Ugly duckling, "You are in the Village"

So we see Malcolm's sister Lina waving in the garden. I have no idea why I should have felt nervous, but I was. Reeeeal nervous. Consider me: trembling troglodyte. Holy watered homunculus. We stop. I see Malcolm's sister and his father Dag. I feel clumsy. She's very very pretty. Not extremely beautiful, but VERY good looking. Per default, I fall in love a little. What else can I do? I feel clumsy, ugly, smelly. Stuck in a beautiful mediaeval village with the Bold and the Beautiful. They are all the same, Malcolm and his family. Don't get me wrong: per logic I KNOW that I know lots of things that they don't, that I have skills they are not even aware exist, that looks, travels and interesting jobs don't make them any better.

They don't notice anything of this. They just know me as Malcolm's friend from Sweden. They are perfect hosts, offering food and wine. I make myself smooth, slippery slick, melting into wallpapers. I say to myself: Slainte! And drain that goblet of self-pity and misguided misdirected misery. My gullet lets me know that I am another social creature again. My behavior once again changes. I feel that I don't want to disturb the personal sphere of Lina, not get too close, avoiding touch. I can't help it, but boy am I one sick puppy. I get to know that part of Malcolm's family, stealthily fly on the walling. I talk - probably too much and too loud as usual - and listen. I learn things. I feel their psyches little by little.

I don't want to say much more about this, but the visit in Peyrefitte was the biggest eye opener. I feel that I want a job that I find truly interesting, not just a nice job with a pretty good salary. I felt that I was totally unworthy of girls such as Lina. That I should fix things: my apartment, my life, my work. I should get in shape. Get my apartment painted. Remove my strange red rash on my collarbone and the little sphere of fat nearby. I feel ashamed of my body. Why? Because it is rarely commented or touched. Because the only female comments about it has been that my skin is very soft and that I have a big cock (a blatant lie, by the way). I felt very embarrassed going to the Mediterranean with Malcolm and Lina. Why? I haven't got a clue. They: goldentanned, nicebodied. Me: paleskinned, tallbacked, ill-proportioned. I know this is not the truth. But I felt that way anyhow. After a swim, I feel an incredible urge to hide my body behind a towel. The wind blows the sand on it right in Lina's face. Clumsy clumsy.

Still, I thought it was all very nice. One can feel very happy, even if one feels somewhat like a loser. I don't want to seem flippant about the whole feeling, but I think that even golden people have problems & that mine can be small in comparison. Very real, though. I am not a depressed person. I laugh a lot. I'm not on some kind of existentialist trip, fellating my ego with self mockery. I like the world. I am very nonjudgmental. I like people. I enjoy talking even to stupid people. I laugh both with and at people. Food is great. I liked shopping with Malcolm & family, all of us laughing at the obviously oblivious man with the ugly ass mint green tee-shirt with the text: I'm so horny, even the crack of dawn isn't safe.

But this experience triggered something in me. A huge desire to change my life. To make myself worthy. To avoid ending up in a mediocre cul-de-sac, where my life is nothing but work and sleep. Bitches and money. The conclusion, skipping the factual details, since the trip very much turned metaphysical on me, is that it is very sad that so few question and actually DO something about their life. Work, kids, wife, obligations. 18 years of theoretical slavery just because the biological imperative and/or general horniness kicked in at a valid timespace node. Get that car, get that pet. Shut up and obey the protestant work ethic. Kondratiev wave theory has no real world applications. Mob psychology asks you, nay, orders! you!, to work your ass of for no reason whatsoever. This is not a way for people to live. It is all so very very unjust and I don't think.

Want to hear what I think? I just need to get laid. Shut my mouth up good. Get me in line. Pizzazz me beyond eternity. On wednesday, there will be a 80% total eclipse. I have already started to rewrite my destiny. Sometimes a few days on the road in a black Mercedes is all you need. Shock treatment for wimps like me.

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Fuel: Malcolm, Alex, Richard, Lina, Dag, holy water. Good food, good wine, strange scenery. Ellroy, Os Mutantes, Johnny Cash, Undertones, Schoolly D. French comics, The Invisibles, Tintin, Ween. Speak, Joel Peter Witkin, House Industries. Lola Rennt, Carl Stalling. Viet Nam, Converse, Punk Planet. Too Short (for the photo) & Fray (content inspiration). Ricard, caipirinha, mojito, Badoit. Negroni, Dogme 3: Mifunes Sidste Sang, Betty Page & not masturbating for 10 days straight.