It’s dawning on me that the movie industry and New York was maybe not the right choice if one would want solitude. I wish I was a mass-murderer from Idaho. How many must one kill? Not too many, I hope.
I always knew Central Park was square, but was not aware of its forth side. There was a sign about quiet inner peace and I went to the address. Full of people! Never saw so many chitty-chatters in one space. Out on the street, I hailed a cab. The driver hailed me back.
She who do my taxes told me that if I was poor and ugly, I would be left alone. Doesn’t work for poor ugly me.
Lundell kritiserade kvaliteten på Läckbergs skriftställning.
Läckberg gav ett honorar till Kivik Art Center och “Himlatrappan” som Ulf Lundell uttryckt sin avsky inför.
Lundell skänkte pengar till en fond för unga gossar som utnyttjats sexuellt.
Läckberg slet ner en svärdfisk från väggen på en pizzeria i Borås.
Lundell påminde om en grekisk adelsdam som lät sig lägras av hela sin armé.
Läckberg påminde Lundell om att hans första fru suttit på psyk och är död.
Lundell drog igång en motorsåg.
Läckberg drog igång ett twitterdrev.
Bättre: Camilla Läckberg sponsrade ett nytt, översta trappsteg på himlatrappan med 250 000 kronor. Hela bedrägeriet med Kivik Artcenter skulle falla samman. Lundell skulle kunna hävda att eftersom “konstverket” är under byggnation och föränderligt, är det inte vad KAC påstår. Alla skulle bli nöjda.
“And now you SEE!”, he says. So silly. Everyone can spot it. He has a weakness. He needs to be right in the eyes of others. Another one shoots glances over his shades. He hints on greatness past that belongs to him. He says: “And now EVERYBODY SEE!”.
No one sees a thing. They see you acting ape. Grown men living with mama and papa. Making Utube on the potty. Oh! What will he be when he grows up? Destined for greatness!
I love Sherlock Holmes. There! It’s said. I know him. I know there are four novels and 52 short-stories without consulting Internet (which would tell me there are 54 short-stories and a fifth novella).
I do not care. I care about Sherlock. So many have tried to imitate the style. The ones I found and found OK are: John Dickson Carr & Adrian Conan Doyle .
The ones I do not like are too many.
So why is Brett the best moving Holmes we have? The series is true to the word. No inventions or insertions. Still, Brett injects something into Sherlock not there before.
It’s like Jeeves and Wooster. Still waiting for the script; the actors and the time and love that needs investing. We have the two friends who tried it out. Not so good.
We also wait for a good Ignatius Reilly; someone to grasp August Strindbergs greatness; a portrait of Hamsun’s figure from Hunger; an end to the morons Auster, Ecco and Rushdie.
Stop talking about the Beat-poets! It’s enough!! If I would kill for a tale.. it would be for Sherlock Holmes.
[I might add to this. I might certainly remove it.]
+adding: Steph King will soooon publish his remake of “The invisible man” by H.G. Wells (a great little book I love to read and re-read).
+When will a not stupid Poirot appear? The moustache-shitting, hair-net imbecile, short, fat little bastard we are presented with is not good enough. We need a Poirot who makes “Final Curtain” count!
+And fucking ADD the info from Kafkas diary and letters into the story! You know an author is EVERYTHING.. not the selected words you bone-pickers choose.
Can shoe-burger play a C-chord with a 6:th, a major 7 and 11? On cam. Well, let’s leave that to the estate.
about me: I hate making transitions; I hate refining and idea when it’s already there; I never do things I hate.