Sunday, January 11, 2009

Minister.

The past week I've been feeling a lot like Trevor in Made in Britain. Hanging out with my wonderful cousin of cool was awesome and took the edge off the worst though. We went to Copenhagen during the day, spent the evening drinking, playing Left4Dead and watching Zoolander and Party Monster, before going out with his insanely blond friend Henrik. My cousin is so fucking awesome, no one has ever made me laugh like him.
After I got back home I had to go to a family dinner, which I figured would be insanely dreadful but really wasn't, even though I was hungover.

My grandma has a friend, let's call him N. N is from El Salvador, where he was a political prisoner before he managed to escape after imprisonment and severe torture. He can never go back home, and he can never see his family again. He has five children, three of them are dead. He couldn't visit them before they died, couldn't go to their funerals, can't ever visit their graves. All his fingers have been crushed, he has no teeth left, his feet are lumps and let's just say he won't ever be a father again. He suffers from severe PTSD, obviously, his insomnia is worse than mine and he has memory problems. He remembers in his dreams, which is why he doesn't sleep if he can help it.
And he's fucking hilarious. So full of life. He didn't let it break him. Talking to him felt like a kick in the throat, in the good way. His Swedish skills are extremely limited and he still managed to crack jokes that were way funnier than the vast majority of my friends ever could. I've only met the guy twice and he already kind of feels like a fourth granddad (yeah I had three, don't ask). It doesn't even bother me that he called me little princess, without even being slightly sarcastic. Anyone else and I would've gnawed his throat off.

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