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I want to have Lisbeth Salander's babies
So, for some inexplicable reason it seems recently I might be having a bit more energy left over from essentials than for a long, long time. It might even lead to increased probability of an actual interaction with the world in some areas previously neglected, like posting, and perhaps commenting and...
Yesterday, came home from work, tried to have a nap, and people kept phoning me. Extremely vexing. So, I got up and in protest, went out to listen to a small but enjoyable public reading of a chapter from the Return of the King in a bookstore. Mmm, it made me realize it has been ages since I last re-read Tolkien (*gasp* maybe even longer than a year or two) *eyes bookshelf greedily*. And then I ended up in the cinema and watched The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. I'm really glad I did - I loved that movie with a burning love (see also: the title of this post. Not only was it an engaging story, but it was wonderfully refreshing to see something different from the all-too-usual recent generic Hollywood fare. I'd given the book trilogy a deliberate miss for now, because I tend to avoid the most in-your-face bestsellers out of sheer pigheadedness (I tend to feel they are uncomfortably overpriced and overadvertised notwithstanding their actual merit and now, when there is no dearth of reading material, prefer to wait a year or two, until they're not the scream-of-the-moment any more), but if the movie is any indication, I need to make an exception to Stig Larsson and read the books before they are replaced with another hot-off-the-press thing. I wonder though whether I should get the Estonian or English translations - sadly my Swedish isn't good enough to read fiction (though rather surprisingly, I ended up understanding more text from the movie than I expected, despite it having nothing to do with horses and their respiratory ailments, which would be the area where my Swedish is the most ...fluent, I guess). So, all in all, I'd recommend the movie (with a warning that it deals with sexual violence, of course, so if that's an issue, one'd better skip it - I wonder why the original title wasn't considered suitable for the international marketing, though. I mean, Men Who Hate Women is actually a much more fitting title.).
And now I have today off, and it seems actually that spring is slowly arriving - it is sunny outside and the temperatures are keeping above 0 C during the daytime. Of course, here and now 'spring' means that everything is covered with either a)piles of dirty snow, b)mud, water and mixture of both or c)very slippery ice, but still, sun. And the tits have been determinedly optimistic for weeks now, so I guess they should know. (By 'tits' I mean the feathered, bird-y kind, not a random collection of boobs. Though, maybe boobs are optimistic too, it's not as if I can tell with strange ones as they're all covered up as appropriate for the weather, and it's never easy to tell with my own, they're secretive about their moods.)
Mmmm, it's noon and I'm having coffee and need to go nowhere. Except perhaps back to bed. That might even mitigate the knowledge of the nameless horror that lies ahead a.k.a. the monstrous soulkilling farce named ironically 'daylight saving time'. Bah. I shall firmly decline to rant on the topic of that disaster and instead, will have a nice nap. And then read.
Yesterday, came home from work, tried to have a nap, and people kept phoning me. Extremely vexing. So, I got up and in protest, went out to listen to a small but enjoyable public reading of a chapter from the Return of the King in a bookstore. Mmm, it made me realize it has been ages since I last re-read Tolkien (*gasp* maybe even longer than a year or two) *eyes bookshelf greedily*. And then I ended up in the cinema and watched The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. I'm really glad I did - I loved that movie with a burning love (see also: the title of this post. Not only was it an engaging story, but it was wonderfully refreshing to see something different from the all-too-usual recent generic Hollywood fare. I'd given the book trilogy a deliberate miss for now, because I tend to avoid the most in-your-face bestsellers out of sheer pigheadedness (I tend to feel they are uncomfortably overpriced and overadvertised notwithstanding their actual merit and now, when there is no dearth of reading material, prefer to wait a year or two, until they're not the scream-of-the-moment any more), but if the movie is any indication, I need to make an exception to Stig Larsson and read the books before they are replaced with another hot-off-the-press thing. I wonder though whether I should get the Estonian or English translations - sadly my Swedish isn't good enough to read fiction (though rather surprisingly, I ended up understanding more text from the movie than I expected, despite it having nothing to do with horses and their respiratory ailments, which would be the area where my Swedish is the most ...fluent, I guess). So, all in all, I'd recommend the movie (with a warning that it deals with sexual violence, of course, so if that's an issue, one'd better skip it - I wonder why the original title wasn't considered suitable for the international marketing, though. I mean, Men Who Hate Women is actually a much more fitting title.).
And now I have today off, and it seems actually that spring is slowly arriving - it is sunny outside and the temperatures are keeping above 0 C during the daytime. Of course, here and now 'spring' means that everything is covered with either a)piles of dirty snow, b)mud, water and mixture of both or c)very slippery ice, but still, sun. And the tits have been determinedly optimistic for weeks now, so I guess they should know. (By 'tits' I mean the feathered, bird-y kind, not a random collection of boobs. Though, maybe boobs are optimistic too, it's not as if I can tell with strange ones as they're all covered up as appropriate for the weather, and it's never easy to tell with my own, they're secretive about their moods.)
Mmmm, it's noon and I'm having coffee and need to go nowhere. Except perhaps back to bed. That might even mitigate the knowledge of the nameless horror that lies ahead a.k.a. the monstrous soulkilling farce named ironically 'daylight saving time'. Bah. I shall firmly decline to rant on the topic of that disaster and instead, will have a nice nap. And then read.