BoJack Horseman on Death (Finale)

It is really, really hard for people to get endings right. It was a running joke in IT Chapter 2 and while the writers think it’s good, the legions of fans will soon come screaming and petitioning for a re-do as it wasn’t well done. Lost, Dexter and more recently Game of Thrones have died a shameful death with lousy written endings.
So you can imagine the pressure the writers from BoJack Horseman were under.

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Most Romantic Scenes from La Boheme

I went to see La Boheme (Puccini) sung at the Sydney Opera and I was absolutely in awe of the voices and of some of the really cute and cheesy romantic dialogue. The opera follows two couples as they get together and fall apart in the turn of the century Paris. They struggle with poverty, living from one paycheck to the other – the true artists and writers that made Paris the location of enlightenment and new and revolutionary ideas. were so poor they had to burn the theatre play in three acts that Rodolfo was writing so that they could just be slightly warmer. Rodolfo’s life changes when his crush, his neighbour Mimi, comes by and asks for a light for her cigarette. Little did he know that Mimi also had a crush on him 🙂

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What the Vikings taught us (Part 2)

The Old Norse noun víking meant an overseas expedition, and a vikingr was someone who went on one of these expeditions. In the popular imagination, the Vikings were essentially pirates from the fjords of Denmark and Norway who descended on medieval England like a bloodthirsty frat party; they raped, pillaged, murdered, razed villages and then sailed back across the North Sea with the loot.

I’ve learned loads from the show, but I think you know more than I do

The Vikings * And the awesome stories I learned from them

vikings Continue reading “What the Vikings taught us (Part 2)”

Donnie Darko’s best quotes

I went to see the 15 year remastered edition of Donnie Darko last night. If you have been living in a cave and have not heard of this movie, it’s about a troubled paranoid schizophrenic teenager named Donnie Darko and his last days in his life as he experiences visions of a giant bunny rabbit named Frank.

In the middle of the night, Frank leads Donnie outside onto a golf course and tells him the world will end in exactly 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds. While Donnie is outside, a jet engine from an airplane crashes into his bedroom. Continue reading “Donnie Darko’s best quotes”

Miss you already * Or the Breast Cancer Awareness Movie

My (now only) girlfriend booked a movie for us to watch yesterday, a girly movie that will show us the power of friendship in face of adversity, how two females will always share things no two men can share and how beautiful it is to have a BFF during your hardest times.


I had no idea that females do that… I thought that mostly females are backstabbing bitches trying to get your man lol.

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Rain / Plouă – George Bacovia


Da, plouă cum n-am mai văzut…
Şi grele tălăngi adormite,
Cum sună sub şuri învechite!
Cum sună în sufletu-mi mut!
Yes, it rains as I have never seen…
And heavy cowbells asleep,
How they ring in olden sheds!
How they ring in my speechless soul!
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the bells‘ lamentation in rain!
Şi ce enervare pe gând!
Ce zi primitivă de tină!
O bolnavă fată vecină
Răcneşte la ploaie, râzând…
How my thoughts get darkened
What a primitive day of muddiness!
A neighbour’s sick girl
Keeps screaming in the rain, laughing then
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the bells‘ lamentation in rain!
Da, plouă… şi sună umil
Ca tot ce-i iubire şi ură —
Cu-o muzică tristă, de gură,
Pe-aproape s-aude-un copil.
Yes, it rains… like all that is love
And hate, it‘s a humble sound —
A child can be heard close at hand,
Sad music comes from his mouth.
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the bells‘ lamentation in rain!
Ce basme tălăngile spun!
Ce lume-aşa goală de vise!
… Şi cum să nu plângi în abise,
Da, cum să nu mori şi nebun.
What fairy tells escape from the bells!
Such an empty dreamless world!
… And how can you not cry in the abyss
Yes, how can you not die a madman?
Oh, plânsul tălăngii când plouă! Oh, the bells‘ lamentation in rain!
George Bacovia


A short commentary

This poem is so Gothic that if it was a bleeding human, the blood would have been black.
The rain so explicitly repeated in this poetry talks about despair, pain and rage, and death is ever present in the form of the abyss, the coughing girl and the mourning heavens.
The sky is weeping for us and the ringing cowbells remind us of the church bells that ring when a person has passed away. Who ever has read Nietzsche knows his most famous saying that we can see replicated in this poem:

He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.
“Beyond Good and Evil”, Aphorism 146 (1886).

This means that the mad man has come and has stared into the abyss filled with monsters and he’s crying too, dying slowly.

George Bacovia

was a Romanian symbolist poet. While he initially belonged to the local Symbolist movement, his poetry came to be seen as a precursor of Romanian Modernism and eventually established him in critical esteem alongside Tudor Arghezi, Lucian Blaga and Ion Barbu as one of the most important interwar Romanian poets.

Deep Story

I’ve recently run across this beautiful story by Andy Weir on GalactaNet so I decided to share it with you.

I was truly amazed that so much wisdom could be gathered in just a few paragraphs… I felt kinda sad when it ended. I wanted to know how the life of a Chinese woman in 540AD would have suited him. Maybe it was a hidden punishment for the marriage he was failing. Maybe his wife, when she died, would have been re-incarnated as her lover. Hmm, doing yourself is kinda creepy if you think about it… but the collective conscience of yourself was a good concept.

Here goes the story.

The Egg

By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.