Screw blogger, I've created my own blog.

http://beertje.sulta.net Bjorn in Belgium. Please update your links

Íbúðin mín er laus til leigu frá og með janúarmánuði!

Ég ætla að setja auglýsingar í blöðin í vikunni, en mér er ekki sama hver fær hana svo mér datt í hug að auglýsa hér fyrst svo fólk sem ég þekki; eða þá fólk sem ég þekki þekkir; fái forskot á aðra.

Kósíheit (smella á mynd til að sjá fleiri)

Íbúðin er tveggja herbergja, 85m2 í kjallara í Hlíðunum, og ég hafði hugsað mér að leigja hana út með húsgögnum. Það má samt semja um allt. (Kemur meira að segja til greina að selja ef gott tilboð berst).

Endilega látið boðin út berast ef þið vitið um gott fólk sem er að leita...

- Fljótlega-fyrrum-Drápuhlíðar-Björn

.. dancing in September? o/~

For some unexplainable reason I've had this song stuck in my head since I woke up.

It does make me think though: yes I do, and how can it possibly be December already?

Over the last few months I feel I've had some of the longest days, where time didn't seem to move at all, and yet they all fit into a couple of months that seem to have flown by in a second. It just doesn't add up.

Time is relative, and I've mostly been sitting on Einstein's hot stove.

A couple of long days more and suddenly a new year is upon us. Should be an exciting one. With less time sitting on the stove.

I'm looking for a word. In Icelandic it's 'jafningur'. (Pause for those who understand Icelandic to get the pun in the title)

Perhaps that's not specific enough a word. It's a kind of a thick, white sauce and it's used alot in cajun (or was it creole?) cuisine.

It's made like this:

1. Put some butter into a pot. Melt it.
2. Add flour, stir well. Keep adding and stirring until the whole thing has turned into a yellow paste.
3. Add milk, and keep stirring until the whole thing is as thick or fluid as you'd like.
4. Season with salt and pepper.

The stirring needs to be quite constant to ensure an even texture. Cook for a short time on low heat for a white sauce, keep it a bit longer and it turns yellowy-brown. All a matter of taste.

Since I'm getting all recipe-y (is that a word? it is now), this is the most complicated part of one of my favourite dishes. The rest of the recipe goes something like this:

1. Put a layer of sliced potatos in an oven-proof dish.
2. On top of that put a layer of onions.
3. On top of that put a layer of bacon.
4. Repeat until you've run out of potatos, onions and/or bacon.
5. Top with a healthy dose of the sauce from above, put into oven, bake.

It may help baking the potatos and frying the bacon before, this cuts down the baking time.

The sauce should get a slightly burnt crust. Yum!

Bonding 

Saw the new Bond film yesterday. Kicked arse.

On the way to the cinema I drove into a cardboard box at full speed. It was surprisingly noisy, a huge bang and I was sure the car would have a bump on it.

I had hardly recovered when a large plastic sheet came flying towards me. Ran into that as well, and it got stuck under the car and I had to drag it along for the last few hundred metres.

Thought I was looking kind of adventurous pulling over in front of the cinema in a battered car, slamming the door, tearing off the plastic sheet (a small note on it said 'þilull' if anyone can translate that), and stuffing it in a nearby bin.

Nearly felt like saying "Don't ask..." to a surprised looking couple that stood by, but I was afraid that someone would yell "CUT!" so I didn't.

Beatles

Listening to the new Beatles album today. Occasionally clever, mostly silly.

Fantastic.

"Look at me, I'm just as good as Björk!" I would shout before screaming at the top of my lungs: "AAAAaaaAAaaAAAHHH!!!!", running up and down the stairs in school with the other kids, laughing at this fantastic Sugarcubes satire of mine.

I was surprisingly young when I mastered sarcasm.

Who could have imagined back then that I would be waiting with such anticipation to see the band I childishly mocked at age 7?

I hope Björk has forgiven me.

Sugarcubes concert starting in 2 hours.

I've noticed a few times when Brussels has been mentioned on the local news, it's spelled Brüssel.

I can't imagine why. Is this the official Icelandic spelling, or was it simply decided on the whim of some graphic designer at RÚV and no one has bothered since?

In Dutch it's spelled Brussel, which would be the natural way to write it based on our pronunciation. The French call it Bruxelles, the English Brussels. So who calls it Brüssel? Ze Germans!

Alright, I can accept that German is indeed one of the three official languages of Belgium, but it is by far the smallest language group in the country. Why pick their spelling of it over the others, when it's the only one that uses a letter we don't? I see no reason, other than someone wanting to show off their üs. Hardly appropriate today on Icelandic Language day (celebrated all over the world, I'm sure).

Incidentally, the title of this post is the official name of the Icelandic capital in Portuguese. Maybe we could start using that, eh?

It's nearly noon and yet the clouds, racing at violent speeds across the sky in the howling wind, are red, yellow and orange. The houses cast long shadows, as do the people who venture out into the storm, blinded by their scarves and the sun that will soon start descending again. The frost bites wherever it finds flesh.

The beer someone left outside the office door was frozen in its glass this morning.

It is winter.

Little by little, wean yourself.
This is the gist of what I have to say.

From an embryo, whose nourishment comes in the blood,
move to an infant drinking milk,
to a child on solid food,
to a searcher after wisdom,
to a hunter of more invisible game.

Think how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.
You might say, "The world outside is vast and intricate.
There are wheatfields and mountain passes,
and orchards in bloom.

At night there are millions of galaxies, and in sunlight
the beauty of friends dancing at a wedding."

You ask the embryo why he, or she, stays cooped up
in the dark with eyes closed.

Listen to the answer.

There is no "other world."
I only know what I've experienced.
You must be hallucinating.

- Mevlâna Jalâluddîn Rumi

This has been the yearly highbrow moment.

"Only one month and ten days 'till christmas! Quick! Decorate the milk cartons!"

Thanks to this carton of milk I've had a nice little Ohrwurm* for the second part of the day: o/~ So this is Christmas ... o/~

I love Christmas, I like getting in a Christmas mood around the 23rd of December. Decorations in the week before that are acceptable. So. The mall in bright lights and christmas signs and decorations all over the grocery store in early November is way too much. I think christmas is responsible for 1st of December, our Sovereignity Day, never being celebrated anymore. It's been run over by over-eager shopkeepers.

If they're not careful, Easter's the next to go and from there it's only a few years until an all-year christmas orgy.

* German, literally meaning ear-worm. Fantastically graphic phrase for getting a song stuck in your head.

On my way to work, shivering from the cold, huddled together in a futile attempt to fight the icy wind, teeth clacking, I walked upon a man in a t-shirt on all fours on the sidewalk with a bucket of soapy water next to him, cleaning up last night's vomit.

Aah, there's nothing like Reykjavík on a Friday.