...one list to rule them all..

I thought I would write one list a week reflecting my mood and general doings of that past week, but then I thougt to myself: why should I bother writing one list a week?!? I mean I am after trying to cut down on anal retentive behaviour, especially of the systematic kind. And so I concluded that the one-list-a-week-idea was a dumb fucking idea, as a matter of fact it wouldprobably rate fairly high on the "a-good-idea-at-the-time" list, especially since I am generally to lazy to keep such an ambitious project going...but enough of that...
So I decided to make one list, the mother of lists, the one definite systematixation, a magnificent glorious list of my all round ten favorite things (in no particular order by the way):

- The tinkeling sound of small unidentified objects being sucked into the vacuum cleaner

- Fresh bedsheets

- The smell of freshly baked white bread

- A pint of Hoegarden

- The title sequence of the French film "Delicatessen"

- My iPod

- The crispy feel of freshly washed jeans

- The etheral light at four a'clock in the morning during summer in Norway

- Feeling my neurons connect as my brain makes a new, significant intellectual discovery

- Seeing the beatiful innocent face of my girlfreind when she sleeps

so there it is...

...fall is here...

...i'm soo scared right now...

Growing up I wasn’t really scared of much, well except for the old lady with the long teeth that lived on the veranda right outside my bedroom. I wasn’t afraid of the guy who shared the dilapidated house just down the road with between 6 and 13 cats. He was always drunk and would fire his shotgun in great jubilation from time to time, mostly when the moon was full. I wasn’t really afraid of him. I just thought he smelt bad. The old lady on the other hand was a real scary cat.
Somehow my brother had convinced me she lived there on the veranda, and that she was real evil and had these really long teeth. How she managed to talk properly with all these long teeth in her mouth I will never know. I guess it was never really of great concern to me, seeing that when she came by she mostly hovered above me with her arms raised in a threatening manner, not really saying much.
It is strange how such an irrational being can be your greatest fear, an old, non-existent lady with a speech impediment and no permanent address. But she sure did scare the living bejesus out of me many a dark and stormy night, as I lay in bed just waiting for her to tap on my window.
These days I am really scared of George W. Bush. Despite his mostly irrational behaviour and the, at times quite endearing, speech impediment he is really scary. And why wouldn’t he be? He is, after all, frightfully real.

...hans is getting married...