Oh go Elf Yourself

Yo yo yo, motherlovers!

So...I wrote this a few weeks ago in Spain. Went to take a shower and instead I randomly sat on the bathroom floor, half naked, and wrote this because I’m just that cool. And of course forgot all about it (actually it’s the second time I do that, I have an into-the-wild themed blog here somewhere. Hahaha....erk) And when I say forget I mean lazy-ass procrastinated. Ahaha...love me?

Anywho, here it is now, in all its unedited glory. Bask in my hysteric humour! (also, the tenses might be screwed up cause maybe I started editing it and then got bored half way though. :D)

I came over to Spain a few days before official hols started, missing a practical and a stats lesson to catch two concerts on the first two days of the stay. The first one was on Friday, Oceansize, and it was utterly awesome. There were quite a few hard-core fans in the crowd around us which always makes everything a million times better. When they played Savant my sister and cousin and I just latched together and swayed and threw our heads back and closed our eyes and it was like being somewhere else, like being nowhere, or maybe just we were there 100%, no straying thought or distraction. Like worship, closing your eyes and thinking, and loving nothing, nothing else. I just remember the heavy smell of pot and the flashing lights against closed eyes, the feel of Sara against me, the back of her head on my shoulder and Laura’s hand in mine and the music, the music was so deep into everything it made my lungs rumble with the cords of the guitar.

The second one we saw was God is an Astronaut which wasn’t as good, in my opinion. My mind wandered, I couldn’t sink into the music at all. They played clips of things in the background which I had to work hard not to look at and it was frustrating. The whole concept was irritating. Music for me is a means to feel something, but I choose, to some degree, what the music makes me feel and believe and remember. To have the clips there- sunsets and bombs and skies- was sort of beautiful, yes, but it was forcing my head to go one way or another and I heavily resent any kind of manipulation. I remember when I was little I had a lot of trouble sleeping, so my mum bought one of those relaxation tapes. I remember lying in my bed stiffly, almost angrily, sickly, listening to a deep voice telling me to “feel....relaxed. Just drift...away to a calm, calm place....just feel yourself drifting, floating...you are at peace. Now...” I had stepped out and said to my mum “I don’t like it. It’s telling me what to do.” At the time my mum had laughed, taking it as a bossy little girl not wanting to be ordered about but that wasn’t it. It was more than that. It was like someone was trying to reach a misty hand into my hand and touch all the things I had stored there and the thought was disgusting.

The week after the concerts I spent half in Cartagena with Sara and then a few days in La Manga with Little Doggy which was awesome because one of the days we went off, taking a walk around the whole area and taking picture of everything we could think of. Cats wound themselves around our legs and dogs barked at us. We even slipped into some abandoned houses (with the crisis and the fact that it’s not summer, La Manga is abundant in these). One of them was huge, with a tennis court and a pool and the most beautiful view. We loved it and vowed we would have a similar house we could watch the sunset from when we are older.

The other one was an unkempt little house in some neighbourhood we crawled under a fence in plain view to get to because there were yellow flowers everywhere. Apart from the fact I got stung, in the forehead, twice, it was pretty damn cool. The ‘phrase of the day’ was achieved when I had laid down on the dirt to get a picture of the sun bouncing off a fallen lamp and, getting up, Laura had tried to clean me up a little but I had simply shaken my head and shrugged, saying “Oh it doesn’t matter now, I’m the dirt monster.” We laughed and ran around so much that day that it’s been a long time since I sleep so soundly.

It was off to the third concert after that, which started off rockily as we missed the bus and had to take a taxi all the way to Murcia. But we got the taxi driver to reduce the price a bit and the night was definitely worth it.

This Will Destroy You was playing and despite the fact that what they managed was awesome, they had to cut the set short cause they had lost all their equipment in the airport and didn’t have half their effects or necessary...music-thingies. So we left around midnight and, after much direction-taking and actually passing it a few times, we reach a bar with nice decor and good music, in which we stayed there a tad too long. At around four we took a taxi with another guy to a club area and slipped into ‘Stereo’ which is originally meant to be a gig-room but is transformed into a dancing area when unused. The three of us danced the night away in a rather hyper fashion on the stage-area until it shut down at seven. Another guy then drove us to the bus station where we had breakfast and hopped on a bus back to Cartagena. I remember sitting across two seats, back against the bus wall and sleeping looking out the opposite-side window. The clouds were ghostly, masking the sun faintly so that it was possible to look straight at it and I marvelled at how truly round and solid it looked. With not cracking, splitting light around it making me shield my eyes. Hanging there so perfectly it looked like a toy. The signal of a God telling us, maybe, that we are only the dream of some fatigued, old man, which spends his life wondering if he should regret having slept for so long.

The remainder of my time here has been spent in the Farm. I’ve been living with little doggy for a week now and she is driving me insane. Not throw-tea-in-her-face-to-watch-her-scream insane. More like throwing-fairy-liquid-at-each-other-and-laugh-hysterically-until-seven-in-the-morning insane.

Seriously, I think we laughed more yesterday than some people laugh in their whole lives. And not. Hahahaha that was so damn funny either. It was more like AAAAAAHAHAHAAAAHAHRHGHGHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHRGHGHGHGHGGGGGGGHHHHGHGHGHAHAHAHA(silent laughter, gaspgaspgasp)HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH. Owowow my stomach, ow I can’t breathe HAHA.

At one point our conversation deteriorated into little doggy rolling away from the small gap where our two beds were pushed together, exclaiming, “Why do I always end up in the crack!?” I burst out laughing and said deeply “Oh you like cracks, don’t you,” which just made us laugh harder, and then proceeded to gasp out things like “anal leakage!” and “cunt-juice!”, laughing hysterically until little doggy moved so much that the beds slid apart and she promptly fell through the gap, saying “ahaha, Marinahaha, help help me marina marina marinahahahah,” whilst I looked at her disappearing, wiggling limbs and just rolled around on my bed laughing like a complete maniac.

That night we decided a few things.

-little doggy has crossed a few too many crazy lines.

-I am at the end of crazy road, waving my arms and shouting “I AM THE VOICE!”

-‘go elf yourself’ should be incorporated into the insult-vocabulary, which comes from the program in which you can put faces of people on some dancing real-live elves so that they bob around ridiculously. Nothing was funnier than watching my uncle’s stoic face on one of the dancing elves.

Nothing.

-Anal leakage should not be an advertised side-effect for anything in the history of ever.

-When we are together, we should be banned from the public. For their own safety.

-Wiggling the tongue like the KISS member is not a good way to hit on someone.

So yes. Quite the productive night. Except when I tried to go to sleep and would randomly burst into giggles every few minutes as images popped into my head, like the time I randomly starting singing the circus song, which abruptly ended in me feigning to shoot myself in the head and violently throwing myself sideways, or the time little doggy clicked the lights on and off rapidly, shouting “DISCO TIME!” Which of course was my cue to thrash wildly in my bed, a scene which was described by her as me looking like ‘an epileptic Japanese ghost’. Or of course me putting thumb-tacks between by knuckles and shouting “I'M WOLVERINA!” or the smart alternative of razors between the fingers and an exclamation of “HELLO, ITS EDWARDA RAZORFINGERS!”

Little doggy told me to just imagine a desolate, cold place to get rid of the laughter. That kind of worked, until I imagined myself in the middle of a lonesome snowy field, arms in the air, face pointed to the cloudy sky as I laughed manically like a villain. I then proceeded to act it out, booming-laughter and all, which just got us started all over again.

Ooohhh dear.

So yeah. Hopefully I won’t be sanctioned any time soon.

Not promising anything though.