Revenge - the glorification of evil.

Like Jobe sparred by Satan's trickery, we must bear our burdons of failure, never look back, never complain.  Suffer the truth haunting us like a neverending cloud of thunder.  But we have revenge, we can get even, we can restore our sanity, we can swim like a manatee in the chrystal-clear oceans of restoration.

But no, put the hammer that hit you, back in it's cupboard with ease and peace of mind!  Look into the future with eyes golden with insight, purified by empathy, rectified by enteties so fine that you can't hide that evil eye in the top drawer of your mind any more!

In a sick society we must rejoice the niceties, we must abhor the relentless evolution of the side-effects of happy days.  Happiness is like the expensive candy you must steal to get, and then it doesn't taste that great at first, but oblivion sets in to ease our pain.

So if you feel violated, run over by cars, beaten by the hands which applauded you, watch out for that demon in you! That trickster, who so dearly would see you in tears, who so ardently would see you revenge the loss of an eye for at least two.  So your miniature Satans are executed by the law, so what, Satan lives on, kicking and screaming his message to the derailed world, not yet crashed into the abyss by the waterfalls cliffy edge, but soon too be stopped by God laughing his messy laugh, when something allmost went out out hand.  Twisting the pentagram into shape, glossing the cross that once praised his creation; how much worse shall it get before the creation of the creation will fall?  Forget time!  Don't you get blindet by time!

Revenge is not revenge, revenge is nothing more than a repetition of the act itself.  Ergo: Take an eye for en eye!  But the second evil is just as bad as the first!  So forget it, live on and forget the ethics you once learned to be right.  It will still hurt to lose an eye, but it will not feel too unjust, no too unheard of: bad things happen in a bad world!  See it as a proof of what you predicted; if you go a million steps, you will fall and hurt your knee at least once, if you live in gunfire you must accept to be shot at, not out of the blue, nor out of malice, not like in a dream of forgotten obligations.  Not that.

Throw the axe that hit you leg into the leg of the one who threw the axe first, the he will throw the axe back at you, thinking you hit it first at him, so shall evil be upheld!

Kick you bicycle of life out your garage, grab the handlebar and swing onto the seat, ride down the steepest roads you know, then force you heaving body up those same hills, keep the pedals moving incessantly as you gasp for air towards the top of the first hill.  Seeing straight into the second hill, will the short flat stretch suffice?

 

Invalid indications galore!

 

  Ok! that was not that hard to do!  But I had to follow my own path to reach my goal, not the indicated solutions.  It's a troublesome fact that the pictureframe above do no function.  When I try it all hell's nonsense breaks loose.  Just watch my gullible attempt:  Fooled yet again, like the serpent in paradise fooled Adam one Eve to munch the apple of conceit.  It tastes so good, but failure be thy name!  Why tempt us to browse a defunt photo-list with no photos available?  Is it pure malice?  Probably some sort of glorification of inside knowledge.  Because certain types of information would offend the users of Grab, they hate unnecessary info and just might try another forum instead, and Grab would hate that.  So Grab chooses to offend as few as possible, swinging the axe of judgement over the ignorant masses.  "They probably think it is meant to be so, that the red X will magically transform into the right picture after a while!"  BUT NO!  Out of the naive masses rises an ego of purity so elevated that the elite itself must bow their necks in ore!       Hallelujah!  The savior of the idiots has arrived the Grab network to remove the wool so cunningly pulled by the Grab-demons over the innocent eyes of the lambs.

And hereby I will disclose the secret so ardently defended by the Grab-mob:

1) Find the picture and copy it by clicking the right mouse-button and choose copy.

2) Then enter your grab page and type Ctrl+V

And Hurrah! The magic trouble-shooting works like a dart touching in at treble 60.

    Victory at last!       

 

If you're travelling on a norwegian train you might want to know how to pronounce their names, and maybe know what the names would mean.  Neither of which is an easy task.

Norwegian simplyfied pronouncing.

Vowels are either long or short, as a rule they are short in front of a doble consonant. 

A: allways as a in car. But often short.

E: as a in cat infront of R, else as e in less. when long as e in ther(e). 

I: as ee in tee.

O: when short as o in hop, else like oo in moor or ou in the frensh word amour.

U: somewhat lik oo en boo or somewhat like u in the frensh word du.

Y: this is the hard one: place the lips to say oo but say ee instead. (not moving the lips)

Æ: like a in cat, but allways long

Ø: like u in curl or i in sir

Å: like o in hop or o in bored

AU: like ø+u or æ+u  or ø/æ + v  ex: sau = si(r)/v(et) (meaning sheep)

EI: like ey in they

ØY: like John Foggerty singing the u in Burning, like ø+i

G: in front of e, i or y like y in young (only at the beginning of a word)

J: like y in young

KJ: like the german ch in ich (or if you give up like sh in bush)

R: Allways trilled as in Scotland, and never silent.b 

The pronounciation guide-system.

The letters in brackets are not to be pronounced but the the letters outside is to be pronounced as if the whole word was to be pronounced.

Examples: Ca(r)t - being pronounced Cat whith an a like in car.

                Ma(rt)nn/da(rk)l - being the city Manndal, the double n indicating a short a

                (B)all/(th)e/soo(n)nn - being Ålesund, the oo in soon being short.

Intonation.

The intonation is a difficult case to master, but try to make soft fluktuation in between the syllables. The long word must no be pronounced in one stream but with intricate pauses or minuscule stops. 

Examples: Å - Le - Sund in 3 goes Oh - Le - Sun

Cardinal mistakes.

Allways say ah when there is an a.

Never pronounce an e like an i or ee.

Never pronounce an u like u in sure.

Funny noun suffixes

When a noun is declined norwegian har suffixes attatched in stead of THE.

And there are three genders with their own suffixes.

Examples: the Man = Mannen  the Men = Mennene             a Man = en Mann

                the horse = hesten  the horses = hestene            a Horse = en Hest

                the barn = låven      the barns = låvene                a Barn = en Låve

                the girl = jenta, the girls = jentene                      a Girl = ei jente

                the goat = geita, the goat = geitene                    a Goat = ei geit

               the house = huset,  the houses = husene            a House= et hus

Plural nearly allmost ends in r  (exceptions in the neuter gender)

                 horses = hester              girls= jenter            houses=hus

Now you are ready to travel norwegian rails.

First we take a test ride on the local line between Kongsberg and Eidsvoll. 

Kongsberg                     not like iceberg, but like bærrg                                   Kongs/ba(d)+rg              meaning King's berg (hill or mountain) 

Skollenborg                   like sc(r)ollenborg  and borrg                                     Skollen/ba(ll)+rg            borg meaning castle (the rest resembling skolt = head) 

Darbu                            Only experts know what Dar means.                                  Dar(k)boo                      bu meaning shed or small house (dar res. der = there)

Vestfossen                    the e in fossen is allmost silent                                     Vest/foss[e]n                Vest=West fossen = the waterfall

Hokksund                     Hokk also resembles Hokken dialect for who.                     Hock/soo(n)nn               Sund=narrow neck of water (Hokk res.Hakk = notch)

Steinberg                      the e in berg is short like a in cat                                     Stain/ba(d)rg                Stein=stone  berg=hill (the r must be trilled)

Mjøndalen                     dalen is pronounced like Darn in dialect.                              M/yea(rn)nn/da(rk)len    dalen=the valley  (Mjøn is unintelligible,maybe norse) 

Gulskogen                    the yellow forest (also like goosh-cougen)                            Gool/scoo(p)ga(in)n      Gul=yellow     skogen=the forest 

Drammen                     with an a like in car. (only experts know the real meaning)   Dr/a(re)/mm[e]n                  Contemporary meaning: the shot of liqueur (or schnaps)

Brakerøya                    Does the island thunder? or Juniper Island                             Bra(ss)/(bra)ker/ea(rn)+ya   Braker=junipers or thunders, øya = the island 

Lier                             The original station lies furter north on the old line but that is  Lee(k)/(th)ere               Lier= the slopes  (the r must be trilled)   

Asker                         Asker=boxes in dialect                                                        (br)ah/(a)asker             Asker=the ashtrees   (the a is short)

   

 

Hvorfor?

Jeg spør meg selv hvorfor, men hvem vil svare?  Jeg lurer på hvorfor det er slik, men ingen andre vet det visst heller.  Men hvorfor skal man lure, hvorfor skal man lure på hvorfor beveren gnager på feil side av treet?  Det faller jo riktig vei allikevel?  Helt motsatt av hva en tømmerhogger ville gjort setter beveren i gang å gnage, alle vet jo at treet faller mot innhakket, men ikke beveren.  Men hvis det står et digert tre i fallretningen bryr den seg ikke om det, den vet liksom ikke hva som skal skje, eller hvor treet skal falle, bare at den skal sette igang å gnage på feil side av treet slik at det ideelt sett ramler ut i elva!  Hvilket det da også ville gjort hvis ikke det var et digert grantre i veien.  Så nå lener det avgnagde treet seg mot grana, hva gjør beveren?  Den gnager videre på et annet tre, ignoreret det saftige ospetreet som ikke ramlet overende slik det skulle pga den digre grana.  Vi er alle blinde bevere som svømmer rundt i et kaos av vurderinger som overgår vår spede fatteevne.  Når skal vi fatte det?  Og hva skal vi gjøre når vi har fattet det?  Vi skal lunte videre som elefanter på leting etter vann, vi skal søke sannheten med våre blinde øyne, og våre døve ører skal lytte etter hvisking i sivet, og vår nese skal lede oss hen i mot en geysir av sannhet, skutt opp av en forsoningens kraft i vårt indre.

What's the point?

What can the point be?  Adam & Eve had a point, but then the snake entered and fooled them into wanting other things than what was meant!  And God said ok, you'll try it your way for some time untill you've had enough of that, then you'll come begging for mercy.  But their method of living was not bad enough for the descendents to get any smarter fast, and years go by, and we still havent got a clue!  God gave us freedom to fail, we are free to invent truth, to make lies come true.  We can feel that it is something wrong about it all, but we blame it on the complexity of the universe.  It's like cheating in mathematics, the more we cheat the more complex it gets. Can't you see we're still in the garden of Eden, we are Adam and Eve, and now we want to leave it all behind.  We want to rocket off into space, but why is the speed of light so immense?  God gave us the freedom to fail, we're not free to succeed with our alternative plan!  So we have a double life, one true life (as God inteded) and one fake life (as Satan intended).  Ah, what a mess!  The failure of one (Eve) drags all the others down with it, into the abyss called life on earth.  Why must we inherit the failure of one, why arn't the righteous ones saved at once?  Are we that fooled, not even close to the truth, is it in fact impossible to understand what the initial intent was.  The meaning of life is to give up the search for a meaning!  But why live, if the meaning of living is inapprehensible, there may be a meaning, but our brains are to small to conceive what it's about anyway, so why try?  Maybe we are allready in hell, and the Bible is something Satan tricks us with.  If Satan fooled Eve in front of God's eyes, why couldn't he have written the Bible just to mess it up another notch? And who knows wich is wich, maybe God has set a trap with the Bible, it's so naive in it's ethics, God has to be much bigger than what the Bible tells!  Our salvation lies beyond the Bible, it lies not in out thinking abilities, it lies hidden in our listlessness.  We must wait and do nothing, nothing is nothing, that can't be wrong.  Anything else may be wrong!  We must wait for all the mistakes in the world to be completed, then maybe we will have a new earth to live on as intended.

Good afternoon to you man!   "Axehandle"

Once upon a time there was a ferryman, and he had had so much problems with his hearing that he could nor hear nor comprehend what was said to him.  He had an old wife, two sons and a daughter and they did not care about him at all, but they lived happily and well, as long as there were anything to eat, if not they got credit by the innkeeper and held open parties and dances every day.  When nobody would give them credit any more, the sheriff was about to come and claim the money they had gotten on credit and wasted.  His wife and children went away to her relatives, and left the allmost deaf man alone at home to meet the sheriff and his deputy.  The man erred around fixing and mending and he wondered what the sheriff would ask him, and what he should answer when the sheriff asked.....                                                                             "I could start whittling on something" he said to himself, "then he will ask me about that.  I will start whittling on my axehandle,  then he will ask what I am making: then I'll answer: Axehandle! then he will ask me about it's length, and I'll answer: Up to this knot! Then he will ask where my ferry is, and I'll answer: I was about to tar her, she's lying on the shore with cracks in both ends. The he'll ask:Where are your grey mare? Then I'll answer: she's in the stables heavily laden with foal. Then he'll ask: where's your cattle and where's your summer pasture.  Then I'll answer: It's not far, when you come past that hill you're practically there." All this the man thought were a fine plan.               After a while the sheriff arrived, but his deputy had taken another way passed the innkeeper, and there he sat still. "Good afternoon, man!" said the sheriff. "Axehandle!" answered the ferryman.  "Well...." said the sheriff   "how far away is the inn?" he asked. "Up to this knot!" the man answered and pointed to his axehandle to be.  The sheriff shook his head and stared at the man in disbelief. "Where is you wife?" he asked on.  "I was about to tar her" answered the ferryman "She's lying on the shore with cracks in both ends!"   "Where is your daughter?" he continued.  "Oh, she's in the stables, heavily laden with foal!" the man answered, he thaught he had answered both good and well.  "Oh you go to........., you silly fool!" said the sheriff.  "Yes, it's not far, when you come past that hill you're practically there!" said the man.

Ah, comme c'est ennuyant de vivre, je me perds dans un bois de pensées, les arbres se moquent de ma voie errante, sans aucune direction, sans toute volonté.  Je cherche la raison, mais elle m'evade comme un oiseau à plumes magiques.  Ma vie n'est que d'arbres, hauts, couvrant le ciel, je vis dans une boîte naturelle, sans cesse je me bats contre des problèmes dont  je ne peux pas comprendre le but.  Je me sens comme une Alice barbue, me hurtant sur des obstacles absurdes, mais follement amusantes, des lapins rosé posant des questions ambiguës, sautant autour de moi comme des oracles de verité inintelligibles!  Ah, j'ai envie de donner la vie un coup de pied en arrière, ainsi qu'elle produira une nuage de verité qui tombe sur moi comme une pluie fine!  Ah, j'aimerai être mouillé pas une telle phenomène.  Mais je rève, je suis drogué par cette caprice satanée qui me nourris avec ces idées fixes, qui m'empèche de decouvrir, qui me fait oublier de chercher.  Elle me dresse comme un chien entêté, avec des friandises empoisonnées, me vidant complètement de l'envie de vivre  honnêtement.  Donc je m'éveille subitement dans la nuit noire, j'en a eu un cauchemare vrai, il m'a informé que je suis attrapé dans une monde vivante, que je ne suis qu'une miniscule morceau dans un jeu vaste, que ma vie n'est guère le mienne!  C'est tout ce que j'ai su tout le temps, je ne suis pas moi-même, je n'existe pas.....pas du tout!  Je suis une source, une source de douleurs, nous sommes les chauffeurs d'enfers.  Nous chauffons notre propre enfers, on jette les charbons sur la même bûcher dans lequel on et debout.  Mais on ne se voit pas soi-même, on ne voit que les autres, criant en doulers massives, les cris des autres etouffe aisement les cris de l'individu, ainsi forte sont lest cris de douleur des autre qu'ils font inverser les douleurs de l'individu.  Donc tout le monde se trompe l'un l'autre!  Et c'est impossible de prouver ce fait, car les individus sont une masse melangé, en fait: tout le monde est la même personne!  Il faut fuir la piège, mais seulement si ton coeur est vide de haine, purifié de chagrin. Il faut réaliser son inexistance avant qu'on sera libéré, mais si on n'existe plus, quoi sera libéré?  Un néant géant va apparaitre dans les vagues lueurs de la soleil noir d'enfers, et de ce brume omineuse sortira l'âme pure sans attributs!  Ah comme c'est bon, ne sentir rien, ne penser rien, tout et rien qui finit à rien.

 

Blogging; the optimal glossover.

As I sit here trying to crack my nut, I wonder how the chimps cracked their first nut.  With a stone and a log with a groove in it!  It's easy, but what if the chimp hits his finger instead, will there be swearing?  Will there be sulking?  Maybe a scream in pain?  No such thing, the chimp goes on cracking the nut that can be cracked, he's not searching for the nuts that cannot be cracked.  By Jove how I love the chimp, so pure in its filthy manners, so honest in his dirty trickery.  As I bow with revere in front of this peak of evolution;  why should you mutate further, ah what a leap of horror you made back in those days when your brain started to grow in wane, why a large brain!  An ant-brain does incredible things, much more than one could dream of, less brain is more brain!  The extra brain is for thinking, but what is thinking but a murmur in the machinery when its task has been done, like a steam-engine panting after a hard day's work in the factory.  Thinking is not living, its avoiding the true life, ants don't think!  Why think, the task is too important to think about, what a mess it would be if ants started to think!  We are those thinking ants making a total mess out of our lifes by thinking about what thinking is. This circle of thought must offcourse be quenched in its infancy by strong resolute hands.  Why think, there's nothing to out there to think about, it's a kind of cowardice this thinking-mania, it first occur when action is delayed, this can be smart in an inverse way, when one think about possible hazards. Is there a leopard in the bushes? If I advance now, what will happen?  For this we have senses, why fear one's own senses, one daren't follow what the eyes tell, what the ears hear!  I can't hear any leopard, but it was one in there last week.  Use your senses, quit thinking about thinking what to feel!  I hate this feel-thinking!  Feelings are like a horn of plenty, never ending resources coming like a river of knowledge.  Thoughts are like a headache relentlessly urging you to carry on this extravagant pain of self mutilation called modern life!  This fortress of procrastination, this fenced-in hell-blaze of joy.  What happened with simple life? This hidden gem, so boisterously swept aside by a tornado of misinformation.  We are like zombies roaming our fake-world, complaining about the hurting crashes with reality; it's like hurting one's knee while sleep-walking, but not awakening, the pain seeps into the dream like a deus ex machina.  Whoops, my knee hurts....why?  Ah, let the doctor handle it!  Ah, this hellish chaos, it has whirled itself into a state of no repair; it's like drinking more whisky to cure a hangover; and it works!  We feel cured, but we are stung by a bug, it's poison is so slow, so very slow..... can it just be harmless?  Could it just pass?  This striped beetle emerged from our ancestors' overflow of brain capasity, they started to think about things that can't be thought about. Aber warum? Wovon Man nicht denken kann, muss Man nicht denken.  Allmost this said Wittgenstein, the Messiah of thought, but no-one listened, the philosophers do not want to lose their jobs!  They are paid to think, and to love thinking, they can't just quit in the realization that some monster of ability has raped their job-foundation once and for all.  Thinking is so immensely complicated that even the pros are fooled, and lulled into a state of oblivion and skill-craft.  It's like a sculptor who quits his sculpting, and start to build brick-houses, declaring that his former skills was required in wane.  Ah, the toil we go through to no awail, the mess, the endless repeting of rubbish, the vicious circle of life must be broken.  Antichrist will come, and he will come hard, to save us from this eternal postponement of heaven.  (Also sprach Zaratustra.)   

LOVE

I run through the fields feeling funny

I course through the grass like a bunny

I watch all the clouds in the beautiful sky

then mountaintops far up in the high

I sit on a stone waiting for you.

Boo-hoo!

 

I climb in the trees getting dizzy

I bathe in the stream it's so fizzy

I hear many birds in a raspberry bush

I'm allmost certain it is a thrush

I lie in the grass waiting for you.

Boo-hoo!

 

I am fetching a rope from my car

I am wishing I were where you are

a chaos of thought in my tormented head

could I but choose life with you instead

I stand on a branch waiting for you.

Boo-hoo.

 

 I kiss you goodbye now my darling dove

I give your smile a blissful nod of grace

Oh think that I in vane should hear thy praise

You touch my hand so softly now with love

Oh how I long for you to smile again

but how should I the fallen one raise up

to meet your love with rose and buttercup

Could I your eye and soul once more obtain

I bow my neck with humblest joy in tears

I feel and see completely diff'rent fates

Let's hope my heart in woe henceforth it bears

Oh may my anguished mind cast off these weights

And find a path ahead towards your fears

I pray at last my misery abates

 

 

Everything is absurd!

But if absurdity itself is absurd, then everything can't be absurd.  Because absurd absurdity is a double negative. In this case everything is absurd but absurdity.

Life is absurd!

Ergo we must live accordingly.  But if life is absurd then it is impossible to live non-absurdly.  So seeking absurdity in life actively is in it self absurd, it's like trying to drown yourself while drowning, a complete waste of effort! 

Everything is meaningless!

But if meaninglessness itself is meaningless, then meaninglessness can't be meaningless! So everything is meaningless but meaninglessness!

Life is meaningless!

Ergo we must live without meaning.  We can in fact live with meaning even though there isn't any.  We can invent a meaning and forget that is was invented.  Life itself is but invented meaning, truth is established oblivion.  The meaning of life to redetect this massive meaninglessness.

The hidden meaning of the absurd.

When we have stopped trying to try stopping, and tried stopping to stop trying then we will rise above the chaos of truth, and enter the realm of the absurd meaning of the meaningless absurdity.  Absurdity is again the king of kings.