hoot. It's a challenge to just type the right keys. Well, my flirt with Thomas Jane, let's start with that. I thought that because he liked one of my tweets adressed to him that he liked me too, but that could of course been a mistake. I mean, he probably just liked it for marketing purposes, much like I like all people on Tinder. You know, causually pressing the like button on everybody in the moment, not considering who wrote what or when etc. You know what I'm talking about. Ok, but I must admit, I got my hopes up and sent him a Valentines reqeust. Nerdy and superficial, I know, but we have created these standardized events in society to facilitate the mating procedure. Yes, you read that right. Anyhow, since we are on the topic of soulmates etc ( if those even exist) there seem to be a trend to couple up with those born on the same date. These new glasses are not functioning properly and will be returned asap. My cousin ( third cousin or whatever) married a guy who was born on  the same date as she. So, Thomas Jane is born on February 22 (according to Wikipedia)  , same as Drew Barrymore ( this is the reason why I dumped you on Instagram, bitch!), and therefore they MUST be destined to be together, right? Think about it, she just got divorced and they're both in the same Hollywood business, so much in common, children the same age, there are no questionmark when you come to think about it. It looks like they're made for eachother, Jane said in an interview something about " looking good ten years ago and ten years from now", which is something Barrymore repeated recently on Instagram, along with a snapshot of her moldy ointments. Jane didn't respond to  my Valentines request, so I take that as  "no", "not interested".  Which is a shame , because we would make the perfect couple ( if he pays for my upcoming facelift that is). You know, artsy people, creative. I'm probably way smarter than him though, as usual,  Never met a guy smarter than me so far. Guys are generally low on brains. Anyway, Jane's daughter is born on the same day that my ex boyfriend and Hunter S Thompson died, so 'destiny-wise' that could be an advantage, but considering the no response for Valentines, Barrymore, and Tipper (according to reliable sources they have a great chemistry on the Expanse set ) I see it like this: He has to walk barefoot across the Atlantic ocean to prove his love for me (if it ever existed). He likes walking barefoot, so this might not be an impossible demand, allthough the vast ocean could be. I remember being embarrassed about dad walking barefoot in the summer. Feet are ugly people, keep'em in shoes, m'kay? 

Happy Friday!

Some all time statistics. Israel really pops out there. Is it because I'm the Messiah? 👽
Today I will get my new glasses. The goggles. They're blue, with some glittery coppertone pattern, if I remember them right. 


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Elves then.

Elves on RedBubble, available as prints on clothes and interior decoraton items, journals, stickers etc.


The original:

I would not say this is my finest work, but someone might buy it, someone with bad taste perhaps.

Wednesday, February 15

That was that.

No Valentines. Feeling a bit sick anyway though, so it didn't really matter. My dislocated shoulder and twisted ankle from last weekends going out hasn't healed yet either, so I'm not much fun to be around at the moment. This time of year brings back horrible memories too, of fear and helplessness from death, abuse and blind hatred.  I wish nobody to suffer the same horrors. Those memories will never fade away. I understand how wars begin. Like this. Fear of repercussion triggers a spiral of events that easily could spin out of control. Rumours pass as truth for the gullible, those who want to believe.  I fear it will happen again, that they will create a monster of their image of me. Their fearful fantasies knows no limits. The trauma repeats itself. I'm just a normal person. It it Halloween yet?
The predators works proactively and prevent detection by ponting fingers at the victim:
- She's the crazy one. I have evidence from when she was five and told a story about...
- She said no to me, that's proof enough.
- She changed.
- She stopped coloring her hair red. 
- She stopped wearing weird clothes. 
- She stopped talking to me.
Coming from the people who commited crimes against me, now working actively to clear their reputation by spreading manufactured stories "fake news" about my so called insanity.  People use mental illness as a weapon. Anyone can be a target of this kind of manipulation, to be pointed out as crazy. With enough smoothtalking abilities society, doctors etc can be convinced that you are dangerous and must be locked up. As far as I'm concerned I migth have slight autism, not hereditary, but socially induced by being bulllied my entire life. I have just given up on trusting people again. I merely see them as walking bags of flesh I need to get along with on a basic level in order to survive. Minimalize any kind of unnecessary interaction. 

I watched this story about a girl. It made me think: this could have been me. 

Sunday, February 12

Toothfairies


Digital edition:

 Original:

Too bad the checkershirt pattern got lost in the editing, it feels like an essential part of the picture. I see that now. However, the shirt got ruined and has to be burned and tossed away, possibly dna-tested to see who the villain was ( there might be a police register) , and then to deal with the horror of what more items in my home he/she/them has soiled with their bodily fluids. I'm installing  a nannycam to secure images of future idiots.