Fecundity?

I was contemplating devils (see my entry Direct Sunlight) and I reached the conclusion that they are alluring (I had a strong urge to write fucking cool but some inner forces of self-preservation stopped the uncombed desire). The good ones are weak, naive, simple-hearted, gullible, unless they have something bad, mischievous about themselves. (insert your personal doubt to this argumentum ad hominem here). The good ones make you wonder. Where do they hide their anger?

Did I have too much unreality or are we really attracted to the evil/to the Evil? Do we want to be bad. Or good. Or Good.

(We?! Bwaha-ha.)

My scientific mind will check the inner side of your scalp or wherever you keep your intellect.

You have three options (actually two but no matter):

Yes. You can probably feel good at the end of the day whilst giving a moral fuck.

No. You can probably feel good at the end of the day whilst not giving a moral fuck.

Yes or No. You can interpret the question yourself keeping some air of universal morality around your brains.

It’s been bothering me for quite a while.

And don’t tell me that you don’t know what good is. Don’t even mention subjectivism. Take all the religious crap aside. I’m not keeping a ToK journal.

Be simple about it. Not biting people might be good for me. It might be a good universal law – the 11th commandment – Do not bite your neighbour!

Nie gryź bliźniego swego!

Amen

Eros Ramazzotti, great pasta dishes, horrible white wine, David Hume, early Christian rant, Kumar without Harold, WHSmith, eBay regret, lots of laundry, new credit card, Danish crime tv-series, Ryanair tickets, parents coming, essays, free drinks, translating for Simon Hix.

And a great quote from a friend of mine explains an often-encountered state of mind. It  doesn’t really translate very well but I can give it a try:

“…när man bara vill tillbaka till ett cabin party och vara sådär lagom ciderfull.”
(“…when you just want to be back at a cabin party being, like, lagom drunk from cider.”)

Running faster than my legs can take me
Shouting louder than my lungs allow me

♣

If I hadn’t started smoking, I wouldn’t have had a great insight into the me of myself.

Cart nr 0 The Fool of the Personal Major Arcana, watercolour on paper

I was planning to put another of my pictures here. But I didn’t scan it because it seemed too simple, too revolting or too honest. It was called I had a very peculiar dream and involved smoking and my feet. Now, imagine.

Summer said that she has no means of explaining me when to use articles. We laughed but I don’t give a shit. That’s my personal improvement of the day.

Amen

Cunt.

A priori sounds good in Polish. A priori with a soft accent on “pr” and the sharpness of “r” creating a perfect balance of structure. It’s like singing. On the other hand one can rarely hear an expression a priori morality. I dare to say it’s because it doesn’t exist. Not in Poland.

Instance: we are a way more individual in our perception of ownership. Sounds good? It’s not. My woman, my car, my daughter, my house, my bitch, my flowerbed. The use of all these females are deliberate. Women are still objects. There’s no need to contemplate it. Boring. Like a menstruation. Everyone knows about it, yet you don’t talk about the blood on your thighs. You talk about your soft legs. Not about shaving them. Consequentialism gracefully ignores the trigging factor. But I went off-topic.

Now, the a priori morality shall gently encourage us to be just. It’s also very reasonable: Don’t steal.

Don’t steal otherwise you’ll be punished.

Goody, I’ll be morally incorrect and build the stereotype. Hail, Polsko! I like your car, it shall be mine. I like your woman, I’ll have it. It doesn’t have to be caused by one’s lust, one’s desire. It’s just a principle of the lack of principle. That’s what communism did to the Polish. I’ll stand out of the definition of Polish with all my mighty pomposity. Like a Puerto Rican denying to be dark-skinned.

And yes, we (who is we?) have this funny “I” fixation. Just listen to me sometimes. Willkür is there for our cheap excuses.

Kant.

I got sent home, self-portrait, ballpen, stamps

About the revolting background. When you’re back you suddenly realize: Everything is so pathetically shitty. Except of tomatoes. They have a real taste.

And I have never felt quite as subjected to racism as I do in this place.

Amen

Yay! Things are going my way these days:

1. I finished my first serious assignment six days in advance.

2. I received the confirmation of my degree transfer, meaning official bye-bye to Skinner, Gaddis, and Trachtenberg and good-day to Voorhoeve, Nozick, and Nagel.

3. I secured a place on the LSE100 pilot course, Thinking as a Social Scientist.

4. I landed a big speaker for the Scandinavian Society to come in January.

5. I got my first article in the student newspaper published, and people seemed to like it.

6. I met a lot of new UWC people, and nice UWC people I knew but had never really spoken with.

Ultimate Warrior Challenge World Bantamweight Champ Mike “The Hulk” Easton appeared on Comcast SportsNet Mid-Atlantic’s “Washington Post Live” program to promote his Oct. 3rd title defense (he won, by the way!)

Carissimi lettori,

mi chiamo Simone, sono siciliano e studio al secondo anno di Baccellariato Internazionale nel College del Mondo Unito di Mostar (UWCiM). Recentemente  ho avuto la magnifica idea di scrivere un blog sul mondo siculo visto da un siciliano che vive all’estero.

Educazione, politica, idee rivoluzionarie, turismo e stili di vita saranno solo alcuni degli argomenti trattati in questo nuovo spazio web.

Spero che i miei articoli vi appasioneranno e che vi renderete partecipi attraverso i vostri interventi.

Simone

I still remember that day in early August 2007 when I was not more than a few days from moving to Norway. It was peculiar. Why did I suddenly want to give everything up for an in many ways uncertain future? I used to be the lame kid who didn’t want to go for the week-trips with school, who couldn’t sleep with the lights off in fear of the dark, all that stuff overprotected kids suffer from, albeit I don’t feel I was overprotected. I probably was. Maybe just protected. In a good sense. I think. But again, why did I, the least adventurous leave? Possibly because I was caught in an educational system which breeds mediocrity. I was fed up. With Danish über-envy, schadenfreude, and laxity. Intolerance. Conservative narrow-mindedness.

Norway was a safe haven in all those respects. No envy. Schadenfreude, a bit, but it was alright. I partook in that as well. Laxity? Only in its best form. Some intolerance, but “fucking miles away” from back home. And anywhere else I have ever been. When I was in Switzerland this summer, it was everywhere. In Denmark it’s everywhere. Here in the UK it’s everywhere (Nick Griffin, anyone?). Conservative narrow-mindedness is more or less equal to intolerance, I suppose.

But then again, Norway was a safe haven. Not the real world. A construct. Like a social experiment without the anthropologists on the sideline (although I was never sure whether Alistair had been ‘observing vultures’ in the Kalahari or whether that was an apocalyptic lie-of-the-century covering up evil laboratory projects with idealistic, bipolar UWC students as the guinea pigs). It’s deeply ironic. There was really nothing to worry about, but we worried so much. I did, at least. Actually, there were things to worry about. Abstracts like our future, whether we really were social outcasts or (to quote Clement Kjersgaard) “the élite” , stupid but inevitable power struggles in EACs and in general, emails that shouldn’t have been sent, things that shouldn’t have been done, things I would have given up everything for had they happened, all that.

It’s hypothetical nonsense more than mere reflection to ask myself whether I would like to do it again. I’m in a different world now. Completely. It’s a good world; better than I thought. Much better. But I don’t really know… I’m possibly happier than I was 99 % of the time in Norway, but still, to me it’s not about being happy, it’s simply making sense out of things. Perhaps now it’s in a more academic form, there it was a social one. People here, whom I don’t even want to call real-world people, are ‘better humans’ than I thought they would be. Not all of them. Most. And it’s so so interesting here academically. But then again… The hour-long conversations on the island about people we despised and loved, or how to take over the world. Ciders on the E-building pier. På-effing-flukt. World Today. Student Council meetings that made me fucking furious, Student Council weekends that were wholly hilarious. Strange people from strange places.

That taught me about the world.

Nobody listens.

On the heals of a supposed Koscheck vs Pierce match-up for the next Ultimate Fight Night comes this news, courtesy of the Bloody Elbow

The promotion [UFC] has contacted athletic commission officials in the state about holding a card on Jan. 11 in Northern Virginia, said Mary Broz-Vaughan, spokeswoman for Virginia’s Department of Professional and Occupational Regulation, which includes the state’s boxing and wrestling program.

Hey Mary, you may want to hire some judges before that card.

The Department of Professional and Occupational Regulation is Virginia’s state sanctioning body for boxing and mma, and has come under fire recently for its general amateurism. Luke Thomas has gone so far as to call the commission “negligent and maladroit” and suggested a moratorium on sanctioning mixed martial arts events until the commission can get their collective heads out of their collective burrito shoots.

The UFC has thus far managed to avoid any Gong Show controversies perpetrated by commission assigned officials. But with everyone in Virginia calling for a No Confidence vote on their commission, White and the UFC road crew may want to reconsider Virginia in favor of returning to the East Coast by way of Uncasville, CT or Atlantic City, NJ. Virginia is high risk/low reward for this proposed Ultimate Fight Night.

The UFC hasn’t been in Jersey since UFC 78, November 2007 at the Prudential Center in Newark, and hasn’t been to Connecticut, a 4 time UFC host since 2005. It may be time to revisit some old stomping grounds before trudging into the mma minefield that is Virginia.

I am all in favor of the UFC running east coast towns. The more high profile mma events in the region, the better. But right now, I wouldn’t trust Virginia’s DPOR to sanction my next beer pong tournament, much less a high profile, free to air on national TV mma event.

What’s lost in all this is that the UFC has apparently booked The Patriot Center, which is the UWC’s home venue. Will the UFC’s higher production value and better name recognition help or hurt the UWC?

For some strange reason I found myself looking through a female internet page. I started with topics like vintage is still in fashion (o’course!), through the shocking memories of a prostitute (as if we didn’t know everything already) to the half-man, half-goat  born in Africa. Oh, well…

I also found out that my legs have the ideal length. Which means that they are around 8% longer than the standard. Hurray is in order.

Right now I’m sitting in the E-systems lab pondering on two important matters of my existence. Firstly, IB or not to be? Secondly, should I download all these interesting looking animes and isolate myself from the world of the living and indulge in the existence of a phantom?

Ergo-proxy, Dark Butler, Evangelion, Death Note, Persona Trinity Soul

This is how I imagine my life after RCN. Music, cigarettes, art and anime in some secluded place. Sadly enough, my plan does not take into consideration any money earning activities. I should retire as soon as possible. I already feel like an 80-year-old, in a little while I’m also going to look like one (gray hair is coming, yes), so maybe I’ll get some category of disability… Like: Unable to breathe in an office or Swells in stressful situations.

Or maybe: Attempts suicide to avoid deadlines to make it more dramatic. Ah, this is not entirely true either. Being a perfectionist makes me more likely to rip out my guts than miss a deadline…

Or hit things with power-bombs of enthusiasm. Until the limit of creativity.

I just experienced a cathartic moment of angst trying to find my portfolio folder for 15 minutes. Hazy, hazy and twitchy.

The car was small, ballpen

Amen

The culmination of all my hard work was finally realized last weekend with the Ultimate Warrior Challenge’s 7th show, Redemption, held at the George Mason Patriot Center in Fairfax, VA.  Over the past few months I had taken over the responsibilities for the grassroots marketing campaign where I was relied upon to increase event awareness as well as overall attendance at the show.  Outlets such as direct contact, emails blasts, and cold calling to the Mid-Atlantic area mixed martial arts gyms, boxing gyms, and high school wrestling programs were all part of the gig.  Some of the duties were easy and enjoyable while some seemed extremely daunting and tiresome, however, in the end I was able to gain valuable experience with promoting a large scale sporting event that should only strengthen my abilities in my future career path.

I had been warned that the night of the event would be filled with pressure and non-stop work, but thanks to a great production team the flow of the show was flawless and I was able to enjoy a good majority of the fights relaxing ring side.  For my first mixed martial arts event I don’t think I could have asked for a better show.  The fights were action packed and the atmosphere 3 feet from the ring was intense.  It was a great way to experience hard work paying off.  Below is a picture of my own pre-event fighter entrance…

Back to blonde and the lack of cigarettes. Hard to say which one is worse considering the impact they have on my life. At least I can read again and look like a nerdy emo with my new glasses. I need a counter-spell for the yellowness of my hair. About the cigarettes, well, I can always pick up the butts from the floor. Or beg. I have no shame which helps.

School is adjourned for a week. At least I finally got to work on nailing. The previously discussed result is a failure. I cannot nail, but! let’s not exaggerate the missed hits, shall we? I can always pass the nails to the Italian one and hold the door pretending to be the brain behind the creation or at least the operator of the electric saw (pure beauty and delight, I tell you).

If you want to nail, you can nail. (Or maybe not if you are vaguely similar to me). The Throne of Green will grow all thanks to 6 bags of soil, chicken wire, random wood pieces and Jesus Size Nails. Not to forget greenish-grey Umpa-Lumpas (x 1). Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka… The Brain doesn’t count anyway.

Call it for a public art project.

Sometimes I think that it such a good idea to paint with blood. Especially when I get to use red watercolours. Especially when I have my period. There are so many disgusting things in a life of a woman. We’re never going to be equal (to man or male monkeys). Too much blood streaming down our thighs. Panta rhei for fuck’s sake. We might commit collective suicide, find disgust semi-interesting or stop forgetting contraception pills.

Either way. Too much effort.

I just saw a writing saying “Wait ’til you see the epidermis” on the back of a t-shirt. My mind is hazy.

Witold Gombrowicz/Red, watercolor, A5

Don’t forget your fuel injection.

Amen

Edit: I finished the chair and bought a pack of filthy Paramounts. Life’s as rude and tremendous as cocaine.

More than a year ago I was noticing how helpless I was when trying to do some swimming alone, without my coach around. When alone in the swimming pool, I always managed to find hundreds of reasons why to not continue swimming. With the coach yelling at me from the side of the pool, everything was suddenly possible.

But then I noticed something started to change, bit by bit. When we were this June in Crete on a short holiday, on our favourite South-East part of this wonderful island, I managed to do a lot of swimming, every day, quite some distances. And jogging keeps becoming more and more easygoing, enjoyable, no struggle at all. Am I recovering? Am I waking up from my death bed? Has somebody finally replaced my batteries? Yes, indeed, I hear you asking all these questions.

And today the big victory came. After leading the first day of a conflict resolution training here in Norway with a very inspirational group of students from literally all over the world, I went for a swim in the pool and guess what: although I was totally alone in the pool and my trainer being about 1.800 km air distance away (I am not yet rich enough to drag my coach around with me, though it would be fancy, right?), I did the whole regular training, all the laps, distances, everything. On my own.

Am I hearing standing ovations? Good, good, thanks a lot, this is just the appreciation, acknowledgement and support I have been needing.

So, I guess something is getting stronger. Is it the mind? Is it the body?

Whatever it is, it’s alive.

Hey everyone, checkout http://www.sherdog.com/ as two Kimurawear athletes Beau Baker & Jessie Riggleman, both fight live tonight for UWC 7, also available on HDNet.

This last Wednesday was an action packed and experienced filled time with Brotman-Winter-Fried Communications.  Once again BWF provided public relations for an event held here in Washington, D.C., Funniest Celebrity in DC.  The event hosted guests and performers that ranged from senators and congressmen to reporters and yes, Joe the Plumber.  Of course I made my way over to the most important of them all….and yes that person was Joe the Plumber.  Of course after over hearing him talk of his team, the Cincinnati Bengals, I only had one thing to say to him, “Sorry about my Broncos taking down your Bengals in the last seconds.”  Luckily, the man laughed instead of ripping my head off.  Below is the pic.

Hopefully this weekend goes just as well.  BWF will be providing PR for the largest MMA show on the east coast, Ultimate Warrior Challenge, and after months of pouring my work into the event I will finally see the results.  Check out the fight card at http://www.uwcmma.com

It’s the start of a new week and we are still all tired!! But this hasn’t stopped us from being People of Honor. We have stayed at the UWC to carry out various tasks.

It will fit... some how

This morning we (Nikkii, Becky, Callum, Sam and Ruby) ventured out on to Upton Heath to search for and monitor marsh gentians. It is a lovely blue flower that lives in the wetter areas of the heath, but turned out to be very ellusive. We got covered in mud from the wet ground and spiked by gorse (and Ruby had to be carried as she refused to walk throught it) and should have been able to find about 50 but instead we found zero.

So back to the centre we went. Becky and Nikki painted (yes yet more painting!) a notice board a vibrant shade of yellow, whilst Callum and Sam started to make a wooden stand for the big pictures that usually reside in the entrance so they can be taken to a conference next week.

Hard at work

After lunch this work continued, resulting in an amazing stand being finished – that is perfectly square!

The finished stand

Becky stuck all the posters onto the notice board (covering herself in spray on adhesive in the process!).

The finished notice board

I overslept the whole day on Tuesday. Absolutely fabulous. I woke up just in time to go to the college meeting and express my deepest regret for all the wrongdoings of this pitiful world. Then the blackout came. This sense of collective panicky paranoia is beautiful. Most importantly I got a deeper understanding of myself. My mind is a blackout surrounded by a translucent bubble and my miserable social contacts are to be summed up as a mosquito effect. Oh, bzzzz! What’s wrong, why can’t I get out? Bzzzz?!

I exist to criticize myself and cover my ears when people are screaming. (la freak-aut). Interpret is however you want. You might even go for a metaphor. As I’m writing it, I realize that I’ll probably have to translate it to my obscure Slavic dialect and send to my psychologist to entertain her. It’s a bit embarrassing when someone is trying to find an explanation to your insanity. Long life, self-creationism!

Going even deeper, I would like to be a moth. Candle light and Nirvana. I’m still warm and happy. And fucking stubborn. In a lonesome flight between red hair and a black hat.

I should have been a son.

I do have a high forehead, oil pastel, ballpen

Reidun said that wearing Russian Red on my lips is provocative.

Thank you for your patience.

Life is funny. Smoking is funny. Going to Prague to get wasted is very funny. Notice, how positive(!) I’m sitting in my room, completely on my own, reading Simone de Beauvoir’s “The Second Sex” and thinking about castration. In the same time I’m failing to clean my corner which includes picking up my underwear from the floor and cleaning the cup filled with a very old and very revolting coffee.  Klara came by to take me to the classes. I have a free block and a Kurt Cobain poster on my door. I exchanged the sign on my bed which says “Do not disturb” to “I’m having sex”. Sexual frustration, virginity and a couple of fluffy pillows. I must have caught the swine flu. Grazie, Gabriele.

There is a big pool of an unknown liquid on the floor in my toilet. I amuse myself thinking that the first year didn’t reach the seat.  I am still quite happy. With this peculiar ironic happiness of playing Mario Cart on Nintendo 64 and drinking water out of a wine glass. I wasn’t exactly a human being last year. I feel powerful. Shit and fuck.

I wrote to my psychologist. I told her about the weather. It’s raining.

The Crown of Insanity, living organisms including me.

Amen