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 So far I've struggled to maintain unpublished.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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The Adam Westies Strikes Back

There is not much just yet, but there will be. I’m talking about the Adam West Fanclub Experience website. Mostly, it is text, but if you go all the way down to the end you’ll find... gasp... a song. But just one?! Out of all the recording sessions? (There have been as many as seven by now.) Yes. Because we need to record them again. Better this time. The reason being that the songs turned out to be rather short and in some cases they were sung by a really crappy singer — that would be me. But at least now we actually exists.

Oh, and since we don’t do covers, we don’t do requests. Sorry.

Some weather we've been having

Sunshine. The biological warfare hasn’t yet begun (I’m allergic to... lost of things and they’re all evil) and I got that urge to go out with my camera and just walk. So why don’t I? Just walk? In the nature?! No way. I’m just not fond of strolling in nature. I want concrete under my feel. I want torn down buildings and places where people create something new that wan’t there before. But I’m pretty sure I’m repeating myself.

Anyway. I saw Adaptation (reviewed in swedish elsewhere, but to summarise: great, go see now.) and now it refuses to leave me alone. At times, I feel as a replica of the fictionalised Charlie, on a bad day I share all his fears from the opening monologue — almost anyway. I don’t care about my hair, my self-image is nowhere near as messed up as his, and I’m much more afraid of death than he is. I even got the voice-over narration that tells me to do things I never end up doing. Which I reckon is a good thing, because some of the things this asshole suggests would make me end up in jail. I don’t think I would like that. But how do I know? I can only guess. Perhaps I should just let it go? Just to see where I end up, to see where the beast takes me. But I don’t think I would like that, the end is just as important as the journey because that’s where the consequences are.

Happiness is...

Happiness. Let us define it, shall we?

It is when you come home, the feet feels like sponges because they’ve been in the shoes all day long. For now, and forever, we’ll just skip the smelly socks part. It’s better that way. It’s late, you’re a bit hungry as it was several hours since you had something to eat. The right eye is a bit irritated because of some crap on the glasses. And you don’t care because in the mail, you just got Tegan and Sara: This Business of Art. Or do you think this is a bit too specific? No. I don’t think so either. Tegan and Sara can brighten up any day, no matter how failed it might be. (But to be fair, today wasn’t failed. I’m just a bit tired.)

Happiness is not: losing a meatball. It fell to the floor and bounced of my foot. I can’t find it, and it was my last one. It can be anywhere, except in the computer or on a shelf.

Subways lost in history

Old subway stations of New York. They’re not there anymore, becuase it becahme too dangerous to keep the stations. Plus, New Your probably needed the space for other things. But it is sad, now almost nothing remains of what began as a steam engine track in 1875. It also proves that it there are no remenants, it will eventually be forgotten. Leave some structures, history should be more than books and be a part of real life.

The photo of the 9th Avenue reminds me of the car chase in French Connection, just as the Fort Hamilton Parkway stairway does. And I want to get a hold of the first NY Subway maps and play a version of Mornington Crescent.

(Link via Malin Cantwell)

Write the books already

Néa, now you’ve done it. I’m going to go on about this “autobiography” of your’s until you’ve written it. Because I want to read it, especially after that opening line. Same thing with Sten and his book, Tommy’s fanzine, and come to think of it, my own book Yet In The Works.

That I need to nag myself to write a book is a good indication that my so-called “nagging” isn’t really up to scratch.

Updated Conpiration Map

I had previously only seen the ASCII-version of the conspiracy map, but this is much much bigger. It may include more, but I doubt it is easy to update. The old one had the instructions “Just add it where you think it will fit.”

The new surfboard

Tommy sent me an email about this and I can’t just leave it alone. Contiki is an OS for C64. It got a web browser, web server, telnet client as well as an email client under development. Sure, you can’t doo much witht the web server, as it lacks a firewall. But still, all this on an plain vanilla C64. Neat, because we all know that C64 one of the the few proper computers ever made.

I almost want to send a note to all other developers out there with the words “Guys, learn” followed by a link.

Me, Zombie

Well, not quite. But those in London has the chance of being cast as a zombie in Shaun of the Dead. The movie is, as you know Bob, the brainchild (heh, no pun intended. Wait. Yes it is.) of Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright of Spaced fame. Considering the Resident Evil-bit of series one episode three it can’t be anything but a success and a masterpiece.

Found this at MCiOS:Hyperlink Game

Sport commentary

Thanks to Plasticbag.org I’ve read a commentary on the Cricket World Cup. I know, I know. Cricket is not a real sport, but then again there is no such thing. And the commentary was fun. Interaction with the readers made it even funnier. All this despite the fact that all I know of the game I learnt one summer when I was really really bored as well as the How to Understand Cricket in The Manual.

4th over: New Zealand 21-2
Two highlights from this over: brilliant running from Fleming to plunder a single off the last ball of the over; Guardian Unlimited’s Sally Bolton making me a cup of tea. More from Leonard: to prove his pique, he’s been banging his fists on his keyboard. “asdsadf ;lk;lk;lk,” he writes. You should move your fists about, Leonard, your letter distribution is predictable.

Re: That Kafka book

About “Kafka Americana” which I mentioned earlier. It is good. Some of the stories are better than others, as these things work and per usual. My two favourites are:

1) The Notebooks of Bob K. Bob K is of course Bob Kane, co-creator of Batman. It consists of small notes from a Batman as created by a Kafka character as well as the writer is Batman. It is bizarre and the symbiosis between the two levels is hard to explain.

2) Receding Horizon. The Capra story. It is amazing and far, far to short. Here and there the story is put on hold and we get to see a glimpse of the interaction between the both authors. It is more than likely that these snippets of dialogue are made up on the spot, but they’re damn fine reading. I want to know more. More about the movies they made. Meet Joe K. with its five different endings. The wonderful ideas of Kafka’s Miracle at Progress Falls. The downfall of American cinema being heralded by Frank Capra’s failure to realise the scripts provided by Kafka.

The rest of the book is also worth reading, metafiction when it is good. Perhaps it occasionally swims out a bit too far in the pool of postmodernism, but even then it manages to stay a float.

Non-updateable

Néa has gone off the air due to Blogger uncooperativeness. I can understand why she’s irritated. Just because it is a free service, doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t work. In the same way that there should still be support, although perhaps in a more limited way, but it should be there. Néablog will be missed.

Update 14/3 20:25 > Néa is back. The blogger related problems are for now less and at least lets her update. Yay.

Write in other languages

Sometimes I want to write in Swedish because — well — that’s what I do normally. But I won’t do that right here because that would look wrong and confuse you and even myself so I’ll write in that language next door so to speak. It seems to work best that way.

Cartoon trains may crash. Shock. Horror,

A psychologist has come up with the idea that Thomas the Tank Engine can be dangerous. Thomas. The Tank Engine. Dangerous.

As a result there is a possibility that the sheer amount of crashes they see on Thomas could frighten them. Seeing lots of crashes on TV means they could end up absolutely terrified of going on a train.”

Which caused me to do a doubletake. The trains in TTTE crash?! Great. Finally some amount of suspense in the show. And now they’re afraid that this might affect the impressional minds of the children to the degree that they believe that every train is going to crash? Hogwash. Kids isn’t stupid. They know more than you think. They will however become stupid if you treat them like they were.

But the report is worrying as it seem to indicate that the real danger of the show isn’t to the kids but to the Railway Enthusiasts Society. Please, do not leave your railway interested father in front of a tv unwatched or he might see something that he isn’t ready for.

Knitted caps

In Japan, they have these statues of the guardian of children and travellers everywhere. And when it’s cold, people give them knitted caps to wear. Humanity at its best if you ask me.

Insane amount of pixels

I thought Elfwood was getting big when I joined back in what? 1998? There were a lot of them and I remember jumping up and down of joy when I got my own way up at gallery room 75. I’ve neglected it for about två two years or so, so I decided to use it again. I mean, why not? First I notice that I’m no longer in room 75, but in 55. “Okay,” I thought. “Some must have quit, left the factory because of artistic differences.” (I think you need to have been there to know the full story, but there were a long discussion about defining high fantasy art on their mailinglist.) Then I clicked on the full list and I’m in for a shock. I stare in disbelief on the screen. 1612 rooms of galleries, and there are ten galleries in each. Damn. What the hell happened? How can the tin can to computer hold up? And then sf and fanart galleries aren’t included. It is insane. No wonder it takes up to five days before any changes you want to do to your gallery happens.

Forget coffee

Hold the horses! Someone on the Dragaera mailinglist actually made Klava from the Issola recipe and it tastes good? It works? Right now, said person is experimenting with different types of wood chunks (not to mention the use of a chainsaw to produce said chunks.)

Has anybody else tried to make klava? I suspect that certain types of wood with certain types of coffee beans would be very appealing...” — Jason D.

I think I must try it.

Kafka

I have a soft spot in my heart for people who do weird things with Kafka. My first experience of this was when I read the Jackdaw’s Last Case where Paul Di Filippo made him into a costumed superhero. It is not the best of the stories collected in Lost Pages, but it spoke lengths to me at the time.

This of course explains why I’m right now, even though I have hardly opened the pages and let air in between them, I’m almost beside me. Kafka Americana by Lethem & Scholtz, a short short story collection all about this Kafka guy in bizarre situations. I mean writing the script to It’s a Wonderful Life? (However, I doubt it can top previously mentioned Di Filippo’s tale about Anne Frank as the star in the Wizard of Oz.) Being put on trail by Orson Wlles and Jerry Lewis? Anyway, I’ll report more as I indulge myself into the book.

A nice way to spend a Saturday

When I got home, I made food, the radiation oven was just about to beep and then out of nowhere the phone rang. I ran with the plastic plate in my hands, it was hot and contained rice and bits of chicken in some sort of curry souse. No real surprise about the phone call, it could really only be one person (not many people call me, and that’s the way I want it): Tommy. The phone call lasted about 40 minutes or so, and my food was cold. Ran back, in a wonky fashion, and heated it again. Mmmmm. Food.

Now I’m going to relax and read the comic books I borrowed from Boo: the Crow and Arkham Asylum. Perhaps with a big nice cup of tea.

Oh, no headache anymore and no one could be happier than me. Let me rephrase that: a lot of people could be happier than me, but none of them are here so they don’t count. It stopped yesterday evening. I celebrated with a big glass of Pepsi — after all, I had proven my point. If I had my guitar I would have sung a jaunty tune as well, but I don’t so I didn’t.

cthuugle

Don’t know where or how I found it, it was just there when I cycled through the windows: the cthuugle search engine. Use it carefully or you might lose limbs and, well, I guess more limbs and probably a D100 SAN loss.