vi var alla unga, mer eller mindre begåvade och vi var vackra

26/12/2009

MARIA #8 - GREEN PLASTIC


indians, kitsch, many vowels, snow. i don't know. I feel stuck, but at ease.
the future is so painfully close, I want to be a part of it. I get impatient sometimes. I keep thinking of peoples rooms, people I know. people I have never visited. I love julias rooms, living out of a suitcase, like me, I have seen two of them. the picture of her and her sister when they were kids, some post it notes and jewelry and loads and loads of clothes, and its warm. once when I stayed in her 2nd room in paris there was a heatwave and the only thing I ate was spinache soup and baguettes and the only thing I drank was 1,25 € sparkling wine. and Julia was working and I read and I slept all through the days, too warm to go outside.
I imagine peoples rooms to be filled with things, always. memories on the walls and on shelves and traces of that persons personality. its not always like that. moving on!
lets move on!

I keep using the wrong words, I don't want to say too much, nor too little. I wish i could say more using fewer words.
uh oh ok.

23/12/2009

JULIA # 13 - Jul i Polen


Sorgen ligger i luften. Köksmaskinen har gått sönder. Blir det ingen vallmofrökaka nu? Mormor och hennes lika runda syster tittar tysta genom fönstret.

Tre rökfria dagar. Jag har sovit 14 timmar idag och försöker smygsurfa pa grannens tradlosa Internet. Det heter Hades, men jag ar inte rädd och vill visst anslutas. Fungerar i två sekunder ungefar.

Midjemått den 21 december: 66 cm

Jag tittar på ett program som heter Nasze kluby - Våra klubbar. Den vanligaste drinken som bestålls på den gdanska baren BarBados är apelsinjos vodka. Klientelet är i 40 års åldern och tycker om att svänga sina kroppar och huvuden till latin-amerikanska rytmer men också 70 och 80 -tal. Personalen vill inte vara med på bild men alla gäster ar nöjda. Musiken ar bra tycker de, maten ar bra, klientelet ar bra, vodkan med apelsinjos ar bra.
Chefen far frågan om det finns gaster som blir for fulla (på en polsk klubb vid namn Barbados med kunder i 40 ars åldern. Vad tror du?) Chefen svarar diplomatiskt - jo. det hander att vi har kunder som gungar. men i otakt med musiken. Det tar vara professionella vakter hand om, de brukar diskret säga till och lösa situationen.

GLADJE! Köksmaskinen fungerar igen!

Mormor berättar att mammor i Ukraina brukade ge sina bebisar vallmofron att suga på när de själva skulle till jobbet. Då sov barnen gott, och ingen blev narkoman.
Pa mataffären jobbar det nästan bara ukrainskor nu, de ar mycket trevligare an polskorna och har sot accent när de pratar polska.

Midjemått 22 december: 67 cm

Arbeit macht frei-skylten ar återfunnen. Tre småkriminella pojkar ar misstänkta for brottet, det spekuleras om att det var ett beställningsjobb från Sverige. Jag finner ett slags lugn i hela historien. En bekräftelse på att den politiska laddningen finns kvar, på att symbolen lever. Och skylten kommer att restaureras utan att några spår syns, stolden blir ett nytt kapitel i dess historia.

Hittade en lapp med alla rätter som ska göras till jul

Potrawy

Kutia
Pierogi
Barszcz
Sledzie
Kompot
Uszka z grybami
Losos
Kisiel
Salatka
Ryba po grecku
Zupa grzybowa
Sledzie w smietanie z jablkiem (overstruket)
Makowiec
Sernik
Jablecznik
Ryba w galarecie (Marta)

Midjematt 23 december: 69 cm

Nyår borde komma före jul.




Listan






18/12/2009

JULIA # 12 - Recherche

Jag blir full bara av att tänka på dig

Du skojar, du kommer ju aldrig gå upp om två timmar för att gå på lektionen!

Min telefon är full av Svara INTE nummer. Dåliga dejter. Sena morgnar då det var lättare att ge sitt riktiga nummer än att hålla på att fiffla.

Ingen som raggat på mig har någonsin varit så på som han, den lockhårige i Justice. Alltså han blev helt galen efter att jag hade gjort massa innovativa skämt om vad man kan göra med huden som blir över från en omskärning, han följde efter och bjöd på drinkar och brydde sig inte ens att jag råkade slå honom i huvudet. Ganska hårt dessutom.

Om du verkligen vill ha en pojkvän kanske det är bra om du kommer ihåg dem du hånglade med på festen, istället för att vänta på vimmelbilderna för att avgöra om det var en bra kväll eller inte.

Hahahaha sa jag verkligen så?

Du kan ju fan inte säga till en brud att du vill befrukta henne fattar du väl!

Eller hänga med de där fyra killarna själv hem till en femte för efterfest och sen visa dem alla dina tusen facebookbilder, varenda en med förklaring om bakgrund hur du känner människorna på korten och hur du hamnade på den där festen
eller dra Bellmans på franska för en snubbe med skinnjacka och skäggstubb (killmotsvarigheten till blondinbellatjej) och tro att han ska bli intresserad.

Jag minns att jag har åkt i en kundvagn men resten är rätt suddigt

"Och den här killen är mycket bättre än du," menade jag inte att skriva.

Jag blir full bara av att tänka på dig

Haha, minns du, på den där konstfesten när du drog ner hela ljusinstallationen och virade den runt din hals och sen gick fram till mig och sa att det nog är dags för dig att gå hem nu

Och jag stannade kvar och hånglade med fel kille, killens kompis för att vara exakt och sen när killen kom fram och sa att det var kul att jag och kompisen hade funnit varandra skrek jag: men jag hatar honom, det är ju dig jag vill ha! ska vi gå på efterfest? Eeehhh, alltså alla tre kan ju gå. eller bara ni två kanske?

Jag åkte gratistaxi igår, men i början åkte han åt fel håll.

Hjälp mig! jag är hos någon och han har precis gått ut i hallen och pratar i telefon och drar skämt om hur han ska döda mig? Var han söt förresten?

Jag står utanför min kompis hus i Harlem och skriker och skriker men jag har ju tappat rösten och det står ett gäng med stora män i bakgrunden och jag är den enda som är vit i kvarteret och där står jag, med en borttappad sko och viskskriker om att min kompis får gärna släppa in mig men nejhä hon hör inte, då går jag väl till nästa port och plinga för jag är rätt trött


Vet du älskling, jag blir full bara av att tänka på dig


Jag vaknade nyss, klockan är tre på eftermiddagen och jag är plötsligt för aktiv dödshjälp

Hahahaha, sjuuuuka kort från tunnelbanan, t o m med killen i rullstol tittade ner på oss när vi dansade och skrek och rökte på perrongen

Min sista kväll och jag blir utslängd från klubben, JAG HAR LAGT NER MER ÄN ETT ÅR FÖR ATT FÅ KOMMA IN DÄR!
Hahahaha träffar mitt ex och tvingar honom att hångla MEN KYSS MIG DÅ vaddå vi har en historia, jag bryr mig inte!
Och sen snodde vi en flaska och blev påkomna men jag var snabb och lyckades stänga in mig på toaletten och halsa allt innan vakten hann ikapp.

Allt flyter på så jävla bra nu, alla raggar, jag har pengar och lägenhet och massa vänner på riktigt och jag kan inte riktigt slappna av för allt känns som ett korthus som kan falla när som helst

Och den gången du hade ett bandage runt huvudet som nån hade virat runt för tydligen slog du i ansiktet i trottoaren när du försökte övertala vakten att du inte alls var för full för att komma in och i vilket fall så DJar du ju på klubben och sen var det någon annan som räddade dig, vem var det?


Jag blir full bara av att tänka på dig



14/12/2009

JULIA # 11 - Love by Tupac

I've got love for my brother but we can never go nowhere
unless we share with each other
We gotta start makin' changes
learn to see me as a brother instead of 2 distant strangers
and that's how it's supposed to be
How can the Devil take a brother if he's close to me?
I'd love to go back to when we played as kids
but things changed, and that's the way it is
from "Changes",
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8Y9-JlSRXw


Tupac by David La Chapelle

11/12/2009

JULIA # 10 - Love defined by Bukowski, de Beauvoir and Burroughs

Love is morning fog that lasts a little, then burns off with the first daylight of reality, sex is what you do when you can’t sleep

Bukowski in a television interview



Love is feeling oneself dominated

de Beauvoir in her diary, August, 1927



Love? What is it? The most natural painkiller there is. LOVE.

Burroughs' last words in his journal before his death


09/12/2009

MARIA #7 - ONLY SHADOW


I am coming to certain conclusions, I guess we didn't have the same views at all. I got so tired of hearing your words. the same words, over and over again. I overdosed on them, and the trip wasn't even that good.

when there is something I must do, I find the time for everything else. this is how it should be, except for actually having the time.
I am trying to read journals about disney, it makes me sleepy. it made me almost cut my hair off, starting a new life. I already miss that thrill, maybe I should move north. these people makes me feel old sometimes. I love a couple of them dearly, but not being in a constant k-hole suddenly makes me the outsider.

maybe scottland? I can see myself running on the highlands. looking for monsters and letting the wind blow for once. being so perfectly imperfect. I miss home. I was alone there, I brought my dog to the docks, wandered around. looked at the fishes and the boats. sitting with my back against the tallest building listening to the red house painters in a walkman, pause-rewind-play. I miss texas riot control, his alias. we would get drunk and he would teach me about film and music and who to trust, my first best friend.
he is far away now and I sometimes think I should see him when I go home, but there would be no point. he doesn't have that influense anymore, nor does he want to have it. I still have our teenage conversations printed. his mark left forever on my arm.

08/12/2009

Ida # 11 What clowns are we


Precis som Säkert undrar jag nu när jag ska bli fridlyst.


04/12/2009

JULIA # 9 Sometimes you have to let your darlings live

Sometimes acting, doing, screaming is the easiest out.

I've always been good with doing, I have no problems making a difficult phone call, taking the chance, getting under that vampire boy's cape on Halloween and kiss him.
CARPE DIEM för helvete!

But, I find it hard hard HARD to abstain. I have many more stories of regretting what I did than what I didn't do. For me, going is easier than staying. I even have problems to fall asleep because the thought of hour long inactivity makes me feel I'm losing something that I won't get back ever. I can give up any idea cause I believe in the others ideas out there, the ones I don't know of yet, the ones I haven't thought of, but soon will.

I don't hold on to anything really anymore because life has taught me that friends will be friends even though there is distance and that Ryanair is really strict with their 15 kg limit for luggage. Letting go is the answer.

Whenever I feel that something is wrong, that a situation is becoming somehow difficult, I want to start all over. A new life with a new frame, preferably in a new country. Hide behind national stereotypes, fill out my void with trying new food, people, languages. Get drunk on foreign alcohol, that has a name I can't pronounce and effects I can't really predict, not yet anyhow.
I see a certain strength in this.
And Karin Boye supports me, saying, screaming, shouting Strike camp, strike camp! The new day shows its light.
Our great adventure has no end in sight.

I justify myself saying that living on the edge is the only way of living, that it's abroad,
somewhere else, that I will get inspiration,
comforting myself with romantic dreams about the unknown and what it has to offer me.
Hey babe! Take a walk on the wild side! It's easy!

But yesterday I decided to stay in Sweden.
Just for a couple of months.
Actually, it was decided for me, an opportunity I had to take, they chose me and I accepted it. Nothing big or overly dramatic maybe, after all, this is my home, no?
But still so different from what I had planned, from my life the last two years.
So here I am, in between flats, in between countries, in between dreams. But this time I'm going to be strong in a different way, staying, facing and letting someone else take the lead.
This spring I'll try to build on an uneasy ground, instead of striving.
This spring I won't kill my darlings,
we'll live happily together side by side, for the next few months.

Ida # 10 Det roligaste är att vara vaken på natten

Jag ligger med näsan tryckt mot en tröja som jag har fått låna av honom, drar febrilt efter luft genom näsan som en blodhund för att hitta hans doft men misslyckas eftersom jag har sovit i tröjan i snart två veckor. Den luktar således bara min egen parfym och … sömn. Skaffade sömntabletter för snart en vecka sen men det verkar som om det var typ, E? Somnar aldrig nu för tiden. Där ljög jag, somnar som en sten typ 3 på eftermiddagen och vaknar med skuldkänslor klockan 8 på kvällen. Och så börjar det om. Funderar på att emigrera från verkliga livet för att slippa försöka förstå L/D-formationer på aminosyrorna jag har jobbat med i ett halvår. Ska vara klar med min uppsats om två veckor. Har typ 90% kvar att skriva. Älskar mig själv ibland. Den här staden: full av korta latinos med o-ironiska mustascher (är dom långa så är dom typ långa som jätten i big fish och ser likadana ut också, plus o-ironisk mustasch), otrevliga korta tjejer med brodyr på jeansfickorna och gubbar med skabb på skalpen. Och en snygg kvinna med felfri hy (jag). Vill flytta till Arktis och bo där med min tama isbjörn ”Kent” och aldrig se människor. Blir lite febrig av att tänka på en reträtt från det sociala livet. Tänker på att jag betalar ganska mycket pengar för den här lägenheten. I lägenheten bor: jag, mina kläder, min teddybjörn, och minst ett spöke. Har allvarligt haft mardrömmar varje natt sen jag kom hit (därav sömntabletterna) plus att det en gång var imma på köksfönstret plus ett handavtryck. Typ barnhand. Det fladdrar skuggor i köket och utanför fönstret ropar en ledsen liten mexikansk fågel på en partner. Mitt internet dör alltså hela tiden. För att ha internet i korta pauser måste jag balansera min dator på knäna. Får minst en gång om dagen fruktansvärda vredesutbrott och vill gnaga köttslamsor från armen på grund av detta. Min landlord ser ut som en blandning av en tomte och en böckling, och när hon ler ser hennes mun ut som valfri gubbe i valfri disneyfilm, nä förresten, precis som Jafar när han har klätt ut sig till gammal gubbe och ska lura snälla Aladdin när han sitter i fängelse. Just det där leendet när allt man ser är gula stumpar som pekar åt alla håll och typ ryker av dålig munhygien – det är min landlord. Plus att ytterdörren inte går att låsa. Så fort jag kramar min nallebjörn blir jag trött precis som en liten unge. Andra saker jag tänker på – hatar att inte få sms på en hel dag, hur länge kan en huvtröja ta på sig att torka i regnig mexikansk bergsmiljö när man inte har en värmefläkt (än), varför är det så tråkigt att laga mat, varför fungerar inte sömntabletterna? Känner att jag har vansinneshår och stora stirriga ögon just nu. Vet precis vem jag skulle önska hit om jag kunde förflytta folk med tanken. Fast det här med att man kan översätta texter på internet numera gör mig paranoid. Hej jag luktar på din tröja, vill ha dig här nu! Mhm glada, kärleksfulla natthälsningar från er favoritbiolog.

Ida # 9 A bit more And than If


In my head - I don’t like confusion and I don’t approve of not knowing what to do. I like to be casual and laugh, talk about nonsense and staying up all night with beautiful and/or weird persons. I am not shy, not anymore, I meet whoever and I don’t mind blind dates, as long as I sit not too far from the door, in case of an “emergency”. I move to new countries and meet new people, I can make myself understood without really knowing the language because I have learnt that smiling is valid currency everywhere, however cheesy that might sound. I never breath as easily as when I am free and on my own. I love walking the streets in the sunrise with a whole night of dancing drinking and smoking too many cigarettes in my body, and buy breakfast at Burger King and go home and watch romantic comedies in French. I do not like to be confused by people. Rarely happens though, which is good. People usually don’t affect me enough to confuse me, I got tired of letting people get to me a while ago and learnt how to not let them get into my head.
But when they do get to me – it is one long dark hour of thinking too much and being shy and and and. And.

30/11/2009

MARIA #6 - SEASICK


my new obsession is to roam the streets with my eyes looking for HIM. I guess we are all adrenaline junkies right? I do this constantly, until today my eyes caught a bike crash instead and I forgot all about love and though more about fragility and broken bones. I think the driver was ok, he was in definite pain though and I was in definite vain. looking for a made up love when the life which is real can so easily be taken away.
Tomorrow I am going to a festival that I have dreamed of since many years, I dream that this is where I belong because the bands are all I grew up with. I might be easily mistaken, it might be the opposit. It might be filled with those men that I have met so many times before, who think less of me for not knowing b-sides and labels and production years. all these things which I believe have no meaning when talking about music. We have nowhere to sleep for certain, so it is an adventure which will hopefully end up with us sharing a couch or a floor somewhere. And yes, I do of course hope to run into HIM even here, his eyes haunt me in my sleep. there seams to be so much kindness in him. the kind of guy who makes you feel warm and loved and safe, and I guess that is all I need sometimes, and I also guess it is all a fantasy and that he might not even recognize me. That the time we met, was he looking for love? was he looking for sex? I dont know and I dont want to know because I dont want to move on. staying in this dream state gives me all the adrenaline I need, it helps me to move on from the past and focus on my work and my friends and I like myself more this way. yes maybe I will meet HIM soon. but if he actually is the HE of my dreams I would probably faint.

26/11/2009

JULIA # 8 - Life in Paris

In three links.

my mornings
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g_dduKiZb6w


my afternoons
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2EbK0NEl5A


my nights
http://www.saywho.fr/people/335/julia-e/

Ida#8 Top 4 romantic moments




1. Somewhere in the Amazonia and it was the middle of the night, with the sounds of the rainforest only sometimes interrupted by the electric generator. Everyone who has been in the rainforest knows that the night is black black black. I am sitting by a table next to a candle with the most beautiful guy I know in front of me and we play staring-at-eachother-games until his nose touches mine and we kiss and it is so fucking beautiful and perfect I want to go out and kick down a tree or hit him or something.
The adrenalin in the stomach was just ridiculous. Like a fucking joke. Anyway, that would be top one on the list.

2. New years eve in Stockholm and I have just met the guy who would be by secret love for a really long time. Every move we make are synchronized and every sentence we say is followed by a “really? I am the same!”. He kiss me and I have my back against a wall and the kisses are just the best and we are out of breath and I am dizzy with happiness and every time we stop he leans forward and says “Abstinence” and kiss me again. We do not move from that wall for 3 hours.
After that we went home and had a weird moment with 2 other naked people in the room. We had sex though. It was fun.

3. Another forest-situation, this time in Mexico. I have finished working with the monkeys and me and G are walking back to the car, which we have parked in the end of the road. As we walk, the howler monkeys start singing behind us and he turns around and says that the rain is coming, and just like in a film the rain comes behind us like a really fast curtain. He ask if I want to see the lake so we walk up a small hill to watch Laguna Catemaco from up top plus with shit weather. As we walk back he is laughing because I laugh at the rain, and he says that I am crazy and I say yes but charming and he turns around and kiss me. I almost fall down from the surprise but sure why not make out with a hot Mexican Crocodile Dundee in the rain on a hill?
Moment of death of “moment”: I say “But you have a wife?”

4. Me and the former apple of my eye are in a park in Stockholm. I was in so fucking in love with him but disguised it behind the old “hey just friends”-attitude. Suddenly it starts raining. Yes, it rains like crazy in the rainforest, but a good Swedish summer-rain is not that far behind. We hide under some trees with other people but it takes about 2 seconds before the trees are no good as shelter anymore. He takes his hoodie and holds it over his head, covering both of us. I have to stand close enough for my breasts to touch his chest and now and then our hips touch as we are trying to balance plus keeping the Swedish distance. I can smell his skin and perfume and it makes me weak in my knees. I just think “I should kiss him, or please kiss me please” all the time. He don’t move. I don’t move. We don’t say anything. And then the rain stops and my heart shatters into at least 10 pieces as we just take off joking about music or cars or something.

I was planning for it to be 5 but the rest of the romantic memories are gone with the wind right now as I am lying in my cold apartment (whats up with living in Mexico and being cold most of the time?) in a jumper that smells of a guy who was kind enough bring it, trying to sleep. Ithink it was the fact that I got so upset about the lack of romance in my life right now, or maybe the anger about not being with any of the above guys right now. Oh well! Later skaterz.

25/11/2009

Ida#7 Footprints in cement



As I wake up from yet another little gathering in my apartment, I find myself curled up in between 3 others in my sort-of small bed, Ana, Alan, Paul. It is a nice mix too - mexican and english and french and swedish bodies are recovering from too many beers under too many blankets. Those minutes between sleeping, and getting yourself together - the minutes when you are still not hangovered and still not awake but only lying down breathing slowly between warm sleeping persons, those minutes are fucking perfect. Yeah and then you wake up and want to die.

Things left to do – clean up the beer from the floor, go shopping for some candles or something to get rid of the weird smell of humidity in the apartment, get rid of all the empty bottles and cans. Change lightbulbs and drink tea. Sleep. Time is running out, samma nätter väntar alla.

Shit alltså, saknaden efter likasinnade är inte nådig, men ibland så funkar det ändå ganska bra här. Men inget hade slagit att vara med er ni vet vilka ni är en nyårsnatt i Stockholm just nu. Tänk på mig. Jag älskar er.

10/11/2009

JULIA # 7 - Kaninhjärta





Övertygad om att kvällen inte kan vara slut än går jag motvilligt mot nattbussen. Blir stoppad av ett gäng killar som vill dra med mig till en annan klubb, den under pont Alexandre. De lovar att betala inträde och taxi. Jag tvekar. Kvällen är ju inte slut än, jag känner det, någonstans finns en fortsättning Första metron har inte börjat gå än, alltså inte dags att åka hem. Inte än. Men forsättningen består inte av att dansa till techno i för stora rum och hångla med den som ska vara den snygga i gänget, han med skinnjacka.


Nej. Så, riktning nattbuss. Hoppas på att stöta på en vän, en jag redan känner eller först kommer att lära känna. Men det är lördag och det betyder mer skit och mycket mindre pärlor på gatorna. Jag går mot buss N14. Trötthet sprider sig i mina ben. Finns det ingen buss som tar mig närmare än till Denfert Rochereau? Kanske är det skatten som väntar på mig den här natten, att jag upptäcker den perfekta nattbussen, den som släpper av mig precis framfor min port? Dum spiro spero. Letar runt, Chatelet är en svartcirkus med fattiga nattkonstnärer utan publik. Nattbuss, det minst glamorösa sättet att ta sig hem.




Okej, jag ger upp. Går tillbaka till N14, förklarar mig själv bortskämd som kräver sa mycket av lördagsnatten. Hoppar på bussen, kapitulation.



OUVREZ LA PORTE S'IL VOUS PLAIT, öppna dörren!

Han!


Min store Pariskärlek. Passerar förbi, som om det vore något helt normalt, som om detta vore en helt vanlig lördag. Jag hoppas ut, spionerar, gömmer mig, tittar. Det här är en stad med nio miljoner människor, vad är sannolikheten att han och jag är här, nu. tillsammans?
KANINHJÄRTA slår i mig, vansinnigt hårt, slås fram och tillbaka. Hjärtat är en liten svart dvärgvädurs, slår hårt men ömtåligt, jag är rädd att det kommer att ta slut på sig självt.







Han frågar i informationen efter sin nattbuss, jag minns att han sålde sin vespa inte lång tid efter att vi gjorde slut. Vi pratar inte längre, varken nu eller i dagsljus.
Massa historier mellan då vi sågs sista gången i min hall och nu, hans ex som ger mig mördarblickar pa klubbar, jag dejtar hans vänner, vi leker ignoreringslekar. Han är bra på dem, bäst. Slår ner de trötta ögonen, tittar åt sidan och ser mer egyptisk ut än någonsin. Men än har han inte sett mig, än kan han inte ignorera mig.

Och jag vet att jag vill ha honom så mycket för att jag aldrig fick grepp om honom, för att han aldrig lät mig. Men objektiva förklaringar hjälper inte när jag står bakom en busskur och gömmer mig med kaninhjärtat i halsgropen.
Jag tar en genväg och springer till hans hållplats, jag kan nästan allt om Paris nattbussar och nästan allt om honom.

Det som gör ikväll speciellt är att det här är sista gången vi ses. Det jag gör nu är det definitiva slutet på vår historia. Jag lämnar Paris om två dagar, jag åker hem då och lämnar den här historien bakom mig som en historia.
Jag har ett informationsövertag. Om han skulle veta vad jag visste, skulle han göra något då?

Jag står i profil och väntar, frågar två killar framför honom om cigaretter, kan knappt prata för kaninhjärtat slår hela kroppen i obalans.

Nu har han sett mig.




Där står jag mörkhårig och livrädd.
Måste prata med någon.
Ringer Hampus,
Fredrik,
Madeleine,
Ida,
Alex,
Ingen svarar.

Hans buss kommer.

Madeleine svarar, hon skriker PRATA MED HONOM! Du kommer att ångra dig annars, om trettio kommer du att ångra dig!
Han hoppar på bussen.

Madde, det är för sent.
Jag kan inte åka ut i förorten efter honom.
Det är för sent för honom att säga något.
Men jag tittar upp, möter hans sömniga blick.
Tittar bort, innan han gör det.

Jag går tillbaka till min nattbuss igen.
Nej, jag kommer inte att ångra om trettio år.
Jag kan inte ångra att han inte sa nåt.
Jag fick det enda avslutet jag skulle kunna ha fått.

Kvällen är fullbordad.

Jag antar att jag är nöjd.

07/11/2009

JULIA # 6 - When the night falls over Europe

























It is easy to define people by what they do at night.
The only problem are those who sleep.
But luckily enough,
those are very very few.

04/11/2009

Ida #? Fuck you


I am in Mexico again, but in bright contrast to my last time here, I just want to go home every day. Last time, I loved it, I loved the people, I could not even think about boring life in Sweden because all I saw was my life here, with sun and parties and wonderful people popping up in every corner, always happy, always happy. I loved my friends here and how they made me feel – and this time, this time… I don’t know. In Mexico, people really pretend to care about you when if fact they don’t care about nothing but themselves and their own dicks OR vaginas. I feel like doing something radical, like moving to a new town, and I would like to take this opportunity to say “fuck you” to everyone in Mexico, except from lovely Ana, without you I would be on a plane back home already.

M – ditt lilla as, konstigt att jag inte kunde flytta in i ditt hus när det är så här du är (oj vad konstigt att jag sa ”Nej, jag visste inte att du älskar mig. Gör du?”) Fint, tack och hej.
(Not brave enough to write it in english or spanish. Heh.)

Later, Christian Slater
ps. want to marry the guy above, or look-alike.

24/10/2009

MARIA #5 - GREYHOUNDS


Sometimes I get so mesmorized that I have no idea what I am looking at. The world is such a confusing place, sometimes I just need to focus on a much smaller world than what is "out there". What I am trying to say is, I dont know. I have no idea how my mind works, how reason and logic works. it all feels so big to me right now that all I want to do is hide from it all. But I won't, because I can't. Because of guilt or I dont know, morale? I have never been able to conciously let someone down, no matter who that person is. I don't know if this is a good or a bad thing. For my sanity. Sometimes i just need to be careless, maybe not go to that meeting or show up for my shift at work? no?
See if I would actually do that I would regret it for at least a month, my mind is eating me up from inside with things I should or shouldn't have done. it always turns out to be fine. But I still won't learn. Its exhausting, really.

on a lighter note I really want to get shitloads of tattoos. I want to get the melies moon from a trip to the moon. and I want to get a triangle behind my ear, for some reason. and something on a finger too. I am not sure what just yet. ok I'm gonna take a chill pill now and do my homework. LATERZ

27/08/2009

JULIA # 5 - I hate New York

I hate New York.

I hate New York because it is this black hole of supposed freedom
and let loose creativity
and on these premises drags the brightest of up coming stars and eats of their glow until they die die die.
Because New York freedom means having nothing to lose,
means drugs and a life as a sans papier and the only help you get is from the Pakistani in the bodega on the corner, he who also has a law degree and loves to point that out
and doesn't even notice when you steal a big pack of Oreos, as long as you pretend to listen to his useless unfulfilling shit.
I hate New York for it's Potemkin culiss that promises solutions to beautiful souls that are not suppose to find the balance in their lives and never will.

Not even in New York.

22/08/2009

Ida #4 Voy a mi casa estaré alli por si quieres ir.



God one hate I hate about Mexicans is that they are so fucking unreliable. It is all about "I love you" but for real they do not give a fuck. SIGH.

Anyway I just wanted to say that I am at the airport in Mexico City and I look like shit due to the fact that 2 days ago I had a little party with my mexican lover (ex-lover now, I guess), which of course included wearing cowboy-hats (like in this very fine picture of me) and singing quiero que me quieras while drinking snaps with fanta (clazzy_girl_in_town) and last night I travelled to the airport, so yeah I have slept next to nothing and I am wearing sort of a jungle-outfit because my schampoo leaked out in my bag leaving all my clothes slimy and wet.

Anyway, a truly beautiful man comes up in front of me. I stare and stare. I can tell that he is really short but honestly, after all this time in Mexico I don´t care, I´ve hooked up with a guy who is 165 and I am 178 so, really, it doesnt matter to me (except from that it is nice if the penis actually reaches down to where is is supposed to be without the man having his head somewhere around your bellybutton). This guy. He is sitting i front of me now. Right in this moment. He is so fucking nicelooking, you can see that he never smells bad or farts or anything. Oh fuck 2 seconds ago his girlfriend comes. She is petite and really beautiful, pretty much like him actually. I try to hide because I feel like Shrek. Now I will go and smoke a cigarette and think about cancer. Later Alligatorz.

/ Confused girl with smelly jungle-trousers and frizzy hair



PS. OH just saw that he wears really ugly socks. Now I feel better.

PS2. I miss Miguel

13/08/2009

Ida # 3 Jag kan dansa också.

I have a thing for guys who are emotionally unavialable. I don’t know why, God knows I just wanna be loved, like everyone else, but the guys are I fall in love with are always emotional fuckups, or married, or people in bands with a drug-and-prostitute-addiction. And I fall in love and I cry and I wonder why, but really, I am the one with the problem. Show me a guy that cannot love me back, and I will adore him. Sometimes nice guys fall in love with me and they tell me I am so wonderful, and I am like “ok” and forget them straight away. Because I seem to seek the unhappy love, seem to love being sad and cry. I don’t know why. Guess I am a fuckup too. The minute that bad guy start to talk about a future together, that he is gonna leave his wife or stop being an asshole, I stop loving them. Again, gotta love being me. / nicelife.com

PS. as I copypasted this post from my folder with potential blogposts, I am being stared at by the local hippieguy. He is in his 50s, about the height of an apple, brown and wrinkly like a raisin, with weird hair, looks like a broom sort of, and he has clearly been smoking weed non-stop for the past 1800 years. All the time he is, I dont know how to express it in english, wiggling his eyebrows at me? For five minutes now, his eyebrows has been doing this strange dance at me. I am scared.

PS2. I leave Mexico for 2 months of Europe-holidays, in 9 days. Said goodbye to my driver today with vodka and cigarretes on my sunroof. It was nice and we had a "moment" and then someone started to scream hysterically in the house nextdoor. We looked down on the street and an old woman is sitting, howling like a wolf, outside the house. I still dont know why but there is a sect operating in that house so I suspect some sort of demon had possessed her. I love Mexico.

11/08/2009

MARIA #4 - NATURE IS SATANS CHURCH


So as you all have guessed I just got home from watching Antichrist. The film that no longer needs any introduction. It was beautiful and scary and uncomfortable and horrible and fascinating. I am left with a feeling of emptyness and a wonder if I am in fact a psychopath for sortof understanding the woman in the film. Not that I would ever want to hurt anyone nor myself. But I still understand.
There lies something dark in all of us. We have all done things we are not proud of. These things for me are very interesting.
I think morbid thought sometimes, sure. And I have had so much rage and dispair in me that I would be able to physically hurt someone but at that moment decided to instead pound my fist in a concrete wall until I couldn't feel anything but the blood pounding in my hand and hear a ringing in my ear. It was because someone I loved deliberately hurt me. I was crying and drinking and my hand didn't work properly for a year, which I also damned him for. And myself.
See this is the kind of feelings that Antichrist awakes in me for some reason. It also makes me not wanting to be a victim any more. Because sometimes I act like I am, and that is not a good thing. I am strong and I think most people are if we choose too. So I will choose to be in the future. I am not going to talk to anyone who hurts me nor put myself in a situation that hurts just for a moment of pleasure or stimulation or to be polite.
People that leave and betray me are no longer people I should confide in. It is better to keep things to myself than to display my weaknesses for people who does not give a shit and this is what I have realized tonight.

Human nature scares me too, it is a scary and fascinating thing. I really enjoy reading about serial killers and murders, what does that say about me? I am not sure I want to know the answer to that question. People are filled with evil, weather we want to or not.

10/08/2009

Ida # 2 Freak_Girl_85@mail.com


First thing: Last week I ended up on a AA-meeting. I live in a small Mexican town called Catemaco, where I am doing my research (I am a biologist) and, well, my friend Miriam has a boyfriend who is in the AA and I went with her to pick up her 3-year-old (who was at the meeting with her father). As we came to the AA-house, Miriam said “come on lets get in!” and I was like “With the alcoholics? Really?” (always thought that the AA-meeting was kinda private). There were around 10 people there, only 1 woman. I was a little bit nervous, but they gave me a cigarette and we started to talk, I was talking fast and moved my hands a lot, I talked about my investigation, about the monkeys I am studying, about being Swedish in Mexico, about being Swedish in Sweden. Finally I asked politely: so why did you end up in Catemaco? The guy I am talking to, Manuel, smiles at me, takes a deep breath, and:
“I was an alcoholic.”
“….”
I can feel how my heart is sinking a little bit. I have problems handling private confessions, don’t like other peoples feelings, and here is a stranger who feels like sharing addiction-secrets? Please God, save me.
But there is nothing to do but to smile and ask him more, I mean, what kind of person would I be if I was not there for a lamb that got lost from the big herd but now has returned? Shaken, but with a growing interest, I listen to his stories about being homeless in San Fransisco, going to jail, loosing his family.
“Alcohol made that to me”, he explains. We are silent for a while, there is no need for words.
Then he asks me if I like to dance.
“Yeah! But only when I am drunk!”
(No need to further explain the weird silence that followed on this statement. I left not long after that.)

Second thing: I am invited to a wedding. Miguel who invited me is the cousin of the guy getting married, and I really like Miguel, so I was trying to look cute and make a good impression. After the food we go up to the newly-weds. Miguel introduces me and the groom grabs my hand and makes a little attempt to kiss me on the cheek. However, I hate being kissed on the cheek and I am never able to make a smooth move towards the other persons cheek because I feel so uncomfortable, I tend to do a rapid attack-movement instead, scaring the other person, or ending up at the ear or the nose. So with the groom, I chose not to kiss him, leaving him mid-air with his cheek waiting for my lips. The second I decide to kiss him anyway, he of course have already turned around, making this introduction a stupid little dance of short robot-movements. Anyway, he smiles, just married, he is so happy and proud of his wife. “We are so glad that you could be here with us”, he says. Ida, “freakgirl”, smiles at him, and then says in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like me “yeahyeahthanksandthefoodwasawesome” and then… rub my stomach, and then…. take off. My only chance of talking to the couple, and I manage to be Rob Schneider rather than Blair Waldorf.

Third thing: after the wedding we go to a sort-of-party in Miguels aunts house and I am gonna say goodbye to parts of the family before going home and happily walks in front of the fan. My dress blows up and shows my underwear to everyone. Since it takes me like 3 seconds to react, everyone gets a good look as well.

Sum-up of the week:
1. making a fool out of myself at an AA-meeting
2. acting like a homeless brute at the wedding instead of oozing finesse.
3. Giving Miguels family a full-frontal view of my knickers.

Gotta love being me.

04/08/2009

Aleksandra # 3 - Sztuka, która nie porusza / Konst som inte berör någon / L'art qui ne touche personne

Here are some things I find really ugly, which I found at biennals, fancy galleries and ornamenting our streets. However, I would listen carefully and open-mindedly if someone would like to explain the point.
> You can click on all pictures to enlarge!

I found it in Brussels so it may be sponsored by the maize association.

Children never make good art.

Okay, these bunny slippers are a bit cute.

I don't find this all that ugly, but nobody cares about it. European art is still to be invented.

This one is particularly hideous.

I actually do know somebody that likes this.

And these guys, they really like l'art libertine (do you see the gallery logo?).