I was going to have a quiet night in. Instead I’ve been lured away to see a movie I hadn’t even heard of (actually not stricktly true, I have heard the title, I just have NO idea what it’s about). Well, I wasn’t terribly difficult to convince, I suppose…
Solveig SMS: Are you busy tonight? D’you want to go see a movie?
Me SMS: Ok. What? When?
I think the evidence speaks for itself.
Voice in my head: Bob Dylan Just Like a Woman (yeah)
From Donna, 50 places to see before you die – I’ve been to three… Florida, Niagara Falls and Iceland. I was going to blame it on the fact that I’ve concentrated on travels in Britain, but then found I’ve only been to five of the top 10 British places… So, no cookie.
I need to travel more.
I wonder how many of these my father has been to? A lot more than me, that’s certain. I need to send him the link.
Norwegian lesson of the day: på jordet, literally “in the field”; idom meaning roughly the same as “at sea”, i.e. lost, confused and generally not in control of the situation. If you want to express excessive “lostness”, the expression is på feil jorde, literally meaning “in the wrong field”, i.e. you’re not just lost at sea, you’re not even in the correct oceanic area.
Voice on the stereo: Avril Lavigne – Anything but Ordinary (and in the room, additionally: me singing along)
Sarah has listed “Things I know to be true”. It’s a good list, to which I would add:
– When in doubt, read.
I had an interesting discussion with this guy at a party Saturday evening about A Clockwork Orange. I haven’t seen the film (I don’t think I want to, the book’s bad enough), but I think the plot’s basically the same, no? Anyway, the discussion centered on the perception of right and wrong in the book. I’ve got a problem with it (and I have a feeling Burgess actually intended for us to have a problem with it), in that much as I condemn the protagonist’s (can’t remember any names, sorry, it’s been close on ten years since I read it) actions – naturally I’m not particularly in favour of raping and killing people – I actually think what is done to him is much, much worse. The tying together of aversion for violence and classical music that they condition him to, the way he cannot afterwards hear a bar of Beethoven without feeling ill, is somehow worse to me than all the murders put together. Which only makes sense to me one way: Art is the attempted expression of truth. Association of art with something base or vulgar or “evil” or simply irrelevant (viz. irrelevant to the truth it is trying to express) is a betrayal of truth. The betrayal of truth is worse than murder. I suppose you could see a connection to my abhorrence of book-burning (see no. 10). Well, either I was expressing myself badly (very possible after a bottle of red wine) or my opponent did not agree. In his point of view (as far as I could make out) the music had spurred the protagonist on somehow and hence the only way of stopping the violence was the way chosen. Needless to say I disagreed. I think I might even have said that in that case they should have given up trying to stop him (i.e. let him keep murdering people). The other option, of course, which I don’t think I remembered to advocate, was simply locking him away for life.
Oh-oh. My brain just died. Flat battery? I knew I should have gone home early to get some sleep yesterday, instead I ended up going to The Dubliner with Linda for dinner and then we went to her place and had some red wine and watched Ally McBeal and Friends (neither of which series I have watched for ages – like a year or so – so I kept getting surprised) as well as removing some very sticky sticky-tape from around one of Linda’s paintings. Which all meant, of course, that instead of the intended early night I got a rather later night than I usually do. Which is not good, considering I was already in the red on the sleep front. Which is noticeable right now. My head is heavy. I can barely keep my eyes open. All I want to do is curl up under a warm blanket and not stir for days, weeks, months.
I also suspect I am wavering on the edge of a cold, which may explain some of the heavyness. I do not have time to get ill. Really.
Though I must admit a couple of days on the couch with a good book and steaming mugs of tea or cocoa or similar does not sound like a bad idea at all. In fact, it sounds heavenly. Maybe that’s what I’ll be doing this weekend. Mmm. Weekend…
I feel exactly like a wringed out dishcloth, only slightly less damp.
Voice in my head: medley of Complicated (Avril Lavigne), I Just Can’t Get You out of my Head (Kylie Minougue), I Got You Babe (Sonny and Cher) and some piece from a film, not sure which – very strange, and I don’t normally do medleys
Edited…
Apparently, I am the Blur album The Great Escape. However, I have removed the quiz result and the links to the quiz page because I just stopped by to have a look at some other quizzes and it loaded a gazillion ad windows (some of which could only be closed once they were fully loaded – luckily I was on a fast connection at the time), tried to download at least three separate programs to my computer and tried to get me to set my starting page to at least two different ad-based so-called services. I DO NOT THINK SO! A quick ctrl+alt+del and an end program on IE and it’s gone… And now AdAware is running.
I realise ads are a necessary evil to pay for all this fun stuff on the net, but you will sell me less stuff, not more, by annoying the hell out of me. Thank you.
This rant was brought to you by sandlund.net – pretty much ad free, and certainly not ad-funded.
Voice in my head: Kurt Cobain screaming “Heare we are, now, entertain us!” (which is a pity as I loathe Nirvana)
This is my bloggercode: B3 d+ t k+ s u- f i+ o+ x e l+ c
Very helpful that, isn’t it?
The questions in connection with the Whisky Society are getting increasingly strange. Today someone told me they couldn’t make the next meeting because they were having a tasting with some friends the day after. Is there a rule that says you can’t drink whisky two nights in a row? How come no one told me? The other request for information this week was even odder. Some guy wants to write about Johnnie Walker on his personal website and wants to know whether the society has any rules forbidding him to do so. This is strange on several levels. Firstly, even if we wanted to forbid it we would hardly have any sort of power to enforce our decision. We have freedom of speech. What you want to write about on your webpage is your business, as long as it’s not illegal in the country of your residence (or your webhost’s, I guess). Secondly, I can’t remember hearing the name of the person in question before, which is no sort of guarantee, but more significantly he is not on my list of members. I suppose he could be a member of one of our local groups – however, I can’t see anyone deciding to slap an exclusion order on anyone simply for writing about Johnnie Walker. Thirdly, and most importantly, why would anyone devote time and energy to write about a blended scotch unless paid to do so?
Norwegian lesson of the day: tulling, n.: Dolt, stupid person. Gender: male (obviously), meaning it takes the sigular indefinite article “en” as in “en tulling” and the definite form is “tullingen” (we have endings instead of the definite article “the”). (Disclaimer: The word of the day is completely unrealated to the theme of the rest of this post. Any inference you would like to make in relation to the word’s relevance is your own responsibility entirely.)
Talking about whisky, it’s been suggested that I should arrange a tasting session for my colleagues when we go away for an alternative Christmas party (a weekend in Trysil, ski heaven, or so I’m told). Tricky. Tasting session where a large majority will not like the whisky no matter what I chose, and where some may like whisky but will opine such things as “Ballantyne’s has a pretty strong taste” (I mention no names). I think I need to call in the cavalry. Luckily there’s a whisky society board meeting Wednesday evening. Ta-ta-tara-ta-taa.
News just in: Parts of the centre of Oslo have been shut off after what seems to be a bomb threat directed against the Norwegian version of Hello! or similar – Se og Hør. Hm. My bus passes that area. Does that mean I can’t get home?
Voice in my head: oh dear – it’s that song about the cavalry, “Wish I was [sic. I believe] at home for Christmas” and all that – must go home and play tape
If you’re a zepper and miss the list I’ve set up a backup while we’re waiting for our man in Oregon – mail me (myfirstname@thisdomainname) if you want to be on it.
If you don’t know what a zepper is, you’re not one, so just ignore the above (though if you’re a Pooh-fan you might want to know what it’s all about, in which case you can mail me too). You can, of course, mail me anyway, about nothing in particular. I like getting e-mails (not spam, though).
There is murder and mayhem afoot in Norway. Well, ok, no murders as such as yet, and, erm, no mayhem either, but great commotion, anyway. It’s all about sports, so I really shouldn’t be interested, except it’s not only about sports it’s also about journalistic integrity (or lack thereof).
The main commercial channel in Norway, TV2, has a documentary series called “Rikets tilstand” (State of the Nation), which deals with suspect goings-on in our oh-so-perfect-at-least-on-the-facade country. All well and good, and laudable in it’s principles. Except in this case they seem to have been rather more interested in a good story than in the strict truth. The theme of last week’s show was Norwegian cross country skiing, and, more specifically, were the exceptionally impressive results around the ’94 Olympics in Lillehammer for real, or were our homegrown heroes somewhat less than clean as snow. Based on hearsay and a list of medications that, reportedly, were ordered by the attending doctor the producers hinted, rather heavily, that this indicated that the atlethes had been using illegal drugs to enchance their performance. Outrage ensued, of course. Tearing people down from pedestals is a thankless job. Well, as it happens, the outrage seems to have been justified. The most tangible “evidence” the producers had aquired was this list of 150 items, 9 of which were banned at the time (and the others including such odd choices as hemmoroid treatment). Firstly, there was no evidence that this medication was actually used, all the producers thought they had was the list of items the team doctors wanted to have in their emergency kit. Hardly damning evidence, but suggestive, and journalists can make a lot of hullaballoo from suggestive facts. But it turns out that the “facts” aren’t facts after all. The list is the supplier’s list of items they can supply. The list of items actually supplied contains only 20 items. The producers have worked on this case for a year, and not once has it occurred to any of them to contact the suppliers to verify their evidence. Another bit of half-proof was that several litres of blood-plasma had apparently gone missing. Injecting the stuff can enchance your performance in the field. It is now illegal. In ’94, however, it wasn’t. Still, it’s a slur. According to the hospital who supplied the stuff, though, all of it was accounted for. What was not used at Lillehammer’s many emergency stations (with crowds like that you get the odd accident) was returned.
All in all, the producers have come out of this rather badly, and have had to apologise. The damage is done, however. We all know that the dynamics of journalism dictate that the disclosure gets the front page. In Norway, the disclaimer and apology also made headline news, in countries like Finland, though, where they have recently been addled with similar accusations (and rather more tangible proof), the journalists are happy to rub their hands in glee over the downfall of the Norwegian saints. Both the individual athletes and the Norwegian skiing association are now considering sueing TV2 for dammages. TV2, of course, do not think that there is any likelihood of loss of income in the case, but with athletes being dependent on sponsors and with people like Bjørn Dæhlie making his living by, amongst other things, selling sporting apparel, I think TV2 are being naive (or they’re just trying to get away with it…).
The funny thing is that one of TV2’s most successful shows in later years has been “Gutta på tur” (The boys’ outing), a combined travel, nature and food programme, starring, amongst others, the two main cross country skiers from “the Lillehammer era”, Bjørn Dæhlie and Vegar Ullvang. The two are now saying they would rather not appear in any more shows. The two other hosts, a presenter and a chef, being friends of the two skiers are not very enthusiastic either. I wonder whether the TV2 board will elect to express surprise at this?
On the whole, it’s perfectly possible that the athletes were using illegal drugs. It is also perfectly possible that they were not. Innocent until proven guilty. If you are going to accuse someone of cheating, you need to have proof. If you don’t, the accused, if he is a gentleman, may challenge you to a duel, so you had better brush up on your gun skills. I suggest that if any duelling is to be done, the athletes chose a champion to represent them rather than all go in individually. May I suggest one of the winners in the biathlon race?
Voice in my head: Lillebjørn Nilsen – Stilleste gutt på sovesal 1
Just had to get that off my chest.
While reading Stephen Fry’s latest book yesterday I found myself looking at the pictures and thinking that he’s actually sort of sexy in an odd way. Is this a sign of desperation or of impeccably good taste? What a pity he’s gay, eh? Anyway, the point is: He’s tall enough, he’s funny, witty (not the same thing as funny) and intelligent. And British. Mmmm. He also smokes, apparently, which is a bit of a drawback, but it seems it might be possible to convert him to smoking a pipe, which I could live with. Or maybe the point really is that he’s gay?
Oh, sod it! Why am I having this highly irrelevant – eh… fantasy hardly seems like the appropriate word, but it’ll have to do – fantasy, anyway? Better go back to oogling Tommy – though not tonight, as the photography course interferes with my Ground Force viewing.
Giving blood today. There’s a shortage at the moment, so they’ve called me in a little earlier than they would otherwise have. I don’t mind. Earlier it’s been too close to coinciding with that time of the month, which is hardly a good idea since my body’s seemingly barely up to replenishing the iron reserves at the best of times.
Voice in my head: Whitesnake, I believe, singing Here I go Again