lördag 1 augusti 2009

War of the Weaves: Wilde vs. Pattison

Facing the prospect of soon becoming a minority, I've spent more and more time studying the ways of the people on the island of Great Britain - and what better way to do that than to get my Wilde on. I think The Importance of Being Earnest has taught me all I need to know about the British. For instance, they never devour tea-muffins in an agitated manner, lest they get butter on their cuffs (good to know if ever I feel offended or upset just before I sit down to tea), also they seem to think that marriage between first cousins is perfectly acceptable (Jack and Gwendolen - what to the hell? This ain't Iran)

To appease the younger crowd - mere seventeen year olds are recruited to the universities in that rainy country; again, what the hell man - I am soon going to devote my time off to Stephanie Meyer's trilogy about that vampire who hit the screen not long ago. Appearantly, women my age read it too. Expectations are sky-high now that most females seem to regard it as the new Bible. I know I read the second book in the series when I was around 14 and was only mildly impressed, but hey, can't blame my adolescent self for not realizing it would become such a huge hit as soon as Robert Pattison decided not to comb his hair. Fag!

torsdag 30 juli 2009

Friday is pay-day for some

I spent four days lying in my bed, nauseated, trying hard not to turn my guts inside out for the third or fourth time. When all you can focus on is your own misery, it's hard to have some sort of hope for the future; you just assume you'll be reduced to a vegetable for not only a fortnight, but the rest of your life. Fortunately, not so.
I picked my - by this time - deflated arse out of bed and stumbled across Marc Johns wonderfully understated and simply beautifully drawn pictures. Below is my favourite (for the time being):

Now, amateureater is off to the Promised Land where obesity is a statement (for instance, it could state "McDonald's ROCKS") not a flaw and where there are thirty different types of scents to each roll of toilet-paper, whereas us mortal swedes wipe our arses with plain, boring, scentless rolls of Lambi. Now, I'm out of the door for the first time in four days to pay off a horrendous debt to the local library. My own private limbo.

måndag 27 juli 2009

rock out with the cock out

In order to integrate better with scottish society, I started reading Irvine Welsh's (the author of Trainspotting) short story collection The Acid House. It's all fun and games (every story has a junkie in it - my kind of story) until I come across this story called the Soft Touch which is written entirely in Jock. No kidding. For those of you have missed out, Jock is a "dialect characaterized by a broad accent" (http://www.economicexpert.com/a/Jock.htm). At first, I thought Welsh had gone temporarily insane or, alternatively, suffered a sudden strike of dyslexia, for I felt I was trying to read some random Korean kid's diary or something. Take a load of this;
"Ah wis oot maist ay the time. Thing is when ah came back ah'd either find Larry in oor place or her up at his. Half-fuckin-bevvied aw the time; the baith of thum. Ah kent he wis shagging her. Then she started tae stey up thair some nights. Then she just moved upstairs wi him aw the gither; leaving me doonstairs with the bairn, That meant ah hud tae pack in the painting; for the bairn's sake, ken?" (p.49).
It took me a while to crack the code. The trick, though, was to read it with an accentuated voice in your head, then it wasn't so hard. Translation.
"I was out most of the time. Thing is when I came back I'd either find Larry in our place or her up at his. Half-fucking-drunk all the time; the both of them. I knew he was fucking her. Then she started to stay up there some nights. Then she just moved upstairs with him all the same; leaving me downstairs with the child. That meant I had to pack in the painting; for the child's sake, you know?"
All in all, it's like taking a trip to Lewisham's less attractive areas and peeping into one of those council flats. Depressing but amusing.

tisdag 21 juli 2009

Toer is so very asian, whether he likes it or not.

By popular demand; This Earth of Mankind by Pramoedya Ananta Toer bookreview.

Short resumé of the plot: The story takes place in a - for some obscure reason - town referred to as 'B' and the town of Surabaya somewhere in Java. It is narrated firsthandedly by the protagonist himself known as 'Minke'. Minke suffers from inevitable minority complex due to his being Native in the European-obsessed Java. He is the only outspoken Native in a Dutch school called H.B.S where race is of outmost importance; children of all-European descent are known as 'Pures', those half-breeds refered to as 'Indos' and the local kids preferably aren't mentioned at all. In short, it focuses on Minkes struggle to prove that even half-wits Natives can absorb and comprehend European science and customs, to receive the same rights as a European a society that considers those of total Javanese descent no more than a pack of primitive monkeys and to combine his innate pride to be Javanese and his wish to adapt to European standards. Moreover, he has some love-issues with the most (of course) beautiful girl he has ever seen, the daughter of a Nyai (concubine).

Indeed, as a Swede I find it hard to identify with Minke's extremely emotional and passionate approach to most things in general, and the Javanese frankness - for instance, after his first visit at the Nyai residence, he is invited to stay with them as a guest for as long as he likes since the daughter (Annelise) has, according to the mother, fallen madly in love with him and will die (literally) if he is not constantly in her vicinity. The novel has the undertone of someone whose life is a constant battle for recognition and acceptance; somewhat over-emotional, always lyrical and always, strangely asian. It is the first in a quartet known as the Buru Quartet, which leaves me with another three books of racial struggle. Should we have read this in the IB, Matt the English-teacher probably would've worn a T-shirt with Toer's face on it and never washed it because he wanted to preserve that musky smell of Native. Quote Minke: "It's a pity."

My favourite part, though, is that picture on the back where Toer looks extremely pleased with himself in that mysterious Javanese way. Which is funny since he's under city arrest in Jakarta. Sucker!

söndag 19 juli 2009

eat your salad no desert, get that man that you deserve

Okay, Facts of the Day;
  • This Earth of Mankind is, so far, captivating and excessive in its use of the phrase "oh, this earth of mankind", sort of like Toer fears his readers are a bit dull and he constantly has to allude to the title. My kind of man.
  • Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (which, by the way, must be the best movie title ever- sounds like the Potter-man is having a beef with a mulatto) has not yet been seen, but will be so today by eatingforamateurs, daintydog, Isa & friends. When declining to come I shouted to eating "DON'T TELL ME HOW IT ENDS" which was abundant, considering I've read the book. Call me Jack Black.
  • I'm lucky I only have two and half more weeks of work, otherwise my social life would be extremely limited very soon. I need vodka.
  • This morning I met a friendly cat. I think it liked me because it knew I'd never eat him. Go vegan! Huuzzah!
It likes me.

fredag 17 juli 2009

Working is tedious.

Me at the gym -I run dis shit.

torsdag 16 juli 2009

Megan Fox Should Switch Names To Vegan Fox - the Irony!

After watching (again) Meet Your Meat and read up on the meat-industry's harmful effects on especially the environment and, foremost, its unbelievable treatment of animals I've decided to go vegan and never go back. I hate to label myself as 'vegan' - it sounds like some greasy feminist with too much bush and no self-distance whatsoever - but I guess that's what it's come to. I'm just at a loss for words, really, how I could've been so blunt as to forget that cows are human too. Sorta. Or not. It's beside the point. For me, it's enought that they have a central nervous system and thus are fully capable of experiencing pain and misery just like anyone else and and I can honestly say that I would not want to switch life with a cow. Or a hen, chicken, pig (unless they belong to Isa, since I'm sure those are having a fabulous time out in the English countryside) or Michael Jackson for that matter. It's like, can't we all just be friends? I don't want to eat daintydog - she's a friend, not food. Same goes for them cows and pigs. Until they chase me down with a machete , screaming "KILL KILL KILL" in unison, I'll leave McDonald's to the obese and unintelligent and settle for a nice chickpea casserole. Peace, brothers!

how could you want to eat this face?