Friday, July 01, 2005
Pengin Lost (You're The Reason Why)
A few weeks ago I read Andrey Kurkovs' most notable works, Death and The Penguin and Penguin Lost, partly due to the interest in Eastern European writting, but mainly for the love of flightless birds and a morbid obsession with obituaries. I bought the books because they where the recommended read, it being described as an ideal balance of black comedy and addictive writing. Addictive, without a doubt, the best testament to this being that I bought the second book despite not really liking the first, I just wanted to know what happened to Penguin Misha in the end of the tale. Other than that it seems the book was just an exercise in bizarre situations, no effect on me at all....
Until, a few weeks later, Penguins begin appearing in my dream, not just that but inflatable penguins with cryptic messages written upon them. The balloon thing I blame on the Hawaiian party I went to on Monday (For which I won best dressed) as there I came across the sad epiphany of my natural talent, making balloon animals. The damage that that could do the the ego is immeasurable, to see my degree go to waste in favour of street entertainer skills, and so my sleep has become very erratic and I've been sitting up and ranting in an alarming fashion (I'm told).
Things are so crazy I've even given up the booze for a while, such drastic times.
I have had some luck decoding the messages, I won't go into too much detail, but it has so far helped me in bagging a tall Sweedish blonde, which more than heals my ego, so yay me! I've also decided to sway away from black comedy and aim for the downright dark, feling a bit to bouncy for Henry Miller following the Sweedish blonde incident, so settling in Will Self for a while.
Until, a few weeks later, Penguins begin appearing in my dream, not just that but inflatable penguins with cryptic messages written upon them. The balloon thing I blame on the Hawaiian party I went to on Monday (For which I won best dressed) as there I came across the sad epiphany of my natural talent, making balloon animals. The damage that that could do the the ego is immeasurable, to see my degree go to waste in favour of street entertainer skills, and so my sleep has become very erratic and I've been sitting up and ranting in an alarming fashion (I'm told).Things are so crazy I've even given up the booze for a while, such drastic times.
I have had some luck decoding the messages, I won't go into too much detail, but it has so far helped me in bagging a tall Sweedish blonde, which more than heals my ego, so yay me! I've also decided to sway away from black comedy and aim for the downright dark, feling a bit to bouncy for Henry Miller following the Sweedish blonde incident, so settling in Will Self for a while.
