Context!

I was browsing through listverse when the creator of an article I read earlier today (about the top 10 mass murders or something along those lines) apologized and removed said article due to highly controversial content (claiming abortion was the #1 (ongoing) mass murder). Even though I do slightly agree with the man, this one fellow who decided to show his support left much to be desired:

“Dont listen to those fucks, the one of us who had no problem is way higher then the ones that did. its just there the noisy ones. just ignore those fags, i really licked that list. you should do more.”

I mean, it starts off relatively well – he capitalized the first letter. Then he dwells into nonsense. I think what he’s trying to say is that those who had no problem with the list are better than those who didn’t. And, yeah, we shouldn’t listen to “those fags” because this writer “really licked that list”. This “licking” apparently led to a crazy addiction, because the author of the comment demands more lists to satisfy his needs.

To be fair, the writer probably had the best of intentions in mind, trying to show his support for the author of the article who ever so humbly apologized for expressing his views on abortion. But the means were just horrific – lack of grammar and spelling, not to mention unnecessary insults.

The internet sure helps kill hopes of intelligent life out there.

In other news, I’m thinking of writing a longer post concerning my (mis)adventures the previous weekend. I am also looking at a couple of magazines in hopes that they might buy a couple of short stories from me. Imagine that! My mad ramblings in a magazine. The world would implode.

Until next time, ladies and gents!

Usual 10:30?

To which he replied:

You got it

I lay in bed for another half an hour, taking a little nap, and wake up grabbing the watch and for a moment believing it displays well past 10:30. Not only would I be late for my meeting, I would be late for class. Fortunately, it’s actually only 9:55, so I get out of bed, close the curtains, turn on the shaving light over my sink and brush my teeth. I pull on these old jeans, put on my “one vodka, two vodka, three vodka, drop dead” t-shirt, then wet and fix my hair as my computer is starting up. I open the curtains again and notice that it’s raining outside; not crazy pouring, but there’s definitely water falling from the sky. I proceed to check the essentials – facebook, e-mail, slashfilm.com and anything else that might interest me – and gather all important documents and objects before leaving the bunker.

Before actually meeting up with Shaun, I take a detour to the Reception to get my lunch card, somewhat cleverly called the “QUIK PAY” card. I get this with 10 pounds already on it in return for a signature. I wait under cover for 2 minutes and Shaun arrives and we continue onwards towards University, him holding his backpack over his head to protect himself from the rain. We agree that more extreme measures need to be taken and decide to go looking for umbrellas after class. Of course, first we need to get to class…

For the second time in two weeks, I lead Shaun to the wrong building. I still do pride myself in more-less knowing where things are, but it gets problematic once you don’t know WHERE you need to be. We still get to class on time, but after taking another trek through the rain. The hour of sitting there and jotting down some notes goes by quickly, and soon enough we find ourselves with 4 hours of free time before the darn thing resumes. We decide to walk around, Lee (Cook), Shaun, and I, and end up at a sports center because of an errand Lee needs to run. We buy some cool gear and just keep walking down the street until I ask a rather important question – “where are we going, guys?” Lee looks at Shaun. “I was following you.” “What? I was just following you guys.” You could see the harbour nearby, which meant we were close to Lucia Foster (our dorm). Truth be told, Shaun told us about having to meet someone at 1 to go buy tickets. It was around 12:55. Shaun tells us that he would get a text from her first and that we would then know where to go. Sounds very much like a drug deal of some kind. But he then mentions that he should probably turn his cellphone off silent mode and, surprise-surprise, as he proceeds to do so, notices that he has already received said text message followed by a call. He promises to be at University in “10 minutes”. “Nah, man, 15 at least,” I tell him, but by then it’s too late. Whatever, we’ll just walk quicker.

15 minutes later, we arrive at University and find Rachel hiding behind a pillar. She attempted to shelter herself from the rain and cold wind, having been outside for over 20 minutes, waiting. No hard feelings, though; all is good on the friendship front as Shaun explains how we came to be late. After a brief recap of how everyone got to the point we were right then, we continue to this huge building next to the Conference Centre where Shaun and Rachel buy tickets to some events. While waiting for them, I glance around for other events that are happening in the upcoming weeks. A Bob the Builder live performance, some crazy ABBA party, a Proclaimers concert, film week all over Southampton. As it were, they had  restaurant nearby and I recognized the smell of food.

That’s something you learn at university – you eat to live. It’s something to keep you going, much like gasoline is to a car. You do not have the will to get too fancy with what you cook. Fry an egg or potatoes, cook some food from a package, heat a pizza, make a sandwich. I am considering buying bananas, bacon, and toothpicks to create some magic in the upcoming week. A small snack to get me through the night.

Next on our agenda is going to get some lunch, and where else would you go if not Yates’s. Burger and chips for 2 pounds, a glass of Coke another pound and something, and you’ve got yourself a meal. We discuss matters of great importance, world issues, screenwriting, movies, the usual riff-raff, exposing Rachel to a prestiguous gathering of the minds. We are screenwriters, damn it, and as such, we are intellectuals. Writing requires a certain craziness and outlook to the world around us, which I believe many people possess but do not know how to or cannot be bothered to use. Writers aren’t born – we evolve into what we are. Keep an open mind, read a lot, write a lot, watch movies, philosophise, drink, listen to what others have to say, connect dots in your head. The latter sounds very much like being a detective, but it’s something you have to be able to do; connect situations from your own life to form new ones and write about them. That is essentially what writing is.

But we do not only talk about whatever film and writing matters. After all, we do have a lovely lady at our presence and we cannot ignore her.

Argh! I do not remember the details of much of the day anymore! I should have written everything down immediately. But, no, I had to get all lazy. This is it, folks. Any insight into what we discussed is gone. But I assure you, that you are not missing out on much – it’s just the usual daily riff-raff. Anyway…

After lunch, we walk towards University, and split up with Lee, because the man is in Group A, which have class from 3-4, and we are in Group B, the ones right after. Or so we think (more on that later). Shaun and I decide that, since we’ve done some shopping, our stomachs are filled, and there isn’t much else to do for an hour, we’ll walk Rachel back to her flat. So that’s what we do.

We decide to take the elevator to the fourth floor, and Rachel pressing the button before I can get into the elevator, resulting in me pretty much leaping in at the last moment, inspires a most ingenious revenge (if I do say so myself). Once we arrive at the top, I quickly press G and for the doors to close, then jump out of the darn thing. Rachel being so darn small and agile quickly leaps after me, leaving Shaun to fight with the door. It is quite the epic struggle, only comparable to the Hulk trying to pry something open. Rachel eventually saves him by pressing the button that opens the doors. I later admit that my plan was faulty – had I sent Rachel down, we would have been stuck until she got back because she is the one with the keys to the flat.

The next bit is not really fascinating, so I’ll just fast forward to when Shaun and I leave. I pull the same prank on him as before, this time trying to send him back up. The doors do not react as fast as expected and I am in deep disappointment.

As we walk towards class, we begin to have great doubts as to whether the groups were actually split up today or not. Paranoia and self-doubt kicks in. We plan to somehow sneak by the classroom and peek in and if class is in session, we’ll just go home. Game over. We lose. On (Bum) Rape Bridge, I text Joel:

Are we just the 2nd period or are you already there?

To which he replies four minutes later:

Just heading there now, just the second half I think

I calm down, but Shaun has gotten the Fear and cannot shake it off easily. “What if it’s just an elaborate plot to get us to show up anyway and once we arrive they’ll all laugh at us?” I refuse to get affected by these mad words, but decide to check the message again and analyze it in great detail in case there is something to be suspicious of in it. There is nothing. We hurry through the park and into University. When we enter the classroom, the class is already in session, but JUST started by the looks of it. We were split in groups after all. All is good.

We are given clues as to what movie we are going to be shown the next day. It’s American, released 1984, based on a novel, male lead role, title contains The and is only two words (including The).

After a hard hour’s worth of work, Shaun and I venture back towards Lucia Foster, but instead of going back to our rooms immediately, we embark upon a detour to the nearby Tesco for some shopping (the only thing I have left is a box of butter). We go to the nearby cinema to see what they’re showing and seeing that The Invention of Lying is on in a little more than an hour and a half, we decide to go see it. Right after putting away our grocieries, of course. 10 minutes before meeting up with Shaun again, I remember the clues given about the movie screened tomorrow, so I look into it and figure it has to be The Natural with Robert Redford.

The movie itself was pretty good, in my opinion. A comedy which very much reminded me of Bruce Almighty. There is plenty of humor, but underneath it all lies  much deeper message which manages to sink in throughout the course of the movie. The protagonist being a screenwriter only adds to the experience, because I can relate the philosophy of the movie to a relevant subject. Screenwriters are liars. We come up with fantastic tales that amuse and entertain people, sometimes even gaining an insane follwing. If we weren’t able to lie, there would be no interesting stories to tell.

Before walking back to Lucia Foster, we go to Tesco again and I get a bottle of Pepsi. Shaun texts Rachel and I ask him to add that if possible, it would be nice if she returned me my rum and whiskey glass. I only get the former, because the room with the floor I slept on days earlier is such a mess that the girl is not able to find it nor is she willing to look. Not in the mood. I swear to write about it in my goddamn blog, saying that YOU BASTARDS HAVE STOLEN MY WHISKEY GLASS! If anyone on the fouth floor of Cook Block know about the whereabouts of said whiskey glass, it would be greatly apprechiated if I could get it back. It’s blasphemy to drink from these plastic IKEA cups.

We talk for a couple of minutes before deciding to go to Shaun’s room. There, we listen to music and watch stand-up comedy by Russell Brand. During the course of the night, I am asked if I call “it” a “cellphone”. For the lack of a better response, I say “Yeah…Welcome to America!” Really, what else could I say?

I later discover that neither of them have heard of the movie UP (well, Rachel had heard of it but she was still rather clueless). I am amazed, and urge them to go see it whenever possible. Turns out it’s not out here until October 9 (as of writing this, it is now out). I’ve already seen this masterpiece two times, once in English and once in Estonian and 3D. For the past couple of days, I have pointed out every UP advertisement in the city and told people that they HAVE TO go see it. This movie is filled with infinite win.

Finally back in my room. I’m hungry, so I go and get a box of grapes from the fridge, eating them as I check what’s happening in the virtual community. Around 2 or 3 I am tired enough to shut down my laptop and fall asleep. I have a screening to look forward to the next day. The Natural. I just know it’s that movie.

(It is.)

Hours earlier…

We were at some nightclub or something (there were comfortable seats, loud music, a bar), just sitting there, trying to make sense of what other people were saying (because of the goddamn loud music). We were brought here by someone who resembles Jeremy Piven and quickly disappeared into a massive crowd. There was a small area for dancing, but I was in no mood to do any of that. Standing in queue and exchanging a few lines with random people (sometimes even ones you know), immediately result in their girlfriends asking if they know me. I think the most appropriate reaction would be to answer yourself with, for example, “No, but you COULD know me.” In today’s technology age, you don’t even have to have met a person to be friends with them. It’s all just words and numbers and sitting on your ass, waiting for a message so that you can write a reply and so on and so forth (which actually reminds me that I promised to write someone a message – perhaps after finishing this).

But I’m getting off-topic. So we were there at that nightclub (or something) for a while and then decided to return to good ol’ Lucia Foster Welch, which I have become to simply call “home” in casual conversations. But the night continued upstairs in the kitchen of Cook block. I do not remember the exact order in which any conversations were had or how any of them even came to be, and I do not intend to post any approximate transcripts of them either, but I do remember long discussions about filmmaking, TV series, comic books, and video games with a girl. It was surreal, in a sense, definitely timeless as people wandered in and out, constant movement all the time. Some of them I didn’t even recognize, strangers from another place.

Oh, God, I just had another flashback to the image ingrained in my brain. She showed everyone a picture of a tiger she had painted and I stared at in for a good 5 minutes until the darn thing just burned in my brain. It is a great picture and I don’t mind it appearing every now and then and all, but a burn is a burn.

Eventually it was too late to make any sense. Up was down, black was white, and I had to trek down 4 floors, take a couple of steps to the right, enter the door, and climb to the 6th floor. No easy task at 4am and after a couple of drinks. So we somehow ended up in her room, watching television as she went to sleep. It was teletubbies on crack, weird things happening left and right and it was all narrated and acted by some overly-hyper black man. I recall making a comment about how kids today don’t grow up with proper programmes.

I grew up with “Iron Man”, “Spider-Man”, “Hulk”, “X-Men”, and “Fantastic Four” cartoons, “Biker Mice from Mars”, “Knight Rider”, “Quantum Leap” anything Cartoon Network, “Batman: The Animated Series”, and “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers” (after all, t’was the 90s…). I also recall some detective stuff such as “Columbo”, “Jake and the Fatman” and ”Murder She Wrote”. Around the age of 7-8, my favorite movie was “Die Hard: With a Vengeance”.

I love my childhood.

But enough of that. Eventually there were only two of us sitting on her floor, talking about life and whatnot. And then I fell asleep for about an hour, woke up to find the other guy still sitting there, almost meditating-like. We gave each other a look like two war veterans who have been through some crazy shit and then she woke up.

I wake up in my bed, look at my watch, get dressed, and wander off to school. A total of 3 hours of sleep. Do the same and you, too, can look as handsome as this:

My first reaction was “OH MY GOD, I LOOK LIKE A HOMOSEXUAL!”, but the more I look at it, the more I become used to it. My friend, Shaun, looks like a tired serial killer. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m taking a break tonight.”

This text has taken me a couple of days to write. Busy times. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this place if this keeps up. I can promise to write once a month, which is not much. Or…twice a month? Maybe more? Actually, fuck it - I’m going to write whenever I feel like it. If there’s anything to say, it will be said.

I just got an e-mail saying that people are looking for a 20-30 minute screenplay. I think I shall go and do some thinking.

Until next time! (whenever that may be)

It all starts with an average day at school, sitting in class and listening to the teacher babbling about something boring but “educational”. Take note that this seems like an “average” school, one with, what the books call, muggles. Apparently there is no such thing as Hogwarts; us few wizards and witches have to blend in with the rest of the crowd, play by their rules, and…

An alarm! A mental alarm, conjured by some elderly Dumbledore-like wizard that only wizards and witches can hear. Everyone who can hear it get up from their seats and proceed to leave class. Chaos erupts, the teacher is shocked and demands that we sit down, other students give us strange looks. We cannot really help ourselves – we are compelled to answer this distress call. And, hell, I figure we’re glad to get out of boring ol’ class.

Hmm..let’s rewind the clock a little. Maybe this is actually a small, “underground”, wizard school with only one class. The distress call is heard by everyone, but only a chosen group are allowed to answer it; advanced students that deal with relatively dangerous situations. This would make sense, because as we walk down the hallway, some guy grabs ahold of whom I think is Luna Lovegood and tells us that “oh, no, I’m looking after her!” But maybe it’s just some concerned “boyfriend” who doesn’t want her to follow the crazy crowd…No matter what, we are all leaving the darn place, Luna included. She breaks free from her “boyfriend”, just smiles and continues following us. I can’t help but smiling myself. The guy has had a thing for her for quite some time now, but she doesn’t like him back and has made that clear to him too. The guy still continues being protective and brave in an attempt to win her heart.

We exit the building are in something of a rural area. The weather is cloudy, right before rain, and the nature around us is a combination of dark green and gray with the occasional brown here-there. Suddenly we all have brooms in our hands. We might have called for them, but even if we did cast some sort of spell – accio, for example – the darn things appeared faster than the speed of light; out of thin air. “Whoa, where did these come from?!” someone jokes (possibly Ron). Yes, comments like these are amusing when you can do magic. We kick off and take flight. The air is refreshing, our clothes flutter in the wind.

This bit is a bit hazy for me. We might have landed somewhere, had some discussion, and then split up. All I know is that now there’s only Ron, Harry, Hermione, and I left flying somewhere, this time with carpet-like things that roll up and become almost like brooms. After a while, someone (Harry?) remarks that we’re approaching an airport. In my mind the reasonable thing to do is drop down, get below radar, so that what I tell everyone to do. We get too low, goddamn branches start slapping us as we fly through something of a forest. “Ah, fuck this,” I exclaim as we pull up slightly higher. It’s a tense moment – pull up too high and the radar will detect us, someone might be sent after us, questions will be asked. “Excuse me, do you have license to fly that carpet-broom of yours?” “Sorry, officer, I must have left it in the pocket of my other jacket.” Give the guy a reassuring smile, maybe he’ll let you go this time. It just might work…

We were still not high enough, some branches were unavoidable. As Hermione began to complain, she was smacked by a pretty big one and fell off her carpet-broom. Looking down, the fall seemed pretty high and she seemed to be falling in slow motion. The guys were loudly discussing and thinking of casting some sort of spell which would increase her velocity. Goddamn wizard pranks – even if it hurts, you’ll always be able to cast some spell that cures it. I dove down, arm extended towards her, slowly pulling it back; some sort of spell that slowed down her fall. In the end we both crashed into the ground, but it was not much worse than, say, falling out of your bed, and my carpet unravelled below me, cushioning my fall. I hear Harry and Ron mocking me from above, wanting to know why I just went and did that. Hermione gets up, a little embarrssed, and quietly thanks me. “It was nothing,” I tell her. We smile, throw our carpets in front of us, they roll up tightly mid-air, we jump on them and take off.

We eventually arrive at some stone maze. I recognize the place – we’ve been here before. Had to get some kind of treasure chest or something. But it has changed. Before there was a building, but now there are stone ruins. We glide down. I swiftly fly past some burning candle or something and light a cigarette, then touch down. Inhale deeply, let the smoke run through my system, then blow out. I look to my side and there’s a goddamn ugly witch standing right there, eyes popped wide open, a huge grin on her face! Jesus Christ! For a moment I’m startled, but then I somehow remember that this witch is scared of fire, so I flick my lit cigarette at her. Burn!

Nothing happens. The darn thing just bounces off of her. Crap! She asks for my name. For some reason I suspect telling her my name and her repeating it would cause me to die in all kinds of ways, so I tell her some random name – something Spanish-sounding. I actually sound really convincing and polite. Then I get a box of matches and attempt to light one, but fail horribly. And even when I do manage to get one on fire, the darn witch blows it out. I run around, stalling for time, telling the witch, “oh, hey, would you like to meet my friend? His name is (something random again).” She is greatly interested in names. There has to be a simpler way in doing this, so I run to the fireplace (which is, conveniently, lit) and stick my hand with one match close to the flames. It burns me a bit, but I’d rather be burned than dead! The match catches fire, I quickly turn to the witch and throw it at her. This time it is more effective – her skin begins to melt away. I repeat this action a couple of times, sometimes slashing the match across her chest and stomach, causing it to get burned badly. Occasionally I also yell for the others to do something, but they are rather useless, frozen.

Eventually the witch escapes and volcano begins to surround the ruins. Piece of cake, we’ll just get our carpet-brooms and…Hermione begins screaming. The carpets are burning. All except mine, which I managed to pick up in the nick of time. I tell everyone to gather ’round and we’ll fly off together, but this seems impossible. A totally doomed situation, it seems. But then I notice a window and no hot magma there. Needless to say, I smashed the window and we all got the hell out. I don’t know what was up with doing witchcraft in the ruins, but now everyone have brooms again. Typical. You can do witchcraft until it’s most useful. We fly away and see the witch and some other associate running away and cursing at us. I stop in air for a moment, give her the middle finger and shout “fuck you, witch!” We fly off into the distance, laughing.

That’s it. It all seemed more real. The characters didn’t have metaphors for flaws. No love potions to represent falling in love and sexual desires. There was swearing, smoking, fear, even elements of bullying, and it all happened for no reason. It was natural. A real Harry Potter.

I am, of course, speaking of buying and drinking Dr. Pepper instead of the usual Coca Cola. There are differences between the two. Dr. Pepper seems to have a hint of cherry taste, which makes drinking it a pleasure – it goes down easily. But Coke packs a punch; the taste is strong, sometimes the fizz burns as you down a glass. More importantly, however, Coke really gives you a kick start. After a couple of glasses, you begin to feel slight shakes in your body, energy spreading quickly. For a moment you become the Duracell bunny. And that is when I write and/or brainstorm. Dr. Pepper, in that aspect, is a disappointment. It serves no practical purpose, whatsoever.

I realized my previous post dealing with a “blast from the past” is a disappointment of sorts. Just pure nostalgia, containing names and jokes that you, the Reader, might not understand unless you’re part of the very select group that has had the priviledge of knowing those fine fellow pirates. So I’ll try keeping it current from now on and always provide a concrete context whenever I quote something.

OH, GOD! Dr. Pepper actually has some effects! Not as good as Coke, but still some effects. Minor shakes, a little energy coursing through my hands. Time to write, folks. Who needs to buy expensive and illegal drugs when all you need is a bottle of Coke and writings by Hunter S. Thompson or watching some excerpt from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Even better if you have a couple of good friends nearby, ’cause then you can bounce crazy ideas off of them and keep the game going. Multiple seals passing a ball around at a circus is more fun that only one.

Decided to shave my non-existent beard and moustache today (calling it anything else would be unfair, a complete exaggeration). In all honesty, I actually want to grow a moustache. Just ’cause. But at the rate it’s coming along I’ll have my goal achieved by 40, maybe. Once I get this eye surgery thing and get rid of my glasses, which is a goal I intend to fulfill, I’m planning on shaving my head. Again, just ’cause. If it doesn’t suit me, I’ll just grow it back. Eventually. Hopefully.

Another thing on my crazy “to-do” list is getting a typewriter. Nothing too fancy, nothing too old, nothing too expensive. Just something I can use to type my thoughts on in some classy fashion. Think more carefully before writing, as to avoid making mistakes and structuring my ramblings in a fashion that makes sense. It would be great practice, requiring more thinking than usual.

Dr. Pepper is wearing off. I was right – it doesn’t quite pack the punch Coke does.

Talked to Alan earlier. It was good hearing him after what has seemed like ages. Before we resorted to just writing, and I attempted to make some point which not even I was sure of. Note that this was just before Dr. Pepper started kicking in, and sounds very much like drunk talk. Not even I am sure what to make of all this, so I’ve included the entire excerpt from our conversation for you to decide and learn something from this yourself. All I can say is that it seems to be about Truth and Honesty:

• Pearu: I have come to be rather free in the written realms; honest. I compliment girls, for example, in any sane man’s view obvioulsy coming on to them, and then I apologize and say that I just said it because it sounded good in my head. I mean, I don’t want to seem like a player, right? But some quotes are just brilliant and the moment is perfect so I seize it.
• Alan: haha what do you mean?
• Pearu: I don’t know, man.
• Pearu:
• Pearu: I guess that when it comes to writing, I don’t like to give false ideas or something.
• Pearu: Don’t let people make assumptions, because they might come back and haunt you.
• Alan: hmm i think i sort of get it
• Pearu: There are just brilliant phrases and brilliant moments to say them and when the two come together then it’s just pure magic. It just happens. Boom! There, I said it, it’s out there. But what if, speaking in the girl context again, you don’t really want to hit on her or give her an idea that you’re interested in her.
• Pearu: Or, actually, you tell a girl she’s attractive and all, and you’re being honest but you don’t mean to hit on her in such a way. Just being honest, because she is, y’know?
• Pearu: Dr. Pepper might be messing with my head.
• Alan: hahaha
• Alan: maybe i need some coke to understand
• Pearu: hahahah
• Pearu: Ok, let me try to make a relevant example.
• Pearu: Let’s say being Asian is a huge compliment.
• Pearu: Equivalent to handsome or something like that.
• Pearu: So I tell you “Alan, man, don’t worry about anything and stop listening to other people – in my opinion you are totally Asian.”
• Pearu: And because you ARE Asian, it’s a true statement.
• Pearu: But since it’s also a compliment, it also seems like I’m being nice to you or coming on to you. If you were a girl, that is.
• Alan: ohhh
• Alan: i see
• Pearu: But I don’t mean to hit on you, just being honest.
• Pearu: yes
• Alan: haha yeah so it’s lieka pun sometimes?
• Pearu: Yeah, something like that. It’s like, say, let’s forget I ever liked Tiantian. I don’t. We’re just friends and all, alright? And I tell her that she’s attractive, which, truth be told, she is in my eyes. But since in this hypothetical world I don’t like-like her, then I don’t mean it as trying to hit on her or having any alternative motives but rather just being honest.
• Pearu: But others, her including, might see it otherwise.
• Alan: yeah
• Pearu: Man, this is some heavy shit for 8pm.
• Alan: lol
• Pearu: And I’m getting minor shakes.
• Alan: hahaha
• Pearu: Dr. Pepper is kicking in.
• Pearu: oh, man
• Pearu: Not as good as Coke.
• Pearu: But still works to some extent.

That’s it. End of the line folks. Enough for today. More some other day.

(note: some parts have been edited so they make more sense; essentially removing out-of-context material from in-between segments)

It started with Woong Ki dissing Darren and Darren retaliating and a little later forming a cunning plan:

• Woong Ki: sorry darren
• Woong Ki: my love for you has gone cold
• Darren: kay
• Darren: you have nothing
• Darren: where your heart should be
• Darren: NOTHING

• Darren: you know what
• Darren: fuck you guys
• Darren: I’m giong to get a date
• Darren: I’ll wear a sign tomorrow
• Darren: “DATE DARREN FOR FREE ANY TAKERS?”
• Alan: DESPERATE
• Darren: or I’ll get a stall going
• Darren: “Free prom dates”
• Darren: it’ll be like a kissing booth
• Darren: except
• Darren: for prom dates

After some rambling about this-that, Darren decided to make a couple of his typical random statements:

• Darren: I’m making the greatest facial experience right now

• Darren: guys
• Darren: guess what
• Darren: I AM GNOK
• Darren: THE ACID KONG

This was followed by  discussion of the theme of prom:

• Woong Ki: beating the XX outta darren is the theme
• Alan: lol
• Alan: beating the sexy outta darren
• Darren: DON’T HATE ME CUZ YOU AIN’T ME

And Adam forgets Darrens birthday, causing him to react:

• Adam: erm, darren, when was your birthday? XD
• Pearu: 1st?
• Darren: ADAM
• Darren: NO
• Darren: HEART
• Darren: WHERE
• Darren: wait
• Darren: I take i back
• Darren: ADAM
• Darren: NOTHING
• Darren: WHERE
• Darren: HEART
• Darren: SHOULD
• Darren: BE
• Adam: DARREN
• Adam: NOTHING
• Adam: WHERE
• Adam: BRAIN
• Adam: SHOULD
• Adam: BE

Alan joins the madness by making a random statement:

• Alan: nobody walks as fast as i do
• Alan: when i rampage

And then makes fun of Darren:

• Alan: hey darren baby you wanna have some fun at the purrrrrrrooommm?!
• Alan: /wink at darren
• Kyle: love mood betweeen Darren and Alan
• Darren: HOMOMENT

Kyle decides it’s a perfect moment to teach how to get a date:

• Kyle: lesson one..–
• Kyle: go to girl
• Kyle: tow. say hello

Alan corrects him:

• Alan: before that
• Alan: make sure it’s a girl

And we move on to pick-up lines:

• Pearu: “Good thing I brought my library card, ’cause I’M CHECKIN’ YOU OUT!”

• Alan: I WISH I WAS YOUR TANGENT SO I COULD LAY NEXT TO YOUR CUVES
• Alan: *CURVES
• Darren: HEY IF I ASK YOU TO GO TO PROM WITH ME, WOULD THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION BE THE SAME AS THE ANSWER TO THIS QUESTION?
• Adam: lol
• Alan: LOL
• Adam: that’s terrible darren
• Darren: yeah say that again when it gets me dates

• Darren: IF I TOLD YOU THAT YOU HAD A NICE BODY WOULD YOU HOLD IT AGAINST ME?

Enough fun with those – we return to more serious topics:

• Alan: us asian guys need dates
• Pearu: us white guys too!
• Adam: and Darren!
• Kyle: haha…..glad i got one.–;;
• Darren: I’ masian fool
• Pearu: hahah
• Adam: masian?
• Alan: FK YOU KYLE LOL
• Pearu: White Guys, Asian Guys, and Darren
• Alan: just like how it’s
• Alan: guys, girls, darren
• Pearu: hahahah
• Darren: NOTHIGN WHERE YOUR HEARTS SHOULD BE

Kyle draws everyone’s attention to books such as “Art of Seduction”:

• Darren: eyah I don’t need to read it to get girls
• Pearu: There’s books?!
• Pearu: I thought it was second nature
• Darren: it’s first nature

But then Darren gets curious:

• Darren: yo
• Darren: kyle
• Darren: you have to tell me
• Darren: which type of SEDUCTOR I am
• Pearu: The worst kind

And a little later:

• Darren: I don’t even know what those mean
• Darren: anti seducer is bad right?

Then everyone remember that Jenny is still part of the conversation and she is asked to leave. With her gone, the boys wonder if she read the conversation.

• Adam: she had to listen to all of Darren’s jokes
• Kyle: ..–;;;
• Kyle: no.–;;
• Pearu: yeah
• Kyle: well
• Alan: lol
• Pearu: poor thing
• Kyle: okay
• Darren: I’M HILARIOUS

The discussion continues and eventually everyone leaves except Darren and Adam. Darren makes a bold statement and Adam confuses me:

• Darren: I couldn’t care less actually
• Darren: It’s better to go alone and get a girl at the end of prom
• Adam: yeah
• Adam: right when school ends
• Adam: no better time
• Darren: I can’t tell if that’s sar casm
• Pearu: ?
• Adam: it is
• Pearu: My amazingly sophisticated brain is confused.

Darren has a flashback:

• Darren: dude remember that one time
• Darren: o reilly was talkign to you
• Darren: and I’m like
• Darren: “i’ll be in film next year”
• Darren: lol
• Pearu: And tomorrow it’s gonna snow.
• Pearu: yeah
• Darren: what a cool guy

Finally, before signing out after 2 hours of madness, we discuss if it’s possible to meet someone twice:

• Darren: what do you mean met twice
• Darren: hwo do you meet someone more than once
• Pearu: well, you meet them, introduce each other, then meet them again in the hallway.
• Pearu: That would be twice
• Pearu: Unless my count is off…
• Pearu: Adam?
• Adam: Adam?
• Pearu: You can meet someone twice, yeah?
• Adam: erm
• Adam: like
• Adam: I’ve met you more times then I care to count?
• Pearu: yeah
• Adam: like that kind of meet
• Adam: then yes
• Adam: I guess you can

And that’s it. One night discussing prom. In the end, I don’t think many of us got dates. At least not Adam, Darren, nor I. Who cares – it was just junior prom, yeah? At that time, compared to prom it was nothing, really. THE prom was where it was at. A year later, more people would have dates, but not us few, the gang of pirates.

I woke up this morning at 7-8am and then forced myself to sleep until at least 10. I am not motivated to do anything at the moment. If anything, I’m looking forward to Friday, when more people begin arriving, amongst them a certain Shaun who will help me take over Lucia Foster Welch ad then the streets and bars surrounding it. One Wait has been replaced by another, but if I managed to survive 2 months, then 2 days should be a piece of cake.

The first thing I did after finally getting up was unpacking. Clothes in closet, books, three Buddha figures, and a whiskey glass on the shelf, stuff in drawers, organizing the table, putting the suitcases away. It now looks like someone actually lives here. Next up was taking a shower. No big deal, right? Just pick out fresh clothes, get a towel, go take a shower, put on new clothes and that’s that. Wrong! Somehow even a task as simple as that had to be made complicated. After wasking myself, I noticed spots appearing on the floor. It took me a moment to realize my nose was bleeding. I quickly lay back on the floor, staring at the ceiling, hoping it would be over soon. About 3 minutes later, everything was under control. Well…almost everything. The darn place looked like I killed someone, a savage beating at least, even the walls had some blood on them. I tried to clean up as well as I could, but it didn’t make much of a difference. I decided to leave the rest up to the cleaning people around here. They’ll be in for quite a surprise. I just hope they don’t start an investigation and seach all rooms. The black leather gloves in my closet might be suspicious…

After my misadventure in the shower, I decided to dwell into the virtual world and chat with a couple of friends. I had a three-way convo with fellow pirates Roddy and Darren, and we ended up talking about our parents joining facebook and adding us as friends.

• Roddy: its not so bad
• Roddy: i just cant swear much anywhere
• Roddy: which i dont really anyway
• Roddy: and i have to be on facebook faster than her
• Roddy: to untag myself from unwanted things
• Roddy: or just increase privacy
• Pearu: I should post a picture of a penis and tag you and have it show up on the feed.
• Pearu: No, even better – I’ll have Howard do it
• Roddy: oh geez
• Roddy: lol
• Roddy: i rad “i should post a picture of your penis etc etc”
• Roddy: *read
• Roddy: doubly disturbing pearu
• Roddy: way to be a creepy homo 
• Darren: HAHAHAHA
• Darren: fantasies surface
• Roddy: eweewwww
• Pearu: lol

During the same conversation, I decided to fill out the blank space left on this sign on my door. They have them on all the doors here, and I didn’t really know what they expected me to write, so I wrote: “Love Bunker” inhabited by a linguistic madman. It’s meant to attract newcomers to the door, but if anything, it seems more like a warning. “Keep out – this can of sardines contains a crazy one!” Only time will tell what happens…

Next on my agenda was hunting for a store and buying things I could eat, drink, and properly wash myself with. As I explored the neighborhood, I stumbled upon a sign near a pond-like thing which said something along the lines of “This water is not drinkable! No paddling!” A real shame, I thought. And here I was, wanting to try some of this fine pond water…

Then I reached a dead end, turned back, took a right somewhere and arrived at a Tesco store. It had everything I needed: some drink, some food, showering gel, and Pearu lives to see another day. I must say, though, the Brits keep on surprising me with their attitude and generosity. I left the store feeling absolutely positive after interacting with the cashier.

Once I returned home, I pondered over the fate of my blogging. That doesn’t mean I considered giving up doing it – hell no! – I was considering something that might attract more readers and possibly give me a little extra pocket money. Get published in or sponsored by some magazine or something. I remember Joycelin telling me about Seventeen magazine having some blogging contest, so I decided to check out their website and what they’re about. Soon enough I realized it was not my cup of tea at all. No. Wait. I was not their cup of tea. They would have to re-title their magazine to Eighteen Magazine, as in “over eighteen only”. Would I consider censoring and toning it down if they published my writings and paid me? Yes. But an uncensored version would definitely make its way somewhere online.

Finally, Facebook. People from Southampton groups have been inviting me to all kinds of parties and my inbox is being littered by messages from people repeating that “tickets will sell out soon, get yours today!” I’m paranoid, not stupid! I know what’s going on! It’s a clever marketing technique. You tell people there won’t be any left for them, they buy tickets like crazy not wanting to miss out, and eventually there really aren’t any left. Any more messages repeating previous information and I just might leave all those party groups. It’s like being signed up for spam mail.

Anyway, the night is dark, airplanes continue to fly over my head, and I’m getting tired. More another day. But for now, take care, ladies and gentlemen!

Even though the whole business of getting up and preparing for the trip was supposed to start at 7am, I was already up by 6 and moved around the room, making sure that I didn’t forget anything important. My cousin (or whatever you call your grandmother’s sister’s son) woke up at the right time, calmly took a shower, and we left to the Tallinn airport around 7:15am. The entire trip I had something of a breakdown, a sense of the inevitable. Like a convict being walked to some room where he is due to be executed. You accept it but there is still some unrest that you cannot subdue. We checked in our baggage and went for some breakfast. Two triangle-shaped chicken sandwhiches and a glass of Coke was to be the only food I would see for over the next 12 hours…

The flight to Riga was short. There’s not much else to say about it. I started reading “Kingdom of Fear: Loathsome Secrets of a Star-Crossed Child in the Final Days of the American Century” by Hunter S. Thompson (which is currently sitting on my desk, waiting to be continued). As a bookmark, I used my boarding pass (at least whatever was left of it after you went through the gate), an ad by Horizon Travel which featured a woman in a bikini under a palm tree looking out at the light blue sea. For some reason, I thought Hunter would be proud.

In Riga we checked the transfer flights screen to find out what gate we had to go to. No problem. We went there, stood there for a while, wondering why the flight was not Air Baltic, but since the times matched, we didn’t think much of it. It was a good thing they called for the other London flight, because turns out there were two of the bastards leaving around the same time. We went to the right gate and waited in line. At this point, I still didn’t realize that I was moving to England.

The interior of this plane was interesting. All labels around were in English, and someone had decided to throw in some Spanish for good measure. Not only that, but the seats were covered with stickers in Latvian. Truly, and international flight, that one. They played some music, which I eventually recognized to be from the Academy Award Winning movie “Crash”. I told this piece of random trivia to my cousin and he just chuckled “Well, that’s a good way to start the flight.”

The flight itself dragged on forever. Occasionally, I read my book, then stared into empty space or glanced outside. At one point I decided to sort of fall into one of my usual trances – eyes closed, almost asleep but still kind of there, just thinking my own thoughts. I could hear myself rambling and dictating words, sentences, important lines I thought needed to be written down in this very blog. It almost didn’t sound like me at all, but whoever it was, he was right about everything he said. It sounded convincing. I opened one eye, surprised as I fell out of that trance. Everything seemed so surreal. “No more of this crap,” I thought.

And then we started landing. Or so they told us, so everyone fastened their seatbelts and we waited. And waited. And waited a little more. Whenever I stared outside, it was all white and I thought this was it. We were all dead and in hell or purgatory or something. And endless ride and all you saw when you looked outside was white. A totally blank canvas whereupon no one could draw upon because they couldn’t get outside. Game over, people! You’re stuck with me forever! These were followed by thoughts of “Lost”; falling down and getting stuck on some island.

We made it in one piece, though, and then began the second stage of our trip: getting our luggage and looking for the yellow phone. The latter was essential to our journey. It would produce the “courtesy bus” which would take us to the car rental place. We found it eventually, after moving around the airport, gaining our bearings, and consulting the instructions sent by the firm. The adventure continued as we hit the road, following the instructions of our trusty GPS. At first we drove back and forth, as the darn thing always wanted us to make U-turns and turn down roads which were closed down, but eventually we got out of the airport and headed for Southampton in heavy rain.

The people here are nice. The place itself is nice. And even if it rains all the time, damn it, I love the rain! The traffic is backwards and people sit on the “wrong” side in the car, which is rather interesting. I mistook a boy of around 14 to be driving a car. The mind plays tricks on you when you’re not to used to this kind of stuff. The sink has two taps – one for cold water, one for warm water – so I’ll have to quickly move my hands between the two extremes if I want something in-between. Looked for a light switch in the bathroom. There is none – you have to pull a rope. I kind of feel like some Lord in some movie, pulling a rope and servants appearing. I’ve been told there is another kid on my floor so far. I think rumors of this man are true – I heard someone moving around the corridor. Maybe next time I should scare the crap out of him by jumping out of the room.

And I needed to buy plug adapter thingys. Them British people have different plugs, which are of no use to someone like me. In fear that my laptop would run out of battery, and all communications with the world would stop for some period, my cousin and I went on a hunt for these darn things. Found them eventually at some random store. The cashier was kind of cute, definitely very kind. Fun fact: escalators here yell at you when you’re about to reach the top/bottom/wherever it’s going. “The escalator is about to end!” Well, no shit. I can see that myself, thank you very much. For a moment I thought it was meant to aid blind people, but the thing warns you in enough time for you to take a step, maybe two, and then fall over anyway. Technology is going to kill us one day.

Oh, a little side story of misadventure and tragedy. After getting settled in, we decided to check out the hotel my cousin was staying at. After about half an hour, maybe more, of driving around, we finally got to the place, only to discover that the place had closed down. Only a month ago, my father had booked a room and paid in advance and everything and the bastards didn’t even think of sending an e-mail informing us of anything. I really hope he found a place to stay at for the night, before heading back towards London and flying back to Estonia.

After our shopping spree (2 adapters!) we went to eat. Those sandwhiches in the morning had become energy and run out hours ago. There was a TGI Friday nearby, and since my cousin had never really been to one, we decided to go there. Not bad, not bad at all. About a liter of Coke, full slab of Jack Daniel’s glazed ribs, and I felt I had enough energy to just up and run around the place. The Coke kicked in quickly, and I felt my hands starting to move uncontrollably. Sugar rush. And it hit me hard that I’m actually moving here. This is my new home. I don’t know if I really want to say this, as I have yet to criticize society more and yell that there is no ideal place to be as of right now, but…I think I actually like it here.

In the end, I want to really thank my cousin, Jaak, for getting me here; for sharing this little (mis)adventure with me. He looks after his friends and family and cares about most people in general. If you’re reading this, I want you to know that you are a great man. I wish you all the best.

As for me, the journey into and exploration of the heart of darkness continues, but in another country. This is the beginning of the continuation. I’m exhausted. But as my friend Alan quoted from “Lord of the Rings” when I left China: “…the road it goes ever on and on…”

(Another airplane flew over the building.)

First of all, it looks like my first year of university consists of the following classes:

• Introduction to Story
• Introduction to Screenwriting Craft
• Researching and Writing
• Genre, Style and Language
• Reading Screen Texts
• Scripts into Performance

The day is crawling closer. 15 days until England, 21 until classes start. It’s the final countdown to a new beginning and the continuation of my studies. And soon, the Wait shall be over.

In other news, Elisabeth informed me about a rumor concerning Lady Gaga having a dick. In my opinion, a woman wearing such skimpy outfits could not hide a dick anywhere for so long. But if true, I commend her for her dick-hiding skills. But, really – what has the world come to? Sex-change operations, women with dicks, suspicions of people not being of the sex they claim to be. Is it evolution or is science fucking with us? Are we going to slowly evolve into sexless beings, somehow reproducing by ourselves?

Where’s the fun in that?

It’s the old conflict between nature and science. Man is in a period of denial; we are savage beasts guided by primitive instincts and desires, yet we do not admit this. We have surrounded ourselves with distractions as to not notice the heart of darkness. The future looks like I’m going to have to start asking girls for medical records and birth certificates to confirm they are who they claim to be. Paranoia at it’s finest!

My friend, Karl, introduced me to some death metal songs. It was a good thing the youtube videos included lyrics, otherwise it would have been impossible to understand the message of the songs, which were usually

IIII WWWWWWIIIIILLLLLLLL FFFUUUUCCCCCKKK-KKIIIINNNNG KIIIIIIIILLLLLL YOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUU! BLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

We had a good laugh and I came to the conclusion that listening to death metal is like getting your head opened up and you then being thrown outside during a heavy shitstorm. But, like with all things, there are bound to be people attacted to it, worshipping it (and, I suspect, the devil too), and are willing to argue that there are sophisticated messages within it. I shall not argue with anyone. Ancient civilizations used to sacrifice goats and people to Gods and no one argued with them, really. There is method behind almost every madness.

And to finish, a little comment on the current economic downturn:

You know that times are hard when people have to eat cheese that is covered with mold, drink wine that is old, and drive in cars that don’t have roofs!