Friday, November 28, 2008

Baccano!

..is an awesome anime. Everyone has to watch it. You cannot resist the boy named Jacuzzi Splot, on the train called the Flying Pussyfoot. Seriously. You cannot.

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Gravel.

A fairly decent swedish author wrote something I found pretty interesting in his blog the other day. "Everyone carries their hearts in their hands", meaning we're all losers trying to make the best of what we've got, trying to make sense of what little we understand. At first I thought it was kind of true in the way that I don't want to admit, and then my literal self kicked in and pictured this:

A man stumbles onto his porch, one late winter evening. He had a few beers with his co-workers, he's sort of tipsy but not drunk. He is however cold and in a desperate need to pee, and wants little more than to get indoors to do so. So he gets off the bus, balancing his heart in his hands, and his briefcase under his right arm, walks up to his house and gets onto the porch. He tries to remember which pocket he put his keys in. He curses under his breath, moves the briefcase and his heart back and forth, trying to keep them both from falling to the ground. The briefcase was expensive, he doesn't want to get it dirty. And the heart, well. It goes without saying, you don't want THAT to get lost in the snow. He finds the keys. His cold fingers slip when he tries to put the right one in the keyhole, and it falls out of his hand.
His cursing gets louder. He really needs to take a massive piss now. He can feel his bladder moaning in agony. He crouches, loses his balance and dips one knee in the snow. His hand instinctivly goes to the ground to keep him from falling over. Made it. His knee is cold and wet but his briefcase is still fine, which is the important thing. But.. where's the heart again? Fuck. Fuck! He drops the briefcase, no longer concerned with stains on the leather or the important papers inside. Without a heart it's not like he's going to make it to the morning meeting the next day anyway. He plows through the snow with his hands, trying to be methodical in his search while the panic rises inside him. He just hopes his cold fingers will recognize the texture of the heart and rescue it before his clumsy feet find it first.
Something's beating faintly in the moonlight, over by the flower pot. Is it.. yes! It's his heart! He carefully picks it off the ground, tries to brush the snow off with his stone cold hands. He drops to his knees, barely feeling the wetness of his ruined pants on his skin anymore. Clutching his heart as hard as he dares to with his left hand he's randomly searching the ground for his keys with the other. Found them! A twig somehow got tangled up in the keychain. He uses the worst word he can come up with (grease cunt? fish balls? homosexual student counsellor? no, wait, Hulk mangina!) trying to shake the twig out. He resorts to using his teeth, feeling his last shred of dignity go out the window. Somehow he manages to get up and get the right key into the keyhole. Finally. All he wants now is to pee, get his wet pants off and wash his dirty heart off in the sink. He just hopes there's no gravel stuck on it. He absolutely hates when there's gravel stuck on it.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Immigrants <3

Man what a shitty day. I woke up at four, just in time to watch the sun go down. Had breakfast, intended to study and.. well, failed miserably. I laughed uncontrollably at a conversation between Lan and his father though, starting out like this:

Lan: "Dad, what's canvassing?"
Sonny: "Cambridge? It's in England."
Lan: "No, not Cambridge, canvassing.
Sonny: "It's a university town."
Lan: "...ugh, never mind.."

I had a second immigrant-experience a few hours later when I called the russians:

Russian: "Hello?"
Me: "Hey, it's Linda."
Russian: "Hi honey."
Me: "Er, what?"
Russian: "I hear it on TV. You don't like?"
Me: "No, you shouldn't call people honey for no reason."
Russian: "On TV it's okay."
Me: "This isn't TV."
Russian: "...on TV, it's okay."
Me: *deep sigh*

I seriously don't know what I'd do without them, they're fairly decent replacements for my pets when it comes to being stupid and adorable.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Don't.

Spent nine hours at the emergency room at the Verdun hospital last night. And I didn't add to one single persons injury. I'm quite proud of myself, I must say.
Likla had hurt her back and was in horrific pain, Leichin and I went with her to the hospital. It was a unique experience in how much life can suck. You're in pain, and someone squeezes you into a wheelchair (without anywhere to put your feet, so you have to hold them up as you go which sort of isn't very comfortable even if you can sit without hurting) in which you spend the next 1/3 of a full fucking day. And you're not supposed to sit at all. To add to the fun, the vending machines and the coffee machine didn't work so we were stuck without anything to even drink while waiting. Oh well, atleast the toilets worked, that's always something.

An excellent display of suckiness, thank you, Verdun.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Damn you, BJ, damn you.

BJ säger:
We're proud to be diverse, fibers of different texture make a stronger rope
Shadow säger:
stop being so logical and decent
BJ säger:
Hahaha, but isn't that what I am?
Shadow säger:
yes. and its not consistent with my view on people

Rock, paper, Saddam!

I have but one thing to say today.

http://www.rockpapersaddam.com/one.html

Friday, November 14, 2008

The boy that you loved is the man that you fear

I'm revisiting my past tonight. I'm in a shed with Marilyn Manson. I should study. I'm not studying. I'm keeping the psychology-tabs open on Firefox and the Open Office-document on the screen, trying to will the words into my brain and onto the keyboard. OOOOH KIDDIE GRINDER I USED TO LOVE THIS SONG my delighted idiot id squeals when my super ego frowns like an aging office clerk who never gets promoted. Oh hey, guess I am using the psycho-terms after all. Wrong context but you can't always get what you want.
I'm rapidly moving between jittery glee and an absurd depression that makes me want to giggle. I'm afraid if I do start giggling I won't be able to stop. I'm gonna turn Marilyn Manson off and call my russians in about 20 minutes. One of them is gonna ask his lawyer for advice for me. He is thy awesome, as Leichin would put it. Hopefully it'll give me a wee bit of guidelines as to what visa to apply for once I get back home, and what to do to get it.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Le panic

So. I'm trying to study personality psychology while my own personality is crumbling. Trying to cope with the fact that I have to go home soon. Back to the Twilight Zone. I write two or three sentences about defense mechanisms, get an idea about a scholarship that might allow me to come back here within two years, and spend the next three hours looking for it. I'm way past my personal deadline (but still well within the limits of the actual deadline, cause since I'm neurotic and have insane expectations on myself I always set out to do things in half the time I have avaliable to me) and I can't think. I can't focus. Even if I had a bat with a huge flapping vagina in front of my face I wouldn't be able to give it my full attention. The only thing on my mind is how to get back here. Not good, not healthy, and especially not in line with my be-like-water-philosophy.

Anyone reading this who actually managed to get a job abroad and migrate? At this point I'd serve you my left eyelid on a whole grain sandwich for ideas. Well not really, but you get the point.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

And one more

Kill The LightFM (08:10:55): as a kid i always loved the term black market
Kill The LightFM (08:11:02): i always thought there was a speceific "place"
Kill The LightFM (08:11:10): where you could go buy slaves, guns and other nonesense
LungSlime (08:13:12): hahah i did too
Kill The LightFM (08:13:40): like a warehouse wehre you'd need to know a password...and then insdie was like the disney land of evil
LungSlime (08:13:45): i imagined it like a bazaar
Kill The LightFM (08:13:53): yeah exactly
Kill The LightFM (08:13:56): like tables set up
LungSlime (08:13:58): yeah
Kill The LightFM (08:14:19): cause when people say things like "yeah i got these guns on the black market"
Kill The LightFM (08:14:28): yout hink "oh i hope to see it someday it suonds cool"
Kill The LightFM (08:15:46): we should set up a bazaar called "black market"
LungSlime (08:15:53): id totally do it
Kill The LightFM (08:15:53): i bet it'd be a hit
LungSlime (08:16:00): even just one stand
LungSlime (08:16:02): on a sidewalk
LungSlime (08:16:17): and dress up like a typical comic book villain
Kill The LightFM (08:16:24): hahah
Kill The LightFM (08:16:26): thats genius
Kill The LightFM (08:16:33): i'll get a cat
Kill The LightFM (08:16:38): and just pet it in my lap in the back
LungSlime (08:16:41): hahaha
Kill The LightFM (08:16:43): in the shade so you can't see my face

Heh.

LungSlime (07:00:06): so why are you still up?
AndrewGoat (07:00:33): Um, I have to go to work in 12 hours?
LungSlime (07:01:18): thats 11 hours and 45 minutes you could spend sleeping!
LungSlime (07:01:21): or driving a tractor.
AndrewGoat (07:02:13): I'd rather talk to you than do either of those activities.
LungSlime (07:02:40): youre weird
AndrewGoat (07:03:14): Why?
LungSlime (07:04:33): because no one in their right mind would prefer to talk to me over driving a tractor.
AndrewGoat (07:05:03): Bah.
AndrewGoat (07:05:08): You're crazy.
LungSlime (07:07:58): or maybe i just really like driving tractors.
AndrewGoat (07:08:06): To hell with tractors.
LungSlime (07:08:16): what did you just say?
AndrewGoat (07:09:18): You heard me, you black son of a bitch.
LungSlime (07:09:39): youre gonna pay for this
LungSlime (07:09:47): i know where your son lives
LungSlime (07:10:01): imma take him out when he goes for his morning swim in the creek
LungSlime (07:10:05): you hear that?
LungSlime (07:10:07): POW
LungSlime (07:10:08): like that
LungSlime (07:10:17): like a stick in a barrel of oil
LungSlime (07:10:23): thats what imma do

Ha.

Since I came to Canada, I've stopped eating a healthy no-sugar-no-fat-cereal breakfast. I stopped training taekwondo six hours a week. I stopped biking 50 kilometers every day. I've started drinking soft drinks again, I've started eating white bread again, started slacking, started eating pizza. I spend most of my days curled up playing videogames or reading. Results? I've lost four sizes. Pants that were too small when I came here now fall off if I make sudden movements. Sure a lot of it is lost muscles, but not all of it. This is stupid and ironic and I want to punch health in the hip.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

The Shell

Living grows round us, like a skin,
To shut away the outer desolation,
For if we clearly mark the furthest deep,
We should be dead long years before the grave,
But turning around within the homely shell,
Of worry, discontent and narrow joy,
We grow and flourish, and rarely see,
the outside dark that would confound our eyes.
Some break the shell,
I think that there are those who push
their fingers through the brittle walls,
And make a hole, and through this cruel slit,
Stare out upon the cinders of the world with naked eyes,
They look both out and in, knowing themselves,
and too much else beside.



Molly Drake

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

#2

Other cool people I met on the various buses and stations:

An ex-cop who broke his leg and almost froze to death, quit his job and became a freelance photographer. He had now traveled the world 15 times and was on his way to the airport to go to Brazil for the seventh time in two years.

A missionary who was originally from Albany, who had lived in Bangladesh for five years and now lived in Romania where he and his wife ran an orphanage. He was back home to visit his parents.

A sicilian woman on her way to New York for an audition. She's an opera singer.

A toothless old woman who had left her abusive husband, who felt it was a good idea to drag her in a rope behind his car. She spoke very fondly of her true love, who had died when he was only 32. She was sad but not bitter, humble but not broken.

Everyone was very friendly, open and kind and genuinly interested in sharing their stories and listening to others. It's safe to say going where I went, meeting who I did, has changed me a lot in a very positive way. It has left me way more open, friendly, trusting and positive myself, with a much improved view on other human beings. This was exactly what I needed, every second of it.
And I'm definately going back out there again.

I got too much wood and not enough sheep

I woke up on the 27th after a cold night of barely any sleep and loads of angst. Got my fat ass on the bus and watched the driver talk to his boss through the window. The boss-creature did a little dance and burst into a song. It was mildly amusing, very surreal and just a tad bit frightening. My busdriver looked exactly like Mark Ruffalo will when he's in his mid sixties, and had a fairly odd sense of humor. I liked him a lot. "Everyone who's not on the bus, raise your hand. No hands, good, let's go". Yeah. I was sitting alone from Montreal to New York, enjoying the isolation and the scenery. Upstate New York is stunning at this time of year. Behind me was an old chinese lady, dressed in yellow. She kept peeking at me, going "aww" and randomly bursting into laughter. She asked me if she could have a piece of my energybar, I gave her half. "You-are-so-nice-I-want-to-give-you-some-small-money" she said in a strange robotic tone, and gave me five bucks. It was enough for a giant cheeseburger once I hit New York, about ten hours later.
I wandered around in NY for a bit, not being particularly impressed. The place stinks, quite literally, and it's very busy and full of schizos. back at the station I sat down on a bench where an old man threatened to break my knees for no appearant reason. I was too tired to argue with him, so I found my gate and hung out there even though I had three hours left 'til the bus to Ohio left. I was just quietly reading my Bruce Lee-book when some guy approaches me and asks me if I'm russian. "No" I said. "Funny, you have russian eyes" he replied. "Okay" was my clever counter, and he left me alone for the time being. He returned a couple of hours later, I ignored him while he stood next to me and stared at me directly for about ten minutes. I sat down, he sat down, I stood up, he stood up. Eventually I gave up and talked to him, and actually found myself enjoying it. His friends joined us and we all hung out on the ride to Pittsburgh, having a really good time. They showed me exactly 444 pictures of themselves and told me a lot about Russia, it was very interesting.
Once in Ohio I had barely eaten or slept and I smelled like a thousand crotches. I had about three or four hours left to my final destination, and twelve hours to wait before there was an actual bus going there. I was stuck in a shitty country station with nothing to do, so I went outside for a bit. The fresh morning air tasted like nothing I have ever sensed in my life, after having gotten used to diesel and filth. An amish dude had parked his horse outside a gas station, the only visible building for miles away. It was quiet. I should've been bored and frustrated, but I was quite happy just being somewhere with access to drinking fountains and a restroom where I could actually wash my hands.
I was sitting outside in the cold, enjoying the sun and the silence, when an old black woman started screaming and cursing inside the station. Her bus had left without her, with her bags and medicines and even her shoes on it. She was quite naturally very frustrated, and called around for about an hour to find some way to contact the busdriver or atleast the next station it was heading to, to make sure her bags didn't get stolen or lost. Greyhound is about as useful when it comes to customer service as a lamp post is for doing origami. In the end, me and another woman ended up trying to help her and eventually had to call the state police to get her medicines back.
A young couple, about 40 minutes from home, were stranded at the same station as me for about 16 hours just waiting for their broken bus to be replaced. Another old man had to wait for seven hours after his busdriver never showed up. Greyhound is sort of, what's a good word, inefficient. I ended up befriending both the black woman who lost her medicines and the other woman who helped me help her, so it was all good and fun for me in the end.
Once in Charleston, many hours after I was supposed to arrive, BJ came to pick me up and I got to meet Cinnamon and eat macaroni. It was heaven.

I had the best time evahr in West Virginia, hanging out with BJ and his friends, seing Andy, playing with dogs and quoting Arnold Schwarzenegger. I had pumpkin beer, hung out with a guy dressed up as a sex offender at a Halloween party, played board games with the awesomest people ever and got to call them fuzzy little man-peaches. All in all it was amazing and I had more fun than in a very long time.

Back on the bus again. I ended up next to a middle aged man who told me an amazing story about his son, who had been hit by a drunk driver at the age of eighteen. The kid had less than one percent chance to survive. His doctor said it was the worst injury he had ever seen, and he had treated victims in Irak during Desert Storm. There was no medical reason for this kid to survive, and yet he did. Once it became clear that he was going to live, there was the money issue. The titanium plate needed to replace parts of his skull alone would cost 8 000 dollars.
Next miracle ensued, when their community raised money for them and covered the expenses for the best hospital in the country. His kid survived, is 27 years old today and has just had his first child. I ended up talking to this man for about six hours about death, depression, hope, life after death, how to deal with life before death, and much more. It was absolutely amazing. A complete stranger spoke to me about the deepest, most painful and scary experiences of life, and after we parted in Pittsburgh we still didn't know eachothers names but he knew more about me than my parents do.

I had a four hour stop in Pittsburgh, so I figured I'd phone the russians I had run into on my first busride to see if they wanted to hang out for a bit. I ended up staying until the next evening. "You can't leave before we show you some russian hospitality" they said. "Wow I'm finally about to lose my gangrape-and-murder-virginity" I thought. I ended up having the best time though, eating awesome food, checking out the city, listening to russian techno and talking about boxing in a dimly lit park all night. It was absolutely amazing and utterly international. Really, a swede living with indians in Canada, hanging out with russians in the US. Does it get any cooler than that? I didn't even want to leave the next day.

Back on the bus, I ended up next to an old MMA-fighter named Tommy. He was nice but called me sweetie pie, which I sort of wanted to make him eat his teeth for. I think I would've failed in doing so had I tried. I had my first taste of the really shitty side of America on that bus, when an old woman refused to get up to let the passenger next to her get his book from his bag. "Okay I'll just lean over you then" he said and did, and she started screaming like a banshee about him touching her. It took a while and a bunch of guards to sort out, but eventually we got on our way and back into New York.
I had a short wait before the ride back to Montreal, which was very calm and uneventful. It was funny, when I entered the US I had to go through an interview about why I wanted to visit America, who I was going to see, where I was staying, how much money I had and so on, they even searched me. Going back to Canada, all they wanted to know was if I had drugs with me. "No" I said, "okay" they went, and let me back on the bus.

Back in Montreal I didn't even have 2:50 left for the metro ticket, so I had to make Lan come pick me up. Before I actually saw him I didn't want to come back at all. I just wanted to stay on the road, keep travelling wherever I felt like and keep meeting these amazing people. Once I did see him I was really happy to be back and I could hardly wait to see Leichin. I even found myself missing Verdun. After having seen more of North America I was not impressed with Montreal anymore, but crossing the bridge back I still caught myself thinking it was nice to be home. Parts of me wanted to never leave Charleston and Pittsburgh, parts of me didn't want to return to Montreal at all and a pretty large chunk of me never wanted to stop anywhere, ever, just keep moving. I love discovering these sides of me. I've always been extremely attached to home, family and friends and now I feel free and independent in ways I never thought I could. I don't love my family or friends any less, but I don't need to have them close to not be miserable. Just being me, with myself, is enough.

<3<3

Back in Montreal since about 30 minutes ago. I made a stop in Pittsburgh for a night, had an awesome time with a bunch of russians. It's good to be back home with my canindians even though I'm sorta saddened my american adventure is over. I have so many stories to tell, but that'll have to wait til I've actually slept and eaten.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Quick note on my last night in West Virginia. I don't think I've ever felt so at home and at peace anywhere I've gone before. I've spoken to (and more importantly, really liked) more strangers the past few days than I have in a lifetime before. This is the one place I've ever been where I don't constantly feel disgusting and out of place, people just don't fucking care here. I can't tell you how much that means to someone like me.

So BJ, not only have you been a good friend for almost half my life, you, your uncle and your friends made me feel at ease and at home like I never have in my life, including in my actual home. There are no words that can express how grateful I am to all of you for this.

Tomorrow I'm getting back on the bus, with my darkness chased away. Even if it's just for the briefest period of time, I'm gonna cherish every second of it for as long as possible.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

You fuzzy little manpeach

To keep you company til I get back, here's my new hero.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h0S6vL0-u58

blame canada

I had the best time in WV. It's an insanely beautiful state and I met some really cool people and even cooler pets. Cinnamon is on my lap right now demanding the patented two hand-cuddle, actively preventing me from typing. She's even clingier than Clint Eastwood. BJ's been an awesome host and it was a lot of fun meeting Andy and the Senator. I also much enjoyed befriending Chris. I don't think I've ever enjoyed talking to a naked-under-his-trenchcoat-person until way past sunrise that much before.
I'm going back home to Montreal tomorrow. I'm not looking forward to inserting my ass on a bus for four days again but it's gonna be good to get back to my canindians. Especially since I left my PSP there and I bought it a present.