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A new Kaada project has been put up @ myspace:

Hey everyone it's me,the girl who loves you, the hostess with the mostess turned pop star. Please listen to my songs, and let me know how you feel. it's like a disco muzak you can mosh to.

It's called I'm the girl who loves you. Not really sure what the general philosophy is, putting it on MySpace, but Kaada is making some incredible music in his studio nowadays. Check the tracks out by kissing the lips. I wasn't too thrilled about Kaada's Music for moviebikers but I haven't really sat down and listened to it yet. This I can dig, though. I'm a simple soul.

It has come to my attention that responsible parents have let their children read this blog. Knowing what it is. What can I say except "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these"?

This is a friendly blog. A responsible blog. A heart-warming blog.
Finally something the entire family can do besides incest.

And you can't accuse me of not raising some interesting topics, that's for sure.
But giving credit to where it's due, the quote above is not Michael Jackson introducing the Neverland ranch, but Jesus of Nazareth scorning the spiritual ignorance of his disciples. I have immense respect for some of the thoughts of this guy. It's his fanclub I can't stand. And sometimes blasphemy is a little too tempting. Blasphemyyyy blaspheryouuuu... I'm confident he wouldn't mind.

Agh, this Thursday feels like a Tuesday. And Tuesday is the new Monday.
Mondays are kind of cool nowadays.

I don't have time to elaborate, I'm gonna have to get my breakfast real soon, then it's up to the University again and study. I had some bad luck this time in terms of study schedule. 2 classes Tuesday, 1 class Wednesday and 1 class Thursday. I'm working Monday and Friday (and some evenings). I'd better have 2 classes Tuesday and 2 classes Wednesday, and take the first half of or the entire Thursday off. Studying for me isn't partying or sexing girls. You can do that anywhere in the world. Studying is chilling at a favourite café and read good shit literature. Academic or not. You need an entire day off to do that, and weekends are my only ones thus far.

Then maybe you have some ideas, start jotting down an essay, and you're halfway there.
What's good is that I don't have any exams this fall. Only essays. Last week I handed in a qualifying essay for one of the courses, and next week I'll get the exam essay for another course. The third one is kind of special, since it is more an essay writing course than a course in Meta Ethics. Now that essay will have to be pretty sharp, as you can imagine, and I haven't had the outlook to get friendly with all the material yet. But you don't have to be an expert on all the writers, just one of them.
And I love Intention by Anscombe, so I guess that'll be my choice.
We'll see.

I feel better now, having had some coffee and taken the time to whine about it to all of you. That's what this blog is about, making me feel better. And the occasional entertainment of happy hamsters singing We are the World by Michael Jackson or something.
They played Dangerous at the last party I was at, btw. Great album.

In addition there are some other problems. One includes a new flat and the other involves a blond girl that scribbled down dirty words in my notebook. No, I'm not telling you. Not right now anyway. This page is becoming high-profile in some circles. And stay the fuck away from my notebooks.

Had a coffee with Kornelius yesterday evening. I had many cups of coffee. You won't believe the kind of mojo he's flailing around him like a warhammer at the new hangout. The café girls are falling flat down like flies. Which means free coffee all night. Kornelius won't admit it of course, but it's not me they're sending all the longing looks. Reminds me of Aqualung (Jethro Tull);

Sitting on a park bench --
eyeing ittle girls with bad intent.

But Kornelius isn't Aqualung. I guess I am.

What was I saying? Yeah. Longing looks of bodily-emotional imprisonment. They're looking for a hero to free them from the hen house! The cock *cough* I mean the rooster! Now you all know. And Kornelius knows. And his aunt in central Europe knows.

That puts a smile on my face. Feels good to be a little evil. See ya.

Our receptionist is on holiday. We've got a new standin.
Young.
Cute.
Nicely Coloured Blond.
In SECURITAS uniform.

There's just something about uniforms that, well, turns me on.
Can you say HOT?
I can't stop smiling around her. A girl in a uniform smiling back at you? That's heaven on earth for me if there ever was one. Her being shy is not helping. You just want to tear off that uniform she's hiding in, melt that stern Schutzstaffel gefühl and shout semi-German declarations of productivity and war, and spank her to the end of love.
..I just love all things beautiful. Where did I put those cuffs?

*sigh*
I'm just gonna have to stay clear of the reception today..

No. FOY is not re-opened. I just accepted this for the heck of it.
Mischa Anne M. Barton was born 24th of January 1986.. (uhm.. hang on a minute.. She's just twenty!.. I'm getting old).. in London. Her first big film appearance was as Diane in Polio Water when she was 9 years olds. She's famous for films such as Sixth Sense, Notting Hill and a Bonnie & Clyde remake, none of which I've seen, but her most famous role is as Marissa Cooper in television series The OC. Which I haven't seen either. But she looks good:



She's half Irish, one more reason to like her, and among her feats is a #52 ranking in FHM's "100 Sexiest Women in the World 2005" special supplement. If this is what she looks like after a Saturday night downtown, then I've got to marry her. Who wouldn't want to snuggle up to that?
Currently she's on the cover of Vogue.. I was told.

Some links:

• Mischa Barton IMDB page 
• The Mischa B Experience 
• Dedicated News site 
• Image Gallery 

By the way, the ad my friend Kornelius plays in is released (Flash):
www.vegvesen.no/stoppogsov (click "Se Filmen")
He's the guy sleeping behind the counter in that large hall with the japanese tourists. This is a campaign for stopping people from sleeping behind the wheel here in Norway.

These are live recordings of Tom Waits from 1976, in spirit of my all-time favourite Tom Waits album called Nighthawks at the Diner. Enjoy.

PART I



PART II



I usually won't post uTube stuff here, but this called for an exception.
Thanks to Kornelius for letting me know. There's heaps of Tom Waits material like live shows and music videos on YouTube.

Let me just briefly salute North Korea. At 4 am this morning (Norwegian time), after I'd just tucked myself in to dream about wet lesbian vampires (they were wet because of the rain), North Korea conducted a controlled, underground nuclear test. They measured it to 4.2 on Richter's scala here in Norway. Of course I had to wash my hair this morning, nuclear dust, but that's a small price to pay.

I want to overbring my salutations!
North Korea is sending out a peaceful message to the world; test your nukes.
I think it's great. All nuclear powers of the world (including you, USA, although you don't want to fall under your own terrorist definiton) should test their nuclear bombs.
And I believe in being thorough.
So you should safely and securely test all of them. Each and every one of them.

I have to get meself a new wallet. It's worn out. The money's falling out faster than I can spend it.
Buy a new wallet.
I've never been comfortable with buying wallets. Logically they're supposed to keep your money, so spending money on one is illogical. At least contra-intuitive. But of course it would be daft to be apprehended for shoplifting a wallet.
- What you got there, son?
- Wallet, sir.
- You were trying to steal a wallet?
- For my money, sir. They're scattered around my pockets. You see?
- Why didn't you buy it? You now I'll have to write you down for this.
- I know, officer. And I never steal anything.
- You just did.
- Uhm, yeah. Well, I needed it. But come on, it's a wallet!
- So?
- I'm not 'sposed to spend my last money on a wallet! When I get over there to the counter and pay for it, I'll have no more money to put back into it, so it wouldn't be necessary to buy one anymore.
- But you just said you needed it.
- Yes, because I have money! But I won't if I spend them!

You can see where it's going.
I wish Society had a thing going with wallets as with black umbrellas. You just leave them anywhere, and pick up another somewhere else. It's socialism par excellence. Of course, if you could leave some change in it too, in thousand dollar bills, that'd be great. Yes.... You, sir, are a contributor to the cornerstone of Society!
... Who me? I'm Cornerstone, nice to meet you.

Reporter:
Cliff, any comments on the Seattle sound and Citizen Dick's place in it?

Cliff:
I don't like to reduce us just to being part of Seattle.
I think of us expanding more.
We're huge in Europe right now.
We've got records...
A big record just broke in Belgium.

Reporter:
A song like "Touch Me, I'm Dick" is about what?

Cliff:
I think "Touch Me, I'm Dick," in essence, speaks for itself.
I think, you know, that's basically
what the song is about.
It's about, you know...
A lot of people might think
it's actually about...my name is Dick, and you can touch me...
but I think, you know,
it can be seen either way.

I have been at work now for twelve hours exactly. It'll probably be a little longer before I pull the plug and waltz on outta here. I've had tens cups of coffees, lots of water, a king-sized Halal burger and it feels strange to breathe without nicotine.

I need the cash, that's true, but that's not the full truth. I am here at this particular job because I like it here. It's nice coming here. The food is good (since they re-opened the cantina again). I could work here 100%, and have done so in the past.

Then there's University.
I'm not an educated man. I am not a man who believe in education as a system. I believe in education as a process, and it starts with you, whether you're handing in assignments or not. There is no need for any system to be what it is, except for those that make a living from that system. I have never been comfortable with that.
Anyway, I am officially and paper-wise 100% a student. I should be reading now. And writing an essay for Wednesday.

I had a great idea for a short-story yesterday. I wrote a couple of pages just so that I would remember it. Now what? I remember back in the days I was doing my duty for the King of this nation. Everything was paid for. I received cash every fourteenth day, never saw a bill from telephone companies or the landlord, and I wrote a story every day. I also had the money to get drunk twice a week. Today I'm supposed to earn enough to study, but instead I earn for paying student loans.

Today I'm probably twice as "rich" and twice as miserable.
I don't write that story, I don't get a peace of mind, I don't get the simple life a simple man cherish.

Now, I love philosophy, or more correctly; I am a philosopher. Philosophy is 'love and pursuit of wisdom'.
What I don't love is the way I treat my love under the given conditions. If truth had been a woman, I'd be guilty of neglecting her. And it hurts. It's a nagging knowledge deep in you, every spare moment you receive, that you're wasting your time because you should be doing what you're really here for.

Saturday this kid asked me: Tell me something. You are a full time student. And you work at that research foundation. And you write books. How do you do it?
It wasn't meant as a rhetorical question, but I squarely answered: I don't.

I do whatever kicks in at the moment. Except when duty calls. My mother saw to it that none of her children would fail on duty. It's rather strange how a good intention like that can grow into a fist of diabolical proportions on the dark sky of writer's frustration. But it's me growing that fist, to hit myself in the head. And I do it. Time and time again. If I don't begin to learn from my life soon, I'll have knocked out my senses 'fore I'm thirty.

Ah. Just a late-night ramble.
But the gloom is still there though. Feels like I'm working for the end of days.