Number six

Not surprisingly, but I am not happy with the resolution results. I was inspired by an article to do the small challenges over short periods of time, but for the past five days I've been acting just like in the awkward situations, when there's nothing relevant to say and I'm talking nonsense to fill up the silence.  Just a few months ago I wrote on facebook that universities and schools are responsible for the verbosity due to the strict word count requirements. Now I've done it to myself and most of the text in the previous entries can be crossed out with zero loss.

The shooting was actually a fucking mess. I never saw the story board so I was only dependent on the instructions yelled into my ear while this song was being blasted so loud my bottle vibrated. Also, drink prices were way over the quality. I completely understand why they chose to call a drink "RumCoke" instead of "Cuba Libre", because that was just shit and cost 4.5 euros. Another distracting aspect was that the wolf mask, way too small for my face, obscured about 90% of my view and I bumped into every douche in my way. Oh, the douchebags, tons of them. 

I had forgotten why I don't go to clubs.

Word count: 220

Number five is surprisingly early

The shooting will take place from 11pm to 4am, so I have to do this now.

This page was open for a full hour and I was just playing the guitar and talking to myself. Never mind, not myself, but imaginary other people, explaining various aspects of my life, testing, whether I sound sane or charming or whatever. 

However, I have zero material to write on, will try after the smoking break. 

Alright, I just found a 6 minute video of me, N, P and a random guy V at V's place, with terrible drunk quotes like "Martin, where is my coat, oh my god, where could it be, the problem is that I'm a bit dizzy", "What happens on Christmas, stays on fucking Christmas" and oh my god, I really hope I'm talking in this way only when wasted. 

I've said for a few years now that I'd like to clone myself a few times so I can have the awesome band and every member would understand what I want from them, but now it seems I'd never drink with them. Videos like this really undermine my illusion of a charming drunk.

It has been almost two hours since I started to write this. No miraculous epiphanies, no sudden realizations, and too lazy to try writing something serious. Still, tomorrow should be better, after all, I'm going to party tonight. I don't know anyone there, but, fuck it, I'm an actor and I will be playing a "wolf man" who gets drunk, hallucinates, hits on a girl and then wakes up on his own with no friends in the same bar. Wait, should I be happy that I'm that guy?

I found a shortcut to a folder inside one of its sub-folders. Trippy.

Word count: 304

Four and halfway done

This morning, I woke up cold and sick in middle of nowhere Nõmme, with nobody to make me pancakes. All the people I didn't see enough come to my mind, the shower is too hot, I'm late for the meeting, so overall mood is more depressing than usual. And then I come home and just remember, that I brought some whiskey in the bottom of my suitcase. I actually never drank it, but the thought alone, that I could, warms my heart.

For the third time already, I'm offered a surprise role in one of the assignment films. Not some passing guy character, not some sitting in a white room, like the first ones, no, a main character. A cool one, even, getting drunk and hunting for a girl, how cool is that.

Also, for one of the films, I am both a narrating voice, talking to characters, and a character. So I'm talking to myself. That's fucking weird. But, yes, my face will be all over the screens in a couple of weeks. Which is weird, because I have probably the worst facial skin in the school, but alright.

The only reason I am over the deadline is that my classmate and I are talking about dead people on facebook.

Word count: 212

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.