Absurdia.net - Part 6

March 21, 2010

It feels good to be here

A place for little things, a place where time has its own times and space its own spaces. Free from hypertrophies, the swelling illnesses of the self-indulgent egos. Free from the prejudiced denials. Distress and foreboding aren’t roaming the streets with indecent voraciousness. Possibilities outgrowing their shell. But it’s still too early to confidently surrender to this encouraging and tender benevolence.

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March 12, 2010

So much to do, so little time (here we go again…)

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A lot has happened during the last month. First of all the change of residence. Not anymore the land where all catastrophes are taken as a big joke, but a land where catastrophes are taken into consideration. And taken care of, when possible. Where not almost everybody is a clown or a selfish bastard trying to screw their fellow citizens over. Where morals have gone to hell a long time ago in favor of prostitution at all levels. From Italy to Iceland. Yep. Waiting for papers to be approved and everything in order to make the change legal and, for now, definitive. And whatever happens, even if something comes up and I’ll be forced to move again, I’m not going back! Adios assholes, as the wise man once said.
Traveling through Europe by car to get here was fun. Also fatiguing, but mostly fun. It took a week to recover from the three days of journeying by ferry across the northern seas, and I suffered from motion sickness… when I got off the ferry. Overall it was something I could do again though, despite lack of internet connections, lack of toilets at the right time and place, lack of collaboration from polar bears when I was expecting to see them.
Now I am staying in a guesthouse. We – my partner in crime and I – need all the necessary documents and an officialized kennitala in order to find a better accomodation. The most difficult thing will be getting used to the crazy prices of alcohol and to the lack of any imaginable vegetable in supermarkets. But these are things that hopefully will take care of themselves with the passing of time. It’s very likely I’ll get fatter. Like I care. Here people dress in a considerate and quite dignified manner, as I could see. You can find actual clothes in stores. Not every girl here is trying to squeeze herself into impossible pants hoping a stupid kiddo with a shaved head that cannot even spell his own name will pinch her butt.
We opened another blog to document our life in Iceland. It’s called Iceland Chronicles. A pretentious name. That’s what one needs nowadays when opening a site. So yes, here we have a pretentious name and we like it. Not a personal blog though. Something more about what’s going on here and what we discover in our almost aimless strolls.
Now I am going to have a VERY EXPENSIVE drink. A Martini will be nice. Stirred because in any case I don’t have a shaker.

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February 6, 2010

It seems I’m not going to be handicapped for now

Has your mother never told you that delaying is wrong? That delaying all the time can ultimately cause terrible misfortunes or, in a more optimistic view, considerable trouble? If your mother – or your father or your whatever – is wise enough she must have told you. More than once. Obsessively. Mine is not. Wise. She is not. In fact she’s the queen of laziness and delays – and I’m happy she doesn’t speak a word of English or these few lines would cause so much discomfort to both of us if she read them. To make a boring story not an ounce less boring but at least shorter, in the last few days, because I ended following her example, I found myself in great trouble. It’s not a joke. I could have had worse consequences if it were not for a series of lucky events propelled by people I know. I could have caused much trouble to my eyesight and to my denture, just because I delayed and delayed visiting doctors. Just because symptoms aren’t evident it doesn’t mean a disease or an abnormal condition isn’t lurking. Now I’m relieved to know I’ll leave the country with proper patching both in my eye and teeth – yes, I had so much fun with petty local surgery during the last few days! Lasers and drills, like in a sci-fi B-movie! I cannot deny a certain dose of thrill will help me appreciate more the kind of relief I’m experiencing now. What if I went blind? What if my teeth fell or rot? What if this and what if that? It’s not going to happen for now! Huzzah! Alas, I’m not sure I’ll remember the same thrill and subsequent relief next time. Humans are stupid and troublesome after all. Especially troublesome when zeal does not support their daily life philosophy.
BTW, I had fun reading brothers Grimm’s fairy tales in doctors’ lounges. I almost wished it lasted a little more. Oh wait. I’m not done yet. It’ll last a little more, indeed.

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January 30, 2010

I hate technology

When there’s absolutely no need for trouble… it’s when trouble likes the most to make an appearance. It’s two days that I’m struggling to make USD devices work properly. First the iPhone wouldn’t charge, then the external hard disk would disconnect all the time and nobody has a solution for it. Damned hard disk… all my photos are on it. And I won’t be able to move them anywhere because before I can do anything it will disconnect again. If I lose all those photos I’m going to get really mad. Really. Mad.

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January 26, 2010

Steadily drawing nearer

The feeling is sort of alienating and bizarrely reassuring. You don’t have anything to do with your environment anymore. You don’t have to cope. What seemed so aggravating a little time ago seems so distant now. People are merging in the background. Their forms are silhouettes taken from postcards or pictures in magazines, from vehicles going somewhere else. Places acquire a strange dimension. Details ignored for decades start to form a distinctive image before the eye. Everything becomes in a sense peculiar.

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January 23, 2010

Packing

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It’s so true: owning things means just trouble. One never realizes how much junk one owns until it’s time to move and to sort it out. Packing can be unnerving and deciding what’s going into a box and what’s going to feed the trashbin isn’t easy. Especially when you’re the sort of person who can’t really throw away anything.
I’ve never really got rid of things, so now I find the process of condemning anything that’s been with me for years and years to eternal oblivion almost unbearable. It’s like betrayal.
Twenty boxes of books only have been piled in the living room. There are still enough books around – my books, not counting my parents’ – to fill quite a few. But all the books I couldn’t give away with bookmooch are not to be thrown away. Some really bad comic book maybe, but no more than that. With music is another story. Because I have so many crap albums I’d gladly throw away or destroy. If only… if only it didn’t seem wrong. It seems immoral, but I don’t really know why. But the real tragedy is with clothes. What the hell… I haven’t thrown away anything in the last ten years and though now I should be able to figure out the whole thing simply getting rid of older stuff, I just can’t. Clothes that may look like rags to others still look like they have a lot of life in them to me. Also, I’m really fond of some item that has a hole here or a strange stain or a cigarette mark there.
Is there a term to describe this sort of attitude? I mean, things are only things, you can’t really be fond of them to this point. To the point of going bonkers over this sort of question: “should I throw away? shouldn’t I? maybe I’ll keep it, maybe not… it’s wrong, it’s not so wrong” etc., going on for hours and hours. It must be a clinical condition with its proper description for it. But I’m not interested in knowing it, really. You learn one definition and start thinking it has to work like that. Like with medical encyclopaedias: you start reading each definition and you end being completely sure you’re having at least sixty percent of the conditions you’ve been reading about.

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