Library-ing, tired, being annoyed and stuff.

Dear fuck. This was more arduous than I thought it would be. Two Billy IKEA shelves being dragged out (HAIL TO THE TYGERZ*), un-filling them beforehand and then filling them up again according to the place that they ended up in. I really thought that would be easy, but alas. It wasn't. I am still having difficulties with my pulse. And didn't help with the Hungry either. 

At least my office is now cleaned up. Before I did that mad dragging-shit-around thing, all of my non-filed articles, university notes and 'general notes' were lying on the ground, waiting to be filed away. 

So, after tonight's filing excess, I have three more article folders (nos. 08-10), plus one "general cuneiform (of which I have hardly any clue what the texts are)"-stack, plus one "cuneiform plus transliterations and translations that I can't add to one of the university folders"-stack, plus one "articles that are not entirely there"-stack and a "fully xeroxed books that need to be bound"-stack. Not to mention the "these are books that I tried to xerox but failed to complete"-stack. And the "random notes and things"-stack. 

Fuck me, I am feeling like a corpse. 

But now everything has its place. Well, not everything; I still need to fill up Billy shelf no. 09 in the living room, which I wanted to do after placing the shelves. But, alas, I am too tired and fucked up to do that right now - hence my sitting here and melting into the wonderchair. 

I kinda want to sleep, but I am way too hyper to do that.

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I finished getting my office library done, though. And I am definitely missing at least one box of books. This also makes it kinda impossible to sleep - I want to know where my books are. I suspect they are at Snorre's place.  I want my books back. 

Other than that - I have been in a thoroughly disgusted mood. The "good friend" I referred to repeatedly, who helped me with being able to live here after my flight from the horrifying island of death and doom, has turned out to be the exact same kind of disgusting weirdo that he was the first time I stopped talking to him. 

Imagine:
Someone follows you around like a dog, grins at you**, plays love songs whilst you're sitting next to him in his car and have to endure it (you asking to change the music does nothing), follows you around like a dog (into your bedroom, even though it should be pretty obvious that bedrooms are not a place you follow people into without them asking you to do so), grinning at you like a Crossed (for some odd reason, he is aware of the fact that 'human smiles', being "show your teeth", are not a natural sign of being friendly and complains about it, but nonetheless does it towards me)... I could go on.

Considering the fact that about three years ago I had to stop talking to him and had to stop having any kind of contact with him because he sent me a four DIN-A4 pages long love letter that was just sick and disgusting***, this behaviour doesn't really help. I hoped that him having a girlfriend would help - but no. He is lying to her about his feelings for her, he is being a disgusting piece of shit towards me (grinning and smiling and following me around, doing odd things based on the words I say - it is creepy as fuck), and obviously didn't learn a single fucking thing from me deciding not to talk to him anymore after his love-letter-madness years ago. 

I am really sorry for his girlfriend - he clearly hasn't talked to her about all of this. Whilst I am not someone who cares about the relationships people have (I couldn't care less, honestly), I find it deeply disturbing that said guy is a) messing up the girl he is with, b) annoying the ever loving shit out of me. Mostly b). *shivers in disgust*

I did tell him, explaining why I stopped talking to him back then, that there is nothing as effective getting me to run away screaming inside from someone than being sent love-letters or being faced with minion-behaviour. But apparently I was not effective enough in telling him that. Ewgh. Disgusting on so many levels. So now I kinda have to think about how to deal with this shit - AGAIN.

Let's see how things work out. I am going to put books into the shelf that is now in the living room.

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* I used the two plush tigers I have to cushion the shelves on their way through the flat. 
** He himself complains about the whole "showing-teeth-for-smiling" thing, but does it himself to show 'niceness'. Madness. And disgusting
*** ...referred to by this: 

Shelves

I just dragged around two shelves through the doors (which are not shelf-sized), creating super-shelf-space. I can hardly breathe and damn, that was awesome. Even though I can hardly breathe. 

Shit I Read 001 - got (most) of my library back!!!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh.

/me sighs happily

There is a certain kind of... calm inherent in being surrounded by your very own library again after almost three years of deprivation. Although, at least one box of books is missing* - but for the moment, I am trying not to think too much about that and instead wallow in the beauty of being able to read whatever I want to read whenever I want to read it.

This, naturally, interferes with my PhD productivity; but since I managed to caught my first flu in quite a while with the advent of THE FLU PANDEMIC over here, I've been mostly lying in bed**, soaking in my own sweat and trying to get better as soon as possible. This is prime time for reading!

So, in the last 14 days I devoured the following:

Michael Moorcock - Earl Aubec and other Stories
Michael Moorcock - Silverheart
Michael Moorcock - The Dreamthief's Daughter
Michael Moorcock et al. - Elric: Tales of the White Wolf
Michael Moorcock - Nomads on the Time Stream 
Thomas Bernhard - Auslöschung
Thomas Bernhard - Die Ursache. Eine Andeutung
Thomas Bernhard - Der Keller
Thomas Bernhard - Der Atem. Eine Entscheidung
Gustav Schwab - Sagen des klassischen Altertums 
Michael Moorcock - The Eternal Champion 
Franz Kafka - Der Prozeß 
Berni Maier - Black Mandel
Akif Pirincci - Felidae
Akif Pirincci - Cave Canem
Michael Moorcock - The Roads Between the Worlds
Michael Moorcock - The Book Corum
Michael Moorcock - 2/3 of the second part of the Corum saga because THE COLLECTED CORUM STORIES BOOK IS MISSING *growls*


Not as much as I could do, due to having to get boxes with books from elsewhere to my flat, but still.

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* I have a very good memory when it comes to my books, PARTICULARLY when it comes to my academic stuff and my Michael Moorcock books, and there's stuff missing from both categories. Will have to find out where they have disappeared to.

** Or rather, the bed-like contraption I made.

Back home & stuff.

I AM BACK HOME! 

Yeah, it's been a while - even though the four people who read this already know that. I'm back in the best city when it comes to life quality (according to polls), and dayum, I am FUCKING HAPPY. 

After dwelling in an empty flat which was gracefully handed over to me for, well, dwelling in it, which also lacked gas and electricity (joy of joys, but hey, after the ordeal of the UK I am not complaining), and then moving into the storage room of a good friend's band colleague, I finally found a flat. One that is overlooking a train station. Which is awesome. 

To elaborate: I grew up next to a train station, and trains have a soothing effect on my psyche. I love the sound, I love the smell, I love the sight of railroads and trains. It calms me. So that is fucking brilliant. 

It's HUGE. Now I can afford it (after all, yours truly is now an official stipendiate of a superawesome science thing and gets shitloads of money for just sitting at home and working on its PhD), and the cats and myself are thoroughly enjoying the change. 

It's still empty as fuck though. It'll take until the end of February until I know whether I get a cheap bed and sofa of good quality. At the moment, I'm sleeping on all the blankets I could get, plus the mad lycan's sleeping bag, plus a new awesome friend's air mattress.... which has been clawed by my girlcat, so the bed is way flatter now than it should be, but hell. I'm away from the UK. That's what counts. 

I was taken out to IKEA yesterday by aforementioned mad lycan (big hugs to you, when you read this), and we did a roundabout trip through the fucking store after cleaning out the filth of my best female friend's mother's flat. More on that in a later posting, because it was an experience that deserves to be immortalised on the internet. 

Anyways. IKEA. We got 10 big Billy shelves, blankets, pillows (I need to sit *somewhere*), some other basic shit, a plush kitty, and then realised we would have to carry the crap up to my 4th floor flat. Luckily we could abuse the elevator, which is generally not for transporting shit that isn't people. It still took us a fucking ridiculous amount of time to get everything up, with me almost collapsing towards the end. There's definitely a need for red there... but alas. 

I also bought a chair. It's a wonderchair. It keeps my spine straight, my hips in the correct position, has about 7000 different functions, and was ridiculously expensive. But considering the fact that I basically live at my workspace, I thought that spending a ridiculous amount of money on such a wonderchair was a good idea (I still think that, and will continue to do so - my bones, sinews and flesh melt into how a human body is supposed to sit when I am in this chair, and boy, it feels good. Most of my physical issues come from having spent way too much time cramped on shitty chairs in front of shitty tables, so now I'm going all out to make sure that I will not have to suffer through that again for the next 15 years at least). Yay for the chair! 

Me and the cats are quite comfortable. At this very moment, I am cooking up 6 liters of soup with beef, lamb hearts, veggies and six thick, fat bones full of marrow, which will make my body happy once again. In the same vein (heh) I was informed that I'll be able to get red again. Things are looking up already - and no, this is not anything that the wiccans did (/me looks at Dr Mabuse). 

Home. 

Where can I start? 

Our food is so much more suited to my body than the one in the UK. Granted, both meat and fish are way more expensive here, but the quality is so much fucking better. We have actual bread - real bread! Not sandwich bread with shitloads of sugar, but REAL bread. I was binging on bread for two weeks after my arrival. 

Our beer is so much more better. In the UK, you drink 5 pints of whatever, and you wake up with a hangover that destroys your brain and remains of your physis. Here, you can down 12, and still wake up refreshed the day after. I guess it's because we have a Reinheitsgebot and no fucking sulphites in our alcohol. We take our alcohol way more serious. And fuck me, it's much cheaper. For one UK beer I get three beers here, which are actually wonderful beers. Aaaaaaah. 

Our public transport. I used to whine about it when I was still living here before the UK, but after the experience of having to pay 400 quid a month for public transport I will never ever again complain about ours. For that money (less, actually) I get a full year pass.

And I've got friends here. Kudos to the few of you who read this, you know who you are. 

So now I am chillaxxing here in my wonderchair, watching an accident happen on the street below, with purring cats, wonderful beer, cheap cigarettes that I can get anytime I want, listening to Mörk Gryning's first album from '95 (one of my favourites) and reading Eternal Champion comics (Corum, at the moment). 

I am fucking happy. 

Granted, it turned out that my formerly best male friend is a disgusting bastard whom I never want to see again as he was using the same ridiculous techniques of "control" on me than my UK-ex and the horrifying exes before that one, but hey. I got to know so many new and awesome people that the loss of that one creep really doesn't hurt. Life goes on, as the saying goes. 

Happy, happy, happy. 

And I was just given links to needleful things by my best internet-friend. Aaaaaahhhhhhhhh. 

Life is good.