Number three

This week there was someone, most likely Italian, who did a google search of "headache sociology" and found this blog. I love the provided statistics of blogger.com. 

As I stepped out of the public bus with a suitcase and a bag, both heavier than when I left, I remembered how there's no food in the house. The tiredness of carrying the bags (suitcase wheels are useless in soft snow) made me choose fast noodles over vegetables and, you know, healthy food, but I'm too tired to even do that now. Yogurt and snickers don't need that much hassle. 

The bus from Riga to Tallinn was fuller than the one I usually take. This was the first time I actually sat next to someone. It was a girl that wasn't really fat, but wasn't slim either. She was a bit too wide for her seat alone so my left and her right leg just sort of pressed together for about 4 hours, creating a weird and comforting feeling. 

The previous paragraph, while truthful, is fucking stupid, I'm sorry for that. But the busride was the only big thing that happened to me today, so not much material to fill the 200 word minimum of today.

Word count: 203

NUMBER TWO IS LATE

No, but actually, I've got the material, just not sure what exactly to reveal at this point. The once private space has grown to be very public, and, while audience is nice, some basic filtering is really needed. I'm just left with this to tell: I have new boots, that my ex helped me to pick out. Then we had coffee and nice talks about the celebration of a new year. Then I had a date with Irish coffee, Irish cream liqueur and Irish whiskey. Then walks and then a drink and then walks.

Tomorrow I leave to Tallinn in search of a new apartment, in search of education and in search of eternal happiness. I have homework that skipped the mind in holidays, exams I haven't prepared for and a few shoots that I'm not sure I can handle properly.

Actually can't wait to go back, just for the reason of working on the creation of a band. The material for beginning should be enough, I'm eager to do shit, and I've talked about it so much that I would be ashamed not to pull this off for at least a single concert.

The word count was not sufficient, but with this sentence it is.

Word count: 206

Article number one

This was the final night, when I have to be ashamed for not getting awesome presents for others.

And I miss people from Tallinn while not being able to meet everyone I want here. Also, fuck my financial disorientation.

Nowhere near enough time or energy to do a good blog post, I apologize, but 200+ words a day is my first weeks resolution, so, yeah. 

TUESDAY 25TH

I'm drinking with N, because I'm in Riga and he is too. P joins in with a heartbreaking story of his new disability - a burnt finger; we try to drown the pain in alcohol, but for some reason bars are closed (because of Tuesday or because of Christmas) and we're forced to migrate around, while salvaging a few drinks from the open places. Somehow we end up in one of the bars with, uh, shots? or not, no clue, and a single beer. Also, our table has one chair, so we stand around like assholes. A couple of girls are superfriendly, as we go out for a smoke. Even though there are two other guys, both with exotic accents and so on, they choose me to give me their numbers and that felt nice. Even though they were 17 or something, I don't know. Then we spent a fucking million in another place, found some more people, mostly drunk people, and went to this random guy's house only to realize how fucking drunk we are. Others do more drinks and weed, while I try to play the guitar, but I failed to put two chords together, and that's how I remember how drunk I was. Afterwards, P casually leaves his wallet in the unknown's apartment and we stumble towards his place. P is the most dry (drigh) and falls over a lot. After the third fall, he requests that I take a picture of the place he fell down. I'm sorry, it looks like shit (and there probably is some hidden in the snow), but it was very important to the guy.

Word count: 338

Part One

To celebrate the first fifty entries in this blog, I'll write the 50th in two parts, but not because of the incredible amount to write on. I've been lazy and tired and just unable to sit down and write a proper post, and, even now, when the pressure has been increasing for about a week, it is five minutes to 4am and I just had a date for about 9 hours, during which I got drunk and sobered up and walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door, actually, to fall down in my sisters old bed (as my room is a fucking refrigerator).

But, seriously now, my stereomood favorites sometimes surprise me pleasantly indeed.

You know what, fuck it, the entry will be in more parts, because now I want to explore Dark Dark Dark. My future topics will not only include the regular descriptions of the semi-adventurous life, but also the long-planned essay on The Kills, my extended opinion on the "journalists" of the Latvian newspaper Diena and an article that I might just send to Diena just to show them how much more work should be put into their ridiculously flawed pages.

A picture would be nice, I guess.

Well, nothing special, but a picture it is, and I was in Stockholm and we had nightly walks through the city, while I was smoking my life away, while our legs were killing us, while my girlfriend was angry at me for going across the sea even though I sort of told her I wouldn't, when life still made sense, when a "date" would not mean meeting a girl and walking through parks, cafes and icy streets, but rather another day in the living room chair eating noodles and watching cat videos. Yes, I'm nostalgic as fuck tonight, that's what happens in nights like this.

EDITED 01.01.2013.
Fuck the other parts, seriously.

Resolutions

The goals set for longer periods are usually left until the last moment or just cancelled at all. So I'll try to do a sequence of smaller challenges over January:

First week: one article written each day on whatever subject, >200 words;

Second week: >20 pages read each day from a book not read before;

Third week: >1h each day spent on doing either melodica, bass, electronic or percussion.

Fourth week: if all previous resolutions are fulfilled, celebrate it with a date or make a party.

I'm sick but ready to continue the weird adventures that I'll describe at some point.

Wait

Yesterday I wanted to write my thoughts on how unreliable people are, by only making precise appointments a day or two in advance, and always double-check on facebook or by phone, whether it's still on. Or maybe this is my problem specifically, because I tend to do that a lot, and I don't use calendars. 

Today I woke up two minutes before I had to be in the center. Just enough time to call and cancel.

As a first year student, I am obliged to remind you, that Christmas season holidays are commercialized and capitalists leech the money out of everyone, but, honestly, I couldn't really care less, since I've heard enough from the fellows in the course, where half of the people use the not-so-humble Apple computers. These are the hypocritical modern hippies that hardly solve anything. 

I apologize for the raging on a Christmas day. That's probably because the time spent here is so awesome and I can't be angry with anything else.

Here's me singing Christmas songs:

Bring it

So I'm listening to electronic music and getting pumped up just from being comfortable. The bus is incredibly warm with wireless (electricity sockets aren't working though), I have warm clothes, just ate breakfast, lunch and dinner compressed into an apple, chocolate, snickers and water, and it's hard to hold the excitement for going to Riga.

More pictures, because I'm in a good mood.

Can't get this out for weeks.