When I woke up this morning my radio told me the shocking news about the name of our new prince. His name is Prince Sverre Magnus. Dang. I was hoping for Sigbjørn. Then I could’ve been Sigbjørn the Great and he The Lesser or The Not So Great. But then I’m not a prince.

I’m glad to inform you that I actually managed to read something during the weekend. Philosophy of Mind is pretty hard, not because it’s difficult, but because there’s so many misunderstandings between the different camps that you get frustrated at least once per page. And I wrote a little on this’n and that’n.
Then I remembered: Sir Sigg3! You’re invited to a birthday party!

Since I got home from Cuba exactly two years ago, I’ve been infiltrating the social networks of the Hamarians. Hamarians are strange, peaceful people from the farmlands of Hamar. The ones I’ve met so far, that is all of them, loves hip hop, funk and general grafiti culture. So it’s kind of a new experience to me. When you dance in Northern Norway, what you’re doing is headbanging. The Hamarians, however, seem to take dancing to a whole new level. At parties they often have dancing battles too! That’s really cool.
Anyway, Niels is the guy who had a birthday, and we were invited to come to this brick building next to one of the small churches by the river. You paid a 30NOK fee at the entrance, and then you could hang around, smoke cigarettes inside, buy beer or wine or drink/smoke whatever you brought with you. It was brilliant.

They only had 1 toilet though, mostly reserved for the girls. So after a three beers you’d be standing in the dark by the frozen river, pissing your best in a magical atmosphere and the danger of being photographed by the cops.

The Hamarians always play hip hop.
Most of them also know how to play turntable, be a good dj and make everybody feel alright. Where I come from they put on the punk, boost up the bass and see who survives. So there’s a big difference, but I try to get along with these people, following their strangely charismatic rituals, and I’m beginning to get the hang of the special kind of handshakes and whatnot.
In this party, though, they had an amateur Balkan-jazz band. It was awesome. The thing about Balkan boogie is that it’s got a superficial happiness to it, while a sad longing lurks underneath. The spite of a poor people captured in tones, it’s really beatiful. But this particular group was more ambitious than talented, I’m afraid, but they helped rise the ceiling in terms of good spirit and just in time for the Live DJs to perform.

Among the guests was one of Norway’s finest dancers, with his hair slick back like raven’s feather, but I really have no clue as to what good dancing is so I just had to trust the Hamarians on that. Even I danced. Just because I’m cool. That’s right. If you put me next to a refrigerator, the refrigerator will pull its own plug and walk outta there in shameful embarrasment. That’s about how cool I am. I make an artic winter seem like a hot day in hell. But I can’t dance if you told me to.

I also met Jester from the Alarmclock Connection crew. He spat some good anti-capitalist shit, but at that time I was just too drunk to care about the lyrics. I commended him for his work with AC and expressed my true emotions as to the work they do. I also showed him some notes on a cynical Christmas carol I’d been sketching on the tram earlier. Typical geek behavior. He thought it was funny, though, and told me to send it to Gatas Parlament. Oh well. It was cool anyway.

All in all it was a great evening, and the day after, at about five o’clock I was invited to join my mother and a friend of hers at the first-class Chinese restaurant Dinner. I couldn’t turn down such an offer. What’s better the day after than munching at some oriental shit instead of eating dry bread at your own pigsty? I can’t really think of anything. I had the regular Schezuan chicken with cashew nuts and a coke. Dinner has 6 levels of hotness. That’s a good thing, since Norwegian mouths are not used to spicy food. A really hot dish is Dinnerishly medium. But I’ve had hotter. I’m cool with that.

So now it’s time for a new week. I’ll be working today, but from this evening on I’ll only be reading. I’ve got the Philosophy of Mind/Metaphysics exam at Friday 2 o’clock, and the Logics/Philosophy of Language at 9 o’clock the Monday after. And then? Then I’m readily cool with just slacking off until the 1st of January 2006.

Oh, and somebody stole the cafeteria vegetables from our truck just now. Please let me know if you’ve seen a stack of greens running around.

2 thoughts on “”

  1. I have not seen your veegtables. But perhaps they do not run at high altitudes. Or are Norwegian-specific.

    Sverre Magnus is a perfectly lovely name. Amusing to listen to people who are not Norwegian pronounce it. Sounds like they’re trying to ask for soup, or some strange breed of foot disease.

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