BVBVBVBV

[ 9.27.2002 ]

 



Friday, one more hour and I'm off for weekend, wearing all blacks and a big smile. Not least because I've got all kinds of activities scheduled for the evening to keep my sorry ass busy. Monday I'll be back and write something new, and try to rescue the very first passage of this blog. Not that it would have been a long or valuable one, but I still feel that this blog should have started with it's words. But all that can wait 'till next week. In the meantime you can test your skills in this quite unorthodox martial arts game made by a local University student...

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1. Game instructions in english:

Moomin-papa's son's revenge is in this game very far-stretched, as - if the character is familiar to You - his object is to beat the living crap out of his closest friends who have - according to game designers background motives - assisted the most feared Ghost ripping Moomin-papas head off. So KILL the bastards by your bare fists, hit 'em fast, hit 'em hard!

Moomin (as I think Muumi is referred to in English) is moved by mouse. yes I know, it sounds crazy but there's not a half phone-book list of fancy moves and hits in this game. You'll get used to it. Clicking on just about the ground level makes Moomin hop towards the mouse direction and clicking higher makes him jump; the higher you click the higher he jumps. Moomin turn to face other direction by clicking somewhere he's not facing.

Left-click on Moomin to hit by fist his bastard enemy-friends. To jump-kick, click on him during the jump; first click about the head of enemy and click again in the same place when you think his/her head is just aching for your Moomin footprints all over the face.

2. Moomin, in case you didn't know what the fuck Moomin is:

I've hated Moomins myself after the crappy and all too flully Japanese versions took the markets by storm. Just recently I've read quite a few of the original books by the late Tove Jansson and I just love them! Playing this game just channels the wrath of the righteous against the candy-colored fake Moomins, as much of the graphics is based on Tove's original art work which shows clearly that Moomin wasn't originally only a soft and cute looking little bellysome mangoid but far more colorful character. Revenge of the japanese pseudo-manga Moomins frightens not a poodel but wrath of the original one's sounds like an actual threat.
DEATH UPON THE CANDY-COLORED JAPANESE FAKE MOOMINS!
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Well, that's about it. I'll be off to ave some fun doing and thinking things over in this sick sick world. Smoke if you got 'em, drink strongs if you're up to it, eat people not animals if it sounds like a good idea to you and teach your children to worship $atan. I'm off for weekend.


Mr EagleOwl [5:32 AM]

[ 9.26.2002 ]

 


"Never mind the Kingdom - A horse for a thought!"

Today I thought about the classical question "what I thought today". The revelation of mine was that I haven't really think for some time now, lest worrying myself sick qualifies as "thinking". Or I just haven't even noticed any occasional thoughts and ideas I might have had, being so preoccupied being melancholy. SO let's change it to "What have I done today", maybe I've been rather active and outgoing than introspective and thinking these last weeks? "What have You been up to?" Well, when I've been up I have usually have a good reason like being at work in order not to lose my jobFriends of mine should think that I've been very busy with my typically hectic life if I haven't have time to think. But I haven't been doing nor thinking, not really I guess, if surfing up and down the web at work doesn't qualify as actually doing something. But then again, I've been to studio with a band I play in, recording some new material for a collection... and stuff. But I've been too preoccupied being melancholic to really have been doing anything else than not-doing and not-thinking. I haven't even been to vacation (not for far too long now). I've just been next to being off.

Okay, so that was retrospective view on the past... five weeks? Six weeks? More or less, and let me remind you right away that though I might sometimes exaggerate and dramatise the flow of events and bring forth details through looking glass I would absolutely never ever lie to you. Oh no, not me. At least not just to have your sympathies. Now thatwould suck big time. Okay so poets and writers always lie - as one could argue - and one (let's say the same one that argued just for the arguments sake) can feel sympathetic to Young Werther's sweet suffering but that's different, I think*. If my name was Werther (I'd rather be BVBVBVBV, really) my Goethe wasn't the one that was pitied, the poor narrator (not narrative). Besides, I have thought today (for the latest see * before). And I've done some things today. Maybe not anything very special to remember me of, no, but thinking and doing these felt like thinking and doing things used to feel!

So what I thought today? I thought of a worm in an apple. Now doesn't that sound nice, a worm that eats as it lives and multiplies! It apparently isn't too occupied (the worm) thinking about it's apple, wether it's sweet or sour or red or green or if it's a really-really big and delicious looking apple. The worm just eats it's way in the apple, possibly making itself comfortable (without IKEA; it's a possibility, not very far-stretched). Our hypothetical worm doesn't even much stress on mating though that's probably the only one thing it daily thinks - in it's own primitive way - besides eating more apple. And when our hermaphrodite hero for a worm finds another to have a go with, that's it -snuggle-snuggle-snuggle-plops- and them they both eat even more apple ever after. Not thinking of taxes or jobs or education or dentist bill or making the Last Wish anew or about neighbours nasty mouthed moths' recent supplications to vocabulary of foul words rhyming with name of your couple (and how long a sentence the judges will give for what you have them done to by a spider you know). BUT... when somebody has a crunchy bite on the apple, I bet the worm thinks excessevely with it's small brain capasity! Somehow I'm sure about this. I don't have a glue what a worm could be thinking (as the phenomenal world to a worm is something completely different than that of a man; there's been enquiries written by "proper philosophers" on this topic) but I'm sure it does have this vivid and complex quicksilver thought running throught it's mind, filling for a second it's whole Self it is aware of only in a very fuzzy way.

Now, how do I feel I could draw a parallel between a depressed persons' apathic self and the next worm in your apple.



Mr EagleOwl [9:36 AM]

[ 9.24.2002 ]

 


This one handles this Blog itself in general and on meta-level by large and on the other hand it doesn't.

Okay, so: this time in english. "Why in Eglish" as I'm not a native speaker (writer) myself, why on earth really? Just to have wider publicity? I have written some ten years or so in Finnish, and I keep on doing so in my more private, hand-written diary. And to this date publicity of my diary haven't been a major concern of mine, quite the opposite (...just because i But... you know... probably it's fault of writing a web log. There would be a question of nativity of visitors to solve, wouldn't there, had I not written myself in the default language of the wide wide web. If I wrote this in Finnish - for example - I could as well write in some historic tongue. In ancient Hebrew or Aramaic, perhaps. And if I actually wrote Aramaic, Gothic, Latin or Enochian here I'd somehow violate the idea of weblog... that is - of course - if I actually could write my lines painlessly enough in these languages. Not that the idea itself wasn't good, violating the whole idea of having some kind of diary in the net, I mean...

Having a name like BVBVBVBV just as effectively diminishes chances of people to surf in for a reading. It's not exactly a hot keyword for search engine, right? Suits me just fine. It's quite obviously about dancing on a wire, isn't it, being both private and public at the same time, right. So it doesn't surprise anybody if the web if full of stupid nicks and aliases. Maybe it has something to do with Pron, it definately has with (something to do with) sexual play and tendencies. Being offered openly yet staying so far and alienating? Blog it, I'll keep to my occult rendition of my nick's original referent anyhow, and from telling anybody in public what it stands for. That's my way of having fun (?is this fun? have mercy...) for a penny.

So should I write in globally widely spread language (euro-english) and unmask myself and so on and so on and such. Nah... not any too great idea. I have decided not to write in english exclusively, so it's more than likely that some day I'm tired enough to break in Finnish in middle of sentence. And some of my dear readers is just as likely to break in tears (In case someone/anyone actually fails not to avoid reading my lines, that is) for this. There's no guarantees I wouldn't some day. I could do just about anything I please... I'm just having a writing block like a bad case of diarrhea - nothing keeps blocked inside.

Two men are arguing, seated. Maybe in a café, or a restaurant. Waitress - if needed, appears in beginning, brings two black coffees to gentlemen - can be dressed equally formally or disturbing (gasmask, perhaps?). The paleface behind sunglasses smokes Gauloises blondes and insists that the smaller and even paler friend of his answers the question (concerning latent heat of vaporisation but we're not concerned about that). The first half should be well acted avoiding of speaking, while having obviously a lot to argue. These gentlemen look out of the window or in their cups annoyed, take a sip, remain looking where ever they might be looking, while all in the sudden - after half an hour of getting to it - the other stands up nerevously and says:

"Will you excuse me I think I really have to run now!"

"Oh, sorry, so what's keeping you, off you go, say hey to your private parts!"

Lap-top in a mensroom go rable-ramble-ramble-ramble and the band does the minuet; curtains and lights

The other hand claps.

Mr EagleOwl [10:30 AM]