Tea.
I walk into a cafè, right. I'm happy as hell, because my bank account contained close to 500 units of Norwegian currency, for some reason I don't know. (But hey, I'm not complaining!) I decided to celebrate this by buying a croissant for myself in the mentioned cafè, it costs 20 kr, I figured I could afford it. So I walk in there, and after ordering the croissant, the waitress asks me if I want tea. I said: "No, I can't afford it". Then, she told me she wanted to give me the tea, not make me pay for it! I was in shock! How could a person grant me such a favour, show me such kindness without even knowing me? I didn't know which sort of tea I wanted to drink, thus I let Saint Waitress pick one for me. African Rooibush, I drank. Tasty shit, felt more awake afterwards, as if I'd been drinking massive quantities of caffeine. I mean, I knew there were caffeine in tea, but I didn't think there was enough to make anybody feel elysiated after drinking it. Which I do. I find myself enjoyng elysian peace at the moment, and soon Sunniva will join me. I think this is a happy day, and if everything works out the way I want it to, I'll interview the boss of Aetat (Norwegian employment company.) about the unemployment rate among young people in Harstad.
And, yes, I'm still at the cafè, they've got free internet access here, I love them. They are playing some sort of soothing reggae tune, and I've read about drugs and the abuse of it in a long mail from somebody who seemed to know a lot about them. And I've firmly decided to never touch any of it, not even hash. I don't want to lose my moderately sharp mind, that would be stupid. If I need to feel relaxed, I'll just drink until I can't stand.
No, seriously. I won't drink much either. I'm going to be a better person, starting today. I'll make my own money, pay my debt and listen closely and attentively to all the tales of the people around me, and I'll accept everyone for who they are (as long as they don't hurt me or the ones I care about), and I will practice non-violent verbal use. No longer shall one find subtle tones of sarcasm or mean irony towards oneself in my words, I shall be honest. If others do not find "honest" to be nice, they can bite my shiny ass.
I think I'm ranting. I think I should stop.
But why? I've discovered this new web-comic, it is indeed entertaining and psychedelic at the verge of being nonsense, but I like it still:
www.wondermark.com.
The old drawings create such a loveable hemisphere for popular cultural references.
Oh god, this is the sort of place you visit when you want to be trendy and hip, but are too much of a pussy to leave the city and see the world. This is the realm of the wannabe-urbans, you can tell from the pretentious art on the walls, the strange music, the super-modern interiour, the lamps that looks like something else, and the french, german and english magazines decorating the wall straight ahead. Not to mention the exotic variety of tea sorts and the pesto they put on every single course. I feel sort of aggravated, but I pretend not to be.
And, yes, I'm still at the cafè, they've got free internet access here, I love them. They are playing some sort of soothing reggae tune, and I've read about drugs and the abuse of it in a long mail from somebody who seemed to know a lot about them. And I've firmly decided to never touch any of it, not even hash. I don't want to lose my moderately sharp mind, that would be stupid. If I need to feel relaxed, I'll just drink until I can't stand.
No, seriously. I won't drink much either. I'm going to be a better person, starting today. I'll make my own money, pay my debt and listen closely and attentively to all the tales of the people around me, and I'll accept everyone for who they are (as long as they don't hurt me or the ones I care about), and I will practice non-violent verbal use. No longer shall one find subtle tones of sarcasm or mean irony towards oneself in my words, I shall be honest. If others do not find "honest" to be nice, they can bite my shiny ass.
I think I'm ranting. I think I should stop.
But why? I've discovered this new web-comic, it is indeed entertaining and psychedelic at the verge of being nonsense, but I like it still:
www.wondermark.com.
The old drawings create such a loveable hemisphere for popular cultural references.
Oh god, this is the sort of place you visit when you want to be trendy and hip, but are too much of a pussy to leave the city and see the world. This is the realm of the wannabe-urbans, you can tell from the pretentious art on the walls, the strange music, the super-modern interiour, the lamps that looks like something else, and the french, german and english magazines decorating the wall straight ahead. Not to mention the exotic variety of tea sorts and the pesto they put on every single course. I feel sort of aggravated, but I pretend not to be.