It is my deep and very honouring privilege to introduce to you all to a dear, dear friend of mine and Marijke’s, who will be joining us in writing for this (as of yet) unimpressive blagh. Believe it or not, he has featured on this blog before, albeit anonymously – in my post about Roskilde.
|OMG THERE HE IS (on the left)|
I would say he's larger-than-life, but the phrase is not suited. Adam is better than life. He’s cooler than life, and a deeply loving, trustworthy, and loyal friend.
I start with this picture for its portrayal of our friendship – not only in that it’s undeniably adorable, but because it captures an aspect of our relationship which is rather peculiar; we’re on the way to the train station. In the ca. ten years of our friendship, nine of them have been spent living in a different country from each other. Our meetings always end with one of us escorting the other to the train station or airport before spending another half year or so apart until we are fated to see each other again. It’s hard to characterize a friendship with so little actual interaction, and I will surely fail if attempt to, but I'm going to try to anyway.
It started, strangely enough, around the time that Adam moved to Milan.
|My impression of Milan|
We made friends at the age of 11 or so (no photographic evidence remains of this strange and distant time) in my aforementioned oil baron & co. international school in Oslo, before Adam moved to that hot pile of smog that is Milan (forgive my unrelenting bias against that city, it’s all Adam’s fault!). Looking back on the years that followed this development, I went to visit Adam a surprising amount considering our relatively short prior friendship (other friends of mine moved and were forgotten – such is the life of the international school kid). Over the years, our friendship grew into some semblance of a brotherhood, forged between awkward individuals of an age where we realised that people did not function in the ways we might have understood or joined along in – whether this separation from the rest was perceived or real, I do not know, but our shared feelings of social discomfort blanketed us in a paradoxically soothing, and warming way. Out of this I think our friendship grew, always, because even when things were unshakeably ‘off,’ Adam was in Milan, and things were ‘off’ for him too, and if that is so then it is not we that are ‘off,’ but everything else, because we could share it.
|Like a litter of puppies we were.|
But before this turns any more soppy than this wine-soaked tirade of ‘for-he’s-a-jolly-good-fellow’-ing and Keroacian ‘brothers against the world,’ I think I’ll keep it simple and introduce you to a few facts about our Adam, with what few photos I could find of him (being part Vampire, he is hard to capture on film).
He’s a massively dependable guy – not only as corner stone of a human pyramid (bottom left), but more importantly as a friend. He is totally trustworthy not to screw you over, in any way, shape, or form, be that by cock-blockage (unless needed), beer-blockage (ever!) or ditchage in the middle of the night while you stumble around the coat room of the bar looking for your scarf which you know is somewhere because you still have the little tag but everything is thrown all over – he will lumber back inside like some great benevolent bear and search as if possessed until you find that fucker. He will also do your dishes and cook you food when staying at your place because he is a ninja and is learnéd in the ways of the food-fu. He also plays a mean electrical guitar.
|Lord High as fuck.|
Related: he is well-dressed (like the scholar and gentleman that he is), and owns a helmet that says ‘Dick’ on it, which he uses to butt his way through crowds or otherwise defend his head from the unseen enemies that he claims always watch from the shadows.
|Don't be one.|
He is a huge fan of the Science-Fiction genre and has read all the classic writers like Isaac Asimov,
and Iain M. Banks,
|Rest in peace sir.|
after which my knowledge of sci-fi authors fails, but he knows them all and generally holds a fascination for all things futuristic.
As a result of his love of books (I guess), he studied English Literature at university from which he has recently graduated:
|Bringin' da NOISE.|
He now spends his days as a post-graduate (or, as he prefers to call it, ‘being unemployed’) waiting for his breakthrough in the literary world, muttering to himself and making odd sounds with his belly.
|What's that you say, Adam's Belly?|
Oh, and he’s English. Here’s a picture of him with a tree.
|Adam assures me that the expression he is wearing is one of joy for the flowers, but I have my doubts.|