fredag, februari 27, 2009

And when he had finished laughing, they all sang the Outdoor Song for Snowy Weather the rest of the way home

The snow is melting outside. Now and then a group of clouds pass by, temporarily covering the sky and the sun, casting cold shadows on the earth beneath.

Just a few days ago the world was soft and white. I was at the top floor of my sisters school, by the window, looking out over the landscape. The trees, the lake, the buildings. I felt a stab of regret that I had not brought my camera, wishing that I could immortalise that image.

As I walked home later, the world around me was not as it usually is. Great clouds covered the sky completely, and yet it had never been brighter outside. I felt calm, light and serene.

I went home with a smile on my face, the air fresh as never before in my lungs.

Everything was muffled, as if the snow took away all the sharp edges of the world. Even the usually sharp bell of the tram sounded soft and cosy. Nothing was quite as bad as it usually was, and through the cold and the almost running nose and the slippery ground, it was a warm and welcoming day. None of the other things mattered.

I felt alive like never before.

torsdag, februari 26, 2009

boring break

I'm at work.

I did not want to take a break right now. I wanted to wait.

"The Rules of Attraction" is at home, forgotten, probably on my bed or something.

So what have I done during the last 25 minutes?


onsdag, februari 25, 2009

måndag, februari 23, 2009

ten to three, then seven to two


I just woke up.

A bit tired still though. Clearly I need more sleep. Got kind of late last night (as always?) So now I’m off to work, again. Not the same work though, earlier today I carried boxes. Now I’m going to be standing behind a counter from 00.00 am to 01.30 am.

It is the Book Sale.

lördag, februari 21, 2009




fredag, februari 20, 2009

Friday I’m in love

Today is one of those days.

A day that feels so full of potential that you can hardly do anything about it. Not a cloud in sight, the sun is shining, reflected blindingly in the white, perfect snow.

I want to paint, write, move, run, fly, laugh, jump, cry, travel, build, break, take, give, smile- live.

Everything at once.

So now I need to focus, make the best out of this energy, and not let it fade away in random ranting.

onsdag, februari 18, 2009

Congratulations... or?

I'm reading this article about a boy (Alfie, 13) and a girl (Chantelle, 15) who recently had a baby together.

All I can think of is how insane that is.

Completely mind blowingly insane.

The boy looks as if he's 10 years old and apparently, he had sex for the first time when he was 12. 12, for heavens sake! I'm sure that must be illegal. There is no way 12-year-old kids should even have thoughts about sex.

And still, apparently, they have these thoughts.

Now Alfie has a baby girl. A 13-year-old boy who has no clue about the first thing when it comes to sex, and holds even less knowledge concerning being a father.

This is just... messed up.

Completely wicked, in the non-cool way.

måndag, februari 16, 2009


Just… a sec. Too much happening.

söndag, februari 15, 2009

<3 #2

My valentines was not very red. There were no roses, no candy hearts, no dorky half-witty cards with hearts or flowers on it. It was not very splendid.

It was simple.

It was simple, relaxed and spent with the one person I wanted to be with. We met up with two great friends, bought clothes at great prices and grabbed a cup of hot chocolate together before we parted.

After that I made a great dinner. Chicken fillet and rice, a sauce made of coconut sauce, banana, random spices and Tabasco (don't tell her!).

We finished the night with a bit of reminiscing in my room, going through my book shelves, folding clothes and such. It was quite wonderful.

It really was.

lördag, februari 14, 2009


Happy Valentines.

Now I’m going to plan a dinner for two.

Chicken, perhaps?

fredag, februari 13, 2009

Fission Mailed

I wanted to post a video here. Right here. A video, with a song from the artist known as PlayRadioPlay! However, I’ve realised something.

Most people who listens to this artist is slightly… how should I put it… mentally deranged (?). The songs are great. A bit childish in the all American puppy love kind of childish, but still quite great.

PlayRadioPlay!’s founder is not a very famous little 19 year old, and thus his music does not come with any videos.

Unfortunately his music tends to draw those little “high-in-the-sky” indie turds. And they make weird music videos (with colourful drawing and other such creepy elements).

So let’s skip that…

A sickness in my head, a pile of clothes in my bed.

Just as this day has been blessed with a lovely weather, my body feels as close to recovery as it has been all week. I’ve therefore decided to celebrate.

You know what I’m planning?

Oh yes.

A thorough sweep of my room. Going through papers, throwing away anything I deem unnecessary for me to possess, refolding all of the clothes in my closet.

Fun stuff like that, yes.

Good night

Someone just sent me a so called mms.

Now that we like.

torsdag, februari 12, 2009


I am completely bored with myself.






onsdag, februari 11, 2009

Ghouls and night-gaunts

‘For a moment Bod felt protective – the gravestones were his, weren’t they? – and then he realized how foolish he was being, and he thought that there were things that might be more fun done in the sunlight with a friend. He said, “Yes.”
     They copied down names from tombstones, Scarlett helping Bod pronounce unfamiliar names and words, Bod telling Scarlett what the Latin meant, if he already knew, and it seemed much too soon when they heard a voice further down the hill shouting, “Scarlett!”
     The girl thrust the crayons and paper back at Bod. “I got to go,” she said.
     “I’ll see you next time,” said Bod. “Won’t I?”
     “Where do you live?” she asked.
     “Here,” he said. And he stood and watched her as she ran down the hill.’

Currently I am reading “The Graveyard Book” by Neil Gaiman. It is about Nobody (Bod for short") Owens, an orphan who is raised and cared for by the spirits of the graveyard of his hometown.

I don’t want to reveal the plot of the novel, but it is highly entertaining and I’d suggest that anyone who has the time should read it.


A video of a meteor of 500 km striking the earth

(stolen from

I’ve always found it kind of amusing, how egocentric we all are. If a meteor with enough power to cause irreversible damage would strike any planet in our galaxy, it would of course be our planet, the Earth.

We, the humans, are the centre of events and should something happen, it has to do with us.

It’s quite silly, isn’t it? Worrying about such an event actually taking place. And I’m not saying that we are all walking around, worrying about our planet blowing up or stop turning.

Just remember, the Earth is not the only planet.


tisdag, februari 10, 2009

00.15 am or 03.45 am?

Hmm… the question now is;

Do is brush my teeth, or get something to eat?

I’m really just right in between those two alternatives.

Complaining, part 2.

Actually, all this physical bullshit is okay. The sneezing, the coughing, the reduced stamina and strength. All of that is of course very annoying and endlessly unwanted, yet it is not the worst part of being sick.

When you’re sick then you have to, more often than not, stay at home as the days just pass you by.

That I hate. I despise just sitting at home without even the possibility of it being healthy placing my foot outside the door. Now, my condition is not that bad but I am one of those regular Joe’s who try to do whatever they can to stay sick as short a period of time as possible.

And, more often than not, this island life drains me of my inspiration. I don’t feel like writing or reading or taking pictures or drawing or even building a house on The Sims 2.

It’s horrible!

“17 år”, by Veronica Maggio

Quite ironically, the only song I’ve enjoyed with her.

It’s just… it invokes emotions that, if truth be told, I have no connection to. Weird.

Complaining, part 1.

I utterly and completely despise being sick. Walking around (or sit around, more accurately) snivelling like a madman is not something I enjoy. It sounds as if I’m constantly trying to recuperate from crying. I can’t breathe properly, much less fall asleep (and stay asleep) feeling comfortable and relaxed.



måndag, februari 09, 2009

“Hometown Glory”, by Adele

Was it that I stayed up late every night? Slept too little, never kept myself warm enough?

I have a cold, and it’s just great!

A beautiful winter night.

The white sand-like snow danced violently across the pavement, heading nowhere, everywhere. I was surprised to notice that the wind did not bother me. There was not even so much as a concern over whether the fact that I did not have a scarf tightly wrapped around my neck would make me curse the winds for it’s wicked whipping ways.

Small pebbles crunched together in symphony with the snow as I conquered the ground previously in front of me. Not a thought went to what lay ahead of me.

Or perhaps one should say, what lay under me.

As I sped up, I felt the tinge of adrenaline linger at the edge of my mind. It felt comfortable, the reassuringly strong sensation of being able to carry on with something forever.

Then something terrible happened. I can with accuracy describe it as one of those moments where one knows exactly what is going to happen an instant before it happens, yet and instant too late to prevent it being that way.

It was as if the pebbles and snow had planned everything according to me specifically. A conspiracy, a small revolt against the phenomenon of being a rug for humanity (and especially that annoying boy almost jumping over there). Well, not almost. I took a leap just as I reached the peak of the hill I was making my way over. A great leap. The airtime was astounding, and I felt filled with vigour and life.

Until my feet touched the snow and pebbles.

Or what I thought was snow and pebbles.

The small, tiny specks of rock that had served as a lethal foundation towards the success of my activity had suddenly vanished. Left was me, the whirling snow just a moment earlier laying silently on the ground waiting for the impact of heavy boots.

Against snow and pebbles?


My boots ploughed through the thin layer of white treachery only to be greeted by a hill completely conquered with devilish slippery ice.


Now I have a cut on my left hand (I am trained in the mysterious ways of Jui-jitsu, and thus able to quickly shield myself from any attacks, even those coming out from beneath me).

It felt as if the pebbles joined the fight after about half of the sliding distance.


söndag, februari 08, 2009

Cover of “Dizzy”, originally by Jimmy Eat World

You close your eyes and kiss your hand, then you blow it.
But it isn't meant for me, and I notice.
If the choice was ours alone,
then why did we both choose letting go?
Does it end like this?

Time never had a chance to heal your heart,
just a number always counting down to a new start.
If you always knew the truth,
then the world would spin around you.
Are you dizzy yet? 

Respectfully, some honesty I'm a new calling out;
Do you hear this conversation we talk about?
Back away to the safety of a quiet house.
If there's a half a chance in this moment,
when your eyes meet mine, we show it off.

All talk not a lot to think we were living dreams.
Shame never crept close to our naked feet.
If there's something left to lose,
then don't let me wear out my shoes-
I'm still walking.

I tried, but it rang and rang, I called all night.
On a pay phone, remember those from another life?
If everything I meant to you,
you can lick and seal then fold in two,
then I've been so blind

Respectfully, some honesty I'm asking now;
Do you hear the conversation we talk about?
Back away to safety of a quiet house.
If there's half a chance in this moment,
when your eyes meet mine, we show it off.

(Oh, Oh) take it all back, take the first, your last, your only.
(Oh, Oh) take it all back, take it all back, everything you showed me.
(Oh, Oh) this must be how it feels, when the feeling goes.

I told you as I hovered I'd never felt this way.
You said: "I had the shot that stops my clock, baby it's ok".
You said you'd never have regrets,
Jesus! Is there someone yet who got that wish?
Did you get yours, babe?

Respectfully, some honesty I'm asking now;
Do you hear the conversation we talk around?
Back away to the safety of a quiet house.
If there's half a chance in this moment,
when your eyes meet mine we show it off.

"I think I'll have the... umm, let's go with the Pocket Picker Jumbo Meal."

It sucks when you have to buy your own lunch. So much less expensive bringing your own. Today? 70kr thrown on something I could've had for free.

Now I'm not the cheap one, but this was just completely unnecessary.


…my throat hurts. I might be on my way to the land of the sick and the young, and I want to complain.

Yet still I do not falter. I will soon be on my way to work, ready to provide Sweden (Sickla?) with the books they need. And if you’re as smart as I give you credit for being, then you know that Sweden needs me along with the books I provide for them.

Although, perhaps not Liza Marklund.

Or Jan Guillou.

“Everything”, by Lifehouse

Find me here, speak to me.
I want to feel you, I need to hear you.
You are the light, that's leading me,
to the place where I find peace again.

You are the strength, that keeps me walking.
You are the hope, that keeps me trusting.
You are the light to my soul.
You are my purpose,

you're everything.

“Come on boy tell me what you’re thinking now…”

Mind ghosts. Or mothmen, perhaps. Whatever it is that haunts my mind. A white glowing thread piercing the thick liquid darkness around that which is Time. Time, as in the combination of what has happened and what will take place.

It curves, and it keeps on jumping forward or turning backwards. It spins me around and throws me down, lifts me up just to leave me a finger length out of reach.

And no matter how much I stretch, regardless of my tries it will not straighten.

I will be left running in circles, thinking of the same things over and over and over and under and through until there is nothing left to do than to cry.

There is no avoiding it. There is no leaving it behind. It needs to be tended to. Handled.

It needs to be said.

lördag, februari 07, 2009


I want to change some things about my blog. I want to change things that concern the html code. And I hate any sort of code (it's a very personal, never-getting-over-it kind of grudge) so I'm kind of a stalemate with myself.

I need to sit down and learn that shit that I don't want to know. I don't want to have it in my mind, even less as a concern of mine.

Blah, can't someone write a program for blog portals which gives the user a complete way of modifying his or her blog visually?


Imagine some grunting and/or whining from me.

fredag, februari 06, 2009

…and he saw that it was good

If you’ve ever seen Inside the Actors Studio you know how great of a show it is. I just love seeing my favourite actors talking about themselves, their careers, what inspirers them and so on.

The part I enjoy the most is when the actors answer the ten questions (originally called the Proust Questionnaire, adapted by Bernard Pivot and perfected by James Lipton into the form used today on Inside the Actors Studio). Some day I’ll take a shot at the Proust Questionnaire, but for now this will be more than enough.

  1. What is your favourite word?
  2. What is your least favourite word?
  3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
  4. What turns you off creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
    Lack of integrity
  5. What sound or noise do you love?
    The moan of a delighted woman
  6. What sound or noise do you hate?
    The sound of computers.
  7. What is your favourite curse word?
  8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
  9. What profession would you not like to do?
    Computer programmer
  10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
    With a smile; “The world is not going to be the same without you.”

måndag, februari 02, 2009

time for heroes

First of all, Springsteen in June. 1, or perhaps 3 days. Depending on how much money one wants to invest in that experience. Then summer comes and goes, and just as it ends Coldplay gives a small treat for us with tickets or with intentions to buy.

And in between? What does one do with all this time?

söndag, februari 01, 2009

Ah, to be young again.

Late night phone calls, Elizabethtown, long distance dreams and Night Drive with Jimmy Eat World. Youthful depression and childish insights.

Good old times, long gone times.