Man varbūt nav sirds, bet man ir gaume.
Piečakarēties
"Izpūrušiem matiem, sejā ledains smaids..."
Schizophrenic_conversations
22 Marts 2009 @ 02:52
21 Februāris 2009 @ 07:02
Citādāks rīts. Neaizbraucu Jānim līdzi uz Salacgrīvu skaldīt malku, jo nāk miegs. Tā vietā sēžu vilcienā uz Jūrmalu un baidos aizmigt. Vagonā tikai es un vīri ar metāla kastēm un ledus urbjiem.
Nakts ar tikai vienu aizliegto alu, ģitāru, improvizācijām krieviski un spēlēm, kur "salauzt mietiņu" varēja ne tikai puišiem, bet arī meitenēm. Rozā lentes un zilas parūkas. Citādāks rīts.
Nakts ar tikai vienu aizliegto alu, ģitāru, improvizācijām krieviski un spēlēm, kur "salauzt mietiņu" varēja ne tikai puišiem, bet arī meitenēm. Rozā lentes un zilas parūkas. Citādāks rīts.
20 Februāris 2009 @ 01:14
Pēdējo reizi esot šeit, mamma nosprieda, ka mēs netiekam galā ar piegādāto pārtikas daudzumu un nolēma to labot. šodien mēs ar brāli ēdam "kečupmaizītes".
11 Februāris 2009 @ 01:13
" Tu smejies vai raudi, bet celies"
Tagad es neesmu vienīgā, kurai 21.
Tomēr joprojām kāpju aizdomīgos transportos un man šķiet, ka sveši vecāki vīrieši mēdz būt laipni bez īpaša iemesla.
Šovakar patentējam nosaukumu šņalus.
Tomēr joprojām kāpju aizdomīgos transportos un man šķiet, ka sveši vecāki vīrieši mēdz būt laipni bez īpaša iemesla.
Šovakar patentējam nosaukumu šņalus.
07 Februāris 2009 @ 01:44
lakoniski un tulkojami
Pilnīgs koordinācijas trūkums un alkohola embargo diezgan ievērojamu laika posmu.
Refleksu pārlieku acīmredzamā klātbūtne vakar un pilnīgais to fail šodien.
Varbūt tomēr man nav pasaulē zemākais sāpju slieksnis.
Refleksu pārlieku acīmredzamā klātbūtne vakar un pilnīgais to fail šodien.
Varbūt tomēr man nav pasaulē zemākais sāpju slieksnis.
23 Janvāris 2009 @ 02:43
08 Janvāris 2009 @ 22:00
Labākais kompliments šogad.
05 Janvāris 2009 @ 01:26
Rīt eksāmens, bet es priecājos par šādiem atradumiem.
Annals Of Drinking
A Few Too Many
Is there any hope for the hung over?
by Joan Acocella
Of the miseries regularly inflicted on humankind, some are so minor and yet, while they last, so painful that one wonders how, after all this time, a remedy cannot have been found. If scientists do not have a cure for cancer, that makes sense. But the common cold, the menstrual cramp? The hangover is another condition of this kind. It is a preventable malady: don’t drink. Nevertheless, people throughout time have found what seemed to them good reason for recourse to alcohol. One attraction is alcohol’s power to disinhibit—to allow us, at last, to tell off our neighbor or make an improper suggestion to his wife. Alcohol may also persuade us that we have found the truth about life, a comforting experience rarely available in the sober hour. Through the lens of alcohol, the world seems nicer. (“I drink to make other people interesting,” the theatre critic George Jean Nathan used to say.) For all these reasons, drinking cheers people up. See Proverbs 31:6-7: “Give . . . wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.” It works, but then, in the morning, a new misery presents itself.
A hangover peaks when alcohol that has been poured into the body is finally eliminated from it—that is, when the blood-alcohol level returns to zero. The toxin is now gone, but the damage it has done is not. By fairly common consent, a hangover will involve some combination of headache, upset stomach, thirst, food aversion, nausea, diarrhea, tremulousness, fatigue, and a general feeling of wretchedness. Scientists haven’t yet found all the reasons for this network of woes, but they have proposed various causes. One is withdrawal, which would bring on the tremors and also sweating. A second factor may be dehydration. Alcohol interferes with the secretion of the hormone that inhibits urination. Hence the heavy traffic to the rest rooms at bars and parties. The resulting dehydration seems to trigger the thirst and lethargy. While that is going on, the alcohol may also be inducing hypoglycemia (low blood sugar), which converts into light-headedness and muscle weakness, the feeling that one’s bones have turned to jello. Meanwhile, the body, to break down the alcohol, is releasing chemicals that may be more toxic than alcohol itself; these would result in nausea and other symptoms. Finally, the alcohol has produced inflammation, which in turn causes the white blood cells to flood the bloodstream with molecules called cytokines. Apparently, cytokines are the source of the aches and pains and lethargy that, when our bodies are attacked by a flu virus—and likewise, perhaps, by alcohol—encourage us to stay in bed rather than go to work, thereby freeing up the body’s energy for use by the white cells in combatting the invader. In a series of experiments, mice that were given a cytokine inducer underwent dramatic changes. Adult males wouldn’t socialize with young males new to their cage. Mothers displayed “impaired nest-building.” Many people will know how these mice felt.
But hangover symptoms are not just physical; they are cognitive as well. People with hangovers show delayed reaction times and difficulties with attention, concentration, and visual-spatial perception. A group of airplane pilots given simulated flight tests after a night’s drinking put in substandard performances. Similarly, automobile drivers, the morning after, get low marks on simulated road tests. Needless to say, this is a hazard, and not just for those at the wheel. There are laws against drunk driving, but not against driving with a hangover.
Hangovers also have an emotional component. Kingsley Amis, who was, in his own words, one of the foremost drunks of his time, and who wrote three books on drinking, described this phenomenon as “the metaphysical hangover”: “When that ineffable compound of depression, sadness (these two are not the same), anxiety, self-hatred, sense of failure and fear for the future begins to steal over you, start telling yourself that what you have is a hangover. . . . You have not suffered a minor brain lesion, you are not all that bad at your job, your family and friends are not leagued in a conspiracy of barely maintained silence about what a shit you are, you have not come at last to see life as it really is.” Some people are unable to convince themselves of this. Amis described the opening of Kafka’s “Metamorphosis,” with the hero discovering that he has been changed into a bug, as the best literary representation of a hangover.
The severity of a hangover depends, of course, on how much you drank the night before, but that is not the only determinant. What, besides alcohol, did you consume at that party? If you took other drugs as well, your hangover may be worse. And what kind of alcohol did you drink? In general, darker drinks, such as red wine and whiskey, have higher levels of congeners—impurities produced by the fermentation process, or added to enhance flavor—than do light-colored drinks such as white wine, gin, and vodka. The greater the congener content, the uglier the morning. Then there are your own characteristics—for example, your drinking pattern. Unjustly, habitually heavy drinkers seem to have milder hangovers. Your sex is also important. A woman who matches drinks with a man is going to get drunk faster than he, partly because she has less body water than he does, and less of the enzyme alcohol dehydrogenase, which breaks down alcohol. Apparently, your genes also have a vote, as does your gene pool. Almost forty per cent of East Asians have a variant, less efficient form of aldehyde dehydrogenase, another enzyme necessary for alcohol processing. Therefore, they start showing signs of trouble after just a few sips—they flush dramatically—and they get drunk fast. This is an inconvenience for some Japanese and Korean businessmen. They feel that they should drink with their Western colleagues. Then they crash to the floor and have to make awkward phone calls in the morning.
A Few Too Many
Is there any hope for the hung over?
by Joan Acocella
Of the miseries regularly inflicted on humankind, some are so minor and yet, while they last, so painful that one wonders how, after all this time, a remedy cannot have been found. If scientists do not have a cure for cancer, that makes sense. But the common cold, the menstrual cramp? The hangover is another condition of this kind. It is a preventable malady: don’t drink. Nevertheless, people throughout time have found what seemed to them good reason for recourse to alcohol. One attraction is alcohol’s power to disinhibit—to allow us, at last, to tell off our neighbor or make an improper suggestion to his wife. Alcohol may also persuade us that we have found the truth about life, a comforting experience rarely available in the sober hour. Through the lens of alcohol, the world seems nicer. (“I drink to make other people interesting,” the theatre critic George Jean Nathan used to say.) For all these reasons, drinking cheers people up. See Proverbs 31:6-7: “Give . . . wine unto those that be of heavy hearts. Let him drink, and forget his poverty, and remember his misery no more.” It works, but then, in the morning, a new misery presents itself.
A hangover peaks when alcohol that has been poured into the body is finally eliminated from it—that is, when the blood-alcohol level returns to zero. The toxin is now gone, but the damage it has done is not. By fairly common consent, a hangover will involve some combination of headache, upset stomach, thirst, food aversion, nausea, diarrhea, tremulousness, fatigue, and a general feeling of wretchedness. Scientists haven’t yet found all the reasons for this network of woes, but they have proposed various causes. One is withdrawal, which would bring on the tremors and also sweating. A second factor may be dehydration. Alcohol interferes with the secretion of the hormone that inhibits urination. Hence the heavy traffic to the rest rooms at bars and parties. The resulting dehydration seems to trigger the thirst and lethargy. While that is going on, the alcohol may also be inducing hypoglycemia (low blood sugar), which converts into light-headedness and muscle weakness, the feeling that one’s bones have turned to jello. Meanwhile, the body, to break down the alcohol, is releasing chemicals that may be more toxic than alcohol itself; these would result in nausea and other symptoms. Finally, the alcohol has produced inflammation, which in turn causes the white blood cells to flood the bloodstream with molecules called cytokines. Apparently, cytokines are the source of the aches and pains and lethargy that, when our bodies are attacked by a flu virus—and likewise, perhaps, by alcohol—encourage us to stay in bed rather than go to work, thereby freeing up the body’s energy for use by the white cells in combatting the invader. In a series of experiments, mice that were given a cytokine inducer underwent dramatic changes. Adult males wouldn’t socialize with young males new to their cage. Mothers displayed “impaired nest-building.” Many people will know how these mice felt.
But hangover symptoms are not just physical; they are cognitive as well. People with hangovers show delayed reaction times and difficulties with attention, concentration, and visual-spatial perception. A group of airplane pilots given simulated flight tests after a night’s drinking put in substandard performances. Similarly, automobile drivers, the morning after, get low marks on simulated road tests. Needless to say, this is a hazard, and not just for those at the wheel. There are laws against drunk driving, but not against driving with a hangover.
Hangovers also have an emotional component. Kingsley Amis, who was, in his own words, one of the foremost drunks of his time, and who wrote three books on drinking, described this phenomenon as “the metaphysical hangover”: “When that ineffable compound of depression, sadness (these two are not the same), anxiety, self-hatred, sense of failure and fear for the future begins to steal over you, start telling yourself that what you have is a hangover. . . . You have not suffered a minor brain lesion, you are not all that bad at your job, your family and friends are not leagued in a conspiracy of barely maintained silence about what a shit you are, you have not come at last to see life as it really is.” Some people are unable to convince themselves of this. Amis described the opening of Kafka’s “Metamorphosis,” with the hero discovering that he has been changed into a bug, as the best literary representation of a hangover.
The severity of a hangover depends, of course, on how much you drank the night before, but that is not the only determinant. What, besides alcohol, did you consume at that party? If you took other drugs as well, your hangover may be worse. And what kind of alcohol did you drink? In general, darker drinks, such as red wine and whiskey, have higher levels of congeners—impurities produced by the fermentation process, or added to enhance flavor—than do light-colored drinks such as white wine, gin, and vodka. The greater the congener content, the uglier the morning. Then there are your own characteristics—for example, your drinking pattern. Unjustly, habitually heavy drinkers seem to have milder hangovers. Your sex is also important. A woman who matches drinks with a man is going to get drunk faster than he, partly because she has less body water than he does, and less of the enzyme alcohol dehydrogenase, which breaks down alcohol. Apparently, your genes also have a vote, as does your gene pool. Almost forty per cent of East Asians have a variant, less efficient form of aldehyde dehydrogenase, another enzyme necessary for alcohol processing. Therefore, they start showing signs of trouble after just a few sips—they flush dramatically—and they get drunk fast. This is an inconvenience for some Japanese and Korean businessmen. They feel that they should drink with their Western colleagues. Then they crash to the floor and have to make awkward phone calls in the morning.
27 Novembris 2008 @ 03:00
Ar kedām pa sniegu.
Trešā sniega kauja šonedēļ, kas gan nebeidzās ar divdomīga paskata rētām uz muguras, bet sagādāja tikpat daudz prieka kā pārējās. Varbūt pat vairāk. No tā es ceru neizaugt.
Tieši izplosīties man vajadzēja.
Burvīgs vakars ar dīvainu džiudžitsu "sveikas meitenes" vīrieti kā Kriša slepeno ieroci, kas beidzās ar tēlotu aizkapa smieklu pavadītu skumju atziņu.
Tieši izplosīties man vajadzēja.
Burvīgs vakars ar dīvainu džiudžitsu "sveikas meitenes" vīrieti kā Kriša slepeno ieroci, kas beidzās ar tēlotu aizkapa smieklu pavadītu skumju atziņu.
Šķindoņa: Shinedown
22 Novembris 2008 @ 00:18
XXX, šoreiz provokatīvāk.
18 Novembris 2008 @ 10:21
xxx
17 Oktobris 2008 @ 00:47
Jābūt pilnīgam idiotam, lai mani gribētu. Bet man jau tādu muļķi nevajag.
09 Oktobris 2008 @ 01:09
***
Šodien saņēmu pirmo e-pastu spāniski, kuram nav nekāda sakara ar studijām. Spānijā tikai vienreiz atļāvos to vaļību iedot kādam savas koordinātas virtuālajā telpā, un to pašu pēdējā vakarā. Domāju, ka puisis par mani aizmirsis (kas būtu tikai loģiski).
Jebkurā gadījumā, pēdējais teikums sākas ar vārdiem "Te voy a dejar...".
Jebkurā gadījumā, pēdējais teikums sākas ar vārdiem "Te voy a dejar...".
06 Oktobris 2008 @ 21:43
06 Oktobris 2008 @ 02:58
Starp visu to vēsturi un kariem.
30 Septembris 2008 @ 22:58
Man vienmēr ir taisnība.
Nē. Tu domā, ka tev vienmēr ir taisnība un pat tur tu kļūdies.
Nē. Tu domā, ka tev vienmēr ir taisnība un pat tur tu kļūdies.
30 Septembris 2008 @ 11:34
Aizgāju gulēt vakar ap septiņiem un šorīt vienalga aizgulējos. Like WTF?
Sieviete kafejnīcā pie blakus galdiņa raud. (Wtf 2)
Saklausu oksimoronus dziesmu tekstos. (wtf 3)
Sieviete kafejnīcā pie blakus galdiņa raud. (Wtf 2)
Saklausu oksimoronus dziesmu tekstos. (wtf 3)