A Hobbit goes to Oxford

So it does happen that I have a window of a few hours here and there when a film or series sneak in. There is some good shit out there, and true to my recent peaks in to eastern Europe/middle eastern culture I can recommend ´Vid himlens utkant´ (Auf der anderen seite), and the old classic that I´ve been looking for for ages and now finally found through maybe not entirely legal channels ´Time of the Gypsies´.

But more of the great Kusturica some other time. Since I try to avoid sensory overload I aim to be selective with the few things I watch. But the anglophile in me has been known to lead me astray, and when I heard of ´The Oxford murders´ I was sold. But not even as an architectural eye candy did it do a very good job, managing to show off a Cotswold civilization off stale pub interiors, university offices not seen a flick of paint since the 40´s, bare NHS wards and streets erupting in road cones and illuminous labourers.
The attempt at an intelligent plot of a murderer cum expert in mathematical philosophy feels like a tacky Dan Brown meets Miss Marple only with a better paid cast. All topped off with everyones favourite Elijah Wood. Now to recemble a gifted american phd student overseas it is simply not enough to throw in a ´fuck´or ´fucking´ this or the other, while reading ones lines as if for the first time. I´m aware of the danger in stating anything but pure devotion in regards to the Ring trilogy, and its impossible to say he didn´t act a good Hobbit when one have only ever before met one in the mind. But that somewhat limited library of facial expressions of his, ranging from stare, to eyeballs near enough exiting his smooth profile couldn´t do the academic/foreign lover/saving bussloads of kids a´la John McClane type if his life depended on it.
So please don´t watch Oxford murders. Ever. Not even if it might get you laid.

Knitting phase 3 and the spaniard

I woke up this morning without feeling like I got hit by a bus. Only people with ME can understand what a glorios window of relief that is. All I want is to get in the car and leave the house, visit someone or maybe walk in to a shop. But I´m terrified to do just that. What if I run out of steam while on the road, or what if I get through it alright, and then the next morning feel like being hit by a bus would be mild in comparison to the 15 carriage steam train that would sweep me in to conciousness (for the following 2 weeks).

So what will I do with my day of clear head and abillity to get up the stairs without trembling knees? Probably just have a shower and take the opportunity to wash my hair. Cook my poor over-worked mum a nice dinner maybe.

The knitting has moved in to the "prison" phase, i.e. sweater. Last night I had trouble holding my toothbrush cuz my fingers were arthritically stuck in various stitching terminology. Dunno really what will happen to the result in the end cuz when the recipe recommend something that seems like Greek to me, I simply ignore it and move on to the next set of instructions. But I admit it is sort of addictive, maybe I too will be one of those who knit to wrap lamp-posts or parking meters in the end (although I would have to do the domestic ME-friendly version instead and opt for kitchen chair-legs, the old TV antenna and bits of oven)...



My Spanish exposure project is also slowly progressing. I have decided to try and consume all the films by Pedro Almodóvar, and yesterday I saw Dark Habits (Entre Tinieblas) twice. Only in his films can the nuns raise tigers, take heroin and sew glittery costumes for the statue of the virgin. He seems to live in an alternative reality, and I mean that in a good way, no other director can tell a story with so much love and passion in situations that would make anyone else weep with despair. He certainly makes it easier to persevere with my Spanish and next I aim to get a hold of his first film Pepi, Luci, Bom and Other Girls on the Heap.

Midsummer banter (not)

So today is Midsummers eve, and the longest night of the year. It is traditionally celebrated with lots of intoxicants, acompanied by herring here (us swedes acompany everything with pickled herring to get an excuse to get shitfaced, possibly cuz u can´t eat enough of the stuff to fill your stomach and prevent the shots of aquavit going straight to the head).


My folks are on their way out the door to do just the above at the neigbours house. I am invited too, but since I barely can type this, streched out on the sofa, I doubt its a good idea. 2 weeks ago I was starting to feel slightly better. I had a few friends visiting and I could potter about in the kitchen. And I thought that maybe that 3 month long period of hardly being able to shower or even hold up a spoon, was over for this time. But how wrong I was. A few days ago I simply ran out. Again. And now there is no way I could sit at a dinner, because I simply can´t sit up long enough to get shitfaced. Guess I could get shitfaced anyway though, horizontally...


Today I got company. She was a little moaning lady walking in as if she owned the place. And she can have it for all I care...

No the only Midsummer I care about is the Midsummer murders. I was deeply disturbed when SVT 24 ran out of episodes a few months ago, and not all the Miss Marple in the world can make up for it. Its terrible how this illness makes you so geared towards television, and I have already given my word that if I ever am to get well, I will never own a TV again. I´m dying to do and not just watch!

Well anyway, Midsommer murders have had the decency to record a new season, and although its hard to believe that there can be many left in the county to murder, I shall devour my beloved English countryside all out.

Till then, I have joined Lovefilm. I was once a member back in the sun-burnt days of living in L.A., and I think they were alot quicker to send you out films back then. But in Sweden the post is like everything else under our capitalist government, slow, expensive, and soon to be privatised, so you just have to say thank you and wait for the next elections. Anyhow, I decided that just cuz my body is drying up and weakening out, I should at least try to keep my brain somewhat alert. I guess I could have opted for something more suitable than learning more Spanish, since I hardly have anyone to talk to at all nowadays, let alone in Spanish. But I have said it before and I say it again. Shame on whoever gives up. So I began my rental membership with only signing up for films in said language, and have so far recieved quite a few peculiar dics that certainly wouldn´t have made me stop in a usual videostore.

These two were pretty morbid I must say. Voces Innocentes I can even recommend, if you got the stomach for injustice and human courage. About the civil war in El Salvador, told in the perspective of an 11 year old boy.

Anyway, this chicken might splash out this fine friday night and treat herself to a sleeping pill, so she can be rid of it all properly for a few hours.

I bid you adiós.