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

30/01/2010

Ida #14 God help the outcast.




I will be 25 on Monday. I always thought I was gonna be rich and married and sort of calm and satisfied when I was 25. I am not rich, married, calm or satisfied. I will celebrate my birthday with a pizza and a bottle of vodka and a phonecall to my mother. I miss Sweden. I miss my dog. And I seem to have lost two people I really care about, one is a friend, one is more. Sorry, but I got scared. I run away from problems. The roads are never straight. Men, så är också sanningen - allt som sker är gott.
And I miss your eyes shining like 10000 christmaslights when you smile.



29/01/2010

Aleksandra # 8 - With love and squalor

"How in hell are you going to recognize a legitimate holy man when you see one if you don't even know a cup of consecrated chicken soup when it's right in front of your nose?"
“I hope to hell that when I do die somebody has the sense to just dump me in the river or something. Anything except sticking me in a goddam cemetary. People coming and putting a bunch of flowers on your stomach on Sunday, and all that crap. Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody.”

/ J.D. Salinger

Ida # 13 Sea sex and sun

I just needed to cry for a while so I did (dramatic_girl_85). The most beautiful love is the one that never will happen but leaves you with a dry throat when you sit too close in a car on the way to the jungle so your arm touches his arm and he is still married and still 16 years older and still a jungle man but still looks at you with black eyes and still has the most beautiful hands and still says “me encantas mucho” while you share a cigarette to get rid of the mosquitoes and then you leave again with a heavy heart and a whispered promise to take care. My very own Madison County-story! How privileged I am.
And the amino acids and the spider monkeys are still not in written form.
And, internet is fucked up again,
and I have had my share of Mexican drama already, but jesus, this time it is getting out of proportion. Although – everything is not bad. While people in Sweden battle with the cold weather, I eat strawberries and papaya in a pool of Mexican sunlight every morning and three days ago I went to the beach. Guess I have to focus on the positive things here. Plus, on Monday I turn 25 and I gave myself a new iPod and a vacation to celebrate that.

Ps. 25 (or, well, soon) and I still mime to the songs I am listening to with a deodorant in my hand. When will that behaviour go away? Latest example – True colours, Cyndi Lauper. And sometimes I am moonwalking in front of the monkeys. Their faces: O_O. I am truly an embarrassment for my family, my friends, my monkeys and biologists everywhere.

28/01/2010

THE MAD CREW # 1 - CONGRATULATIONS! AND CELEBRATIONS!

TO BEAUTIFUL MARIA FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!


for breakfast
lunch
dinner
for the day after

Take a piece !

23/01/2010

JULIA # 17 - Stream of consciousness

Sometimes I run in front of trains to make my youth seem longer,
I sweat, my heart beats and it hits me, the feeling of being fully alive, peak experience, those few seconds of danger prolonge my life.

And sometimes I go to my parents on the country side and wear my mums track suit bottoms every night and day and put on musk perfume but don't wash my hair in a week. I put on mascara though, but just on my right eye, to mirror the duality of man.

And every now and then I have fights with those who are the closest to me. I guess it's normal, strong souls might need more space than the small flats that I can afford.

But it makes me sad and the mascara runs down on my right cheek.



Sometimes I am silly enough to believe that I will find love easier if I lose five kilograms.

Stupid stupid stupid. Hasn't grandma's unconditional love taught me more than that?



Other days, other nights, I make myself pretty, flirt with the night club photographers and get them to take thirty pictures of me. And then I regret everything, and write an email asking to remove all traces of me because I have a violent boyfriend who doesn't know I was out yesterday.

(pause for a forbidden cigarette)

And all the time I tell myself that I do whatever I want to!
And then I regret.

And an the end of every story I run in the snow on the field outside my parents' house and dig out the stone has a painting of Virgin Mary and baby Jesus. It is in the middle of the forest in the least religious city I've been to, and I marvel and try to think of who might have painted it Without ever getting any answers.

22/01/2010

JULIA # 16 - NIGHT ON EARTH



By night, an atheist half belives in God









I've heard that for five months a year, it's too dark in Sweden to use disposable cameras

21/01/2010

Aleksandra # 7 - Mr Nobody

So I heard that we are the stuff that dreams are made of, or was it stardust? What difference does it make when we do not know what to wear to all tomorrow's parties.

Mr Nobody subcribes to the memories of three very different lives, resulting from marrying three different women. He claims that all choices were good, a comforting though that we all are replaceable, do you believe it? Zugzwang calling, then (or was it before?) come the questions - what did I do to deserve this?

What I liked about this film is that it raises far too many grand questions and themes to fit in a single plot, from what emerges an incoherent story and Van Dormael does not bring together all loose ends, in the end we receive a single explanation to only one of many questions. But that is the beauty of life - it is complex and maybe unseizable. Straight answers and clear reasoning are mandatory only for bachelor theses.


The Romans claimed both that all ways lead to Rome and that if you do not where to go, all roads lead there. In Marocco, there is only one road to any destination, you do not need a map.

Addenum: Cinematek plays Jaco Van Dormael's two previous films on 23 February.

20/01/2010

Aleksandra # 6 - NIGHT ON EARTH

These nights would had been forgotten had drunken fools not put them down.


I had forgotten about the light that never goes out (European Commission building).

Walking home, it was a night to forget.

Now I remember that party as the first time we met.

Leaving memories beside, it seems like a most beautiful night to be remembered simply as that.

Ida # 12 Night on earth


This last photo my friend Hugo chose to illustrate a night in his hometown.

07/01/2010

Julia # 15 - ALLEZ!

Men kom igen då.
Livet är kort och min tid i denna stad ännu kortare, kom igen,
jag vill inte vänta på ditt nästa drag, jag vill redan ha det i dåtid, det och nästföljande och det efter det och det efter.
Jag vill redan vara där, vid slutet, vid det definitiva, inte vänta på sms, tredagarsregeln är för dem som jobbar på kontor.
Visa dig sårbar, visa vem du är nu, ta av dig säkerhetsvästen tack och jag lovar att göra detsamma, du är välkommen in i mitt inre, det väntar otåligt på dig.
Jag vill veta om du är värd att vänta på
men hur ska jag veta det när jag väntar,
hur ska jag kunna avgöra om det här är spilld tid eller en investering,
varför ringer du inte bara,
kommer över,
låter våra själar umgås,
jag har inte all tid i världen och jag antar att inte du heller men vad vet jag om det?
Jag känner ju inte dig.

05/01/2010

Julia # 14 - Crime pays

> Hej Jonas,
>
> Skulle du bli arg på mig om jag sa att jag för några timmar sen stulit din
> bok från Pocket Shop på Götgatan och nu läser en novell med blanka ögon?
>
> För alltså, jag har ingen ångest över stölden,
> jag tycker nästan att det låter fint att vara boktjuv
> och jag tänker mig att det kanske är Norstedts som förlorar mest på det
> iallfall?
>
> Det stod mellan dig och Bukowski därinne och det blev nästan en
> Chinaski-skildring till, för jag är lite på botten just nu
> och ja du skriver också om utanförskap och mittemellanskap men på ett mer
> agera då!-sätt och det kändes lättare att lägga min lilla kvarvarande
> energi på whisky och litterära horor.
>
> Men sen blev det ändå du, för jag vill ge bort boken i julklapp,
> till en svenska i exil,
> och då passade det bättre med någon svensk.
> Och tur att det blev du och inte Bukowski.
> Jag menar, Bukowski kan jag inte skriva brev till.
> Han är ju död.
>
> Och om du blev arg, så vill jag säga förlåt. Allt har gått lite fel sen
> jag kom hem från Paris till världens kallaste stad.
> Alltså, jag vet att det inte är ditt fel.
> Det kändes bara skönt att hoppa tillbaka tio år och låta boken glida ner i
> tygpåsen.
> Ta makt över något, vadsomhelst.
>
> Och alltså även om att det är fel att sno böcker
> och mot alla kategoriska imperativ i världen
> så känns det ändå lite
> som att du är på min sida.
> Har jag fel?
>
> Respektfullt,
>
> Julia
>
> ____________________________________________________
>
> Jonas Hassen Khemiri
> www.khemiri.se
>
>


Den 4 januari 2010 00.05 skrev Jonas Hassen Khemiri :

Bästaste Julia,
Med risk för att kunna åtalas för något (medhjälp? mened? bokterrorism?)
så vill jag ropa BRA STULET!!! Kul att du läser mina ord och sprider dem
vidare till se bara till att du läser den noga innan och stryker under ev
favoritpartier.

Lev väl.

/Jonas

01/01/2010

Aleksandra # 5 - Happier New Years

2009 started on a Thursday and ended on a Thursday. In between, Israel invaded Gaza. Russia turned off gas supplies to Europe through Ukraine. Barack Obama was inaugurated as the 44, and first black, US President, while Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir was appointed Iceland's Prime Minister and the first openly lesbian head of state in the world. Elections to the European Parliament were won by right-wing parties. The Lisbon Treaty entered into force. Climate change was discussed in Copenhagen.

Two German kids aged six and five packed their bags with swimming gear and tried eloping to Africa - they were in love and longed for a life in the sun. French soap opera writers gained the right to strike. Marc Jacobs stopped serving cocaine on silver platters during his shows (it's the financial crisis). Silvio Berlusconi consorted with underage blondes and naked prime ministers, insulted Finnish national heritage and was accused of links to the mafia, before being elected rock star of the year by Rolling Stone magazine.

As the year drew to a close, and I still failed to make sense of the past 365 days, a friend made me drink for a new year, worse than the next, but better than the past. Dear friends, relatives and lovers, raise your glasses and drink for a year where life, work and love is one and where the passion in our hearts melts all obstacles. Let's enter this year with high hopes and ambitious missions and fanatic zeal to make them happen. Let's love with crazy and suicidal hearts that never grow cold.

At the end of this year, I will have saved a life, traveled to Tanger (because it rimes with danger) and live in the same city as my sister.