Employee of the Year

Long Johns was named employee of the year for his dedication and devotion to the rule book. Numerous are exemples of his fidelity. We'll just cite one of these to illustrate that. Here writes a local newpaper,

At the height of the bloody war againts the rebels, the government call out to the lost boys and girls, offering them amnesty if they should hand over their weapons and return to society before 31 of August, 2006.

Later, on that fateful day of 3 of September of the same year, 300 individuals queued up in front of the window in the Registration department with their rifles and balaclavas. The tension was high in the office and in the stairs leading downwards, because Long Johns, risking the possiblity of turning his wife into a widow and 2 sons into orphans, refused to stamp on their surrender form because the offer expired 72 hours and 24 minutes ago. So he sent them down the stairs and back to the mountains where they came down from.

"What a bunch of irresponsible hooligans missing dates like that! How do they expect people to do their jobs if everyone behaves like that?" Said he.

Protests nationwide sprang from the episode, and the civil unrest started once again. The government, recognizing his contribution to the state, named Long Johns employee of the Year.

"Je crois entendre encore" (Nadir)

Tonight she showed up on the desktop, she was fixing the little decoration thing I bought her to her cell. We were in Café Paris in Reykjavík a day prior to my departure. The day before she told me she was a bit scared by how serious I was about the whole thing and I didn't know what to say or to think about it.

I've never asked because I didn't expect to receive an answer to why she fell for me in the first place and how could she be so objective or, cold, about it, or was it bravery, or maybe self-protection?

We were roaming the streets of Reykjavík and all of a sudden she clung to my back with such a force that I stumbled a bit. She didn't make it explicit, but she was telling me that she was not exactly happy back home, bad memories, family problems and probably more. However, she refrained from giving the whole story away and I've kept wondering why, was it because of the fact that I had to leave in a few days and she didn't want to be sad? Or was she just looking for a good time?

I have no answer, despite of the uncountable analyses I've made. The last time we talked she told me that she was going to Bangladesh, I wonder whether she was ok. I'm afriad that she would be upset if I told her that I miss her a lot.

Downsides of Documentaries

The documentary festival ended seven days ago and its devastating effects are ever present. These buggers leave you wondering how their subjects are doing, a yearning to know that they are well, or at least, to have some news about them. You don't just walk out of this like you would with a film or a novel because they're real people with a real story in a real world, their world. You feel a kinship with them no matter how mundane and dispicable they are, curious, probably you are mundane and dispicable yourself and that's why you identify with them.

Or probably you're too coward to recognize the real you in real world, even though you know that you all along but keep dressing yourself with books and ideas. An intellectual! The world of laughter and friendship seems so out of reach and you're so poisoned that you can't laugh like a normal person would and this academic robe is too heavy to be shrugged off. Probably you're just a detestable little man who claim that you are a lover of books and ideas so that you are spared of yourself, so that the world don't get to hate you, so the world will love you and that you're funny and desirable.

No wonder you have no friends, you don't want them. You're afraid that they will discover the other side of you and decide that you're not cool at all. Your prestige, something that you've worked so hard unconsciously along the years to achieve so far, will disintegrate and your world will crumble and you'll be reduced to less than a maggot. It's like standing stark naked in an open field plagued with onlookers, humiliating. No wonder you always keep a distance from the world, lest they should spot something foul. So you keep playing the game, the game with no way out. Trapped and lost in the labyrinth unable to rid yourself of it even if you want to.

And what's the meaning of a blog telling the world how hateful you really are? Are you trying to make up for what you can't do in real life? Well, the internet is surely a good medium to talk, just as good as a confession booth, it's liberating. But also quite useless the moment you walk out the church.

The picture of Germaine Greer and some others scared you because you see yourself walking towards the same path, the path of total self-delusion and self-importance. You wonder how has it all come to this? You sometimes wish that you were just a simpleton living happy and ignorantly in a backwater world, but that's just another excuse really because you are not and you can't be just like that, and you know that. Or is it all just a big fat lie you make up for yourself, to cover the fact that you like fame and power? Saying that "ooh I'd love to lead a simpler life, to find the innocent child, the nostalgia...", to cheat yourself, pretending that you are not doing what you liked? To make youself believe that you're not bad, but just another poor victim of the sick society? You don't know, being a skeptic makes you unable to say much for sure, including your own thoughts and feelings, you can only say I don't know. That's why you envy those who can say and believe in something wholeheartedly, because you can't and you don't like it at all.

Me Tarzan, You Jane.

The documentary festival started today. One of the morning sessions left me with a bit of a headache, well I'm not saying that it was bad, instead I liked it, just that my eyes are not adapted to the way it was presented on the big screen with all the flashing and blurring images, it was about someone going blind so this technique is quite understandable, though I don't fancy it at all.

Concha was in the neighbourhood around the same time so I sought her out to kill the gap between sessions, but in fact I was considering giving up and go home instead because the world was still spinning around and I could really use some serious lying down. Still, despite the nausea, I decided to stay because I was really looking forward to the afternoon and evening sessions.

So there I was, standing in line with the ticket in my hand when I saw this incredibly attractive female passing in front of me and "cute" slipped my lips. Now that was something because I normally don't do that, I would say "take a look at that" frivolously.

After I seated myself, I found the empty seat next to me taken by someone, a female, one with curly long hair, and... it was her! What are the chances, what are the chances, mate, right next to me, the incredibly attractive female moments ago!

When the credits started to roll more than 90 percent of the audiences disappeared while the director was open to questions on stage. She remained there, just the two of us in that comfy part of the room, so under the pretext of borrowing a pen I ah officially turned and talked to her, at the same time grooming for my next move. "Excuse me, mademoiselle, allow a burning soul to disturb your peace. The thing is, my lady, that the next one which is about to be shown is Svyato which I heard was worth the trouble. And I've been contemplating over the bold quest whether you would grace my existence by permitting me the privilege of accompanying you in the appreciation of this film, to determine for ourselves whether it was truely as good as I've been told", excited and gleefully I harboured the phrase which was repeated over and over during the whole session.

Then on the way out I finally gathered enough cojones to tap her lightly on the shoulder. She turned and ah, Svyato, Svyato, open air movie, I stammered. "Ah, yes, it's the one at 1930" and then she continued on with her intended course, seemingly undisturbed by nothing, nothing at all. Because nothing came out to change that course. So nothing changed, just one more difficult night and the subsequent torture in the following days till the next opportunity presents itself before my eyes. And round and round and the concentric ruin survives.

Breaking News

In response to the cellphone terrorists attacks that are currently on the rise and to protect the general public, the UN passed a new law enabling the regional authorities legitimate rights to ban cellphones and like devices in their territories once and for all.

"However, this doesn't mean the end for the telecommunication, nor does it mark the beginning of the era of excommunication" -said the spokesman-. "Instead, during the past few years, with the avid collaboration from the scientists from the ongoing Project Mindvision, we have successfully decoded the data flow and recoded it into human encephalon recognizable patterns so that the brain could be utilized as the direct receiver, therefore bypassing any needs of an external one."

"Moreover, Detecting Poles will be set up within the controlled areas to keep high vigilance and to destory any banned transmission devices if they should be discovered." -reiterated the spokesman, stating to the press their resolution to bring about world peace.

"The benefits of BrainCell-Phone, apart from the instant removal of possible terrorist cellphone attacks, are numerous" -he continued-. "All the existing functions of your cellphone are untouched and the actions of answering, dialing or sending an message are done on a whim. And the best of all is that there will be no delay because the datas will still get through even if the other end is practising reenergizing activities, such as sleeping, their central nervious system will reply without the need to wake up the person himself."

Regrettably, due to the humble size of the present blog, we're unable to present the press conference in its entirety here. But this will without doubt revolutionalize the way people think, the whole world of economics and, indeed, the whole world. Ladies and gentlemen, what we're witnessing here is one of the most important events in human history.

Bad News

Mao has problem with Nietzsche and he surely makes the most out of his position while on the surface giving him advices, but in fact trying to bend him to his will thus showing everyone that Nietzsche is his subject colleague. He has something to say about everything Nietzsche does: his tone, the color of his shirt, the language he speaks, etc., etc.

Met Mao, unfortunately, earlier this afternoon when Nietzsche was on his way to the library in his usual tomato shirt, and a shower of shells firing from Mao's mortar downed on Nietzsche inquiring him whether he belonged to a specific political party due to the color match. And then he continued with his crap, kindly "informing" him that some students deliberately spoke twanenish to him and he should refrain from speaking that language during the class because it's not the dominant language in Twanenland.

These words filled Nietzsche's chest with rage, all he wanted to do was to slap Mao square in the face and kick him off the bench, but of course, as an employee of the uni and educated decent young man he can't do that, unfortunately. So he just replied, well, I'm a poor guy who can't afford to buy more clothes than the one I was having on me, and I can't really and shouldn't prohibit the students from speaking my mother tongue with me if they wanted to. What would that make me if I don't allow them to speak their language? Besides, take note, if your memory fails to do so, I wasn't speaking twanenish, but wankerin, your so-called dominant language, in my classes, precisely because there're irresponsible parents not teaching it to their kids, not passing on the culture, but only outside of class, that is to say, in my goddamn free time. And don't get too political, the color of my shirt is none of your fucking business.

So Nietzsche argued with Mao, in a lighter tone of course, normally he doesn't argue, but just smile, but this time he had to because he doesn't allow anyone to tell him which language he shouldn't speak. Then he excused himself because he needed to go to the library, just some 20 meters away, but seemed so distant and far away, before it closed in half an hour. As Nietzsche walked away, he had a feeling that something ominous was gathering its force in the dark.

The Accidental Tourist (1988 )

It has been a fairly uneventful day. I cut short the vacation to prepare for my classes back in the uni, but I haven't really done much intended serious work yet. Woke up at 0900, received some cookies from sites with naked sheilas, and, like their awesome power that never ceased to surprise me, half of the day was gone.

Following my well-trained student habits, I checked the telly schedule and there's a seemingly interesting one on HBO at 2100 so I thought to myself, well, why not? Occassional reunion of the plug and the socket won't hurt that much anyway.

And so William Hurt, Kathleen Turner, Geena Davis and the rest, in a duration of 121 minutes, saw to it that it wouldn't. I would probably regret it if I hadn't seem it, a film that became the latest entry into my all-time favorites list. But, then again, of course, how could I regret something that never took place?

Milky Way

Stayed in the office till like 1930 preparing for the class at 0810 the next day. Quite a lot of actions out there in the dark, cheering cries of the freshmen and other gatherings of the lot, but before long they left and all was quite, just coolness, the sound recording and me scribbling away.

So I walked down the dimly lit pathway, safely hidden away from the scorching sun of the day and came home to find the reminder of the Milky Way which I found in the land down there.

Fetish

They saw me and said that I looked worse physically everyday (they've been saying that for only god knows how long) and urged me to take some vitamin pills on a reguar basis and backing their statement up with some medical report shit.

So I snapped their argument in half, without any courtesy at all, because I'd had enough with this sort of shit, that there were 24 hours a day, no more no less, no matter how you use it, and I wasn't going to allocate that time and money to some pills and reading magazines that will make my life more difficult worrying about this and that, get trapped instead of a life. I had something better to do to enjoy my ephemeral existence on earth.

They pissed me off greatly because this whole culture of health food fetish disgusted me beyond words. And, by the way, I feel better now than before because I lead a life with a much more regular schedule, I'm yes physically busier, but I'm happier.

On Bias

Beware - don't look at just one side when you cross the road.