Jon Åslund

Yesterday a bought a kilo of Fruchtbonbons, to give to people at work, because I am so nice. They seemed to like it. I also took a picture of their hand in the jar. Some people who noticed me doing this quickly backed out of the offer. One of them even gave me the finger, but that was actually because she noticed me aiming at her “bonbons”, which I was, so I deserved it. The finger turned out very well. I especially like how she is giving it to me, while firmly holding on to an orange bonbon.

I am not easily scared when I watch movies, but there is this one guy that scares me regardless of where he shows up. You all know him, Willem Dafoe. Even when doing nice things, such as holding up doors to old ladies, I want to scream out “noooo, little old lady, don’t trust him, he will crush you when you are half way through”, but of course I don’t. I don’t want people to think I am crazy, because I am not. It also feels like crying Wolf. As far as I know, he never has crushed an old lady with a door. But that eerie feeling is there. I also have this fear of Willem Dafoe crushing me with a door or poking me in the head with an unsharpened pencil. So far, it hasn’t happened, but it’s just a question of time.

I asked a friend if she didn’t think that Willem Dafoe was scary. She said no, even though it was totally obvious that he was a psycho, sitting there in those normal clothes, trying to look normal. It’s not like he is fooling anyone. Even though he couldn’t possibly have heard us of course, but at the exact moment when my friend wasn’t looking, he did that thing with the finger, spinning it close to his forehead, and then pointing right at my friend to signify that she was crazy and didn’t know what she was talking about. Exactly what I was thinking. It’s like he is in my mind. Isn’t that scary?

Also, another thing that is really freaky, is when people become Willem Dafoe. Normal people, for instance on the subway, just chatting about weather, mobile phones and rent control. When you least expect it, Willem Dafoe just enters their bodies for a brief moment. He smiles, that typical uncute Willem Dafoe smile of his, and leaves. I have asked lots of people how it feels. It appears most people don’t notice it themselves. He seems to be very sneaky that way. I once tried to convince someone that he had just become Willem Dafoe, but he didn’t believe me. It was like he was ashamed. Then, while looking at his girlfriend, Willem Dafoe entered his body once more, and did that thing with the finger again. It’s like he tries to make me look a fool in public and wants revenge for every little thing I do or say about him.

The only reason I can write this about him, without pissing him off, is that he never reads livejournal and that he is currently in the kitchen making toast. He is whistling and I can smell the slightly burned cheese.

“No email from Paul yet, I wonder if Michael will bother to pass on my email.”

“Michael Bolton is really bad at passing on e-mails. Don’t get your hopes up. I once wanted to ask Paul McCartney if I could borrow his boat, but didn’t have his e-mail, so I asked Michael to send it to him. Michael that bastard never did anything. It turned out it was easier just giving Paul a call. Of course he didn’t let me borrow his boat.”

Dear Livejournal diary. Yesterday I annoyed people at work. That was fun. I have to do it again sometime.

Today I ate Indian food with morfeusz and briseis. I had spinach and cheese. Mmm, cheese… good. We talked about livejournal and different communities and how some people just write about specific things. I think I am the kind of person who will only write about writing on livejournal and livejournal itself, like I am doing today.

Obviously, as you may (or not may) see, I am in metamood. I also want a fanclub of girls with colourful hair.