Weblog | I don't like the word blog, it's ugly. Anyway, new content happens here. (Swedish dito)

About me and the site | Twenty-something male who likes text. Obsessed with things such as books, reality, communication, and one or two tv-shows.

Archives | Things written here since... well, 2001. Some of it is good, some is utter shait.

Books | Books read, not books written. So far I've struggled to maintain unpublished.

Photo | I like my camera and it likes me.

Links | Outwards, away, flee.

e-mail | J. Nicklas Andersson

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And so the English classes have begun...

We’re supposed to write a presentation to next week’s oral presentation in my English class. So, without much ado, I sat up really late last night and wrote the following little piece. Somehow, I think it says more about who I am than the usual “I was born in a large log cabin, two blocks down from the local Coffee Hut where the employees used to have red hats that reassembled a cup upside-down. That was years ago and the workforce have changed more times than Ned Flanders in The Simpsons have said ‘okay-didely-do’, they still have the same hats though.”(And for the record: none of this is true. The true parts or below.)

My name is Nicklas and I’m a biblioholic. I feel the most alive when I’m surrounded by dusty tomes, thick dictionaries, novels about imaginary 19th century poets and stencilled fanzines from the fifties. Among comic books, pseudo-religious fiction and short story collections by Dorothy Parker.

I have other interests though. Such as watching bad science fiction movies in the middle of the night, collect vintage radio shows from Canada and writing short stories that never seem to get finished. I like to listen to music, be it the harmonic noise contrasted by the angelic prozacian voice of Toni Halliday or the violin driven contemporary folk rock from Minneapolis. Jazz, industrial pop, punk rock or singer/songwriter, is fine as long as it’s not quiet.
Once, right now it seems like a long time ago, I watched a lot of tv. Sometimes I would stay home from school just because I wanted to see what I was missing while I was forced to sit in a room with petty classmates and write stupid numbers in an equally stupid notebook. Somewhere I got disillusioned, all I really watches today is The West Wing and Futurama — everything else is pretty much rubbish. So until some channel decides to show Brass Eye, I’d rather sit in a chair on the porch reading a book while raindrops commit kamikaze against the roof.

I hate cell phones, elevators, that I’m constantly nervous and the fear that I might die any minute.

I drink Guinness and I think I’m addicted to cola-based beverages.

A three minute Frantic-skit

I had to do a transcript, I just had too. When I don’t watch movies or listen to music, this is what comes out of my speakers.

-- Okey, give me a number seven lock pick.
-- Right here.
-- I’m gonna grab that million bucks out of the insurance company on the forty-fourth floor and be gone.
-- Won’t the guard hear you picking up the lock at the door?
-- He’s not there. His bladder is as regular as a clockwork. See, there’s no one at the window. Just like I planned it.
-- Oh, you got the door!
-- Yeah, just as I planned it. Wait, the other guard passes about now. [fotsteps] Just as I planned it. Okay, now we go. Follow me! The elevator should be arriving about... Ah-ha. [bling]
-- Just like you planned it?
-- Yeah, now get in. Get in! Push the forty-fourth floor.
-- Right.
-- It’s an express elevator, so we should be up right... about... now.
-- Just like you planned it?
-- All right, hold back.
-- Hold back?
-- Stay back, there’s a tv-camera at the end of the hall.
-- Ahh! What would we do?
-- Nothing. Because I figure a meteor is gonna come crashing down from outer space — through that wall — and crush the camera.
[a whistling noise followed by a crash]
-- Ah, just like you planned it.
-- Yeah, that’s organisation for you.
[a tapping sound]
-- Oh-oh. Look out there on the window — a priest!
-- And a pigeon too. I’ve got a gun.
-- Waste them.
[the sound of a gun, followed by a falling body that hits the ground]
-- That was that.
-- That was a surprise.
-- No, just as I planned it. That’s why I brought the gun.
-- Now the safe.
-- Right, to blow this safe wide open we need the dynamite.
-- You didn’t say nothing about dynamite!
-- Don’t worry, give me the five dollar bill from the bag...
[a knocking and a door that opens]
-- Hi, I’m J.J. Cannaire. Would you like to buy this dynamite for only five dollar?
-- Just as I planned it.
-- “As I Planned It”-transcript from Frantic Times, show 59

Ghosts probably says "Boo.com" to bankmanagers

So, it’s all over tha place. The Boo.com movie (I found it on plasticbag), like those two goons need more egosboosting. One whould have thought that a fissle like this would have inflated their baloon, but oh no. They’ll be back, as always. Only now they might have a minor problem in getting people to shower them with cash — but I think I said that the last time, when they where bought up and thrown out from the Internetbased bookshop they founded.

[Int. Tech-trenches]
Managment: Why isn’t it finished? We should have launched last month!
Techie: Well, you see. You know the illustrator? He who was hired to fix illustrations and icons to everything?
Managment: Yes. So?
Techie: He’s sort of unavailable right now.
Managment: Find him then!
Techie: Nonono, we know where he is. He had this sort of nerveous breakdown because of the timeconstraints and the huge workload. And he’s commited to this hospital.
Managment: Damn! And with these expences we have, we just can’t afford to hire another artist.
[Int. a really expensive hotel bar on a tropical island]
The Insane Two Goons M & L: CHAMPAGNE CONGA LINE!!!
[FADE TO BLACK]

A search for a pulpier mass

All I can say is wow. The paper used in the Gollancz edition of Ash: A Secret History by Mary Gentle is outstanding. It suck down the ink into the pages, so that when you put your thumb or whatever over the text, the risk of smudge is really low. It isn’t as nice to touch as it’s a bit too smooth, I want paper to feel more rough — without losing in quality of course. But I can live with that. The persons responsible for the choice of paper in the trade paperbacks for various publishers usually agree with me. And those who don’t agree, who cares? They’re wrong, the choice of paper is important and nothing to ignore.

Once, not so long ago as it might seem, I got this idea. How about an old-fashioned fanzine? You know, the ones made with an extinct machinery commonly called “mimeograph”. The problem was, and still is I might add, that I do not have any mimeo. And the ink for these heavy machines is almost impossible to find.

So I had to cross that idea over and that’s when it hit me. Something even better would have to be a fanzine copied onto really old pulp paper. The kind that’s already yellow of age. If I thought the first idea was though to realise, this would be ever harder. For instance, did you know that paper shops don’t store paper for about fifty years? In the aftermath, which was filled with disillusionment and sorrow, I’ve come to a couple of conclusions:

a) Mimeo ink is impossible to find.
b) No one, and I truly mean no one, sells old paper.
c) While recklessly pursuing two impossible dreams,
sometimes you just have to breath in fresh air.
d) It is more than possible to wander around,
aimlessly for hours and hours, in a good paper shop
and at the same time have a great time.

Empty mailboxes

The feeling of bad karma-boyness sweeps over me. I don’t know why, but I honestly thought that an very important package would arrive today. It didn’t. No cds at all. No books either. I need those cds, I want to hug them, place them on the rotationdisc and call them George — or Bob, just because I can. But I can’t do that right now.

It’s like I really am bad karma-boy, and to top that, I seem to have forgotten my outfit. Thank God, because I simply don’t think I would look good in spandex. Not good at all...

A chant for a troubled mind

During the day, which was as nice as they come with rain and a bit chilly, I’ve had this tune stuck in my head. It happens sometimes and the last time was fairly recent, so I thought it would take a while before it happened again. I guess this proves me wrong. But most often it’s because I’ve heard the song in question recently, and now, this is not the case.

This time I wasn’t even graced with hearing and quietly singing along to the full song, just the background chant of Bad Religions “American Jesus”. Going over and over inside the head. The weird part is that that part is very religious when taken from it’s context — here I had no context what so ever — and I am as much theologically handicapped as person can get. Apart from my heretic worship of my obsessions, I have no belief. I am interested in theology though, but I just can’t believe it. So I am handicapped.

(I’m an apathist. I don’t care if there is or isn’t a God/Gods/A man in sombrero and slippers. Sorry.)

But back to the song. I managed to expel it by looping Grand Theft Audios “Death To The Infidels” and then just let it beat the chant out piece by piece, note by note, harmony by harmony. It worked like a charm and I’m once again fully capable to function — more or less, probably more less than usual though — in society.

Repeat after me: ignore the bad transmission

How am I supposed to get any work done on my essay when crap like She’s All That is on tv? It’s annoying, because it is bad and therefore I must watch. It’s a compulsion. When I die, I’ll go to bad movie heaven, where there is no God. Only heaps of bad movies that will last for maybe two eternities if I’m lucky.

Now, I don’t really have time for this because I want to pass the damn thing. Right now its going slow, a slug could type faster. Besides, the mythology part of semiotics is the most fickle grey mass of ambiguous ramblings I have ever seen in my life. Well, there was that lecture in last November, I still do not understand what it was all about.

“The myths which are generated in a culture will change over time, and can only acquire their force because they relate to a certain context. In myth, the context and history of the signs are narrowed down and contained so that only a few features of their context and history have a signifying function.”
Media Semiotics by Jonathan Bignell (p.23)>

No, sorry but I want to be honest. I lied before, the exam is not damned; it’s quite the opposite. Semiotics is pretty cool, neat, groovy, and other out-of-date expressions that are synonymous with niftiness. At least if done on my own terms, which if I might add, this isn’t.

Most of the semiotic-books are clear on the importance of text and letters, but they seem to have forgotten one very important part. The font. Nowhere they mention that the typeface also matters in how certain things are perceived. I mean, no one would take a warning seriously if it was typed with a script font such as Avalon. Right?

The China man

I’m a bit ecstatic right now, as I’ve just found out that an almost local stf-con next year (Warning: link goes to a foreign page which will rot your brain) will have China Miéville — according to some sources dubbed “the sexiest man in politics” by the Evening Standard — as Guest of Honour. Finally an author I’ve read and whose books I’ve enjoyed.

The Library Factor

Libraries are wonderful places. There is a special kind of air, an aura that brings peace to the troubled mind. It’s something with the shelves and the contents in them, the way they are lined up and sprawling from wall to wall, brimming and humming silently of dust. It feels good to aimlessly wander down the narrow artificial aisle and just exist in the moment.

But it all comes down to how the shelves are arranged. At the university the library is in a state of chaos. In the second floor they runs diagonal and the line-up is not particularly good. The first and third floor however is blissfully different. The third is really good, with small tables and comfortable chairs, and as if that wasn’t enough, one can look down on the people and the books on the floor below.

The thing is, I thing far too few libraries uses the Stonehenge-arrangement. I want more circles instead of squares.

I'm a quote person, you may quote me on that

I have several weak spots that digs deep down into my psyche and makes me do strange things. I’m pretty sure all do, but most are probably better at hiding them than I am. I say probably because I’m not too certain about that, some of my friends are rather transparent in some ways and closed about others; one of them is really into collage movies from the 80ies, preferably from “that fucking guy” John Hughes.

Me, I like dictionaries. I really like dictionaries. At a stf-con last year I came this close to buying a dictionary about the Russian language, but the lack of both small change and crispy green bills in my back pocket forced me give up the pursue. To the joy of someone else that ended up with the red clothed book — no pun intended, the book was actually red.

My current goal, which is not expensive at all, it to buy all the neat Wordsworth Reference-books. If you plan to buy only one, I recommend Dictionary of Phrase & Fable — the one stop for words like Sanchoniathon, Bye Plot and even, I kid you not, Potato. The last word even has a quote from Shakespeare. The book has some blind spots, but that’s only to be expected from a work, which was last updated in 1970.

Other things I like, which most people can’t seem to understand, is typography, remote controls, old Rik Mayal tv-shows, Mallrats and Bad Religion — which has a new cd out soon, next year. I also like movies such as Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eight Dimension, but let’s not go there right now.

These are in no way supposed to be mistaken for obsessions. No, my obsessions are Curve, The West Wing, old typewriters, The Frantics (the comedy group from .ca) and metabooks. Yes, that’s even fictional metabooks or fiction that features famous authors as the main character.

So it’s hardly my fault that I from time to time leap into quote-mode where I pull out phrases from the radio show Frantic Times like a mad magician who just recently discovered the old rabbit/hat-trick.

"I reserve the right to bitch and moan."

The kind and gentle man at Goats, Jon Rosenberg, shares his thoughts on said comics site. And what thoughts that is. A book. Filled from page one and forwards with Goat-strips. Sheer genius I say and about time. I know nothing about which story arch’s is to be included, but anything would be fine. More than fine, it would be great. Imagine, a book, with Neil and Bob and all the others. A book.

The entertainment equation

Could it be possible to choose movies reliably because of the sum of the actors entertainment-index? I think so, but there are some weak spots. Some actors, or actresses, shift their value at some point of their carer, some dives downwards with such a force and speed that they should get a ticket. And then there are those who always manage to keep a high index no matter what crap they star in.

People that are unknown would then have to have a indexnumber of 50, since they can go both ways. Limitation to the posternames are also recommended for a quick and easy way of deciding to see the movie without access to the entire credits. The huge problem is to get the plot to matter, I have not figured out exactly how to deal with that part yet.

For simplicity the equation would probably look something like this: actor_i1 + actor_i2... + actor_ix / x = entertainment value And just to be perverse I’ve collected a small token list below. Feel free to add new...

Bruce Campbell: 100
Edward Norton: 100
Jackie Chan: 100
Jason Lee: 100
Jennifer Jason Leigh: 100
Johnny Depp (with Burton): 100
The Monty Pythons: 100
Benicio Del Toro: 95
Christopher Walken: 95
Gary Oldman: 95
Ben Stiller: 90
Christopher Guest: 90
Kevin Spacey: 90
Helena Bonham Carter: 90
Michelle Yeoh: 90
Patricia Arquette: 90
Rutger Hauer: 90
Salma Hayek: 90
Tim Roth: 90
Alan Rickman: 85
Al Pacino: 85
Cameron Diaz: 85
Elias Koteas: 85
Guy Pearce: 85
Jack Black: 85
Jeff Bridges: 85
John Malkovich: 85
Johnny Depp (sans-Burton): 85
Cate Blanchett: 80
Jim Carrey (drama): 80
John Lighgow (not thriller): 80
Robin Wright: 80
Willem Defoe: 80
Bard Pitt: 75
Janeane Garofalo: 75
Jeff Goldblum (80ies): 75
John Cusack: 75
Terrence Stamp: 75
William H. Macy: 75
Harvey Keitel: 70
Michael Douglas (clothes): 70
Milla Jovovich: 70
Robert DeNiro: 70
Samuel L. Jackson: 70
Tommy Lee Jones: 70
Winona Ryder: 70
Catherine Keener: 65
Michelle Pheiffer: 65
Angelina Jolie: 60
Ian McKellen: 60
Joe Pantoliano: 60
Johnny Lee Miller: 60
Nicolas Cage (early): 60
Christina Ricci: 50
Jeff Goldblum (90ies): 50
Kevin Bacon: 50
Malcolm McDowell (movie): 50
Bill Pullman: 40
Carrie-Anne Moss: 40
Nicolas Cage (now): 35
Ben Affleck: 30
John Lighgow (thriller): 30
Adam Sandler: 20
Arnold Schwarzenegger: 20
Chaterine Zeta Jones: 20
Michael Douglas (naked): 20
Val Kilmer: 20
Jim Carrey (comedy): 10
Meg Ryan: 10
Will Smith: 10
Lorenzo Lamas: 5
Malcolm McDowell (tv): 5
Freddie Prinze Jr: 0
Jennifer Lopez: -50
William Shatner: -50
Leslie Nielsen: -100

Oh, the joy of filled mailboxes

Things to arrive in my mailbox as of next week:

• Michael Moorcock: Mother London
• Edward Savio: Idiots in the Machine
• James Blaylock: Homunculus
• Dorothy Parker: Collected Prose and Poetry

At the end of next week my first semester of English starts, and before that I’ll have an Semiotics-exam and a new story arch on Doctor Who. Pffth, and they said nothing new ever happens in my life.

It the Dorothy Parker-book I await the most. That and the two Flash Girls records, but the cds will probably take somewhat longer time, being ordered from the other side of the big pond.

Oh, and the bookstore seem to have received some of the works by Chuck Palahniuk, Brenda Clough and Emma Bull as well. This means that in the next couple of weeks I’ll be in a state of constant euphoria.

And on the comic front, there’s this interview with Matt Wagner on Sequential Tart where he talks about his many projects as writer, cartoonist and as a painter coverboy.

“Stayed in faceless motels and just tried to get back into the Kevin Matchstick headspace. The last night, I stayed in a slightly nicer place that had large glass doors that faced onto the beach. A fierce storm struck the coast that evening and the sight of this yawning darkness that battered and shook the only barriers between me and it was quite an inspiration. It figured heavily into the series’ conclusion. Mage is draining, but I’d say any self-examination should be so. I always come out of it feeling stronger and saner than when I began.”
-- Matt Wagner about Mage

Which I think proves that the human mind was not made to work correctly in hot and beautiful weather — beautiful in other people’s terms, my definition of good weather is rain. Rain and about 15 degrees C. Hardly anyone else agrees about this though, but their opinion is inevitably wrong.

That damn song

In facts from the weird side #far-to-low, I’ve learnt that it is possible to actually affect people with tv-commercials. J.C. — a clothes chain store — have had a growth on 14% since they started using a commercial with a rather annoying tune. The song in question is Japanese pop, which does account for the “annoying” bits. Even worse, it’s probably a fake and not really from the land that gave us Akira Kurosawa.

Now, as someone said on Usenet — the name escapes me for the moment, so expect a correction later Chad Orzel and none other — “No matter how bad it is, Japanese Pop are worse.” I do tend to agree most of the time; Japanese Noise is Really Good though.

However, it does look kind of neat. Especially the one where they do a silly dance in the kitchen, but I don’t see how this can make people leap up from their favourite chair and run of to buy some clothes. The clothes are totally uninspired and look like the cotton-wear you’ll find most everywhere, just a tad more expensive. I honestly didn’t think the pr-men had that kind of access to the hive-mind.

The knowledge of forgetting should be forgotten

If I may be so bold, I would once again start of with an expletive. Bloody fucking hell. When I ordered the last batch of books — which of two where out of print and none of the other has been shipped yet — I knew I’d forgotten something.

Today, after catching up on some posts in rec.arts.sf.written I knew what was forgotten. Alan Moore. Sure, League of Extraordinary Gentleman so far only exists in hardcover and not in trade paperback — although a cloth edition would be nice, nice and too expensive right now. But there are others. From Hell, Promethea, Tom Strong and why not the audio book as well. Anything as long as it’s by Moore.

But, oh no. I just have to go the other way and simply forget he even existed for a few minutes. There is no end to my stupidity and this means I really need a job instead of a student loan from the evil empire of csn. Now that I think of it, I need those last three sandman-books as well. Bugger all this to damnation and back.

But right now the choice is between Promethea and From Hell. But the League is damn tempting as well. Anyway, I think I’ll clickity-click shop later when I’ve made up my mind.

Today it's West Wing-day

Today it’s Tuesday, here in the far to warm Sweden this means that it’s the end of a weeklong wait. It’s finally West Wing-day. One episode a week is ridiculous. I need more. My psyche and tv-watching butt can’t take it anymore. And as if that was not bad enough, I know in the back of my head that it won’t last long either. Only twenty-two weeks, then the season is over. What the hell am I supposed to do the other thirty weeks?

I know that I shouldn’t worry yet, as we’re only up to the second episode in the second season today, but I just can’t get rid of the feeling that it will soon be at end and I’ll go back to the gutter.

Metabooks are fun

In the brilliant book entitled Bizarre Books by Russell Ash and Brian Lake there are many things to be astounded over. For instance, there is a book called Pogonologia; or, a Philosophical and Historical Essay on Beards that was written by a Jacques Antoine Dulaure in 1786. He seems to have been French so I’m not even going to try to pronounce his name. But anyway, it’s one of those entries that have a very small except and judging from that, people in 18th century France had a weird notion of natural and unnatural.

“A man without a beard would be much less surprising now-a-days, than a bearded woman, which proves how unnatural our tastes and customs are.”

As if that’s not enough, one does not have to go that far back into history to find idiotic ideas. Doing an instruction video was not enough, as not everyone owned a telly, so in 1950 Watson Davis sat down and wrote Atomic Bombing: How to Protect Yourself. “Curl up in ball as you hit the ground” indeed. I wonder how much that would have helped?

Probably as much as my fifth grade teachers advise that if an atom bomb stuck down at the church — fifty metres away — we’d better hide under the windows so that we a) avoided the shattering glass and b) the wall absorbed the pressure wave. He was a nutter too.

"I decree a brige between Oakland Point and Goat Island!"

A friend of mine — yes, I have those too, as well as friends of others — recently borrowed my Top 10-album. The trade paperback edition of the everybody in this city is a superhero comic book written by Alan “Sinister Duck” Moore. So, this meant that I couldn’t read that one.

There is a few things one can do, one of these is to pick up another comic book. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I seem to have replaced the Excalibur issue where Chris Claremont has Cat’s Laughing as a plot device. It is supposed to be here somewhere, but alas my comic collection is for the moment sorted after the chaos principle. It was in other words time for backup plan 2b. And that is spelled s-a-n-d-m-a-n. In this case it’s Fables and Reflections, which in turn leads me to Emperor Norton I.

As he in August the 13th 1869 — a Friday by the way — abolished both of the big political parties of United states of America, does this mean that only the presidents who are legitimate are those who isn’t a democrat or republican? As far as my knowledge goes, he never reversed his decree.

Let it be reprinted

Fuck and God damnit! Why, I ask, why did the publisher let Zod Wallop get out of print right now? And if William Browning Spencers Résumé With Monsters is anything to go by, why letting anything of his go out of print ever? He is a delight to read, even though I was not particulary fond of the typography in RWM from the start. But it got better — after all, it’s not everye day one reads a romantic boy-meet-girl with Lovecraftian monsters.

“They had both worked at MicroMeg, where they had met and fallen in love, and where, finally, the ancient, implacable curse that his father had called the System or sometimes, Yog-Sothoth or simply the Great Old Ones, had torn them asunder. He was here now to win her back, and he knew he had to proceed with caution.”
-- William Browning Spencer,
Résumé With Monsters (paperback p13)

Oh, and by the way, not because I think somebody have tried them before, but if so, the comment system is now fully functionable.

Grail hunt! Grail hunt!

The final dark ages movie is finally hitting the dvd-scene in an appropriate way. The movie as such has been available before, but without any extras. Now, it does and what extras that is. It might be the definite dvd to buy and own ever. I mean, who wouldn’t want to see the 2nd disc version where the Pythons search for the Holy Grail, dubbed to Japanese? Or watch the educational How to Use Your Coconuts and all the other “load of rubbish”? October 23rd, mark that date down in your calendars right this instant.

-- Eh. You are indeed brave, Sir Knight, but the fight is mine.
-- Oh, had enough, eh?
-- Look, you stupid bastard. You’ve got no arms left.
-- Yes, I have.
-- Look!
-- Just a flesh wound.
-- Look, stop that.
-- Chicken! Chickennn!
-- Look, I’ll have your leg. Right!
-- Right. I’ll do you for that!
-- You’ll what?
-- Come here!
-- What are you going to do, bleed on me?
-- I’m invincible!
-- You’re a looney.

Static background is annoying

When I saw Ninja Scroll last night — Manga not really being my forte and all — I realised something that I’ve missed a long time. Nobody uses parallax scroll in conventional media these days. Sure, there where some hints in new mixed cgi/hand drawn-animation such as Titan AE.

But I want to see it used properly such as in the old computer game Obitus — or for that matter, it was even widely used in other Psygnosis classics. It gives the visuals a artificial depth that it otherwise lacks. And this is something it usually does lack, as it makes it look more like an adventure game with an always static background than a motion picture.

This is my major beef with the animated movies these days. They simply don’t use the techniques they have at hand to produce a movie that works properly. Instead they go the fashionable way; ignore what they’ve learnt in the past and go for better cleaner images. Not everything must be done with computers, not everything done with a computer needs a lens flare and animated movies most definitively do not need a cute little animal.

There are things animators and the scriptwriters could learn from more back-to-basic comic book writers such as Jhonen Vasques. Or of it must be cute, look at the magic created by Roman Dirge. But most of all that can be learnt from these two fellows is that gritty and rough images works just as well. It does not need to be perfect.

In giftwrapped noise, the blip can get lost

Today in the News That Makes Nicklas Jump Up and Down and Scream of Joy, or ntmnjudsj for short, we’ve learnt that the record album entitled Gift by the most excellent band Curve is soon to be released. According to the track listing it looks good. But this was no real surprise.

As most probably don’t know, Curve is one of the few things that I feel is good enough to be fanatical about. Over the years I’ve learnt that it’s much better to be fanatical about the small things in life. The bigger the object of affection is, the worse it’ll get. But obsessions with small things on the border of artistic fabulousness actually make life better.

The pen and the void

Everything is for sale online. You can, if you’re crazy enough, buy clothes, cars and even houses. No one I know would buy a house or a car over the electronic highway, but there seem to be people who do. Weird fucks.

But as I’ve recently found out, it’s impossible to find someone who sells pens. Why? Good pens are a rarity in normal shops, and quality wise, pens sold online is no different from pens sold offline. So, there is a need for pen-merchants. It’s a void that needs to be filled.

This is empty

Yes, it really is isn’t it?

This is no perfect world

In a perfect world, there would be no war, no Barbara Streisand and lots of good things on tv. The books should have been cheaper and Futurama would be hailed as a greater event than the second coming.

But this is not a perfect world. Books are not as cheap, Barbara Streisand exists and they are planning a new Star Trek series — I thought we’ve had enough by now. And in one episode they have Jeffrey “Re-Animator” Combs as a guest. As I hope this is a better place than an everlasting hellpit, I do hope they use him correctly. What would be better than having Combs run berserk on a spaceship, trying to frankenstein a monster from the remains of the former crewmates of Enterprise.

An episode like that would have brought tears of joy from my eyes. Combs, while being no Bruce, is usually a neat actor. Almost on par with Christopher Walken.

24 and for some reason, it is still counting

Birthday today, I think I could fill the time with other things instead so I’ll hold back the small and almost extinct feeling of screaming “Yay!” Birthdays are things from an adolescent past, I don’t know why they keep on coming.

But it’s too damn hot. I want to lay on my back doing yak shit — which roughly translates to reading books and fanzines. Not that I have new issues of the regular zines, the apa is even more late than usual. The book of the moment being Zadie Smith‘s White Teeth; bought because of someone online-person thought it was really good. I think this someone was Patrick Nielsen Hayden, but I’m not sure. The book is quite good actually.

Where is all the water?

Immediately when I saw this picture I got this scene playing in my head.

What if the person next to the yellow bath ring stood up and screamed, “The last person in the water is a rather silly sod!” Who would be silly, really? The people who crowd together and push all the water up from the pools or the other five half who can’t get into the water because there is no more room?

Tomorrow comes, just as last week

By all standards, Tom Tomorrow is amazing. Sometimes he goes a bit to far, but satire is supposed to bite. This Modern World is fun despite being political. Which is a good way of showing that politics does not have to be boring, just as I’ve said before elsewhere in the flesh time.

The chin that could stop Jay Leno

Damn, damn, damn. Why, oh why is it in a hardcover and not a simple trade paperback? I have nothing agains harcovers at all, I probably like them more than the next guy. But there are some books that I just don’t want to buy when it’s downright too expensive. My wallet can’t handle this in addition to the rest of things on my soon-to-buy-list. It’ll burst.

If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor is one of these books that I’d like in paperback. Even though it is Bruce “The Bruce” Campbells autobiography. From what I’ve heard it’s fun. I want it now.

The clock stikes at "Tock"

Time. Time has somehow become the most important part of our life. I don’t think I exaggerate too much; things become smaller, more information pressed together to be transmitted at the smallest possible amount of time. Thanks to the news, we now know that while there are some heavy fighting elsewhere and corpses fills the tv-screen, the stock has also lowered five micro points.

To capture time and keep it hostage is not such a bad idea. I doubt that Letterror (great name by the way) will actually go down the path of the terrorist, so... The clocks will be released. Their project is neat; to collect photos of every five minutes of the first twelve hours.

Ray and the White Whale

I have an exam in mass media on Tuesday. I really should study the literature, but Ghu damn. It’s boring. And as if that’s not all, the book is published by Bonnier. Bonnier is, for those of you who don’t follow the Who’s Who in Swedish media corporations, the company who not only owns a publisher; it also owns a very large part of the big national magazine distributor. (Can we say: “We don’t want to distribute thing we don’t like”?)

Ray Bradburys Green Shadows, White Whale is much more interesting, not to say better written. The dialog is, as usual, exquisite.

-- Your reason for being in Ireland?
-- Reason has nothing to do with it.
-- That’s a grand start, but what does it mean?
-- Madness.
-- What kind would that be?
-- Two kinds. Literary and psychological. I am here to flense and render down the White Whale.
-- Flense. Render down. White Whale. That would be Moby Dick, then?
-- You read!

"Slack off," they say and then work like mad

I hate the keyboard. The fingers leaps from vowel to vowel all over the place. There must be a better way. I damn the inventor of the qwerty keyboard to hell.

Now it seems impossible to even relax in the usual unplanned way that mankind have done in the their Free Time since the Early Days of the Species. No, nowadays even that has to be done as a campaign with a stylish and way to expencive clothesline together with specific dates and arrange so that everything else fits the purpose. This organisation sickness of mega-lo-maniac proportions have to end. Soon people won’t know how to relax properly at all, and that day we’ll all mourn the treasure that slipped out of our hands.

She slew him with an epigram

As recently as a couple of hours ago, in his always excellent Textism, Dean Allen shows why I like Dorothy Parker as much as I do. She was truly one of the few Jiants we’ve had, it’s hard to be better than her.

When The Naked and the Dead was published in 1948, much of the language was deemed too coarse, and [Norman] Mailer had to have his characters use the term fug. When Dorothy Parker subsequently met him at a party, she said, “So you’re the young man who can’t spell fuck?”

She cut straight to the heart of the matter. Sadly, people like her aren’t made anymore.

Delirium brings forth the brain ghosts

“Corflu. I need Corflu!”, I exclaimed as I staggered out of the room. I don’t know why because I don’t use a mimeograph to stencil fanzines, I use a regular copy machine, that’s how uncultivated I am — no respect for the past. From which dark depths of my mind did corflu come from? If I had some, I would be a hero, a rich hero in these times where corflu is valued more than gold and harder than Jesus to come by. A mimeo would be nice, but a Blickenderfer 5 electric typewriter from 1895 would be better. I’d pay with a perfectly good kidney for one of those, not my kidney, but a kidney nevertheless.