and you should just shut the fuck up.

over and out,

myrtle darcy-fucking-miserable.

freshly squeezed photo from this morning. 

I’m getting sick here in Copenhagen and I have absolutely no food at all. It’s snowing. It’s horribly cold. I’m tired and happy, I would be more happy if I had something to eat other than cabbage and eggs. I just fucking love cabbage – that sad veggie is totally underestimated. People should appreciate it  more. Like pickles.
Did I mention that it’s snowing? It affects my pessimistic little heart, punching it back to hopeless romantic. I like it – you somewhat feel alive again when you step out of the real, fucking depressing world for a while. Just a little while, and then I will mentally kick my romantic little heart back to hardcore pessimism filled with anger – again. That’s just how you get ahead the most of the time: being a rock solid, hardcore, crazyass bitch.

But I’m happy – too happy and that’s too scary. I can’t control happiness, and certainly not this form of happiness, and I’m not sure if I had the power I would control it. Then it wouldn’t be the same. Sometimes everything is more beautiful when you are completely powerless and inches from falling into a big, dark hole of nothing. And maybe I’m ready to take that chance again. I couldn’t imagine feeling worse than I did before. This time I will feel. Either way. Happy or unhappy – and that’s always better than feeling nothing at all.

It’s still snowing….

god I miss summer!! (not post-relevant comment, but what the heck, right)

I constantly hear people talk about how unbelievably hard it is to be friends with the opposite sex. It’s so damn freakin’ complicated and it seems like you can’t be friends with a potential fuck-buddy. Don’t ask me why, I seem to get along with my guy friends (hahahahahaha, I hope!), and why is that so? Now I will give you the solution.

It’s quite simple actually. The problem is the solution: fuck them and see what use they are for. If the shag was piss poor, you should just be friends. If not, you have gain yourself a shag-friend for life. Use him or she or it when you feel alone or if you just feel frisky. Win-win either way!

So there you have it, folks. That is the answer that will keep you friendable for the opposite sex. Now prosper – Godspeed you on your fuck-journey to friends. And for God’s sake, just keep it simple.

Caution: this post does not have anything to do with me – I’m straight up traditional - that’s just how I am.

Keep it cool, use a condom and don’t give in. Not yet. Not now.

One of the pure joys of  studying for your exam is to use all of your precious time on all the crazy shit on the world wide web. And especially this thing called Facebook. The pure of all evil – the biggest and most powerful terrorist I’ve  ever encountered. A whole new world.
In this Facebook there are apparently hidden messages as well – a whole new language. Oh the horror of technology and the internet. When you finally have settled with the fact that it’s hard to be a human in this world, it’s even harder to be a cyberhuman on cyberspace.
I’ve recently found out of this while surfing on Facebook. Surprise, huh? Oh well, there is something called “poke” – and if you where thinking the same as me, you are almost on the right track actually. Did you know that to poke someone on Facebook is to flirt? I didn’t, but it sure explains why ugly, old bastard strangers (and of course speaking of guys here) are poking me all the fucking time. Fortunately just cyperpoking, but oh boy how they wished they could poke me in other ways as well. They just look so piggish, and in my mind I can’t understand why THOSE guys think that I EVER could be a little interested in them? I really don’t. Do they think if they poke me I would let their meat poke into me? That is just silly, guys. A little tip from me to you.

You will get a hell of a lot more by watching porn than poking random girls on the Facebook. Just saying… Use your time sensibly instead and if porn doesn’t work for you anymore, there is hookers as well….

…..that’s pretty much  how my week have been so far, and last week. All this exams nonsense is going on my nerves. I just wanna write and travel, go for long walks, see so many documentaries, wank to Hank Moody, play with my rabbit Charlie Knox-Drake, read Bukowski and buy dresses, but I can’t. The whole week the conversations I have had with myself has sounded like this: “When I’m done watching porn, I will start writing on my assignment”, and then replace porn with food, movies, more food, parties and sleeping.

Geez, will it ever stop? I guess we have to wait and see. But now I’ll eat some more and then I will look at my exam.
As if.

Was it you or was I just in love with a feeling? A feeling that made me feel again, feel something. I guess I’m never going to know now, or would I ever know for sure? Do you ever know if you are in love or in love with falling in love? It makes me wonder if you ever fall in love with a person or you just fall in love with yourself – with the emotions taking you as a hostage and making you feel all those fucking wonderful things, turning you into a complete nut-job.  But if that was the deal, why is it just that one fucking annoying person of all the rotten fishes in the almost dried-out sea, who causes you all of those wacko feelings? Is it just timing, you, the good wine, something indefinable or just desperation? A desperation for feeling human again, for feeling life?

Maybe that’s why we drink. To feel anything. We drink more than ever before and we love it. We schedule drinking in our fancy day planner – that’s how import it’s become to get shit-faced regularly. We drink to socialize, we drink to fuck, we drink to get away, we drink to feel. How pathetic have we become? We should just kill ourselves now instead of trying to live this thing called life. We have killed the purpose of it and like Christians aim to heaven, we aim to our drunken illusions. We fled to the drug and alcohol haze instead of enjoying what we have, and frankly – why should we?

In the end we are all just fucking refugees, believe it or not.

Have a good day…….. ha ha.

I don’t believe in life, I believe in you. I don’t believe in emotions, I believe in alcohol. I don’t believe in myself, I believe in makeup. I don’t believe in the future, but I believe in the end.

And a fucking good morning, folks! The sun is shining and yet it still feels like it’s nighttime.

I got pretty shit-faced last night; oh the horror and moral hangovers. I can’t stand them. Maybe I should just leave my phone home the next time and risk getting lost. Seems like a safer bet for everyone.