There has been a restless drift inherent in most of my blogging since the beginning. (I still remember the greymatter interface fondly.) I started up Lost Pages in the summer of 2001 and shut it down around 2004 when I switched to textpattern and was far more interested in writing about comics. I cut down on the number of non-comicblogs I followed, and later, even more as I stopped writing in English all in all. When I did this, I also lost track of many other people whom I loved to read.

I have no real explanation why, I just know that it happened. I still feel a bit bad about it. I lost contact with people I liked. I still haven’t found everyone — the easiest one’s that still cling to the same domains was easy when I dug up the old link-lists. But the others? I feel as if I abandoned them. This guilt make me both try a bit too hard at interacting here I think, as well as keeping the distance. Yeah, those two shouldn’t work together at all but they do. I don’t want to miss everyone. Not again.

It’s a bit surprising that I now and then I’d stumble over a few of these wayward people here. The Internet is only as large and vast as one makes it — it can be a very small place. I like that. And even if you might not remember me, I do remember you. I hope. It would be a bit awkward otherwise, but I’m all for that as well.

I hate it when thoughts make me nervous and the stomach goes transformer into a black hole. Everything just spiral and with no guts… I have no guts. Damn.

Game night. Arkham Horror and Azathoth as the big bad. I of course had to play the librarian. Brains and the ability to read stuff without loss of sanity? Instant win in my book. (Also quite true to life, this is how librarians are.) When I closed the final portal, only me and one other was (sort of) unharmed. The other three players were much worse off: one in the Arkham Asylum and two were on the other side of the portals, now forever lost in time and space.

But I won. Obviously. I did the final act. Points? Pfffffffffffft!

Due to tiredness from public transport (Fredrik) and upcoming exams (Alma) , the first meeting of Sällskapet För Mumindalens Utvecklande was transposed until April. Then: cookies, tea and reading.

Instead we had a few beers and talked about curling and language. Apparently, the losing team in curling gets free beer from the winners. We need one more member for our free beer team.

It was on the floor in the apartment but only because the sofa was taken. There were several people around and someone — I’ve forgotten who — asked “which one is the best spaceship?” This is a dangerous question. Even more so than the one about where the fine line between cyborg and robot is, most people get bored with the technicalities.

But this one, people began to say their own preferences and why, and the others tsk and say “that’s not a spaceship, that’s a moonshaped space station.” That is until Rikard threw himself into it. I’m not sure, but I think he defined it like this: a spaceship is mass-produced, if it’s a one-off it’s just a dumb boat. And then he listed the top five mass-produced spaceships of all time. I don’t remember the list and I’m sure we didn’t agree in every detail. It was a great list though, I remember that much.

These are the friends I miss the most.

The night before last night, there was an incident. I sat up far too long and drew stuff and lost track of time (at step one it’s 5:45 AM). This is important, because this explains what happened. I was tired. Very tired.

1. I take the medicine, swallow it down with water. Then I think: that glass was half-full. Why?
2. Was it because I had a sandwich or did I take a pill before?
3. This can’t be good. Unless it was due to the sandwich. But I don’t know! Have I doubled up?
4. I look at the chart and see three missing pills. Didn’t I open the new chart yesterday? But then again, it might have been the day before. This does not help at all.
5. The instruction paper. I need that now! Oh no. It’s in Norwegian?! That doesn’t give the help I need, they thing “serious” is “fun” for fuck sake.
6. Found the Swedish, it was on the other side of the paper. Apparently I’m still within the safe amount even though it’s way beyond the regular dosage.
7. But I probably just took one. Yeah. But… What if not…? Is that the heart speeding up? Do I have trouble breathing? Should the head hit the wall like that? This anxiety isn’t going to let me sleep. The hand! It feels numb at the finger! No, that’s because of holding the pen. Nevermind.
8. My God, this fishing programme on the tv is so fucking boring I might…
9. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

This was the first time I had this problem. I don’t intend to do it again, my nerves are pretty tender as it is.