Greetings from Oslo.
I've been sneaking around on this site for a couple of months now, but I still haven't had time to post an introduction yet... so here goes.
I'm turning 30 in January; I continually shit away my money on grass and poker. I work for an online gambling site and expect to be fired pretty soon... and I probably deserve it. By the way; If you read "ribaij" with a Norwegian accent it sounds like "Re-buy".
My father used to read those Hardy Boys books for me when I was a kid. When I moved from my hometown (the northernmost city in the world) to the capital at the age of 12, the schools pretty much killed the joy for books. They forced us to read parts from Hamsun, Ibsen and a bunch of mediocre local writers. We had to analyse them and pick them apart. The magic was gone. I didn't pick up a book again until I was 20, when I read American Psycho in the Army. I meet this guy in there who passed along his BSP copy of Septuagenarian Stew. To be honest it didn't quite hit me then, but I continued reading simply because I thought that army-friend was the only cool guy in that depressing dump. After a couple of books, the old guy in those books became a friend. Now, approximately 30 titles later, it's sad to think there soon won't be any new adventures to read about.
I don't have any hard copies, just BSP secondary prints. I do however have an unread first print paperback of Ham on Rye... which have been standing on my shelf foe a year now.... I've decided to read it last.
One more thing, for all of you regular posters here: thx
I've been sneaking around on this site for a couple of months now, but I still haven't had time to post an introduction yet... so here goes.
I'm turning 30 in January; I continually shit away my money on grass and poker. I work for an online gambling site and expect to be fired pretty soon... and I probably deserve it. By the way; If you read "ribaij" with a Norwegian accent it sounds like "Re-buy".
My father used to read those Hardy Boys books for me when I was a kid. When I moved from my hometown (the northernmost city in the world) to the capital at the age of 12, the schools pretty much killed the joy for books. They forced us to read parts from Hamsun, Ibsen and a bunch of mediocre local writers. We had to analyse them and pick them apart. The magic was gone. I didn't pick up a book again until I was 20, when I read American Psycho in the Army. I meet this guy in there who passed along his BSP copy of Septuagenarian Stew. To be honest it didn't quite hit me then, but I continued reading simply because I thought that army-friend was the only cool guy in that depressing dump. After a couple of books, the old guy in those books became a friend. Now, approximately 30 titles later, it's sad to think there soon won't be any new adventures to read about.
I don't have any hard copies, just BSP secondary prints. I do however have an unread first print paperback of Ham on Rye... which have been standing on my shelf foe a year now.... I've decided to read it last.
One more thing, for all of you regular posters here: thx
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