An update, at last! As you might have noticed, my blog is now full of wonderful new old blog-entries: since Yahoo!360 is shutting down in the not too distant future, I've moved all my blog entries from there to here: personally, I've always found Blogger to be WAY superior to the bug-fest that was 360 but I just couldn't be bothered to mirror this blog with the one I have there.
Anyway, it's all moved over here now for you to enjoy or ignore. Use the search function to find old entries, or just rumble through the archives and see if anything tickles your fancy.
No promises are being made concerning new entries, but I'm feeling slightly creative these days so who knows? Drop by every few months and maybe - just maybe! - there might be some new stuff for you to read.
Cheers,
Bit
3.6.09
24.6.08
Whiteout (or: The Unbearable Whiteness of Oslo's Architectonic Masterpiece)
Having slacked away Saturday in front of the TV with Gorgeous (or rather, SHE slacked with me as collateral damage), we decided to do something worthwhile last Sunday; go and have a peek at the much discussed new opera house here in Oslo. So we packed our bags with bananas (don't ask), umbrellas and photo cameras and headed downtown in the less than stellar June weather. Having arrived downtown, we made our way towards our destination, crossing the area in front of Central Station - which for the moment looks a bit like a war zone, with debris and rubble left, right and center. Luckily, all we had to worry about was dodging the usual junkies, not live ammo. I really don't see what the tourists are complaining about - what do they expect when they arrive, a parade? Sheesh, some people will complain about anything...
Photo by G
"I think we're on the right track," I told Gorgeous, as we crossed the enclosed bridge over the main road outside of the opera building - "Look, the usual broken beer bottles and kebab leftovers have been replaced by broken wine bottles and half-eaten canapes: surely, this must be the path oft trodden by our intellectual elite!" Unfortunately, I had to abandon the hope of finding some nice caviar along the way, as we emerged from the opening of the bridge outside of the opera. "Oh my, that's... white!" Gorgeous gasped as we walked along the slanted side of the building towards the rooftop. "Gah! My eyes! It... it burns!" I whimpered as my corneas practically melted from the overwhelming whiteness. "No wonder people have tripped and broken limbs up here - the whole damn thing is so white, and then they have all these little edges and crevices up here!" I said, almost tripping over an almost invisible 10 cm edge that had popped up right in front of me.
"Stop complaining and let's get the sightseeing over with, I'm getting a headache," Gorgeous said, matter-of-factly. "Where are you, dear?" I replied, half blind and more than a little disoriented. Gorgeous grabbed me by the arm and guided us to the top of the building. "The view is... interesting," she said, gazing over the container park in front of the building. "Yeah, well... it's better than this side, " I said, turning back from feasting my eyes on the massive construction work being done of the railroad tracks and main road across the other side of the building. We carefully descended the front of the building, and made our way inside to have a look. "It's like a twisted, psychedelic architectonic joy-ride, " I commented, having almost bumped into at least three different walls as we took a small tour of the main foyer and the wardrobe area "Everything is angled or curved or both - I feel dizzy. Might be just the snow blindness declining, though." Gorgeous put her elbow in my ribs again (for the umpteenth time that day) and we headed back outside.
We crossed the area in front of the opera and G took - half-heartedly - some snaps of the opera. "I dunno, " she said, "It's awfully white, isn't it?" "We definitely need to bring sunglasses the next time we visit," I said, eyes still hurting. In all fairness, though, I must say that it's a very cool building - isolated from the rest of the architecture in downtown Oslo. Seen in context though, it kinda sticks out like a big, sore, white thumb. There's absolutely no correlation between the building itself and any of the buildings nearby. I should mention though, the same can be said for most new buildings in the area - they're all nice and shiny on their own, but they are all in different styles and separate themselves from each other and the rest of the city. Of course, I don't know squat about city planning or architecture, so I'm blatantly subjective here.
Photo from MrJorgen's Flickr page
But damn, that thing is white!
Photo by G
"I think we're on the right track," I told Gorgeous, as we crossed the enclosed bridge over the main road outside of the opera building - "Look, the usual broken beer bottles and kebab leftovers have been replaced by broken wine bottles and half-eaten canapes: surely, this must be the path oft trodden by our intellectual elite!" Unfortunately, I had to abandon the hope of finding some nice caviar along the way, as we emerged from the opening of the bridge outside of the opera. "Oh my, that's... white!" Gorgeous gasped as we walked along the slanted side of the building towards the rooftop. "Gah! My eyes! It... it burns!" I whimpered as my corneas practically melted from the overwhelming whiteness. "No wonder people have tripped and broken limbs up here - the whole damn thing is so white, and then they have all these little edges and crevices up here!" I said, almost tripping over an almost invisible 10 cm edge that had popped up right in front of me.
"Stop complaining and let's get the sightseeing over with, I'm getting a headache," Gorgeous said, matter-of-factly. "Where are you, dear?" I replied, half blind and more than a little disoriented. Gorgeous grabbed me by the arm and guided us to the top of the building. "The view is... interesting," she said, gazing over the container park in front of the building. "Yeah, well... it's better than this side, " I said, turning back from feasting my eyes on the massive construction work being done of the railroad tracks and main road across the other side of the building. We carefully descended the front of the building, and made our way inside to have a look. "It's like a twisted, psychedelic architectonic joy-ride, " I commented, having almost bumped into at least three different walls as we took a small tour of the main foyer and the wardrobe area "Everything is angled or curved or both - I feel dizzy. Might be just the snow blindness declining, though." Gorgeous put her elbow in my ribs again (for the umpteenth time that day) and we headed back outside.
We crossed the area in front of the opera and G took - half-heartedly - some snaps of the opera. "I dunno, " she said, "It's awfully white, isn't it?" "We definitely need to bring sunglasses the next time we visit," I said, eyes still hurting. In all fairness, though, I must say that it's a very cool building - isolated from the rest of the architecture in downtown Oslo. Seen in context though, it kinda sticks out like a big, sore, white thumb. There's absolutely no correlation between the building itself and any of the buildings nearby. I should mention though, the same can be said for most new buildings in the area - they're all nice and shiny on their own, but they are all in different styles and separate themselves from each other and the rest of the city. Of course, I don't know squat about city planning or architecture, so I'm blatantly subjective here.
Photo from MrJorgen's Flickr page
But damn, that thing is white!
8.11.07
Giggling in the Rain
This is a tale of misery: more specifically, MY misery. Now, I'm perfectly aware of the fact that most people seem to be more interested in their own misery then that of their fellow human beings - unless, of course, the misery of another human being will bring a smile to their face. So lean back, dear readers (all three of you) and let me share my tale of woe with you and you can all smile and/or laugh at my misery. Pure therapy people, pure therapy...
Today was a really, really slow day at work. Painfully slow, even. My only eventful couple of hours was at the very start of the day, as a pretty big bunch of back-ordered goods (of the heavy, bulky, PA-speaker variety) came in and had to be stowed/unpacked and hooked up.After that it was pretty much six hours of the occasional phone call, a VERY occasional customer and plenty of coffee. So when the clock turned 6, we quickly closed up and were all very eager to get home. Now, as I'm sure you all know by now, Norway has very... unpredictable... weather and today was no exception: this morning was cold and clear, and it even snowed for a couple of minutes before I went to work.
Heading home tonight, however, I was greeted with the mother of all downpours: the skies had literally opened to flush every last drop of rain down on unsuspecting Oslo citizens. Being a semi-healthy geek, I usually walk all the way home (a walk that takes me about 30 minutes) but today I had left my umbrella at home, and also had a lot to do when I got home so I thought to myself "Bah, I'll take the bus. No need to get any wetter than I already am."
Now, this is where - had there been an omnipotent, omnipresent entity controlling the universe - I should have gotten some kind of sign or omen that I had just made a bad decision: a crow should have flown over my head, a lightening flashed across the dark skies, ANYTHING. Of course, none of this happened, and I strolled over to the bus-stop hoping that the bus wouldn't be too late (it seems it's always 10 minutes late the few times I actually choose to go by bus). I should mention at this point that the bus stop is situated pretty close to a heavily trafficked main road. I walked up to the bus stop, glanced at the time-table, glanced at my cell and figured the next bus would be there in a couple of minutes, turned around...
...and was splashed - no, DRENCHED - in water sprayed from a car driving past. Yeah, I'm talking Hollywood-cliché drenched here, as a regular flood wave of mucky water hit me. Following up on the Hollywood-cliché (by instinct or because of seeing too many movies), I just stood there with a priceless expression on my face - just the right combination of surprise, anger and hopelessness. The car was of course a mile away by the time I had figured out what had happened, and I could only curse silently to myself as I wished at least a year of pestilence upon its driver. Dripping, I at least had the presence of mind to step a good few metres back from the curb and quietly (and somewhat broodingly) drip at a safe distance from more potential splashing. In this kind of situation, you can of course choose to be angry, frustrated and simply have your evening ruined - which, granted, I suppose is what most normal people would do anyway - or, you can laugh hysterically about the absurdity of the whole damn thing.
I tell you, life might be a b*tch, but boy does she have a sense of irony: by choosing to take the bus - a safe, warm, dry haven in this incredibly rainy weather - to avoid getting drenched, I had indeed become MORE drenched than if I had actually just walked home in the rain in the first place. Realizing this, I had no choice than to giggle like a madman in the rain. Which is probably why most other people out in the rain seemed to prefer walking on the OTHER side of the road: giggling lunatics seem to have that effect on people. Go figure.
So, this is where my tale of woe should have ended, but alas: the universe had more in store for me. After a couple of minutes of giggling, I felt pretty good about the whole damn thing (all my clothes were washable after all), tilted my head back to let the rain clean my face, and waited for the bus. Sure enough, a few hundred metres down the street the bus was coming, so I fished out my bus- card and walked towards to curb, waving eagerly at the bus - which simply drove straight past me. So, there I was, one more with a slightly puzzled look on my face, before once more breaking into laughter - I mean, the evening was just getting started, what MORE could it have in store for me?
Luckily, a few minutes later (I was already drenched, so standing in the rain getting soaked didn't really matter at this point) the next bus came along, and this time I waved vigorously as it passed, and the driver DID see me - after a while. Yeah, this one almost drove straight past me, too. Happy, I boarded the bus, only to be greeted with a sourly "You know, if you want to be seen, you really shouldn't be standing in those dark clothes at THIS stop - there's better light at the one down the street." Ah, yes. The Oslo bus- drivers: the very essence of politeness, know-how and service. I muttered a "Yeah, whatever." and placed my dripping self in the middle part, away from seats and passengers that seemed slightly alarmed by my - now pretty obvious - blend of elation and brooding anger.
The moral of the story? If you're out in the rain you will get wet, one way or another. You might as well learn to enjoy it.
Today was a really, really slow day at work. Painfully slow, even. My only eventful couple of hours was at the very start of the day, as a pretty big bunch of back-ordered goods (of the heavy, bulky, PA-speaker variety) came in and had to be stowed/unpacked and hooked up.After that it was pretty much six hours of the occasional phone call, a VERY occasional customer and plenty of coffee. So when the clock turned 6, we quickly closed up and were all very eager to get home. Now, as I'm sure you all know by now, Norway has very... unpredictable... weather and today was no exception: this morning was cold and clear, and it even snowed for a couple of minutes before I went to work.
Heading home tonight, however, I was greeted with the mother of all downpours: the skies had literally opened to flush every last drop of rain down on unsuspecting Oslo citizens. Being a semi-healthy geek, I usually walk all the way home (a walk that takes me about 30 minutes) but today I had left my umbrella at home, and also had a lot to do when I got home so I thought to myself "Bah, I'll take the bus. No need to get any wetter than I already am."
Now, this is where - had there been an omnipotent, omnipresent entity controlling the universe - I should have gotten some kind of sign or omen that I had just made a bad decision: a crow should have flown over my head, a lightening flashed across the dark skies, ANYTHING. Of course, none of this happened, and I strolled over to the bus-stop hoping that the bus wouldn't be too late (it seems it's always 10 minutes late the few times I actually choose to go by bus). I should mention at this point that the bus stop is situated pretty close to a heavily trafficked main road. I walked up to the bus stop, glanced at the time-table, glanced at my cell and figured the next bus would be there in a couple of minutes, turned around...
...and was splashed - no, DRENCHED - in water sprayed from a car driving past. Yeah, I'm talking Hollywood-cliché drenched here, as a regular flood wave of mucky water hit me. Following up on the Hollywood-cliché (by instinct or because of seeing too many movies), I just stood there with a priceless expression on my face - just the right combination of surprise, anger and hopelessness. The car was of course a mile away by the time I had figured out what had happened, and I could only curse silently to myself as I wished at least a year of pestilence upon its driver. Dripping, I at least had the presence of mind to step a good few metres back from the curb and quietly (and somewhat broodingly) drip at a safe distance from more potential splashing. In this kind of situation, you can of course choose to be angry, frustrated and simply have your evening ruined - which, granted, I suppose is what most normal people would do anyway - or, you can laugh hysterically about the absurdity of the whole damn thing.
I tell you, life might be a b*tch, but boy does she have a sense of irony: by choosing to take the bus - a safe, warm, dry haven in this incredibly rainy weather - to avoid getting drenched, I had indeed become MORE drenched than if I had actually just walked home in the rain in the first place. Realizing this, I had no choice than to giggle like a madman in the rain. Which is probably why most other people out in the rain seemed to prefer walking on the OTHER side of the road: giggling lunatics seem to have that effect on people. Go figure.
So, this is where my tale of woe should have ended, but alas: the universe had more in store for me. After a couple of minutes of giggling, I felt pretty good about the whole damn thing (all my clothes were washable after all), tilted my head back to let the rain clean my face, and waited for the bus. Sure enough, a few hundred metres down the street the bus was coming, so I fished out my bus- card and walked towards to curb, waving eagerly at the bus - which simply drove straight past me. So, there I was, one more with a slightly puzzled look on my face, before once more breaking into laughter - I mean, the evening was just getting started, what MORE could it have in store for me?
Luckily, a few minutes later (I was already drenched, so standing in the rain getting soaked didn't really matter at this point) the next bus came along, and this time I waved vigorously as it passed, and the driver DID see me - after a while. Yeah, this one almost drove straight past me, too. Happy, I boarded the bus, only to be greeted with a sourly "You know, if you want to be seen, you really shouldn't be standing in those dark clothes at THIS stop - there's better light at the one down the street." Ah, yes. The Oslo bus- drivers: the very essence of politeness, know-how and service. I muttered a "Yeah, whatever." and placed my dripping self in the middle part, away from seats and passengers that seemed slightly alarmed by my - now pretty obvious - blend of elation and brooding anger.
The moral of the story? If you're out in the rain you will get wet, one way or another. You might as well learn to enjoy it.
17.9.07
27.7.07
Cold feet
"Cold feet?" - "A bit!"
...I think someone reading my blog knows why I chose this one. :-P
25.7.07
Rant: angels shmangels...
Well, I guess this was bound to happen (after all, the whole "fountain of light" affair a few years back was a pretty good indicator of things to come): Princess Märtha Louise of Norway, has officially announced her clairvoyant abilities and her ability to talk with angels and horses on the website of her latest business enterprise, Astarte Education. Right. For a couple of thousand bucks pr. half year (as part of a 3 year educational package), the good princess and her partner in quack - uhm - sorry, fellow teacher, will educate you on the matters of self realization, healing and speaking to angels: "In this course, you'll get in touch with the angels and learn how to create divine miracles in your life." Indeed!
So, this is usually the part where I in a horrific display of sarcastic skills tear apart the general nonsense of New Age (not to mention the nonsense of charging money for its debatable effects) but guess what? No. Heck no. If anyone goes into this stuff willingly and knowingly - be my guest. Go ahead. Knock yourselves out. Please! And while you're at it, might I suggest some other ways of parting with your money quickly:
- Invest in a pyramid scheme! By all means, ignore the numerous scandals plastered all over the media for the last ten years, I'm sure YOU will be able to get it right and make a quick and effortless fortune doing so. Break a leg! Just don't go crying to the media to have them tell everyone and his dog your sorry story about losing your life savings in that bonehead manoeuver afterwards. It makes you look kinda stupid for doing it in the first place.
- Join a religious cult! Those guys with the expensive learning material and the wacky alien story spring to mind. Heck, you can even find a slightly less wacky religion to throw your money at, if so inclined. There's always a deity out there desperately in need of a new BMW or swimming pool, I'm sure.
- Burn them! Yes, burn your money - if the übercool gentlemen of KLF can do it, so can you. It's quick, it's easy, and you can possibly make a cultural-political statement in the process. At least if you fire up any significant amount of hard-earned cash.
Or, you can sign up on MY new educational venture, where I will teach you how to see and communicate with pink elephants, blue zebras and red gardening tools, all for the admission price of a couple of bottles of Jack Daniels and the willingness to smash your head into a wall until consciousness and the capacity for rational thought is gone.
Now, me and my invisible friend Harvey are going to have ourselves a nice, down-to-earth discussion about the pop-cultural influences in "Planet Terror" which we saw last night. In particular about the incredible joy of watching Fergie being eaten by zombies.
PS! I don't really have anything against Martha Louise personally. I just wish she'd keep her claimed extrasensory perceptions - and the money she intends to make from them - to herself. Preferably on a small, undiscovered island in the Pacific Ocean.
PPS! To the religions leaders and prominent figures that commented on this whole, sad story: Saying that Martha should be "careful with communicating with angels, as they may not be what they seem, and she might indeed come in contact with evil spirits or demons" - YOU ARE NOT FRICKIN' HELPING! Better keep your mouths shut if THAT was the best response you could muster up. Sheesh.
9.7.07
Nature's finest
It was a warm Summer night, with a delicate breeze washing away the heat of the day;
Transfixed, I stared onto this miracle of nature, this most beautiful creation of colors and shapes.
With a sense of awe, I humbly tried to capture the magnificence of it all with my meager camera, as if anything but the finely developed human retina and brain could ever hope to truly see the sight that was before me...
And guess what?
The sunset was pretty darn nice, too. ;)
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