Oslo’s Sculpture Park

I went to Oslo recently and it was lovely, although I barely had any time to explore. Luckily I took the BFF with me, and she managed to do pretty much everything that was available to be done in the city during the week, and then on my one day off she gave me a whistle-stop tour of the highlights.

The Vigelanda Sculpture Park was one such highlight; here are some of the photos I took while we were there. Read more

A Tour Of New Orleans’ Most Famous Graveyard

Well, I couldn’t leave New Orleans without visiting the grave of Voodoo queen Marie Laveau, could I?

St. Louis No. 1 is the most famous graveyard in New Orleans, probably because she’s buried there. Nick Cage, despite still being alive, also has a grave there. Apparently he bought it after he visited a local voodoo practitioner for help with some life problems, and she told him he’d been cursed and would need to buy a plot in order for the curse to be lifted.  Read more

The Week I Got My Brain Back

Last week’s post left off just as I was about to go into hospital to find out when they’d be booking me in for surgery. I had been hoping that it might be fairly soon, since I’m apparently an urgent case and I’ve barely been able to leave the house in months, but hope is a treacherous and flighty beast, and of course things didn’t go quite so smoothly.

The waiting list for surgery is 4-6 months long; the minimum amount of time in which I’ll be booked for surgery is four months. Then there’s an eight-week recovery period, so basically whatever happens I’m essentially taking the rest of the year off.

They can’t push me up the list unless my Angry Internal Organs actually rupture, which made me start wishing they would, until I remembered that would have irritating potential side effects like involuntary sudden death. So I figured maybe I’ll obey the doctor’s instructions and not do anything to make this whole situation any more precarious, and look after my Angry Organs, and hopefully maintain this tenuous truce for as long as I can.

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Eighteen-Year-Old Scar on Nietzsche

I’ve been going through my notebooks for the past couple of months. There are loads of them, going back to when I was twelve. In one of them, I found this, which I wrote when I was eighteen.

I read Nietzsche’s On The Genealogy of Morals whilst sitting in a little wooden hut selling tickets for a festival. These are some of the notes I scribbled down while I was reading.

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