For those of you who haven't noticed: I'm on vacation.
Or on leave, rather. Let's not forget that in the eyes of Norwegian society I am a soldier. Yup. Soldier Sigg3, that's me. I even got a number pinned to my ass. And a ugly photograph taken at 7:30 in the morning. A soldier's life.. :D
So, I went to Tromsø, Paris of the North to tourists, and my building state of fever just got worse. It figures, in a way. When I'm all through the shit of applying for getting leave from my service a ten lousy days, I get ill. Not just that. I can't hear shit. Because my throat and nose is clogged by slime (it's a curse!!) my ears are isolated and irritated. Mostly I just hear myself breath and my heartbeat. Really cool. Especially when I just used a helluva lot of money on Tom Waits' Swordfishtrombones and Radiohead's Hail to the Thief (special edition).
Now I'm back in Oslo, however. The great city. The capital. And it's raining.
So what am I doing, then? Since I ain't got a working mind at the moment, I can't read and write properly, so for the last two days I've been going through my complete collection of Spawn®™ dating from 1997 till 2002. This comic-book novel is really great. I mean, aside from Ennis and Dillon's Preacher that I've just flipped through, Spawn is my favourite. What's so great about it? I dunno. When I was younger I read the Norwegian translation of The Phantom. Ever since I quit I've had a great distaste for men (or superheroes, if you prefer,) in costumes running around thinking they're something. Simmons (maincharacter), however, has got something different. He's no hero. Sure, he has the wrath of hell, the heart of heaven and even the taste of revenge time has yet to see again, but there's something else about him. He's so goddamned confused. Even stupid.
As a reader you get stucked to cursin' Cogliostro (another important character, naturally) for tellin' Spawn/Simmons that he don't know shit, that he must be patient, that he must learn, etc. etc. Well, that's how it is, isn't it? You rather pick the dumb, easy way out of things instead of actually waiting for stuff to fall into perspective and engage some of that morale you're supposed to have.
The movie stinks, people. Don't judge the comic-book from that!
Tomorrow I'll get some necessary stuff for my kitchen.. Like food. Coffe. Eggs. n' Bacon.
I'll probably have to clean out some dust, as well.
Oh. And I've got this problem bugging me: a bug problem. Yup. These green, little, crawlin' devils that are feeding from the rose bushes outside my window are jumping into my livingroom. They're going for the bright light, that great ol' end of the tunel. Geez. I don't mind these creatures going biblical an' all, but they would do best to stay
the fuck away from my place. Here I am, almost sound asleep in my bed when ZZZZZZZZZOOOM!.. Splat! one of these annoying demons fly just across my field of vision and into the wall on my right. I throw a fit and use everything within reach as a weapon of mass destruction. When you finally get the bastard and you think it's all over, tuck yourself into that warm bed and get ready for some lovely mulatta to bring you into dreams; you can't sleep.
Not a chance. You lie there like some paranoid wreck with insomnia. Waiting for just the smallest indication of another one. I'm gonna get some insect poison tomorrow. Gonna take those bastards down even if it'll be the last I do. Oh, yes, sir! They haven't seen the last of mr. Sigg3. Oh, no.
Can't wait to get all chemical warfare on their ass. Gotto hurt.
post number 373 @ 10:16 pm | 5 comments
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