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 So far I've struggled to maintain unpublished.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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TV and language theory?

The first episode in a tv-show about the language has just ended. (Värsta Språket, very roughly translated it means either a) The Worst Language or b) The Exceptional Language, all depending on how you interpret their intentions behind it.) It was a bit populistic but then again, it was a tv-show so that was inevitable. How do you do 30 minutes about language in tv and at the same make sure that the viewers don’t fall asleep?

People who talk to other people about words, dialects and language in general. It could be very boring. Thankfully they didn’t just bring in a lot of guests to sit and talk in a couch for a half an hour. Another thing was that they didn’t have the usual “preservation of the Swedish Language,” but a far more sensible approach.

It was about words so I’m happy. I like words. But was it only me, or did it have a echo of the seventies all the way through?

Have you seen a portal?

Had a Donnie Darko experience. The tree-tops against a thunderstorm backdrop and a spot that grew darker and darker like a portal just about to be shaped. It didn’t, obviously. But it was beautiful and I didn’t have my camera — as these things work I notice things much better when the camera isn’t there for some reason. But it was just one of the neatest things I’ve seen.

Filed under surname play

Reading the etymology chapter in David Crystal’s The Encyclopedia of the English Language for class tomorrow and suddenly a brick hits me straight in the face. Not an actual brick, but it had the same effect. I pushed the book away from me as if that would make me see thing clearer, I even tried to tilt the book. But it was there. Mervyn Peake was mentioned in the same sentence as Dickens, and it seems as if the esteemed Mr. Crystal actually have read the Titus Groan books.

This shoudln’t be much of a surprise really, but latley I’ve begun to wonder. One of my lecturer, the one resposible for literature, had read Peake but never heard of Titus Groan. For a while there I thought I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone (the black and white series thank-you-very-much), because the Groan sequence is what made him known uptil this day. Of all the books in the world, how can one have missed Titus Groan?!

Did I mention that etymology is fun? Well, it is.

Face rearrangement

I’m usually not that troubled by my appearance. Today, it’s a different matter. I happened to see myself in the mirror — bad idea — and I’ve started to grow. My face has added weight in the form of puffy cheeks. This could have been a good thing. In order to have a good beard you need something to build upon. I don’t — as you’ll probably know by now, much to my chagrin — have skill to grow a proper beard. So now my cheeks are in the way. Soon I’ll look like a miniature of Oliver Platt, a miniature only in the vertical sense. Oh, cruel fate.

I got a hangover from this

And then there is a soundtrack as well.

Week

No classes today. That meant that last night I could do what I like doing best: sit up really late, read and listen to Pixies. Apart from a few brief moments I’ve not listened to other music for a week — perhaps even longer. I’ve lost count. It doesn’t matter anymore. Sometime during the week I drifted away from Doolittle to Surfer Rosa. Doolittle is still the best record they ever recorded, but the earlier work has stared to grow on me.

With your feet in the air and your head on the ground Try this trick and spin it, yeah Your head will collapse But there’s nothing in it And you’ll ask yourself

-- Pixies, “Where is my mind?”

The books I’ve read have been varied. Mostly Christopher Priest though — no Boo, the real one and not the cheap comic book copy. Apart from him, there’s been works from Flann O’Brien, Iain Banks, Wilton Barnhardt, and Mary Gentle.

I dreamt that I was Jesus last night. It was quite disturbing, especially the part where I climbed around in a maze consisting of freeways and alleys. The possibility that the literature and the music have stated to affect me has occurred to me, but somehow I doubt it. Fall is here, finally. The snow is gone. This is going to be a great week all in all. I can feel it.

If it could only grow a tiny bit more

This is me, dressed in my bathrobe. Some people don’t like it, they think it looks hideous. Of course they’ve wrong. The book is Gospel by Wilton Barnhardt, one of the best books ever written. On top of my head is my hair, which I’ve started to dislike a bit. I’ll tell you why.

You see, I’m a firm believer in bed head hair. I don’t like to comb it; I don’t use gel or hairspray. I think they’re pretty useless inventions. My problem is that it’s started to act weird. Weird in the sense of standing straight up at the front. It looks ridiculous, like a leftover from the eighties. I hate it.

02-10-19: snow

internal self one: There’s snow outside.
internal self two: Yes.
is1: Snow. It’s still snowing.
is2: Too bad we hate snow.
is1: We do?
is2: Yes. Remember the long rant about the evils of snow?
is1: Do you mean the one with the snow and the boots and how the feet — particulary the toes — get cold and a bit numb? I had forgotten about that.
is2: ...
is1: I want to go out and do some of that photography stuff.
is2: Not now you don’t.
is1: Yes, I do. I’m going to go out now and... It looks really cold out there.
is2: Great perception you got there.
is1: Bite me nerd boy.
is2: Do you notice that the snow remains in frozen form even after the impact with the ground?
is1: ...yes...
is2: Still want to go out?
is1: No, not now. Maybe later.

A me kind of thing

I’ve slept two and a half hours tonight, I’ve had about half a cup of tea and todays classes are cancelled due to the lecturer being sick, and I can’t re-enter the bed and sleep. It’s kind of sad really. I want to sleep. Hell, I probably even needs to sleep. add tot his that no human should ever have to experience the time between 5:00 and 9:59.

I hope I can sleep in an hour or two. The cup is empty. More tea...

Mortal Engines

Thanks to the books I’ve been assigned for the English course, I have turned into a slow reader. The books I’ve read outside of the assignments are carefully chosen so that I know I will like them. This is a necessity for my well-being.

Today, I’ve finished Mortal Engines by Philip Reeve. It’s published as young adult and is far too cheap in hardcover. It is also quite good. Just read the opening sentence:

It was a dark, blustery afternoon in spring, and the city of London was chasing a small mining town across the dried-out bed of the old North Sea.

It’s set in the future, the seas are gone and much has been devastated by a great war (great in terms of destruction, the war lasted for about 60-minutes). It is a city eat city world, literary. Most of the towns move around on huge tractions and they “eat” smaller towns for fuel, building material and historical artifacts. It’s fun, engaging characters and I believe I’ll expect a lot from Mr Reeves in the future. Don’t let me down. (Update: his next book isn’t scheduled until next year. Bugger. I’ll have to settle for Brust, Harrison, Banks, Noon, Pratchett and Priest. It could be a lot worse.)

Much Ado About the Essay

Just like Néa and Sten said, the world would be a much better place if I chose a linguistic topic for the essay than a literary. I felt that I had too little knowledge so I chose literature. Now, I’ve switched and indeed, the world is a much better place. The sun shines, everyone is nice and I feel great.

Linguistics. The word is just wonderful. At last I have a direction again. At last I can sleep without weird and disturbing dreams. No, that last bit was a lie, but then again I like weird and disturbing. Perhaps disturbing is a bit of a downer at times, but weird is a two thumbs up kind of thing.

Road to Perdition

This is a tale of four people. Boo, Ola, Patrik and I. The plan, full of naivity and childish optimism, was to see Road to Perdition. At first everything went fine. I was there and soon all the other showed up. Well, almost. Boo didn’t.

Boo was supposed to see a movie before this, so he should have been there. I look at the clock, the movie should have been over and done with by now. I call him up and it turns out that he missed the bus but he assured me that he was on the way.

We went away to get some cash from the ATM. We had a small walkabout and then we headed back to the cinema. This is where I got a SMS. It was from Boo, who had forgotten to bring his card to pay for the bus-faire. I don’t know how he managed to do this, but I’m pretty sure it’s a Boo-thing. He said he couldn’t make it and that I should cash in his ticket.

Boo, you owe me five kr. Oh, and the movie was Very Fine Indeed.

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