Little did I know that I was going to wake up to the news today that Hunter S. Thompson had killed himself. Surprised? Not really. Sad? Well, I didn't know him. Maybe it was his time. But I'll miss his literary voice.
"Faster! Faster! Until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death!" HST
Monday, February 21, 2005
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Caffeine In Tea?
I just learned from the missus that there is caffeine in tea. I had no idea in spite of all the scholastic institutions I've been through, from Sweden in the North, Spain in the South, the US in the West and Austria in the East (?). How could I have missed that? Isn't that crazy? Good I got married, huh.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
"Hi, There!"
"Hi, There!" has to be the most sardonic and distant english greetings phrase I know. I was recently greated that way when entering a store. I left. Who needs that?
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Weird People Are Only Funny On TV
I took a trip to our local YMCA today. The missus wants us to sign up for a family membership there which means that I need to check it out. I know, it's a silly commitment disorder of mine.
There are a number of things one needs to check out when choosing a gym: location, safety, accessibility, parking, equipment, facilities, quality, cleanliness, staff and other members.
I parked outside and barged in with what I thought was a very commanding look and decisive mind. I walked up to the reception where two male staffers were engaged in what look and sounded like a very casual conversation. They acknowledged my excistence by leaning forward and I could see a certain scepticism starting to shape in their eyes.
My first mistake was that I hadn't really practiced the intended conversation except for some losely tied thoughts in my mind earlier this morning. I focused my attention the one who looked like the smarter guy and blurted out: "I'd like to get a tour of your gym. My wife wants to become a member but I'd like to check it out first."
Hmm, I didn't really explain why I wanted to check it out. I think it came out the way teenage parent's check out the really dodgy location of their kids first high school dance.
The staff member tried to humor me by asking if we had kids. I told him no and added: "I don't think a gym is an appropriate place for kids" as well as "We would prefer a more relax fitness club with no kids". I think that was mistake number two. It really surprised me how back-to-back my mistakes seemed to just happen. Like an automatic gun going besurk.
Well, the tour was executed in record time, I think. We went through the whole place which includes gym, squash hall, tennis courts, basketball courts and fitness studio in less than 60 seconds. The only things I saw was fat people and kids. Loud, roudy kids. Big fat sweaty people.
Before I knew it I was outside and the staff member was gone with a snappy "Bye, bye now...!". I got the sense that he didn't want to encourage me to apply.
See - I think a fitness club should be solely for adults, be relatively quite and focus on relaxation and mental comfort. Mind over matters so to speak. I don't need to hear people breath heavily down my throat to feel that I'm working out. I just don't!
Then I thought, if this would have been on TV it would have been hilarious. But in real life I think I just came over as very, very weird. No worries - it happens every day.
There are a number of things one needs to check out when choosing a gym: location, safety, accessibility, parking, equipment, facilities, quality, cleanliness, staff and other members.
I parked outside and barged in with what I thought was a very commanding look and decisive mind. I walked up to the reception where two male staffers were engaged in what look and sounded like a very casual conversation. They acknowledged my excistence by leaning forward and I could see a certain scepticism starting to shape in their eyes.
My first mistake was that I hadn't really practiced the intended conversation except for some losely tied thoughts in my mind earlier this morning. I focused my attention the one who looked like the smarter guy and blurted out: "I'd like to get a tour of your gym. My wife wants to become a member but I'd like to check it out first."
Hmm, I didn't really explain why I wanted to check it out. I think it came out the way teenage parent's check out the really dodgy location of their kids first high school dance.
The staff member tried to humor me by asking if we had kids. I told him no and added: "I don't think a gym is an appropriate place for kids" as well as "We would prefer a more relax fitness club with no kids". I think that was mistake number two. It really surprised me how back-to-back my mistakes seemed to just happen. Like an automatic gun going besurk.
Well, the tour was executed in record time, I think. We went through the whole place which includes gym, squash hall, tennis courts, basketball courts and fitness studio in less than 60 seconds. The only things I saw was fat people and kids. Loud, roudy kids. Big fat sweaty people.
Before I knew it I was outside and the staff member was gone with a snappy "Bye, bye now...!". I got the sense that he didn't want to encourage me to apply.
See - I think a fitness club should be solely for adults, be relatively quite and focus on relaxation and mental comfort. Mind over matters so to speak. I don't need to hear people breath heavily down my throat to feel that I'm working out. I just don't!
Then I thought, if this would have been on TV it would have been hilarious. But in real life I think I just came over as very, very weird. No worries - it happens every day.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Just One Of Those Days
Today was just one of those days when EVERYTHING work really well. I sold 50 contracts of NOQBF.X for a 47% return; knocked 7 things off my todo-list and recieved season two of The Monk. And it's Friday...
Thursday, February 03, 2005
Even The French...
I just found a very decent spanish table wine from the region of Navarra. To my big surprise, or should I say surprise, the winemaker is Cécile Chassagne from Rhone Valley. It's a very classic tempranillo which I find very easy to drink. It agrees with my lips and mouth as well as nose. It's to early to know about the head.
To be frank, it's the kind of wine (and price) you want when sitting outside in the blasting spring sun and enjoying Patatas Bravas, Jamón Serrano, Olive Oil, Bread and maybe a simple Ravioli pasta with Parmesan Reggiano. It's the time when you can be and feel generous, tell the waiter (in whatever language): one more bottle - mais um - una botella mas et cetera.
The wine - 2002 Cécile Chassagne (Navarra) - is very affordable, especially in these interest raising times. A bottle goes for $6.99 at K&L Wines in San Francisco.
To be frank, it's the kind of wine (and price) you want when sitting outside in the blasting spring sun and enjoying Patatas Bravas, Jamón Serrano, Olive Oil, Bread and maybe a simple Ravioli pasta with Parmesan Reggiano. It's the time when you can be and feel generous, tell the waiter (in whatever language): one more bottle - mais um - una botella mas et cetera.
The wine - 2002 Cécile Chassagne (Navarra) - is very affordable, especially in these interest raising times. A bottle goes for $6.99 at K&L Wines in San Francisco.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
No - You Promised!
Actally we promised each other. No more IKEA - ever. I think we both agreed on the slogan: "No IKEA in 2005". Too late now, I guess.
The first thing the missus said this toasty and sunny sunday morning in San Francisco was: IKEA? I had nothing to do but confirm after spending the majority of the saturday infront of the TV, watching everything, anything and nothing.
I realized that there was no escape. The apartment is too far up to jump from and the entrance is too far away from the bedroom. I told myself: Think quick. Be smart. Come up with something. Anything. Redirect attention and importance. I had nothing.
So at 10:12am PST we parked the car outside IKEA and I could feel my heart pound faster than ever before. IKEA is neither a mall nor a shop. It's the most fears battleground where no rules apply. It's where Darwin would have proved his theories about the human species - mano-a-mano.
We found and bought what we needed - and more - and left like we robbed the place. It took us a rough 90 minutes to assemble the bookshelf and another 90 minutes to get my pulse down. I was ready to through all bits and pieces out the window at one point but I realized the possible stupidity of that move. Or rather the trouble I might get into.
We jointly agreed on "No IKEA in 2005" a few minutes ago, I just got to get the missus to sign the freekin' document. I'll then frame it and in her moment of weakness point and smile: "No IKEA in 2005". Signed, sealed and delivered! :)
The first thing the missus said this toasty and sunny sunday morning in San Francisco was: IKEA? I had nothing to do but confirm after spending the majority of the saturday infront of the TV, watching everything, anything and nothing.
I realized that there was no escape. The apartment is too far up to jump from and the entrance is too far away from the bedroom. I told myself: Think quick. Be smart. Come up with something. Anything. Redirect attention and importance. I had nothing.
So at 10:12am PST we parked the car outside IKEA and I could feel my heart pound faster than ever before. IKEA is neither a mall nor a shop. It's the most fears battleground where no rules apply. It's where Darwin would have proved his theories about the human species - mano-a-mano.
We found and bought what we needed - and more - and left like we robbed the place. It took us a rough 90 minutes to assemble the bookshelf and another 90 minutes to get my pulse down. I was ready to through all bits and pieces out the window at one point but I realized the possible stupidity of that move. Or rather the trouble I might get into.
We jointly agreed on "No IKEA in 2005" a few minutes ago, I just got to get the missus to sign the freekin' document. I'll then frame it and in her moment of weakness point and smile: "No IKEA in 2005". Signed, sealed and delivered! :)
Thursday, January 27, 2005
When I Discovered My OCD
It was the missus that made me realize that I've got the Obsessive-Cumpulsive Disorder (OCD). I was making fun of The Monk and his OCD when she said: What are you laughing about? That's you!
Moi? The most handsome, affluent, expressive and stylish human being west of the Mississippi? Yeah, you, she said. You are obsessed with the car, with your shirts, with how you organize the mail, about closing doors, turning off and on lights, the way you pack, constantly checking the tie... and she went on and on.
At that moment I realized she was right. If 1 of 50 Americans could have OCD at some point in their life, the likelihood of 1 of 50 Swedes having the same would be pretty high. And if 2% of all living Swedes could have it, I bet my 401K that I'd got it.
The worst is the fear of germs in public bathroom and being agora fobic. The germs wasn't really a problem until I hung out with the missus' youngest brother in Ireland and he showed me how to avoid touching the door handle (he's got OCD by the way). Since then I haven't been able to touch a door handle in a public bathroom without using a paper towel (which I try to throw into the trash can inside the bathroom BEFORE the door closes). There is nothing I can do about my agora fobia except drown it in red wine.
Apart from all that I'm a VERY easy-going guy!
Moi? The most handsome, affluent, expressive and stylish human being west of the Mississippi? Yeah, you, she said. You are obsessed with the car, with your shirts, with how you organize the mail, about closing doors, turning off and on lights, the way you pack, constantly checking the tie... and she went on and on.
At that moment I realized she was right. If 1 of 50 Americans could have OCD at some point in their life, the likelihood of 1 of 50 Swedes having the same would be pretty high. And if 2% of all living Swedes could have it, I bet my 401K that I'd got it.
The worst is the fear of germs in public bathroom and being agora fobic. The germs wasn't really a problem until I hung out with the missus' youngest brother in Ireland and he showed me how to avoid touching the door handle (he's got OCD by the way). Since then I haven't been able to touch a door handle in a public bathroom without using a paper towel (which I try to throw into the trash can inside the bathroom BEFORE the door closes). There is nothing I can do about my agora fobia except drown it in red wine.
Apart from all that I'm a VERY easy-going guy!
If I Had Some Time Off
Most people would love to have a million bucks. Who wouldn't? There are so many things one could do with a million bucks - if one had time.
Time becomes more important the older you get and the less you have. Money is a just a traded currency while time is invaluable. You can always make more money but never more time. Owning your own time is the most valuable asset anyone could have. Time to sleep in, reflect, think, learn, make, do, don't et cetera.
Time is the third highest form of luxury (I'd rate passion and health higher) and if I owned some I'd spend it like this: I would wake up in the morning, around 7-ish to brew some espresso, grab the WSJ and flick through my favorite financial news websites. I would then have a sit-down (haven't happen in about 10-15 years) breakfast and discuss the latest on emerging markets and stock prices with the missus. [The missus would probably humor me by nodding gently but that's another story.]
A hot bath and continuing reading of the WSJ would follow. I'd pull on a pair of worn jeans - could be Diesel, Levi's or Lee - and a semi-worn Paul Smith shirt with single cuffs and rolled up sleeves.
The rest of the day would be spent reading in the sun, having a long tasty lunch, a cigar, a late afternoon siesta and a late late afternoon drink. Then I would concentrate all my focus on the dinner, which I would cook myself while humming to Burt Bacharach and sipping Muga Gran Reserva.
The evening would be finished off either outside, enjoying the warm California evenings with friends or a 60s artsy fartsy movie by Bergman, Truffaut or Lelouch. Occasionally enjoying the hot tub with my own playmate, the missus.
But I would also learn a new language every year, make my own wine, write books, make a movie about vintage sportscars and improve my turtle walk.
There are so many things I would do if I had time that I don't think I'd make it to work. Time is worth so much more than a million bucks.
Time becomes more important the older you get and the less you have. Money is a just a traded currency while time is invaluable. You can always make more money but never more time. Owning your own time is the most valuable asset anyone could have. Time to sleep in, reflect, think, learn, make, do, don't et cetera.
Time is the third highest form of luxury (I'd rate passion and health higher) and if I owned some I'd spend it like this: I would wake up in the morning, around 7-ish to brew some espresso, grab the WSJ and flick through my favorite financial news websites. I would then have a sit-down (haven't happen in about 10-15 years) breakfast and discuss the latest on emerging markets and stock prices with the missus. [The missus would probably humor me by nodding gently but that's another story.]
A hot bath and continuing reading of the WSJ would follow. I'd pull on a pair of worn jeans - could be Diesel, Levi's or Lee - and a semi-worn Paul Smith shirt with single cuffs and rolled up sleeves.
The rest of the day would be spent reading in the sun, having a long tasty lunch, a cigar, a late afternoon siesta and a late late afternoon drink. Then I would concentrate all my focus on the dinner, which I would cook myself while humming to Burt Bacharach and sipping Muga Gran Reserva.
The evening would be finished off either outside, enjoying the warm California evenings with friends or a 60s artsy fartsy movie by Bergman, Truffaut or Lelouch. Occasionally enjoying the hot tub with my own playmate, the missus.
But I would also learn a new language every year, make my own wine, write books, make a movie about vintage sportscars and improve my turtle walk.
There are so many things I would do if I had time that I don't think I'd make it to work. Time is worth so much more than a million bucks.
Friday, January 21, 2005
It's All About The Monk
Remember when TV was reality free (except for the news and well made documentaries)? Man, was that good times. No "Who's Your Daddy?", "The Ashlee Simpson Show" or "The Surreal Life".
It's never been easier for TV executives to make money. Take 15-minute famers, make them compete for a $50K price, throw in some drugs, liquor and nudity. Voila - you got yourself a hit show!
Then there is The Monk. Finally back to an intelligent, funny and very entertaining TV show. Monk is a character with a lot of issues but a brilliant problem solver and analyst. He puts things in perspective and at the same time makes you feel good about your petty problems.
It's never been easier for TV executives to make money. Take 15-minute famers, make them compete for a $50K price, throw in some drugs, liquor and nudity. Voila - you got yourself a hit show!
Then there is The Monk. Finally back to an intelligent, funny and very entertaining TV show. Monk is a character with a lot of issues but a brilliant problem solver and analyst. He puts things in perspective and at the same time makes you feel good about your petty problems.
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