Dust on a Dusty Road

The final move…. I think.

Ragnar — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 13:50:28 +0000

Always liked the name of this old blog and I liked the atmosphere of it as well so I’ve decided to try to start it back up. This time I’m going with a domain though, so head over to the new Dust on a Dusty Road.

Many Comedians are simply.. fake assholes on a stage?

Ragnar — Sat, 16 May 2009 01:15:26 +0000

Okay, I’m not gonna claim all comedians are assholes the point I’m trying to make is, but many act like they are on stage, and suddenly it’s funny. They complain about this and that, give example replys to example situations that would fit an asshole perfectly. If you meet one in real life, the natural reaction is to tell him/her get lost or even ignore him/her. But put them on a stage, BAM! It’s funny, what’s up with that? How is it funny? I don’t get it..

Poem – Perfect Funeral Music – Final Edition.

Ragnar — Fri, 08 May 2009 20:37:12 +0000

Eerie yet beautiful,
the piano music spread through air
like a fish swimming in clear water,
its notes sparkling
like tiny rainbows
by a waterfall in the sun

The ghostly music conjuring
magnificent sadness
a reminder of what was
and what grandeur might await.

Further waves of sound
refused to disappear
until everyone was enlightened
in a moment of optimism and sadness
that lingered.

A last demonstration of the stubborn nature of the deceased.

The gender fixation and generalization disgusts me.

Ragnar — Fri, 08 May 2009 15:40:54 +0000

I see it every day, I hear it everyday, generalizing negative comments about men as a whole. It’s basically everywhere, youths today are basically taught that “most men” only think about one thing. And also while I may not hear this as much in public, there are a lot of “private talks” on the subject of women that have a rather negative turn. Gold diggers etc etc… I mean, honest to god I know pretty much as many superficial females as males, I know huge jerks of both genders, I know arrogant people of both genders, I also know great people of both genders, caring friends almost always up for an entertaining conversation.

Just a quick search on google gave me over 600 000 results for generalazing terms such as: “Men are pigs” “Women are whores” “Men suck” and “women suck”. What’s up with that? Stop bringing half our species into it when one person wrongs you, it’s like if a man\woman kills my friend, I’ll just go around killing random men\women saying “shouldn’t have killed my friend murderer”.
What’s up with the generalization? Give me a break already. Open your eyes, people are never the same, even twins. I have two words for you “men haters” and “women haters” that you honestly need to hear: Grow up.

Perfect funeral music. (Poem)

Ragnar — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 19:24:57 +0000

Another poem inspired by happenings in the outside world.

The eerie yet beatiful sound of the piano spread slowly throughout the air
Like a magnificent fish slowly swimming through clear water
The sounds sparkling in ears like tiny rainbows created by a waterfall in the sun
The eerie melody conjuring a moment of magnificent sadness in the listeners
Reminding them of what was gone and at the same time the magnificence that might await.

Continuing further the waves of sound refused to disappear until everyone were enlightened.
The moment was to be spent in happiness and sadness to best present the manner of human life.
Waves of sound enhancing the concentration until the moment seemed to linger.
As if a last demonstration of the true stubborn nature of the deceased.

Swine flu – The fake pandemic.

Ragnar — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 11:11:16 +0000

Yet another overhyped flu, makes you wonder about the real motives of the media…

Obama – Really the savior?

Ragnar — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 10:38:04 +0000

As I am an outsider, not living in the US, never having visited the US and knowing only a limited amount of US oriented people, I can’t help but wonder if I really get the correct picture. Most of what I hear about him comes from Jon Stewart’s sarcasm(weirdly enough accompanied by grimaces or remarks so strange you start to wonder why he’s not in some sort of asylum) and the regular news, not being a big fan of newspapers or news in general mainly because of all the hearsay/gossip and the amazing amount of information I couldn’t care less about. Well I’d rather not have it in my head anyway, I doubt that I’ve been given a realistic picture of what he’s really been up to, so if you are an American, and you have a spare minute, could you please tell me if you’ve noticed any actual difference after Obama gave his vows?`

As far as I have heard he’s having a difficulty running a policy that’s almost identical to the ones his worst “enemies” had when they were in charge.

Poem – Dreaming

Ragnar — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 15:45:45 +0000

Mankind’s very own evil
May continue to seem surreal
Through the night or through the day
It’s all a bunch of crap some might say
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

However truth is rarely told
By the masses of humans who think they are bold
Continuing throughout our lives
The evil of mankind thrives.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Growing growing everlasting
Evil’s hold on the world casting
The world itself into shadow’s hold
The darkest of stories that remain untold.
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

Yet in humans hope still resides
In silence those people the evil abides
But one day the truth will come forth
In the east, west, the south and the north
Dreaming truth or dreaming lies
Silence but for the buzz of flies

One hundred.. and Fifty (Fiction)

Ragnar — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 15:07:02 +0000

The man opened his eyes slowly, and to his surprise found himself standing in the middle of a road in something remotely similar to the American suburbs he had once known so well. He paid no notice to the truck heading his way, and continued walking towards it. The first sign of impact was when his nose was pressed flat against his face. He stopped, realizing his nose could not have struck the front of the truck as he now was standing behind it. The fact that he had the ability to pass through trucks provoked no reaction whatsoever in the man, instead he pressed his fingers against the air in front of him. As I thought, thought the man as he started testing the seemingly impenetrable air with his fingers.

A growing sense of unease wakened in his stomach. He could not seem to pass his fingers through the air, moreover the man was unable to see anything different about the area. Somehow he knew that waking so close to the border of your territory was unheard of, which was the only reason he felt the need to test the air at all, but to anyone else the most obvious irregularity would have been the slow monotonous music of a foreign voice telling him “one hundred… and fifty” seemingly from the depth of his mind. Despite this the man kept pressing his fingers against different parts of the border, just to make sure that indeed it was the end of his territory. But of course, he thought irregularities often appear concerning the first of each week, this must be the case here.

The man again unsurprised at the information seemingly devoid of a source. No longer interested, the man turned away from the invisible wall and peered into the windows of one of the many almost identical white houses. Old age well, organ failure, how boring. He thought as he moved on to a house nearby. Car accident eh? He thought and started walking down the middle of the road again. He knew that it could take days, weeks, months and even years before he actually found someone that piqued his interest enough that he would alter their lives. Just finding something like a car accident was a rather rare occasion.

After inspecting a few more houses, cancer and heart failure seem almost too regular, what’s wrong with this neighborhood? He thought, and was getting rather bored, however slowly he could feel an ominous presence closing in. He could sense that someone whose life had been changed was nearing his position. And at the same time he could feel that the cause changed for the people living in the house he was closest to, now when he examined the married couple sitting on the couch in front of the TV, the foreign voice in his head whispered murder.

Inactivity and Activity, Activity and Inactivity

Ragnar — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 10:30:14 +0000

As always the inactivity on this blog is due to what I lack in inspiration but also in willpower, whenever I think about starting to post regularly is when I get closer to the end of that period of half-activity, probably because of my hatred of routine.