Atilla

I found something in my notes today. Somehting I apparently saved at some point, as a backup in case my effort goes to waste. Looks like it never got posted - as in I can't find it on my blog thingy. Oh well - here follows, something from the past:

Where is it that you find the people that you might call your friends one day?

Are you the type of a systematic, careful, calculating, sick-minded, society-abused motherfucker that ever considers the answer of that question. You are? I feel pity for you. Oh god, it makes me so sad, I'd be ready to cry, if I wasn't a sarcastic, ironic motherfucker. Sucks to be you.

Now that we've filtered out the ones that shoudn't be reading this, we can proceed with discussing why and how life can be a blaze. Why meeting people can be the most fascinating experience. Randomly, without occasion, reason, thought, or consideration. The best people you ever get to know just ... happen ... to you. A random encounter. Something that you go out from, being a richer, happier and most probably a very very tired person.

So what am I really trying to tell you here? I am trying to tell you that plans are meaningless. That being real and spontaneous is just as great as being a pretending wannabe. That you should really get a drink, hit a random place in your city and end up listening to a band playing on the street, next to that lit up barrel.

That you are going to be much happier listening to Trondheimsveien 16. That you should have been me last night. How many of you can tell me you've been out on the street, bumping into a random group of people on the street, gathered around a barrel on fire, playing the catchiest music, gathering up the crowd of the real people? That you've stayed out in the cold, taken off your jacket, just to be able to dance in front of the band, with people that just like you enjoy the real life?

As many as you are - cheers to you too.