trying to deal with problems

On the same day as my crisis involving 'my room' (the post below), I embarked on a mission to try and fix the awful feelings sitting inside of me. I walked from school past all the greenery, the white flowers, and fields of purple flowers to Tori's flat. There I decided to lay on her couch and talk to the various people that came in and out of her kitchen. I was graced by the World of Warcraft playing Frenchman Emile, Tori herself, Blake, and Thomas. They all seemed to be, in general, good spirits. I explained simply that I was avoiding the prospects of going home. From there Tori told me that she had to go to the gym. 'Sure,' I said, and just continued to lie there as people came and went. The couch was very uncomfortable. Its more of a bastard futon. Blake commented that May 3 is always a good day. Where my face was a sordid painting. Blake merely went and smoked on the balcony.

After lying there and joking around with everyone, Tori came in and asked me if I was attending our Norwegian Life and Society class. It was being held at the National Gallery. I told her sure, why not. What else am I going to do? Go back home? No, I don't think so. I don't think that is 'going to happen'.

Anyway, it soon became clear that Blake was hungry. He told me so. He left and went to cook. Tori had her gym meeting with her friend Jade canceled, so we hung out until it was decided she would return her Arcade Fire ticket at the Poston (post office). From here we went to the post office and encountered more people joining our group for the adventure.

Alex from Canada
Leslie
Jade
Blake
Tori
April

(all joined the party)

Now, at this stage, living in Norway, I have opted out of buying my monthly transportation pass. Its about 80 dollars each month for the pass, and I figured I don't go downtown a lot anyway. So now everytime I ride the train, its a gambit. I have to hope that the police aren't doing random inspections, otherwise I get a ticket for about 150 dollars. My plan, if I am ever riding and get found out, is to blubber in English until the next stop and then bolt out running. I figure, the odds are about 50/50 that I get away. Usually the inspection police aren't the greatest in shape individuals and they seem pretty complacent. I doubt they would expect it.

So we all boarded the train and this was my plan in my head as we rode along. Thankfully, we made it downtown and found our way to the National Gallery. There we met a very old and cute elderly woman, our guest lecturer, who I think took a fancy to me. She kept pausing and asking me questions about what I was doing in Norway while she was lecturing, and would often ask my opinion of the paintings we were passing by. The last portion was devoted to Munch, and here we were able to see one of the versions of The Scream, as well as Madonna. There is a large room with many of his paintings hanging around.

After we parted ways, we retrieved our items and they asked me if I would be continuing on this journey. I sighed and shrugged. It was rather pleasant and the fear of imprisoning myself was too great. We went to the deli, there the girls all received free coffees because the milk had been bad. We went to H & M.

Here is where I seemed to lose part of my mind. I decided to try and cure my foul and sad mood by buying some new pants. I decided on a pair of slacks. These slacks, were, Gold. See, they were rather shiny and I was immediately attracted to them. They also fit nicely in the dressing room and in there, without the sunlight, I thought they were simply a shiny khaki. The woman who sold them to me said it would be fine if I changed into them in the store. So I did. Thinking, this is going to be great. Some nice comfortable pants. I'm going to look sharp. However, stepping out in the sun I became a jazzy 'guy' in my gold pants walking around downtown Oslo.

Then Tori and I decided to dine together, we went to the supermarket, and couldn't figure out what dinner would be. We decided instead of dinner to simply buy an assortment of cheese, grapes, and crackers, and then back at her flat to eat all this with some red wine. I also, in my attempts to feel better, bought a 20 dollar imported hunk of cheddar cheese. Which, later, after walking home I would forget in Tori's fridge, and I still have yet to retrieve it and try out my fucking cheddar.

Otherwise, in my gold pants, we had a wine and cheese party (Emile joined us and added to our blue cheese, brie, and smoked something cheese I can't pronounce assortment, a hunk of goat cheese from France and commented that I was wearing, 'sexy pants,'), I got severely drunk since I live on something like 500 calories a day and around 10 pm with the outside world still light out, I walked home stumbling along the sidewalk and couldn't move from my bed with all the spinning and strength leaving my legs. I fell asleep and woke up around 1 in the morning with a massive hangover and that goddamn pair of gold fucking pants.


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drop that black album