Contacting Equivalence
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Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Current mood: watching the train depart *wave*

this is the last blog i will post here on ug, as i moved my creative outlet to a different location: http://agreatdealofnonsenseandlies.blogspot.com/

i guess google will now be watching over my shoulder, but i don't mind. it's probably too weird for their taste anyway.

thanks for reading :)
9:41 pm - 1 comments - 0 Kudos
Sunday, January 24, 2010


Current mood: read the blog

i've got a different one now.
9:16 pm - 0 comments - 0 Kudos
Friday, January 01, 2010

let's make it a good year

Current mood: Current mood: Current mood: Current mood

At the Phone

Act I:
"Hello there, *insert random company name here* speaking, how may i help you?"
me: "hello there, this is me speaking...uhm..."
salesperson: "is this the first time you use our services sir?"
me: "yeah...yes it is why why?"
salesperson: "well i am legally bound and obliged to warn every new customer beforehand of the potential risks that come with our services."
me: "ow, ow i see. what are risks then?"
salesperson: *nothing important*

close your eyes to the downside
look away, look up and away
lock your gaze at
vague spots on the ceiling
order another bag of tea
everything will be right

Act II: 
salesperson: *...mprl humhum...* 

me: "ow well thats not so bad is it? "
salesperson: "it's all at own risk sir."
me: "well if so then uhm...i'd like to buy a twoandahalf pound of happiness, a pound of smiles, halfapound of talent and an ounce of melancholy please."
salesperson: "how would you like to pay sir?"
me: "uhhm let's see do you accept cheques?"
salesperson: "we do sir but if you pay by credit card within 24 hours we throw a 100 grams of pure luck in for free." 
me: "brilliant, let's give that a shot then."

I saw the poor chap a few days later on the street. He told a cute girl that he missed her, and the girl laughed demoniacally while she ripped out his pulsating heart. I felt bad for him.
2:26 pm - 4 comments - 3 Kudos
Thursday, December 31, 2009

The Hunting Party

Current mood: multinationals > governments

Because of recent spikes of interest in wildlife and gunpowder, we will go hunting tomorrow. I'd love to go there by car during night, as long as 
  • I'm sitting in the right back seat so I can watch the headlights go by on the other side of the road. 
  • we drive for longer than an hour
  • and we have a leprechaun as personal escort. 
Those are my only conditions or terms or demands.
(nibbly noise of the accountant taking notes on a piece of scrap paper) 

We will arrive at a forest scene, with dark green and piercing scents of pine trees. After a brief briefing we should part ways and find our own destiny, fighting through the thick and spiky bushes. I myself am going to find a decently sized deer. As I will creep on him I will try my best not to let it hear or smell me, but suddenly the deer will turn around and tell me that I don't like hunting. All the forest friends will burst out in a symphonic cacophony of animalistic sounds, and there will be plenty of joyous singing and laughter; the deer might even use the most beloved puppy-eyes ever on me.  

Please lord, do not make me shrug 'n shoot.  

4:13 pm - 0 comments - 0 Kudos
Sunday, December 27, 2009

Moths (rather unfinished)

Current mood: piss off my mood is vastly irrelevant

don't get your hopes up high
the smiles will break your spine
as you flapper around the sun
your wings alight

in agonizing beauty
sugar white demise
coffins closing tightly
keep your hands inside

so don't get your hopes up high
the eyes will drown your mind

leave a message behind
leave a message behind



wat etc...my head hurts and the slender slit between the curtains reveals too much of the outside world. The tiny beam of light shining through is intricate though; I cannot refrain from observing how it dances across the ceiling. 

2:24 pm - 0 comments - 0 Kudos
Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Abiit, excessit, evasit, erupit

Current mood: is under attack

Creeping stage fright
For the last occasion

Hunting the tail lights
Show me their location
On a map

I'm not here
This is my lying mouth speaking
Leave a message if you please


beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep  beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep  beep beep beep beep beep
4:09 pm - 0 comments - 0 Kudos
Wednesday, December 23, 2009


Current mood: invisible would be a bit of a banality

Yesterday I was on a typical tedious trip with the train; fifteen absolute INDIVIDUALS sitting in one compartment, all staring at blurry objects through the window. The scattered vacant seats reminded me of the space between film-goers: always one seat in-between. I noticed how determined people are to avoid each other's gaze as everyone seemed to be trying their hardest not to look in anyone's eyes in the window reflections. 
That said, I very much enjoyed doing the exact opposite.

Upon exiting the train I thought how silly JFK's "Ich bin ein Berliner" would have been in Hamburg. 

Walking through the city streets made me very annoyed with an abnormal amount of people bumping into me. Even worse was that none of the insolent bastards offered an apology. While another impertinent moron bashed me I made the spontaneous decision to honour the local warehouse with my presence and seek refuge from the pounding mass at the same time.
As I entered the store's premises through the gliding doors, the security guard eyed me with an odd expression on his visage.    

Last night at the warehouse I discovered that I had become invisible.
3:23 pm - 0 comments - 0 Kudos
Friday, December 18, 2009

Mindslip > priorities

Current mood: on an edge

So yesterday the world came to an end.
The news enlightened us.
This chap who usually spread the word of blood war sex violence and the occasional rescued whales had seemingly quit his job, because an earnest looking man with a black umbrella and a newspaper under his arm told us.  

I had always imagined that I'd spend my last precious moments in a most ludicrous way: turning dreams into reality, jumping from tall skyscrapers onto a heap of monstrous cushions, or at the very least fucking random females in the middle of a random street. Instead, I was lured to the supermarket. They have this kind of billboard which shows you the latest Christmas sales in flashy fashionable colours, and naturally I couldn't resist the multinational capitalistic magnet.

I went there by car, quite illegally seeing my age, but a slip of the mind is no rarity in the event of dying worlds. When I crossed the white snowy parking lot I noticed a girl behind a shopping cart walking towards me in a slippery manner. She was obviously mentally handicapped, so for some reason I decided to put on a smile usually directed at small inferior kids. I asked her what she was planning on doing next, the world was on the verge of collapsing after all. "Look mister, my trolley glides on the ice," she said. I looked at her in slight and concealed bewilderment, but then I realized some are blessed with ignorance, and made a mental note to appreciate gliding trolleys in the future.

Then I realized I was a bit late with that.

(please correct my English.)
12:30 pm - 0 comments - 0 Kudos
Wednesday, December 16, 2009


Current mood: just...sad, though i shouldn't be

(Author’s note: English is not my first language so forgive me for any mistakes I've made; feel free to correct them)

Nowadays, the epitome of being a juvenile revolves around one single aspect of life: alcohol, and to be more precise, the consuming of it. Before me on the bar, I detect the presence of a half-emptied glassesque object, indicating I too am partaking in this intoxicating activity. With heavy eyelids and a slowed heartbeat, I make a feeble attempt to focus my eyesight on the content of the glass, and despite my evident tipsiness, finally come to the conclusion that the surging liquid must be…whisky.


Rather, because I have no recollection whatsoever of ordering such a beverage. Nevertheless, I shrug it off and inhale the aroma that it spreads in my nearby area. The scent implies that it is from Scottish origin, and I smilingly enjoy another sip. As the quality fluid accidentaly enters my windpipe, my lungs force out a violent and ripping cough, sending part of the swig back into my mouth. I hastily place the tumbler back on the bar, hoping no other patron witnessed my slightly embaressing drinking failure. Now that the glass stands at an alterend position, I cannot help but notice how it reflects the light emitted by the cheap bulbs above the obese bartender in a most intricate way. In its tiniest detail I manage to recognize a cherry lipstick print left behind by the previous (female?) drinker, and in silent astonishment I appreciate this small gesture by fate, but also question the working condition of the pub’s dishwasher. Should I warn the owner for the gloomy adversity hovering over the future of his tavern, by the mere sight of a glassy kiss? Better not, I decide. It would make me a grumpy, unsatisfied boozer, and I am neither ill-tempered nor discontented (though the description of a soak would fit me well, taking the near-empty glass into account).

Speaking of near-empty glasses, my inebriated brains make an unstable mental note to order another shot of single malt, but at that exact moment an exuberant group of barely legal teenagers behind me explode into drunken singing. I can vaguely distinguish “Beer n’ titties, lalala”, before they somehow succeed in dragging the entire crowd along in their hormonic yet barely harmonic chanting. Visibly annoyed, the bartender fails to notice my extended index finger pleading for more alcohol. I sigh, and return to observing my drinking glass. The lipstick still remains, now tightly intertwined with gradually fading prints of my own set of lips. Encouraged by a blasphemously loud reinterpretation of “Silent Night” booming in the background (a new song introduced by the vocally challenged group), I gulp the remnants of my drink down, wary of the dangers that such an ambitious act bring, and I carefully swallow to avoid any earlier experienced shameful events.

The fresh intake of more alcohol contaminates my already wobbly mental capacity even further, making it impossible for me to distuinguish whose mug is mine. A great variety of glasses now cloud my vision, all spiralling past my eyesight in a kaleidoscopical fashion, until screams of blood and violence haul me back to a lesser distorted reality. The rape of several Christian hymns by the drunken younglings had seemingly not only aggravated my bartending friend and me, but also a pastor who had been enjoying his ”Big Day Out (BDO)”. He was now assaulting one of the rapists with nothing but a Gideon Bible, which he used to ferociously destroy the skull of his newly-acquainted target. Suddenly and quite forcefully, the entire scene evolves into one gigantic moshing pit, with one particular bloke bashing my glass off the bar, sending it elegantly spiralling to the floor where it erupts into millions of tiny particles. I tearfully cry out at the loss of such an inspiring piece of art, though my sad emotions quickly transgress the borders of madness, leaving me with no choice but to attack him in a red raging haze.

As the authorities arrive onto the scene, they restrain several troublemakers in an attempt to disperse the brawl. I too am handcuffed, and while I am beaten to the ground with police batons, I scream and try to point out that the instigator of my violence had ruined the instigator of all my contemplations that night; a worthy cause to fight for. One policeman, a chubby chap with a monobrow and flat nose, remarks that “thas a whole lotta hate, tis mate”, though I misunderstand him by thinking he claimed it was a Wholahay’s mate. However, my stupified self-consciousness does not allow me to cheerfully conclude this notion in victory.

Whatever. As if they would or could appreciate the apparent beauty of a drinking glass, is the last thought that strikes my mind as my head brutally meets the police car door and my being blacks out in a saddening and eerie quietness.

(Yes, I know this is utter tosh but I feel like posting it anyway)

3:46 pm - 1 comments - 2 Kudos
Friday, October 23, 2009

A Turn B

Current mood: aww moment's gone already

something tells me this is not what you wanted

maybe it's the drooping eyelid
or the long lashes whipped down in disappointment
perhaps it's the overused motion of tucking a strand of hair
behind your ear
the sweet smile dancing across your lower lip
a tiny droplet on your cheek
whose fall was broken on the soft carpet

or the distant yet distinctive smell of apple pie
street festivities in the making
blaring bloating raging sirens rushing by
their headlights sadder than ever

the moment is volatile
rising up from these apartment blocks
to the great black blob we call the sky
concluded by the short notion

"I Should Be Going,

9:50 am - 4 comments - 2 Kudos