Thomas Junker A/S
Name
| First Name | Thomas Junker |
| Last Name | A/S |
| Nickname | Morgy_Cleanman |
Biography
| Biography | Chapter I: On the Nature of the House-Elf Condition Morgy was not born but assigned—distributed, perhaps—into the domestic unconscious of the human world. His existence, though small in spatial magnitude, carries immense metaphysical density. As a house-elf, he perceives reality in the form of unfinished chores, half-empty coffee cups, and crumbs of ontological residue. He dusts, not merely as an act of cleaning, but as a mode of worship. Each sweep of the cloth becomes a miniature exorcism of meaning. His employers—known collectively as the Upright Folk—believe him subservient. In truth, he is a contemplative monk, disguised as a mop-wielder. As he once wrote in his private notebook (later confiscated by a sociologist),
Chapter II: The Stodder as Ethical Category To call Morgy a stodder is both insult and initiation.¹ The term lacks an English equivalent; it denotes one who drifts, one who stoops, one who, through dishevelment, transcends the bourgeois tyranny of order. Morgy’s coat is tattered not by poverty, but by philosophical necessity. He wanders Copenhagen’s suburban arteries like a metaphysical errand-boy, muttering Wittgensteinian fragments under his breath. His hair, unkempt, forms its own syntax. He has mastered the art of looking profoundly out of place. ¹ See: H. Frandsen, Stodderdommens Metafysik: Essays in Dishevelment (Aarhus University Press, 1998). Chapter III: Gooning on the S-Tog to Farum Every morning at 08:42, Morgy boards the S-tog—his chosen vessel of transcendence. Here, within the vibrating womb of public transit, he enters a meditative state scholars have termed the Farum Trance.² To the casual observer, he appears merely entranced by the window, eyes fixed on the fleeting geometry of suburbs and forests. But to those who truly see, Morgy is engaged in a practice of ecstatic dissolution—a silent philosophy enacted through motion, stillness, and the rhythmic hum of the train’s electrical current. He gazes not out, but through. Each passing station—Værløse, Hareskov, Bagsværd—becomes a syllable in the unpronounceable language of becoming. The train’s acceleration is his mantra; its deceleration, his revelation. ² K. Tholstrup, “Gooning as Phenomenology: On the Commuter’s Trance,” Nordic Journal of Applied Absurdity, Vol. 4 (2021). Chapter IV: Subservience and Sublimity Back home, Morgy resumes his domestic rites. Yet the gooning continues in his mind, reverberating like a spiritual tinnitus. He folds laundry with the gravity of a monk arranging relics. Each sock folded becomes a meditation on duality: left and right, motion and rest, clean and unclean, self and other. To serve, for Morgy, is to vibrate at the same frequency as the universe itself.³ He finds in every command an opportunity for metaphysical surrender. The Upright Folk see obedience; he sees transcendence. ³ J. Steenberg, “The Vibratory Ontology of the House-Elf,” Proceedings of the Scandinavian Society for Speculative Domesticity, 2019. Chapter V: Toward a General Theory of Farum It is a common misconception that Farum is merely a location. For Morgy, Farum is a state of consciousness—the asymptotic endpoint of perpetual motion. When the train arrives, he does not disembark. He lingers, suspended in the metaphysical station between here and there. To “goon,” in this higher sense, is to dissolve one’s boundaries until subject and object become indistinguishable; until the house-elf, the stodder, and the train itself merge into a single shimmering blur of being. Conclusion: The Synthesis of the S-Tog Morgy the Gooner remains both servant and sage, both drudge and divinity. His life is a continuous experiment in ecstatic humility—a living footnote in the long history of metaphysical nonsense. When asked why he rides the S-tog to Farum daily, he smiles faintly and replies,
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