Pulcinella thy name is Siren...

I have now spent the last 12 hours scribbling down 5780 words about Le Misanthrope by Molière and Pindars 6. Pythian Ode. Serching every crevice of the infinite internet to scramble together enough bourgeois nonsense to make sense. Of these piles of vile genius. My brainbox is cracked and I can't find the power in famished brain for the final read-through. This is why I must blog, I must grant my minds fever relief in non-straining written blibbety-blobb.

When I started writing the assignments I thought that this could not be done. But I have done it. I have written the two worst analysis of famous works of written art in the history of UIO slackers. I wish I could see the faces of the bored middle-aged single men and women whom revel in the pure non-sense I have spewed. I cannot be sure, but I think I might have drawn parallels between Philinthe and Peter that treacherous little worm in the Bible.

I didn't much care for old Greek poetry, but after three hours of Pindar I fell into a Stockholm Syndrome-like trance where I felt the praise on the very deepest pits of my soul.

I fell asleep a few seconds and Le Misanthrope caused a dream of a deluded Gregory House climbing a mountain to get to his Rocky Mountains cabin made from sturdy lumber and delusions of self-empowering solitude.

I might be going insane in the worst way possible. I'm devoured by French Classicism and Greek mythology. Must... read... modern literature! Must... watch... silly cheerleader movie!

If this wasn't enough to drive me clinically insane (luckily Oslo Hospital for mental problems is only two stops away by tram) I realised that I had misspelled Molière about 52 times when finally finishing the text... Molieré... One must understand the confusion my neighbours must have felt as a slender woman suddenly acted like aggravated monkey with no poo to fling.

Well, time to do some breathing-exercises before attempting to read through my foul-smelling rubbish, turning it in and sleeping for days until I must succumb to incessant sparknotes reading in the hopes I get Hamlet or well... Hamlet on my final exam on May 26. If I get Commedia Divina or some obscure poem I will either cry or laugh uncontrollably and leave the exam.

When will I learn?

Hare Krishna

Siren