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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 So far I've struggled to maintain unpublished.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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2001-12-22

I burnt my hand today. Burnt it on a string of spagettios. At first it stung and then it got worse. It’s disfigured, scarred and ugly. I recon small children will scream when they see me, point at my hand and run away with tear-soaked cheeks. They will be traumatised and afraid to walk outside the door, afraid of the horrible monster that lurks out there.

Panic, raw and unjust, will ensure when my hideous claw is shown, on purpose I might add because that’s the kind of guy I am, in public. They will point and stare, unable to hide their disgust.

Well. Almost anyway.

(I wonder which of the four food groups spagettios actually belong to: salt, sugar, caffeine, or beer?)

I wish I had a permanent connection instead of this crappy modem. If I did, I’d do my best to beat that high score at The Prime Number Shitting Bear. And they said innovation was dead. Pfhht!