marmelade is on a life quest

I love Sunday afternoons

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 23:01:55 +0200

I hated them as a child though. On Sunday mornings I had to do homework, so I could practice the piano lessons in the afternoon. Naturally, the Sunday was the shittiest day. I couldn't play like all other kids did, yet I could hear them laughing outside, at the playground, while I was doing my arpeggios. Later on, when I had my first job, things started to suck even more. Sunday afternoon meant there were only few hours of freedom left until the next working day. They were filled with anguish. I always hated to work. I changed jobs various times, and it got slightly easier, but still, there's nothing better than disposing of your time as you damnwell please.

Today it's a different story. Nothing dreadful awaits for me tomorrow. My heart won't miss beats just because I must wake up early in the morning. Although one might say all my days are equal now, as I own my own time, I still have the distinct feeling of Sunday. And better yet, I feel like I have my homework already done. Yay!

So I went to the gym in the morning and to the beach in the afternoon. That's right folks, there were almost 25 C today, which is about 77 F, for all you americans out there. Some intrepid lads

adventured to bathe, and all the ladies cheered at witnessing such display of virility. I played the coy intellectual girl, with my nose stuck between the pages of a book, but still, I managed to take a furtive peek. Ha! Damn, I'm good!

I love sand. I love its texture and its soft touch. I love the sound of the waves when they hit the shore. Must be because I was born in a city by the seashore myself, and wherever I may be, I'll always pine for it. I caught some tan too, just my face and my arms, as I was wearing tee and jeans. My face is burning now, actually. Five degrees Celsius more and I'll grace the beach in my bikini. Those last months of dieting and gym class started to pay off eventually. I'm still no Giselle, but I look decent. Two more months and I'm there!

Right now I'm in the living room with Sabrina, both busy with our laptops. Thanks god Toni the wanker and Greg the cockroach aren't home. We have this whole huge place for ourselves. And Kuki, of course. Yuppy!

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Here comes the sun

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 01:19:04 +0200

Well, what do you know? All these shitty days brought a happy ending. That's right, folks, even I can't believe it but I finished the third chapter of my novel. I only have the last one left and it's probably gonna be the easiest one to write. I feel like I fought with the dragons and won. I'm exhausted, but happy. I managed to transform all the anguish I experienced into a creative frenzy that helped me finish this difficult part.

I feel dizzy when I think about it, but so far I have about 80 000 words! And they're all mine. I expect I'll be finishing it at the end of the month, by which time I'll have more than 100 thousand. Hope they're worth something.

I have to thank Sabrina, my flatmate, for the sunshine in my life. She singlehandedly resolved some electricity problems we've been experiencing the last two days, when we were left in the dark, with no possibility to charge my laptop. She really is a witch.

So, presented with the uncommon situation of not having access to my laptop, I spent a lot of time outdoors. I've been walking through here, on the left, and fed the ducks. That's not an euphemism for anything, it's just a pond with ducks right in the middle of Barcelona, by the seashore. One of them had babies, and they were leaning how to float. Aaaaa!

It's unbelievable how a small thing like this can change you perspective on life. All of a sudden I felt enlightened and glorious. I knew.

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Freaky Friday: The Road To Hell is Paved With Good Intentions

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 00:35:31 +0200

I'm gonna be short as I'm pissed off. Because of the precarious state of both humanity and my life. Well, my life comes first, bitches, so I'm gonna tell you a valuable lesson I learned today: trusting other people to do something important for you is like walking blindfolded in a minefield. I don't wanna go into details, I wanna get over this shit as soon as possible.

On the bright side, I'm being forced to take some serious decisions for the future. I may come with big wonderful news soon.

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Let the missile hit'em!

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 19:29:01 +0200

Ok, people, time for some serious shit now.

The controversial U.S. proposals for a missile defence system partly situated in Europe will be a major subject at the NATO Bucharest Summit in April 2008, NATO Secretary-General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer said Monday.

Right now, as I'm typing this, somewhere in the Eastern Europe, more exactly in Bucharest, there is an "historic" Coalition of the Organized Crime (aka Nato) summit. Bush, Merkel, Brown, Zapatero, Putin and all the Motherfuckers are there altogether, discussing lovey dovey stuff like missiles and more innocent people to be butchered in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Now, I am strongly against missiles, but I believe today I can make a concession. How about sending a big one right in that wretched hive of scum and villainy, called the House of People, the biggest building in Europe. And the most grotesque one, if I may say so. The world will be a better place with just one strike.

According to Wombles, one of the most important sites fighting social injustice, anti-NATO protestants were repressed by local authorities, in the name of national security.

One day before the start of the NATO summit in Bucharest the situation gets worse. Hourly alternative looking people are detained by the police for no reason. Afterwards the police construct absurd offence, for example carrying a pocket knife amounting to possessing a weapon.
Every person coming to or leaving the convergence center is in danger of getting detained (some simply for walking to a nearby shop). The detained are interrogated, photographed and fingerprinted in police stations, and held for up to 24 hours. At the Romanian border several groups of activists, as well as others, have been denied entry into the country.
Projectile - Anti-NATO Week Program, Bucharest
The most involved Romanian activists around the country have at this point been visited or called by either the local police or SRI (Romanian Information Service) to be warned against participating in any anti-NATO protests or to have their families intimidated.
27000 police officers, military, snipers and secret police are occupying the city. The security alert code yellow has been announced, meaning that all demonstrations are forbidden in the whole city amongst other restrictive laws.
In the face of this repression the actions of the few activists present are severely limited. Therefore we urgently need your solidarity. Please make solidarity actions in your cities.
Repression Update list:
19th March - Calafat checkpoint 6 anti-NATO German activists; searched for 19 hours
26th March - four of the 6 tried to cross again at Giurgiu check-point
27th March - Tatiana Duplei was run over
28th March – “Die Young” hardcore group from Texas Cenad check-point denied entry
29th March 7am - 5 anti-NATO activists in Bucharest were stopped by the sector 3 police and taken to police station 11 for verification. They refused to have photos taken or be fingerprinted, and were only let go once they started making phone calls to the mass media
31st March - 7 Czech activists tried to cross the border and were detained at the border for 8 hours after which they were denied entry into Romania. One of the activists was carrying some information from the Czech anti-radar base movement. They were all searched and some cd's and leaflets were found
1st April c 00:30 3 activists were stopped by sector 3 jandarmerie when they were coming back from the market. They were stopped for 2 hours outside and then taken to section 14. A penal case has been opened against them for carrying 'white weapons' (Swiss army knife)
1st April in the morning 4 polish activists tried to cross the border. After their license plate number was checked they were told by the police that they knew that they were going to Bucharest to protest against NATO and were denied entry.
1st April c. 12:30 1 person was stopped by sector 3 jandarmerie for suspicion of having stolen goods on his person and taken to the section 3 police for verification and checking after 1.5 hours on the street. he was released at around 6 pm. big backpack
1st April a bus of anti-NATO activists from Berlin was stopped in Pitesti. the activists were taken to the police station and after some interrogation, were escorted out of Pitesti and started driving towards Bucharest. They reached Bucharest late on the 1st of april along with the police escort but are constantly with the police escort and cannot come to the convergence center.
1st April in the late afternoon a group of 4 anti-NATO activists passing out fliers were detained and taken to section 8 and 4 other anti-NATO activists were detained and taken to section 8 as well...
1st April in the late evening several anti-NATO activists were stopped and searched by police while on their way to the convergence center, but eventually were let go
Solidarity is our weapon
Support Global Resistance

It's unbelievable these things happen in XXI century in an EU cuntry. We are nothing but mute slaves to this evil system? Bush chose the right location to ask the poor Eastern bastards for more cannon meat, some place where he can't be disturbed by irrelevant things like, say, public opinion. And the poor bastards will obsequiously accept his proposal, as human life is not of much value over there. Oh, and they will suck up to Americans, maybe, just maybe, some fucking big consortium agrees to open a new slavery factory over there. I want to throw up.

PS: Don't get me wrong, I love America like any ol' world girl who grew up watching Beverly Hills, worshiping Kerouac and listening to Metallica. In fact, if the whole world would be just one country, that country should definitely be America. But Bush? How could you let this happen, people???

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Movie Monday: Lars And Real Girl

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 14:14:35 +0200

Well, folks, I've just seen this movie last night at three am, as we (the humanity) changed to summer hour (yay) and I felt too jet-legged to sleep. Lars And The Real Girl is an independent flick starring one of the most prominent members of the Canadian Gorgeousness Brigade, none other than Mr.Ryan Gosling. The rest of the cast doesn't really matter, except maybe that annoying chick who was in Woody Allen's Matchpoint.

Before I talk about the movie, let's have a little chit chat about El Ryan. He's somewhat low profile, yet he received an Oscar nomination with Half Nelson, another excellent indie movie where he played a schoolteacher with drug abuse problems. He's also been a leading actor in, according to my book, one of the best (yet cryptic) films ever made in the history of cinema,Stay, together with Ewan McGregor and Naomi Watts. He out-hopkined El Hopkins in The Fracture, he made an endearing, unforgivable role in The Notebook, a romance flick made especially for lovely sensitive girls like myself to enjoy while eating their Haagen Dazs, and of course, embodied the Young Hercules in the TV series, thus setting an important landmark in how hard rock abs-ness and unbelievable overall physique-ness should be portrayed on TV. Word.

Lars And The Real Girl gives a wee bit more socially acceptable alternative to the solitaire gentlemen activity we've been dissecting in the very previous post. Yes, Mesdames et Messieurs, it's about a fellow who had a relationship with a blow-up doll. Now, that's hilarious. I can't hide it to you, I found it ridiculously absurd. Yet, somehow Ryan made it all believable. Actually, I'm not gonna lie, folks, Ryan was the only good thing about the movie. With another actor, say, Ashton Kutcher, I bet it would have gone down the I Know Who Killed Me road.

Ok, let me explain myself to you. This guy, Lars (Ryan Gosling) had aggravated psychological disorders. Ever-since Bianca arrived into his life, aka the blow-up doll, he started to feel more secure in the social environment of this little provincial town. So he took the doll with him everywhere, introducing her as his girlfriend. And everybody, including the priest, was understanding enough to play along with the charade, in order to help him cure his problems. Now, if in that little town there were people like me, or some of you I know there (yeah, you!), Lars would be fucked, the poor bastard. But, as I said, he was so lucky to be in such a loving, non-prejudiced community of people, who helped him throughout his darkest times.

Anyway, I wouldn't say the movie is a must-see, but neither would I say stay away from it. It's either way you please. Glad I could help. :-)

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Freaky Friday: Wankers

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 22:31:24 +0100

As of today, I will dedicate Fridays to freaky, somewhat disturbing and most probably shocking stories. Why would I do that, you're probably wondering. Well, because these things are facts of life, as annoying and socially unacceptable as they are, and unfortunately we need to find a way to deal with it. So if you are easily offended, my intention is not to horripilate your delicate esthetic senses, but to discuss openly matters that hideously interfere with our dear way of living.

Today's theme: jerking off.

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Forget the drama queen

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 12:15:52 +0100

I feel the whole word is changing all around me, but I stay the same. For the first time in my life, I'm just a passive viewer, watching how most people evolve or barely straggle to survive. I manage to extract myself from this complex equation called life. No more drama for me, thank you very much. Let me just stay and enjoy the view. Sure, the view is not always enjoyable, nor entertaining, yet it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling of living among the living.

Let me explain myself to you, because I feel I'm being rather oblique. It's not that I don't care anymore, I do, I do, I do. It's not that I'm not passionate anymore, I am, I am, I am. Yet, I don't feel like involving myself in anything else but my business. Everybody around me has a sad or happy story to tell, has achieved or lost something, and all I have to say about is: that's life, mate. Don't sweat it! I can't help but wonder if this is finally me reaching wisdom, or just losing it slowly. Whatever. Look at me, laying in my bed with the laptop on my knees, listening to the new The Raconteurs album, Consolers of the Lonely, trying to understand the meaning of life. My life. (It suddenly occurs to me that I can totally be Jack White's groupie for a living. I could throw red rose petals on the path his beautiful yet slightly deranged feet grace the ground. I totally would, you know that, don't you?)

On the other hand, my writing is going swell, baby. The other day I wrote a passage I've been dreaming to write since last august. I've finally reached at that point! I can't believe it, I have about 70% of my book already written. Now, about that passage, it's describing one of the darkest, most disturbing, psychedelic states of mind of my hero. I wrote it in a cozy cafe by the sea, with people all around me, but I didn't even noticed their presence. In fact, I'm not sure I even breathed for about an hour or two, until I was done. But it was worth it, the final result is great. I didn't think I had it in me. (Probably that's why I was having murderous tendencies the other day. Something gotta give.) I've finally signed the pact with the Devil, folks!

Maremagnum caffee

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Save the coconuts, save the world!

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Wed, 26 Mar 2008 00:33:27 +0100

Have you heard that one?

Finally, mankind has the answer to that eternal question, how many coconuts does it take to go from London to Amsterdam? The answer: 150,000 -- converted into biofuel and poured into a special 747, of course. Virgin Atlantic completed its first biofuel tests yesterday with solid results, using a mix of 20 percent coconut oil and 80 percent jet fuel to power a 747 -- a first for the airline industry. There's still a long way to go, of course -- only one of the jet's four tanks carried the alternative fuel, and even Richard Branson admits that giant coconut plantations devoted to airline fuel probably aren't workable -- but despite harsh criticism from skeptics, it's still an impressive achievement. Branson says that although this test didn't use a viable fuel, it's a landmark proof-of-concept -- and that next-generation biofuels made from algae may one day power all our aircraft.

So next thing we know, the coalition of organized crimed formally known as Nato will invade the Konkan region to install democracy and destroy their advanced nuclear research facilities in the name of the survival of the human race. What about monkeys, I ask you? Can you sit comfortably on your flight to, say, Rome, knowing how many souls will be suffering for you to enjoy your pathetic peripatetic life?

I don't know about you, but I'm starting to build up Bounty stash under my bed, just in case. Life's not worth living without it.

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I'm on a killing spree

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 19:00:22 +0100

That's right, folks. This morning I woke up with a terrible desire, nay, urge, to kill my flat mate. He deserves to die. He's no good. He's breathing someone else's air. Mine!

I can't stand his presence any longer. I can't hear his boots on the corridor any longer. He's always making noises. Noises, noises, noises amplified in my head with billion torturous echoes. And he never stops. Never. He never sleeps, either. Last night he moved the furniture. Than he mended his wooden desk. With a hammer. I wanted to go to his room and make a scene, but I was so livid, I couldn't move. So this is how I came up with The Plan.

I can kill him easily, I don't believe anyone will notice his absence too soon. His parents are in other country, and I don't think they care to know about his life anyway. He has some sort of girlfriend who stayed over a couple of times, but I don't think it's something serious. She will just think the motherf'er dumped her without even leaving an sms. Or a post-it. Can you believe the men today! Pigs. Anyway, I'll be doing her a favor. Her life will improve. And so will the air in my flat.

There are two ways to do it. The first one would be to hack him off in his room. Because this is how he'll die, with a big long sharp knife in his back. That's right, I don't want him to look at me when he dies. The coppers can scan his post mortem retina, dah, and it would lead straight to me. But this scenario will present me two almost insurmountable problems. 1 - we'll have a body in the house, wee need to get rid of it pronto. 2 - there will be blood. loads. Even if I get rid of the body, a forensic investigation will be able to determine someone was killed in the house, DNA match and bang, me being the prime suspect.

So no, he has to die somewhere else. In the elevator, late at night. I can lure him to go out with me to buy some chocolate, cus I'm afraid to go to the 7-11 by myself. He'll take the bate. I stab him in the elevator and leave the body there. I go down on a different floor, so it can't be linked to mine. The first unlucky bastard who'll take the elevator will discover the body, call the police. Next morning the pigs will be at my door, asking me when was the last time I saw him. I'll just say: last night he said something about going out for a drink. I don't know officer, it was late and I was half asleep. I went to bed; I just woke up now, when you rang the bell. They can't link it to me, they'll probably think it was a robbery. Some homeless git killed him for his money while he was trying to leave the building, and hid the body in the elevator.

Of course, I have to get rid of the crime weapon. I will thoroughly wash the knife and then use it to cut myself a juicy salad. It will look so innocent, trust me. The only problem may arouse if, when getting back to my apartment after killing him, I come across a neighbor. That can ruin the whole thing. I may have to kill the poor bastard too and pile the body in the elevator. He'll have no time to scream, trust me. It will be the classic Raskolnikov case, only I won't repent. Well, he is a leach, he is a parasite. And he smells bad too.

But, shussssh, ok?! I'll be doing it tonight.

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No way!!!! Me?

nobody@vox.com(marmelade) — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 03:02:03 +0100

Holy shit, folks, look what I've just received. And it's for real too:

Congratulations!!! You have been nominated for a 2007 Best Of Blog Award!! Especially designed to bring attention to lower profile bloggers, The BoB’s as we like to call them are currently taking nominations in over 20 different categories. To find out more about how your site has a chance to become one of this year’s Best Of’s and how to nominate other bloggers*, visit us at www.thebestofblogs.com. Remember voting begins April 14th so make sure you pass the word to your friends, family, and faithful followers.

Sincerely,
Bill Beck
Project Mgr.
The Best Of Blog Awards

Excuse me, I'm gonna go have a heart attack.

I'll be back!

* yeah, right!

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