A town so small that the world around it gets even smaller (Drunk posting)

Warning! This particluar post contains rude language due to the state of mind I was in when I wrote it. If such things offend you, please just skip it. (See, I couldn't even spell particular)

He gets up at 06:30 on a Saturday morning, after a hard night of partying. It's now 08:07 and by hitching a ride from outside of the microscopical community of Staffanstorp to the inside of the microscopical.. Yeah.. Well, from Staffanstorp he takes the bus to Dalby and then to his home - the sprawling metropolis of Lund.

Here, the city still sleeps. The professionally stupid fuck Hjalmar Nordén is sitting by his computer and is taking some notes from the night before, but mostly from the morning after. This morning. "Turned out that the guy whose ride I managed to get into, is doing military services together with my sisters - recently made - ex-boyfriend" he says drowsily, getting up to get himself a cup of cocoa.

08:20. "All right, I'll tell you" Hjalmar Nordén says as he returns with a huge glass of steaming cocoa, putting on the Max Payne Soundtrack in the background. "It's really weird, how this little town - Lund - seems to grow smaller over time, although huge amounts are put into the building of new residental buildings. Even the minor communities outside of town seems small, all of a sudden". What he refers to is that the drunker you get, the more you tend to talk bucketloads of shit.

Taking a small sip of his cocoa, he goes on. "Then, once I hit Staffanstorp and say good bye to the nice guy who gave me a ride there - I never remember a name introduced to me when I have alcohol in my blood (unless it's a real hottie) - I sat myself down to wait for the bus to Lund". It soon turned out that he was waiting for the wrong one, since it wouldn't be leaving for another 50 minutes. Suddenly a childhood neighbour, Maria, from Lund turns up, looking really tired. "I hardly recognised her myself until I realised that it was her. I was babysat - can you say babysat? - by her older sister a couple of times and we never met much just the two of us". As it turned out, she had some good tips about getting to Lund and they ended up on the same bus. "She told me how my mother had been speaking so proudly about me - I was a bit touched at that - and wanted to know what I really was up to nowadays. I told her about my application to work at IKEA in Japan and how much of a turning point in my life that probably would be". Maria had been working all night and had some problems keeping her eyes open and her mouth shut (by this we refer to her way of yawning loudly as Hjalmar was speaking), "but we were in quite the same position and it didn't turn out to be a problem".

"I didn't know anyone at the party I was at yesterday except for the ones I came with" he says after being mildly burnt several times on his all-too-hot cocoa. "I guess it's because it was too far off from Lund. The question is" he says with a close to weary expression "When I tell a guy that I'm from Lund, and he mentions ONE girl's name that he knows from there, how come I know just that one girl?". Maybe a 100'000 people town is simply to small for you, Hjalmar Nordén. He drinks up, smiles vaguely, then clicks to publish another entry in his blog and falls into his bed.

The smell of burnt meat

Note: The real Stephen Somerville has nothing to do with this story. His name just popped up in my head as I started to write.
There was a very tense atmosphere in the hallway. Stephen Somerville hadn't even noticed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, but the fact that he had to strain himself not to let his legs start shaking, could hardly go unnoticed. He looked up at the man standing in front of him. It was as if he was standing face to face with the devil himself. The devil had a black suit with a red tie, and a cigar was in his mouth, stuck there seemingly as hard as concrete. The smoke from it was dancing seductively in the dim light. The bad ventilation caused the aroma of cigar blended with expensive cologne hang in the air, as a fly trapped in a cobweb unable to get out even if it wanted to. The expression on the devil's face was not hard to read; pure satisfaction was reflected in every gleaming tooth of his wide smile.

With a hand that seemed able to easily crush a human skull, had it wanted to, the devil removed the cigar from his mouth and began to speak in a barely audible voice. "So, Mr Somerville" he began, "you have decided to stand above the rules applying to everyone else in my beautiful student villa". It was amazing how that almost silent voice could be born so easily across the hallway. It seemed to glide on the silvery strings of tobacco smoke forming their way toward Somerville. He opened his mouth to respond, but no word came. He hastily moistured his lips with his tongue, but before he could try again he was met with a cold laughter. This too was in that low, close to non-existing voice. The devil raised a finger as if about to speak, and Somerville could feel his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, pretty much like it stuck to the street post outside his house that cold winter so long ago. He felt a sting of horror, pretty much like he did back then. He had been left home alone for the day, with no neighbour around for miles, while his parents had gone to town for shopping. Just like that time, there was no one who could help him now. "What's that smell?" Chuckled the Devil. "I think it must be the scent of regret, seeping out of you, like it would from a dying mouse in a trap. Is that how you feel? That you are dying?" Somerville just stared. Nothing he could say now would turn the situation any more to his favour.

Obviously tired of the game, the devil went straight to business, as he always would when he noticed that there was no way the situation could be a loss to him. "As you may know, you have broken one of my rules. I suppose you would know which one it is?" He did not wait for an answer to come. There would be none, and he knew it. "Indeed" he went on and pointed towards a sign on the wall. It spelled "NO BURNABLE OBJECTS IN THE HALLWAY". The devil turned his attention to his cigar, pretending to study its faint glow while going on, "Mr Somerville, in this context NO means none". He held up the cigar in front of him and seemed to speak to it. "Would I stand here, if I was burnable?" Suddenly a small hissing noise came from behind him, and up stepped another man - or maybe a woman. It could be a big bear walking on two legs for all he knew, it was dressed in a huge metallic suit - who held something that had to be a flamethrower in his hand. It purred gently as a mechanical kitten, as a small flame danced in front of a gaping hole, supposedly where the big fire would come out. Somerville had never seen anything like this in reality, only in the movies. Maybe it was this filmic sensation that suddenly made him feel calm. An icy cold calm, as the 154th bead of sweat started to make its way down his forehead. He opened his mouth and started to form a sentence "I...". It was the breath before the plunge.

Click.

A roar filled his ears, as hellish fire erupted from the orifice and engulfed the devilish man standing in front of him. Somerville threw himself to the ground as the bright beam of flame shot by him. He looked up, terrified and unaware of the crack from his arm that had hit hard on something spiky on the floor. All he could hear was the thumping pulse in his ears and, once again, the gentle purring of the flamethrower. "Glad you decided to join in on our little conversation" said the Devil. Somerville had to blink several times before his eyes got used to the darkness that once again had returned to the hallway. He had not expected the devilish man to be more than a smoldering pile of ashes by now, yet he stood there, seemingly unaffected by the hundreds of degrees that had just swept by him. Small strings of smoke rose from his contour, the ground around him and from his cigar. They mingled and seemed to dance a seductive dance with each other before merging into one solid beam of smoke that made its way up to the ceiling, slowly fading away. Around him the corridor looked untouched, showing no sign of fire damage. It was all just too unreal. The only thing that had been affected seemed to be his shirt sleeve, which had started to smolder. Panicking, He started beating it against the floor to stop it from smoking. He let out a yelp of pain as his already damaged underarm snapped in two pieces against the rough surface of the floor. Far away he could hear an almost silent chuckle in that low, devilish voice. With tired eyes he looked up at the two dark figures, the dancing beams of smoke and the little blue flame on the flamethrower's mouth-piece. He heard the laughter of the Devil, the purring flame thrower and the distant sound of a microwave oven's "ping" merge together as his vision blurred and the world started fading out. "Please" he said, exhausted. The Devil just smiled.

Click.

Fears of commitment

Relationship after relationship is falling apart all around you. Some of the 'important' break-ups turn up in your newspaper, others you hear from the street just outside your window. Amateur of relationship studies Hjalmar Nordén comments to how he is still having nightmares about his last long-term commitment.

"It was a lovely two and a half year-story with ups and downs of all their kinds. I learnt tons about myself.." he mutters something indistinguishable about girls, then continues "Either way it was an amazing experience that I hope I will never have to suffer through again if I can avoid it". He admits to having bad dreams about slipping back into relationships with old routines, bad compromises and flights from reality inside role-playing games.

"Most of it was my fault really. That's what I fear the most you know, how easy it is to escape and simply stop thinking about one's own needs within the relationship." He explains how many of his friends have done the same mistakes, "It has been done before and it will happen again; people lock up their own problems in the back of their brain, then go mad (or simply admit defeat and break up), simply because they ignore dealing with themselves and their partners." he says with a grimace.

"Remember this" he finishes, "It's not a war you are dealing with out there. It's love. And there can be two winning sides. Just make sure you are a part of your own relationship."

Outside the Asylum

Recently recovered mental patient Hjalmar Nordén was proclaimed as sane by psychiatric experts last week. Today he releases his first book; "My dichotomy and me", about the time he spent "on the other side" of his mind. His comment about the book's content is "I tried living my own life for one day and the life of the one I wanted to be the next, for more than five years". When asked about where he learnt an advanced word such as "dichotomy" he mumbles something about educational computer games and Diablo 2.

When only the forbidden tempts

The gadget you get all fired up about, just because buying it would leave you without cash for food the rest of the month. The girl you want just because she is by far "too hot for you". The relationship that you would gladly be involved in, when a moment ago you would do anything not to be tied up. Do you even deserve giving it a try?

Rings a bell? Everyone is looking for something, it's simply a part of human nature. Even those who claim that they have no wants or need at all, strive towards keeping it that way. Should this natural curiosity be taken away from us, life would be gray, monotonous and to some people unbearable.

So what's the deal? Why want something that you know you can't have? Leading psychiatrist and expert in human sciences Hjalmar Nordén gives the following example: "That girl you have been checking out the whole night - Yeah, you never knew they grew that hot - she most probably wouldn't fancy your style. No way, she would like someone like... Him. Yeah, he who is going up to her right now and - was I right or what - is leaving with her within five minutes. Well I'm sure he will have a nice evening, and you can go back to bed. Well fought". What he means by this, he explains, is that many people have a tendency to underestimate themselves, when overwhelmed by the attractiveness of someone that has the "perfect visage". They also have a tendency to have no doubts what so ever, that every one else in the room would consider him/her just as perfect.

"But to your left" he goes on, "stands your best mate, hitting on a girl you wouldn't bring back home even if you were paid for it". He pauses for a second. "That came out wrong, don't print that. But you get my point, eh?" He takes a deep breath and tries to refer to the 'old saying' "Your taste is like your ass, just mind your own and let everybody else have theirs" (Swedish: "Smaken är som baken, kluven").

The point Hjalmar is referring to, according to lingual specialist Claes Ek, is that if you think something is too good for you, that is reason enough for you to deserve it. "Because then you can give the appreciation it, he or she deserves" he comments. The guy who is coming in and grabs the girl in front of you might think not think that she is more than just OK, but picks her because he believes he has a chance. If you consider yourself better-looking than somebody else, you might believe yourself to have the upper hand, and maybe you do; you act more confident and give a straight-forward impression that you are interested her. But still, maybe you would be more interested yourself, yet you don't show it because you still stand there and consider her "too good for you". She IS too good for you, and that is why you deserve her.

If you don't get what you really want, you might accept it, but you would be happier if you had it. There you have it - materialistic happiness. Some people never get satisfied until they have the most expensive clothes, the perfect jewelry, the fastest computer and so on. But how far does our sense of possession stretch? Obviously, some will even see other people as their belongings and - since they're belongings must be tip-top - try to estimate the value of those people to make sure they have the best. Others see them simply as means of getting more expensive belongings. "The difficult part is to decide when to give up and be happy with what you've got. Generally I make that decision after I have tried to get the best, but failed. If you believe that the grass is greener on the other side, check it out for yourself - for what it's worth - and you will know."

(Note: I'm NOT encouraging infidelity, if that's how you interpret it, but if you feel that you are longing for the other side of the fence you probably have a problem - deal with it first.)

Hjalmar Nordén wrestles his director - "I always gave up too easily"

Seen yesterday evening was the rising star in film industry, Hjalmar Nordén, armwrestling his own director in a vain attempt to compensate for not being in control over the scene. While seemingly no damage was done, the vague scent of wounded pride could be noticed throughout the rest of the evening.

LIMHAMN In a back yard with a grand pool, a yapping dog and several beers and ciders, we find the team behind the famous "Leonardo - ett snillerikt spex" that were set up during the carnival of Lund some weeks ago. Surprisingly enough, there are only a handful of the crew assembled and less than half are actors. "I loved the spex, but seeing how the actors always make the most noise I'm glad that so many were missing today" says a grateful neighbour, who supposes that the rain earlier that evening might have been the reason why so few people were attending the small reunion of the team.

The relaxed atmosphere is broken quickly, however, when the seldom-quiet Hjalmar Nordén bustles out of the house and dives into the warm water of pool. The air is starting to get chilly and soon enough a crowd of shouting spex-girls joins him and they start splashing around so violently that the camera man has to take his distance. Behind the camera today is Claes Ek, the rising young director who is behind an upcoming movie into which several actors from the Leonardo-crew (Hjalmar Nordén, Sofia Oldbring, Ingrid Sandström) have been adopted.

Moments later the very same can be seen armwrestling his to be-movie stars. While putting up a good fight, but losing, with his right hand against Hjalmar Nordén's, Claes easily brings down Hjalmar's left one. "Since I am a 'lefty', it's no surprise, really" comments Claes as he with a satisfied expression faces his next challenger Lisa Hagman, director of the Leonardo spex, with a result not much different than the last one. However, Hjalmar refuses to give up and with several warcries manages to beat Claes even on his left arm. "It was interesting, hearing his shouting" says a sulky Claes, leaning back into his chair with a cider in his slightly reddened left hand, rubbing his chest with his other.

Hjalmar confesses that he has never been that much of a fighter, easily giving up and being over-sensitive to pain. "But this time I just knew that I could win, if I really really wanted to. I've had a hopelessly positive attitude as of late. I'm even watching old tragic films and hope for a happy ending, even though I'm aware that it couldn't turn out that way" he says. As an example he gives the moment where Gandalf holds the bridge in Moria against the Baelrog in The fellowship of the Ring, one of his favourite movies. He admits with a smile that he has found himself thinking "maybe this time Gandalf will have time to avoid the whip and will manage not to fall into the darkness below". Being positive even though you know it's not going to end as you hope must be the most obvious the mark of a hopelessly wishful thinker. He takes a sip from his cider, then adds "Some call it being naive, I call it being me".

Life is an article

It really is. The things that you and I do are just as scandalous or business-like as we want them to be. All that matters is how we want them to look.

If I'm a bad writer, chances are good that I'll make an adventure look just as grey as the dust - that keep sticking to my feet every bloody time I try putting them in that warm, cosy spot - just behind the subwoofer. At least this way it's evenly distributed in the room.

If I'm good, a rainy day might turn out just as colourful as the puddle of puke somebody gratefully left next to my toilet. You almost made it this time!

My life is an article, and I just discovered the scoop of my life. I'd like to address the following issues:

• How many of us convince ourselves that being ethical just gets you knackered
• How low density chicken farming equals 7 hens per m² and if that could be applied to the density of babies in a daycare home
• How a nunchaku can be used to fan away unwanted gases from under your bed cover
• How everyone wants to talk about their jobs but no one wants to hear about it
• How your really creative moments only turn up when you need to be in bed
• How dull it all gets when you're not the main character in your own life

There will be no more things that I want to do or ought to try. I'll just bloody well go and do them. My life will be my article.