KU festival

The fat lady has yet to sing in the year-long weather play of the windy city and so harbors a cold wetness to the day of København Universitetet’s Festival at Universitetsparken. I am shocked at both - the weather for having me wear a winter coat in late May, my concomitant hands still freezing, but also how the organizers couldn't have picked a worse date. Yes, its a celebration of the academic year coming to an ebb, but can we please do it after the year has actually concluded, I.e. exams? Surely, I'm not the only one doing a month to life in a paper prison without probation, as I'm sure most current last years would be at least 10 monster’s deep in an academic cellulose and melanin mucus diet for their food for thought thesis by then with only Satan and GPT on their morally slouched shoulders. Granted, I did appreciate the day off, as I made my affairs to afford it, and so arrived a bit after opening hours at 14:00, but to my surprise activities would not begin for hours still. The official website made quite a point about there being plenty of entertainment specifically all day long, including talks and lectures, however, in the English version they neglected to mention that all talks would be in Danish. Having invited a friend, it was then my responsibility to entertain, so we mostly played various sports by ourselves. Of which there were a few areas stationed, but under a dubious veil tailored by the slimy hand of none other than KU Studenteridræt with their outrageous business model. A chat with one representative yielded the insipid ..yeah, its just that the website is bad at explaining…, which inevitably leads to a conversational critical point of relaying the exact same malignant info I'm am already unfortunately acquainted anyway. No, thank you. Otherwise, entertainment was further furnished with sparse musical numbers (every 1.5h-ish), talks, bread and wine. The food stalls were expectedly greedy and understaffed, but my bland burger was otherwise delivered by a nice mustard(?) sauce. The booze were well available, diverse and reasonably priced, having 5 competing bars on site. Five. And thats all I care to say about such pedestrian heeds.
NEWS!!! As their name suggests serendipitously and ironically was news to me and only me, as they are apparently a well known rock band from the 90s, who have since been on a 30 year long hiatus only to reunite again as this their first gig. Their band name displayed along the stage backdrop, but it took a whole 2 locals to inform me that it was, after describing to them my fresh fanaticism. And amazing they were indeed. One song squeezed my eyes like a ShamWow sponge, the others gave me motion like the guy that presents them. The very next morning I plundered their entire discography - not understanding a single word of Danish, mind you - and found yet more music missing my heart these many years, now colonized and found its foreign home, something to the effect of a British museum exhibit. The lead singner sung so beautifully, that I am forced to retract and apologise to locals about my comments of their language sounding like simlish and refusing to learn it of spite.
Given the long breaks between acts on the main stage, and the secondary stage leaving me wanting, a seeding idea had taken root - a few of us would go to Statens Museum for Kunst, because it happen to be free entrance that evening, which was rare and I hadn't yet caught it. Amazing planning KU festival! Anyway, we were gonna speed run it and come back for the main festival performance, but alas this backrooms-ass palace was magnanimous and we got separated, and it took all too long. Eventually, I got back to the festival and met up with my classmates while standing in the food line.

At this point I had quite a nice time, since my mood tends to rocket to the cheesy moon while eating, to the extent that I sometimes dance. Though, I had to stand while eating, which is where the night takes a regrettable turn for me. See, this caused expected stomach uncomforts which should’ve passed briefly, but it seems I sacrificed my rook for a nothing fork in this one, refraining from an awkward conversation about my stomach issue in trade for a night of so much more embarrassment. I can see people not fully comfortable dancing to the music, when I am just standing there like a conservative middle-aged man from Mars. I tried, I tried to dance, to liven the mood.
We then strolled to a karaoke stage, but my stomach straits followed suit and sang their own tune. Eventually, like a dying cat I had strayed to solitude on a bench and shortly after without ease decided to call the night early.
Worst of all here was that I had hoped for a date with a lovely girl. Months prior she had invited me to this festival with a notable passion. And some time before that I had walked her home after a night out. A walk’n’talk - my forte. But there was unprecedented friction. Of the many women with which I’d had the perspicacious pleasure of knowing, of entertaining, of loving even across various platonic ships, I’ve yet to be in this peculiar situation I found myself that dead Tuesday evening. It seems there is a truly magnetic attraction here, but, at least from my pole, we had trouble communicating in even the simplest of manners. Seems we cannot find a common interest foundation for topic, which is ironic as always as she is a linguist. But I am captivated so by her sassy, unapologetic attitude with a hint of awkward charm. Like she knows something about this world, my world, that I dont, and she wouldn't tell me. This unique annoyance fascinates me, that seemingly I cannot get to it by way of conversation.
At all, this festival night seemed in my mind like the big bang, the start of a life, except it really didn't. The day of, she had actually canceled, and only while I was exploring the tower of Babel - SMK - did she change her mind. So we met at the festival later and we actually had some banter going - my other forte and reverence. But all this while my disagreeable gut. Now, I'm no Fabio or Sherlock on courting signals, but I reckon now that there was yet again that elusive window opening in these typical pursuits and it shut right on my nose. I will never understand. What did she want me to do? Maybe nothing. Maybe I've made a plot of smoke all in my head. Maybe the window was actually an orangery, as I can think back to my poor memory other times, when it seemed like she wanted my time in some functions, but the timings were off, and so the fate that could've been never was.

Fade in

At the peroration of March, I had the wonderful opportunity to participate in a short film marathon competition - Copenhagen Dive-in 48h with randoms of a film club I had been diligently attending for 2 semesters, but thats not saying a whole lot, since it assembled infrequently. We were given exactly 48 hours to come up with, write, rehearse, film, edit and submit a short film in the general theme of inclusion/diversity. I played many hats behind the scenes, as I am most comfortable being a clown of all acts, master of none, even coming up with and recording a music score for it in 2 of those 48h, but it was never used. Because of post-prod time constraints, I am told, of which I remain sceptical. I would've more appreciated honestly, if they just didn't like it or thought it a bad fit vibe wise. For ease I chant to myself the enlightening and so it was. A great phrase, that should be employed by everyone's 2am overworked, bedrolling brains. It simply reminds and grounds one in that the past had indeed happened the way it did, and it is now dead and gone - by no measure more real than your breakfast. Digest. But I digress.
It sure was an entirely unexpected pleasantry and kindness for one of the girls, who didn't know anyone there, to host the proceedings in her home, where in its stairway we also ended up acting and filming the whole piece. We hung out, had paper thin yet agreeable ‘za and got all our work done.

Well, the script fell short and we cut off its extremities still. Its concept and main plotline was uninspired and the writing was mediocre at best. I tried to add little corrections and propose ideas to marry their existing points as well as offer new directions, but none of it taken seriously by either of the two co-writers. The biggest pity there is that they fundamentally failed to use my skillset. Of course, I am biased to say that my ideas were great, but in the case that they weren't, I'm still clearly a valuable resource to query with the right touch. Instead, I felt like a child ride-along, where my input was technically heard and challenged, but never really considered. Distinctly I rember a few times, where my point was eventually rejected, because they just didn't think it was right, after addressing all of their rebutted concerns. Ehh… Have you ever felt like a 6th wheel?
I did have a jolly time with the actors, though, which makes sense - they act. And one other honorable mention is the camera/lighting/editing/stage man. He did more than anyone else on that production. One man crew this guy. And fittingly so, as he was the only one of us with a legit degree in digital media. We also had the most fun together, and have since hung out on other occasions as well. Always a laugh. I miss him now. Its been a while.

Guest column

I havent felt like myself for the last 3 years. With short-lived waves of selfness here and there, but you only really feel them at their crest. Just as a you moment happens or right after a total you night when you lie down and take a breath and flatten those legs, where all you can think of is appreciation or pride recalling things you said or did or how you said them. And you remember just how right it is to be you, how it fits just. Its a swaddling snuggle from an oversized sweater after a day of chilling in your home and the thought just hit you - by god, what am I doing?! I have a sweater! But the next day you wake up warm enough without it, and the thought yet escapes you like it had never been again.
There is something uncanny about coming to terms with becoming a new without noticing it happen. And I’ll tell you all about it, when I have. But for now it just seems unwarranted. I never asked to change. If instead you were to wake up one normal morning in a hospital bed and the plastic surgeon holding a mirror to your face and all its new imperfections made way of the old. Though, here its a mental plastic neurosergeon. I find myself now the same body, but a mind of a stranger. Hello, who are you then? And where have I gone? And I'm stuck. Old me has taken the Irish door, the new me making uncomfortable small talk in my head as we both wait for him to come back. But he won't. He hasn't for some time now. How come we didn't notice? Where go we looking? You know, it has taken all of loosing myself to realize just how much I loved myself, but never while he was here. Who could think that yourself could one day away?
Just yesterday there happen to be an unannounced dinner party at my flat, that had the unfortunate attendance of new me (he follows me everywhere). What a social disaster. And none of it his fault, though. We both dont know who he is. As per usual making jokes, but they fell to deaf ears. However, fuck them. For making me feel invalid in my being. I dont know how to be, okay? I see that I can add value to conversations and interactions by inserting quips or fun facts, and I find that I can live with that. I accept that. If any way of existing for me, then this is it. Granted, now it no longer worked for me. What use is an unfunny clown? It felt like I was making my usual jests, but the responses were collective silence and minor playful confusion, like… why would you say that?. Was my mood off and that ruined my intonation and delivery? I have noticed that no matter how consistent I think my mannerisms and attitude display, people seem to somehow still sense with marksman accuracy the mood I'm in. Perchance. Was there a generational gap in my sense of humor? But one of them was a good friend of mine, to which I've been an exceptionally bad friend, but thats another newspaper article. And he and I are the same age and he consistently enjoys my humor. Not this time. Not here with this company. Matter of fact, he even played against me. Perhaps. It feels like I come up with the content, but then someone else delivers it unbeknownst to me.

Epiphany column

Neanderthals had fire for like 200k years and didn't burn down literally all the forests and jungles, but now suddenly with all our tech and knowledge we do.

Quote column

Because he not only wants to perform well, he wants to be well received  —  and the latter lies outside his control. / Epictetus /

— Rolands Laucis