Ape säger: på tal om citat, elsa så något mycket fint häromdagen när vi diskuterade allergier
Ape säger:
Mos says: nötter har jag svårare att förstå allergier emot, de är ju så milda och snälla! Och så poff, så dör nån
Ape säger: det lät så gulligt
Lolly säger: nötter är fulla av fett
Ape säger: ...ja
Lolly säger: they are evil
Ape säger: men på ett milt vis
Lolly säger: sneaky
Ape säger: indeed
Lolly säger: bra
Lolly säger: då har vi fastställt det
Lolly säger: Nuts are sneaky.

This week on YouTube

Jag stal den av Astrid.
Det gör den inte sämre.
Not very educative, but highly entertaining.

Pay up!

Att läsa "nyheter" ska inte vara lika fniss-framkallande som DNs hemsida är. Journalister är verkligen ett intressant släkte. Och svenska byråkrater lika så.

Estetiskt motbjudande ord

I motsats/komplement till förra veckans uppdrag om estetisk tilltalande ord, önskar jag denna vecka att få höra de ord ni finner mest motbjudande.
Alla förslag är välkomna.

Whip it Baby.

I need ideas. I need support.

International Whip Day is creeping closer. I'm determined to get at least 10 people to celebrate it with me. You 3, is 3. That means I need to recruit another 7. But in order to recruit I need a purpose, I need an activity. People are crazy about activities. You tell them it's International Whip Day they shrug their shoulders and go about their business. You give them a reason, a purpose, something to perform and they are all of a sudden on their knees worshipping the leather.

So that's why I'm here. What can one do on International Whip Day? How will we recruit another 7 souls to whip it with us?

Bobby Brown shaved a kitten! (compilation)

First off: Thank you tiny for the yum-yummy linkage this morning:

www.aftonbladet.se/nojesliv/blablabla...

Note to Erlend: This [pause] happened for a reason. Signing a CD isn't that hard. Well, I don't know, but it can't be. Now me and my super crazy, obscure-minded wicca-friend tiny put a spell on your ass. AND SEE WHAT HAPPENED!

Cry not! For Sweden does not need that man. Moving on...

This we can do for summer funsies:

HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH

Oh, and I have found someone that has Lolly, tiny, Mousse and Ape (and Nina, actually), all impersonated in one single body. And this without coming off as totally schizo (just slightly so). Very roughly speaking: Lolly for the fashion, tiny for the body, Mousse for the manliness (ha?), Ape for the ADHD and Nina for the Asperger's syndrome.

--> Johnny Scharonne


And lastly, myspace music:

Wildbirds & Peacedrums

st. vincent

YELLE

Firefox AK

Running Up That Hill


Smoochies!

Hell is that place you go / where the checkup is / where the old man and the child is / the cat, the dead man, all the decayed food / the ones you abhorred but couldn’t stop evoking / where you found peace, in what was provoking

Hell is that place you go / where it’s finally coming undone / where you live the sceneries of your mind / that autonomous mind, that treacherous mind / that should connect to others, but it ain’t / abide to reason and bow in constraint

Hell is that place you go / where you find yourself isolated / a little subject, unwillingly dilated / at last, despite nothing, because of it all / its own super sweet surreality / its very own perfect nightmare

Hell is that place you go / where you remain without relief / until yes, you found that sought belief! / you realize, conceptualize / against all odds, you suddenly contemporize / and for a moment now, you’re not alone

Shivers.

I'm being quick this week, because I've been scared.

This weeks youtube feature gave me chills. It's an actual full length movie of 88 minutes called "We_Are_The_Strange".

The music is haunting, the surrealism is disturbing and the experience is chilling. It reminds me of "Skrotnisse". Haunting.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jlD7EVSJFw

If we're perf... Oh, GOD no!

Sometimes, I think of our friendship in terms of performance art. No, not our friendship, per se. But The Oddballs. And that is very much our friendship. The weirdest, the purest, the most beautiful, most productive part of our friendship.

I don’t like the thought of us trying to act out some kind of performance art. It would in now way be productive for us to think of ourselves in those terms. We’re pretentious enough as it is.

But think about it, whenever we meet, the four of us, we usually have a dress code, we have an elaborate theme, and we act like we’re on speed. What does that make us? Well, maybe not performance artists, because we usually don’t have any artistic ambitions. No less an audience (although it does happen, from time to time).

It’s still within the act it layeth. The essence. The spark. It’s acted out.

And if Ben Affleck is doing performance art, then we are too.

Meh. Who the fuck isn't.

Estetiska ord.

Denna vecka samlar jag på ord.
Var god dela med er av det ord ni finner mest estetiskt tilltalande. Betydelsen av ordet behöver inte vara vacker på något vis, utan det ska vara själva bokstavskombinationen som är estetiskt tilltalande.

(utomstående läsare är självklart välkomna att deltaga!)

This week on YouTube

Egentligen hade jag inget lärorikt nog att posta från youtube. Därför tänkte jag dela med mig av dessa för mitt eget höga nöjes skull. Just dessa två kommer från den period då han var mycket engagerad i politik, väst exploaterar öst, etc.

Bowie - mannen, myten, legenden.





Jag vet inte riktigt vad det är med honom som tilltalar mig, det kan säkert bero på något så trivialt som att han är väldigt lik min farfar.
(om intresse finns kan jag skrämma fram en blid av honom, för att bekräfta (dementera, hehe) eventuella likheter)

(I'm on fire today!)

Nätshopping

Mina damer (mest Mousse & Mart) jag funderade lite mer på det där med att beställa från amerikat, och denna sida är mycket lockande: www.forever21.com
(mest för en röd ärmlös chiffongklänning...men ändå)
Om ni är sugna på det kan vi gå ihop och tillsammans göra det bästa av en av världens största ekonomiers nedgång.

Museum Erotica Copenhagen

Museum Erotica Copenhagen Est. 1994

Købmagergade 24, København.

Öppettider:
1 Maj - 30 September 10.00-23.00 alla dagar
1 Oktober - 30 April Söndag - Torsdag 11.00 -20.00, Fredag- Lördag 10.00 - 22.00

Inträde ca 100 DKK, då ingår en rikt illustrerad fotobroschyr, med godbitar från utställningen.

Toalett: Ja

Café: Nej

Shop: Liten. Ett par t-shirts hänger bakom disken, ett par dvd-filmer i en glasmonter.

Hemsida www.museumerotica.dk

"One visit to Museum Erotica will illuminate your conception of eroticism and pornography forever" - är den slogan museet stoltserar med.

Museet lockar med det förbjudna, det syndiga, röda mattor och blinkande lampor. Det känns lite olustigt att gå in, vilket säkerligen är meningen, då man faktiskt känner sig som en bordellbesökare.

Det första man vilar ögonen på, när man gått uppför de sammetsklädda trapporna är en jättelik, metallfärgad, fallossymbol som mest av allt får besökaren att dra lite på munnen och fundera på dess syfte. Inredningen går i viktoriansk stil, guld och överdådighet, som ger en känsla av svunna tider och glömda synder. Det börjar i Antiken och följer sedan erotiken/pornografins utveckling genom historien, genom gamla urnor, grekisk och romersk mytologi, målningar föreställande dekadenta fester och en förvånande stor del asiatiska silkesmålningar. Utställningsföremålen blandas med "life size tableaus" (dockor i naturlig storlek som är placerade i lite lagom ekivoka ställningar).
Berömda sagor med erotiska inslag förklaras, Cupid & Psyche, Fanny Hill m.fl. och blandas upp med prostitutionens historia i Köpenhamn. Bordeller och kända gatflicksstråk presenteras i putsade montrar.

Den tidiga fotografiska konsten ägnas ett rum, som fyllts av "Franska kort" med motiv som knappast kan betraktas som pornografiska, utan mer söta och relativt oskyldiga, med dagens mått mätt. Därefter går det i rasande fart, pornografins utbredning med hjälp av fotokonsten är lavinartad.
Konst med suggestiva motiv presenteras också, självklart har de med Georgia O'Kefee's "Light Iris".



Gayporr har också sin plats på museet, ett helt rum har vigts till manlig kärlek (visserligen något stereotyp), dock lyser den lesbiska kärleken med sin frånvaro, troligtvis ses den inte som lika exotisk som manlig kärlek.

Ett stort rum har vigts till Marilyn Monroes ära, där en del av hennes personliga tillhörigheter (smycken, kläder, etc) visas upp i montrar och bilder av henne tapetserar rummet. Här känns det mest som ägaren av museet har någon form av Marilyn-fetisch jobbar hårt för att förmedla myten vidare.

En "Hall of Fame" med kända porrstjärnor leder bort från Marilyns sofistikerade sexighet och det hela avslutas med en stor videovägg med 16 tv-apparater som alla pumpar ut olika sorters porr på ett ganska oraffinerat sätt.
Jag vet inte om jag är avtrubbad på något vis, men det hela känns faktiskt väldigt osexigt.

Genom att avsluta museievandringen med S&M, Marquis DeSade och en och annan bahytt återfår jag min livsgnista och jag kan på det stora hela känna mig nöjd.

Sammanfattning: Museet är proppfullt av fina bilder och många mer eller mindre otroliga dildos, massor att titta på och bjuder på många intressanta anekdoter. Dock, som vid tidigare erotikmuseum-besök konstaterats, så är erotik något alldeles för individuellt för att verkligen lyckas på museum.
Jag känner också att jag redan sett för mycket snusk för att kunna se detta museum som något som ändrar min världsbild, dock var det ett trevligt utflyktsmål.

Besökt 6:e April 2008 av Lolly

Musée de l’Erotisme, Paris

Entré: 8 € (6€ om man går i grupp om fyra eller fler)

Öppet: Kl. ?-02 varje dag

Toalett: Ja

Restaurang/Café: Nej

Försäljning: Ja (böcker, vykort och dylikt)

Museet är strategiskt placerat i Montmartres ”horkvarter”, ett stenkast från Moulin Rouge, granne med en strippklubb och en sexshop. Metrostation Blanche alltså, blicka sedan österut.

Vi välkomnas av en svulstig, bronsliknande staty placerad utanför ingången. Totalt oerotisk men ganska charmig. Väl inne på bottenvåningen presenteras en rad vitriner med små figurer i färd med att utföra olika sexuella aktiviteter. På väggarna hänger mest bilder på asiatiska par, i samma aktion. En svartvit tv-skärm visar en kvinna som klär av sig, borstar håret och ler skälmskt. Det här är mysigt och ofarligt. Ju högre upp vi tar oss i den sju våningar höga utställningen blir det dock desto mer hardcore. Ur högtalarna hör vi oavbrutet Celine Dion på franska och väggarna pryds av stora, blanka tavlor med – nästan uteslutande – kvinnor, klädda i väldigt lite kläder, läder, eller i sado-masochistiskt inspirerade utstyrslar. Våningen med den till synes, och förhoppningsvis, tillfälliga installationen av "toaletterotik" är lite svårtolkad. Det är mörkt, man hör ljudet av spolande toaletter, på väggarna syns rörliga bilder på personer som sätter sig på eller utför sina behov i toaletten, allt från toalettens perspektiv. Man får även tillfälle att besöka en riktig toalett, en höjdare, då vi är kissnödiga, annars ingen större upplevelse, erotiskt sett.

En våning visar porrfilm med det lovande namnet ”20-talets förbjudna filmer”. Det knullas rejält, och vi får se från alla möjliga vinklar. Ganska imponerande vad de pornografiskt kunde åstadkomma för åttio-nittio år sedan. Någon form av förspel tycks dock inte vara uppfunnet ännu. Trots den romantiserande svartvitheten och de avslappnat opretentiösa underkläderna blir vi inte upphetsade av denna antikt paketerade framställning av sexakten. På vägen ut hittar vi källarvåningen som är välfylld och förförande oorganiserad. Det som imponerar mest är en onani-cykel, en par-sex stol och en gigantisk fallos.

Vi hade en trevlig stund på det gemytliga muséet, men mest tack vare varandra, och vinet vi drack innan. Det som slår oss är att erotik är något väldigt subjektivt och att det är stor risk att man i ett dylikt museum missar att tillfredställa allas behov, om ens någons. Uttalad homosexuell erotik var inte överdrivet välrepresenterad. Det var mycket bilder på avklädda kvinnor, kvinnor som objekt. Männen som framställdes var oftast i aktion, älskandes med kvinnor och ibland män. Lätt sado-masochism på bild var vanligt förekommande. Nekrofili och pedofili var uteslutna. En lättsmält upplevelse som väl underhöll men tyvärr misslyckades, trots den högsträvande toalettutställningen, att beröra.

Barack Obama too thin to be president

Nearly two thirds of the U.S adults are overweight, with a BMI over 25. One third of the adult population is obese, with a BMI over 30.

These people can vote. These people have eyes.

And there he goes, Obama, with his disarming smile and his ascetic body. Who does he think he is?

And hasn’t he lost even more weight lately?

Why doesn’t he just propagate war in Iraq while he’s at it.

At least Bush looks fat.

This is politics.

Creation.

Along with the needy feeling, I've had one of fading. But then something happened. I saw something that made me realise I am not alone, in any way, and all creation comes from humble beginnings. God created man from dust. Alexander an empire from one man's ambition.

We have the dust, we have the ambition, we are bound to be able to create something. I'm not looking for my own man or empire, just a creation to call my own. To call our own.

Call me an optimist and slap me with the spatula of good fortune, but I think it is in everyone. We are part of that, so I'm thinking we will create.

It is never too late, and it is never too early to start. I'm aiming for August. Yes, in August we will create. Perhaps it will be a sandcastle, perhaps it will be a pirate novella (how are those pirate short stories coming along?), perhaps it will be our own little empire somewhere just outside of Gävle. I don't know, but I do know it will be brilliant.

Have some inspirational music and moving pictures. Share my optimism.

Needy.

I'm feeling needy.

It is a horrible feeling to have. It is a feeling that is so not me, yet I can't help it. I don't know what it is I need, but I need it.

It's a mixture of insecurity, restlessness and frustration and it's driving me a little bit insane. Or at least it's making me a wee bit aggressive. What you fear, you hate.

***

Next time:
my stomach hurts, I've got possible frostbite and I've realised I was a soldier in WWI.

Denna kommentar hittades på youtube under en Skönheten och Odjuret video, och jag kan inte hjälpa att hålla med. Vi skapar en hel generation av ironiker med det vi kallar barnprogram idag. Är det verkligen en värld vi vill leva i? Nej, jag tror faktiskt inte det. Kalla mig gammalmodig, men jag vill ha lite magi då och då. Ironi är en dålig ersättare.

Late POYKPAC.

So I was busy doing something of my "överskottsenergi" yesterday so I didn't have time to create.

However I will promote POYKPAC today. They entertain me in a relaxed kinda way. Plus I think I might have a crush on Jenn Lyon, call me a freak but I think it was the Peach costume in their Mario spoof that did it.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DSLqZbSrnIQ


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G1Q0WT08zYg


(and I should definitely come here more often. damn there's a lot of good stuff to read. how I wish the day had more hours)

En halvliter kaffe, 23 chokladbitar och Slagsmålsklubben på hög volym.

Hjälp! Vad gör Du av Din överskottsenergi?

Let's rent!

I should’ve been studying. Instead, I’ve been losing myself in the world of blogs. This little one gave me gold.

The clip is an excerpt from Yugoslavian director Dusan Makavejev’s Sweet Movie from 1974. The film was banned in several countries for its offensive content. Anyone who’s seen it?

I believe I am fair when claiming that this wonderful eight minute video must feature one of the more harmless parts of the film. I’d say Mousse is represented in Miss Yugoslavia.



Sweet Movie even has a sploshing scene, and I am loathe to admit that maybe sploshing isn’t my thing after all. And this I say in spite of all the chocolate. Beware, because this is close to porn.

No limits?

As I told Ape yesterday, I am not unhappy at all.

Usually I go from anguish to euphoria and back again on a daily basis. I CAN be “content”, “emotionless” or just “irritable”. However, when in these moods, I’m merely just waiting to see where I’m really heading. Will this state of what I consider zero lead to pain or pleasure, I ask myself, and bide my time. But I’ve got to say, the moments of manic exaltation are lately numerous. Don’t know if I should worry. Also, I talk to myself in the mirror. I dance with myself in my room. I have all the right answers, I make all the right moves.

Do we all?

I guess I’m the sort of person that shouldn’t, by society’s standards, live by herself, but undoubtedly turns rabid monkey when having to live with others.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say, in an ever-digressing and contradictory manner, is that I think I need some Oddball time. Don’t know why. Because I want to have it all. Why stop eating strawberries when it tastes the best? When they're at their ripest. I think my life might be ending. I’m enjoying myself too much. Too much of a climax. Ape said August. I suppose it’s better than… September. Don’t know what will be left of me in August.

Oh, I want to be obnoxious enough to make Lolly sigh and slap me, I want to hug the Ape while its whole body rejects me, I want to tell tiny how much of a cheap whore she is, just so she’ll do the mouth fart thing on my belly again.

I don’t really want any of that.

But you know me better.

Fönster.

DJ LollyPoppSuperTopp

Tvåsamhet.

Det här är faktiskt inte första gången någon strippar frivilligt för mig.

Let there be laughter

Is a laugh without a smile still a laugh?

Bi-curiosity killed the tomcat

I was out last Friday with my anthropologist soulmates Li & Fri (liking those abbreviations). Fri spent the night being a successful genderfucker. Li spent the night trying. Also, Li told me she thought I should hook up with "a man who sleeps with men". And I don't know why I thought it somewhat of a compliment. Anyway, we discussed the term "bi-curious" and how utterly lame a concept it is.

"Hello! I have a first name, a middle name and a last name. I sometimes wear blue jeans. I breathe air, I eat three or four times a day. I appreciate music, I have seen the ocean. Johnny Depp is a good actor. And yeah, I'm bi-curious. Who am I?"

Who the fuck are you not!?

I know. I am being ethnocentric. And generally lost. But help me here, who can honestly say they're not curious? Who? And what boring life they must lead!

Curiosity is the essence of creativity. An equivalent to lust, I dare say. You don't have to act according to curiosity, but you are nothing without it. You feel nothing. Is the cheese-hater not curious about what makes people eat so much cheese?

That was a bad example. But I really love cheese. And I think bi-curious might be a redundant word. Is there going to be a video today?

When Friday is the new Sunday.

Sometimes something is so right it's almost painful. Sometimes something could have been brilliant, but is slightly off, that's painful as well.

Lolita and I discussed the difference between being pretentious and arrogant. I love arrogance, but I cannot stand pretentious people. It might sound like a Catch 22, but it really isn't. There is a clear difference between the two. There is one thing to pretend you are entitled to the contempt you are feeling, another one entirely to just feel it.

I think the reason for the difference is because a pretentious person is often lacking self-confidence, but is full of self-esteem. Whereas the arrogant person often is very self-confident, but lacks self-esteem. Pretentious people think they are worth more than others, they just don't have the confidence to show it in a good and straightforward way like the arrogant bastard next to them. That makes them sneaky, they sneak around with their superiority and hold it behind their backs and laugh whenever they think you're not looking. I don't like sneaky people. The arrogant laughs in your face, then cries behind your back.

Lets conclude this post with a video of the man that made me fall in love with the arrogant attitude, he is its master. He will always be its master.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdrc2YT2ByI

(Better!)

An hour later, tiny and Lolly came by with cookies, and my day was suddenly bright and sunny. (It was actually sunny, but I hadn't noticed, having covered my window all day.)

Thank you, friends. I am much better now.

It takes Oddballs.

Hungover.

Yesterday was party day. Lolita and Tiny were at my place and I drank red wine, white wine and vodka until I started puking uncontrollably. Tiny and Lolita went home. I continued vomiting. Today I am very weak and have been undergoing a strict diet of water and porridge. It's four in the afternoon and I'm still not quite out of bed.

There is some kind of construction work going on on this building. I think they're cleaning the facade. This was fortuitous yesterday night, as my room was suddenly equipped with a giant party-balcony right outside the window. It was a bit tricky to climb over there, with the gap between my window and the scaffold, and the drunkeness to maneuver. I do live on the second floor, after all. But well there we could happily dance to this awesome youtube remix and blow Marlboro smoke into the cold night air. I think the smoking was what killed the party. And this whole day. I am a sensitive soul and tobacco is too strong a drug for me.

Anyway, as I lay in my bed this morning, feeling ill, with the blinds down, there was something of a circus going on outside my window. Around nine, it sounded like a man was sitting on the scaffold, singing. He sang for a long time and it wasn't particularly good, but it was ambitious. It made me happy. Also, random conversations between the construction workers:

- Have you ever been fishing salmon trout?
- (pause) No.
- Have you ever eaten salmon trout?
- (silence)

Now the construction workers have gone for the day, but someone on third floor is playing a saxophone. I am entertained, but still not well. I don't know what to do with myself.

Oh, I know what you're thinking - Get your own goddamn blog to pollute!

I will not.

So anyway...

I know you all hate me, now that I've brought Jesus to the show. So I thought I'd make up for it by devoting this post either to parenting or pirates. Parenting because the topic was discussed this last weekend, à propos me not planning on it. I had lots of bad excuses, the end of the world being one, and my father pointed out that ends of the world usually makes people reproduce at an alarming rate. I countered that with claiming "I'm not mainstream", which is an old lie. Over to pirates. Remember we were going to produce a book of short stories? And that all the stories would have to be about pirates? Well, I've started writing on mine. Just thought I'd warn you. It's going to be awesome. No pirates in it yet. That's a problem.

Well, that was it. Not going to elaborate on either topic.

I have two bad videos for you. The pirate one is worth watching. The parenting, of course, is not.

Bugs breathe armageddon.

Ape’s kitchen is growing refrigerators. Mine is growing insects. It’s really very sad. It gives me no hope for the future. I opened this brand new package of crisp bread. The pieces of bread were tightly packed together and I had to pull them out. Two pieces finally popped out, together with - and this is where sadness begins - two bugs. Two tiny, dark brown bugs, with nothing better to do than to spoil my breakfast experience with their appearance. I pulled out some more pieces of the crisp bread and looked in the package. There were at least two more bugs down there. And something that looked like bug poo. No eggs. I sighed deeply and considered burning down the whole kitchen.

The heavy sigh must’ve boosted my endorphin supply (oxygen is ace) and I suddenly found myself happily eating the bug-infested bread instead of burning down the house. I watched out for more bugs but saw none. Maybe I ate one or two. I hope they don’t thrive in stomachs, too. I later felt somewhat disgusted with myself and had to throw the rest of the bread away. I talked about it with christian boy next door, with whom I share cupboard. He quickly said that he had nothing old lying about in his part of the cupboard (I just know that I keep my onions cool, in the fridge, while he doesn’t). However, minutes later he tells me the very same thing happened to him in his old apartment. Yeah. I just need someone to blame that isn’t me.

I’m not a sensitive person. I ate bug bread. But it’s something about bugs in food that is so doomsday. Just like when we had a rat in the café in Paris. I can’t take it. And I can. But I don’t like it. I don’t like how they tell me that the world is going under and that vermin is finally going to win against humans. I feel so small.

Suddenly, I am the vermin.

Kristus hänger på korset och jag...

...jag har trasiga händer. Jag har städat en massa. En massa timmar. En massa vatten. Inte stigmata. Ibland känner jag mig tacksam att han tog på sig all vår skuld, Jesus. Men oftast inte. Åh, dessa arma martyrer. Dessa själviska jävla människor som tror att att allt är så enkelt. Men det är inte enkelt. Det som är sjävklart för dig är inte självklart för mig.

Martyrer är sådana människor som går runt och tycker att det är viktigt att man har en kaffebryggare på jobbet. Ja, så går kaffebryggaren sönder, och så mår martyren jättedåligt, för i hennes värld måste man ha en kaffebryggare på jobbet. Hon mår dåligt över bristen på kaffebryggare, men mest mår hon dåligt av att ingen bryr sig om att köpa en ny kaffebryggare. Hon tror sig nämligen veta att alla vill ha en kaffebryggare på jobbet. Hon har tejpat upp en insamlingslista också, som ingen skrivit på. Så till sist ger hon upp och går, bitter men sjukt bestämd, till affären och köper en kaffebryggare och ställer i personalrummet. Sådärja, nu mår jag bra. Lite fattigare, men jävlar så bra jag mår. Är inte alla glada nu, när jag har offrat mig och köpt en kaffebryggare till er?

Jag tycker Jesus gav upp för lätt. För fort. Hur gammal var han? 33? Knappt vuxen. Vi ska inte skylla allt på Judas. Inte skylla på den stora massan. Jesus gav upp. Jag säger inte att han gjorde fel, när han hängde där på korset och tog på sig allt det onda. Jag säger bara att jag inte tänker må så jävla dåligt över det.

Vi kanske var nöjda med att dricka te.

Huliganer!

Bara i Jämtland mina damer, bara i Jämtland.

This week on youtube, entry nr 100

So, since Mousse complained about the non-educativeness of my last entry, I decided to make this entry 10% more educative.

Sigur Rós

Det var meningen att det skulle bli söndagsinlägget. Men jag kunde inte vänta.

Super-ghey unicorn delight!

Unicorns being educative.

"ja.. för det är ju bara du, du, du, du, du hela tiden..."

PRETENTIONS

i watch myself in the mirror
don’t know that face
don’t know its place

i put on some make-up
a docile smile
i laugh, it’s a joke
and something

i try wearing a beard
a tie, a serious look
false, funny, façade
yet, this something

i try to be open
i want to remain whole
i try to see all, but dammit
i want to see Me

i see traces, patches, glimpses
i see a moment, try to fix it
but a moment is just that
there, and when you look
gone. but i’m still here, looking

is that what i look like?
(is that me?)

looking?

Kvinnor, Krut och Krig

Min kära vän, och numera fellow STEX-partner i Afgahnistan, Astrid (Hon med det båset ni trodde tillhörde en pojke ni ville gifta er med)skickade mig en ytterst underhållande länk.
Läs alla sidor i denna artikel, och ja.. förundras över kvinnosynen i det där landet i väst.
Jag känner mig faktiskt glad över att jag har rätten att få "slåss på marken", om jag av skulle känna för det.
Idag gillar jag sverige för andra anledningar än att man får visa intima kroppsdelar i tv utan ett de censureras. (kommer du ihåg de tiderna Moussie?)

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/20/AR2008022001954.html?hpid=topnews&sid=ST2008022201889

Flexible!

This Week - Flexible Keyboard

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj7PV2-vcy0

This week there is no text to go with the video and it is not embedded. The reason for this is that to enjoy this video you need to head over the youtube and watch it without reading anything else on the page. Once you’ve watched this little commercial scroll down and read the one comment.

Simplistic entertainment bordering on stupidity.

My kin. My blood. My white trash family.

I don't see them very often. Once or twice a year, at most. They hold somewhat of a mythical position in my family. In so many senses. But this weekend, my white trash relatives were under some kind of murder threat and had to relocate, until social services could arrange a temporary housing. So, in lack of other acquaintances, they stayed at our house. And, for some reason, I felt the need to stay at our house too, even if I have my own place, nowadays. I couldn't miss this. Not for the world.

So there we were, the five of us, plus ten (10) extra people in the household. There were mullets, there were visible buttcracks, there were babies, there was teenage mother, there were cousins, there were strangers, there were cigarettes, there were large amounts of coca cola, there was uncommunicativeness, there were sisterly childhood issues and there were different notions of the importance of personal space.

At the same time, I tried working on my essay, reading Foucault, thinking about society, and normativity. Also, I read about the modern human being and its ability to reflect upon its own situation and place in the world.

White trash is not "the norm". Being white trash could thus function as a sort of resistance against the power of normativity. (And I can sense that resistance!) That ought to make white trash cool. Resistance of power is cool, no? However, at the same time, you're only truly white trash as long as you do not reflect too much on yourself or your situation. Or anything. This produces a relatively dull person, which couldn't really constitute as modern. And if you're not modern, you can't be cool. Or...?

Anyway, to sum up, I've decided not to convert to white trash. Not for now. But it's been a memorable weekend. I love my aunt but, damn it, she derides people, and me, I really try not to.


But I just did.

Shit.

Uniform

Mina damer, som ni säkert vet/hört talas om, har jag införskaffat lädershorts till oss alla. Jag betvivlar inte att vi kommer att vara utomordentligt vackra, men jag funderar nu på komplement till dessa.
Jag såg senast idag ett par toppar på Gina Tricot (var annars hittar man den smaklöshet som genomsyrar..oss?) som skulle passa oss som handen i pringles-röret!

Det var ett par vita t-shirts med halv om halvt påsydda små västar! Det var så gulligt att jag nästan fällde en tår. (överdrift, men ni förstår principen) Västarna var antingen svarta eller Oddball-dräkts-gröna. Om vi vill ha, vilken färg ska vi ha?
Pris: 149 kronor/styck.

Ja? Nej?
Om Ja, ange din Gina Tricot-storlek så införskaffar jag dessa himmelska kreationer. (Ja, jag kan lägga ut)

A Little Poetry on a gloomy Wednesday

He is more than a hero

He is a god in my eyes —
the man who is allowed
to sit beside you — he

who listens intimately
to the sweet murmur of
your voice, the enticing

laughter that makes my own
heart beat fast. If I meet
you suddenly, I can’t

speak — my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under
my skin; seeing nothing,

hearing only my own ears
drumming, I drip with sweat;
trembling shakes my body

and I turn paler than
dry grass. At such times
death isn’t far from me.

Somehow it feels slightly wrong that I will forever associated Sappho with Kalat.

I wish to talk to you about a little something called "Hero-worship"

When you were a child it was all very simple and innocent. Now it is tainted by "adulthood" and the pressure of containing more complexity and sexual undertones. Yes I'm talking about Hero-Worship.

As a person having left puberty there does not seem to be any space left for the Hero-worship of those old childhood days. Now you are supposed to "Respect People" or have "Celebrity Crushes" which neither one is as fitting and rewarding as childhood Hero Worship.

Celebrity Crushes are laced with sexuality and sexual undertones forcing a primal and very bodily response from you. Respect comes with intelligence and is supposed to be based on logic and ideology.

Where is the Hero Worship? Why am I no longer allowed to fall down on my knees and exclaim "We're not worthy!" without having to logically or carnally be able to justify it?

The reason I have brought this up is because of the Hero Worship I at the moment am indulged in. There is nothing logical, sexual or complex about it. I simply worship Zoë Bell much the same way I did Bamse or MacGyver. They're just a little bit cooler than the rest of us and part of you kinda wish you could be just as cool yourself. It's a child's Hero-Worship in a post-puberty individual - surly there must be a shorter name for that definition!?

Damn She's Cool Man [Trailer for Double Dare]

This Week on YouTube - Kansas...?

You could've given me a heads up and I would've been able to offer you YouTube paradise. Yeah, I could've done that. Basically. Someone could've just said "Mousse, sweetheart, this special Sunday is your Sunday, because everyone else has forgotten about YouTube Sunday." Hm? I know, it's sort of contradictory. But so is forgetting about YouTube Sunday! It's like forgetting about yesterday's candy day. Or Resurrection Day. Or Kristallnacht. Or M. Night Shyamalan.

You do not!

Perpetual my ass!

Well, my ass!

Anywhore. This is what you get for messing with Today:

[embedding disabled by request]

Kansas - Dust in The Wind

I was thinking that I am the lead singer. It ought to suit me well. And Ape is the one standing next to me with the hair. For some reason, I always picture her with that kind of hair, even when she's standing right in front of me. Dream land is my kingdom and I will name my children after my toes. I think Lolly's the blonde and tiny the deep one. Yup.

Also, I might've turned into a man hater in theory. But I think it's extremely temporary. I mean, women are just as loathsome. And I can't go around hating everyone. Been there. Not cool.

Love!

Ride on a white horse

This week on Youtube

I liked the concept, so I'm adopting it.

This little YouTube-moment is astounding. I sorta showed it to EPE before, but she liked it as well, and recycling is cool these days. (hedlines in Metro blurted it out)

God and Dillchips

As I was sitting in the library on this dreary Monday trying to understand hagiography and their relationship to Christian Saints, my world all of a sudden was cast into light and on the page in front of me these words appeared.

I am the LORD your God,
who brought you up out of Egypt.
Open wide your mouth and I will fill it.
Psalm 81:10

Of course my first thoughts were of Mousse. How goes the oral sex and dillchips?

How to & Information.

This Week - How to Fold a T-shirt.




Sometimes I do wonder about the state of our intelligence as a collective, not the Oddballs, but the human race. At times I can’t help wonder if we are not a lot smarter than previous generation, not because of any higher intelligence as such but because of the constant stream of information we are exposed to. To gain knowledge in today’s society is so much easier than it was only 10 years ago. Now with a few presses on the keyboard and a few clicks with the mouse and the world is one big oyster of endless information for you to devour.

Perhaps I should rephrase my original statement because it is not intelligence, but rather information we are supercharged with. I think of my great grandfather who not only taught himself to read and write, but also taught himself English. His struggle for information must have been greater than mine yet I in no way think that my intelligence is greater than his was.

At the same time I am fairly certain he never knew how to fold a t-shirt in 5 seconds, or what a wet willy entails or what the ingredients of a New York Egg Cream are. Now I can’t help wonder what will that information do for us? Is this the dawn of a new type of human civilization with another approach to information? Or is it just my own curiosity that drives me into finding these things out? Perhaps those of us that use the easy access to information are few and far between.

I don’t know, but I do know that the definitions of intelligence and information are redefining. Can information continue to be a source of power when the access to it is so simple? Will this threaten or strengthen our society?

You're making it worse!

I just realised something. I'm a fairly gay person in my own right. Horribly queer, but I'm also fairly gay. Though being friends with you guyses is making it worse. You're making me gayer!

On your own you are not particularly gay neither one of you, but for me to be friends with you is adding to my own gayness.

One of my closest friends (who happens to be female) is a career soldier. Two of my other very close friends, both female, spent 4 months living together in a one bedroom apartment in Paris. Not to mention the lesbian love package. I mean c'mon you guys! Could you make me look gayer!?

That said, I'm not complaining. I really don't mind, I might even enjoy the fact that your acquaintance is making me look gayer.

Next time you see me, feel free to shout: "She's so gay!" after me, but do bare in mind that you are the ones who are putting the so in that sentence.

[-----------------------------------------------]
This is probably the gayest song - ever!
Click it!

This Week on Youtube - Boney M

What this blog needs is a constant. Something reliable. Something perpetual.

Hence “This Sunday on Youtube”. Each Sunday the you tube of the week will be picked and a few words will be written about it or something indirectly linked to the video.

This Week: Boney M - Daddy Cool



For those of you who don’t know who Boney M actually are here’s a short recap as to why you should love and honour them. They are something as exotic as a Euro-Disco group with members from the West Indies orchestrated by a German producer. Their music is pointless and highly camp featuring all from Russian legends to Baby G to Chicagoan women with an attitude. If none of those reasons are good enough for you at least worship them for their looks and performances.



Though the group still exist, this type of music does not and for that we as a human race have become a little bit poorer.

Jag såg Steve Buscemis mun på stan...

På en person som inte var Buscemi. Likväl fascinerande.

Nåväl. Hemma, vid matbordet...

Pappa: Ha! Mamma är ingen gourmet, hon gillar inte oliver!
Bror (mumlar): Pappa är ingen gourmet, han gillar inte tacos.
Mousse (skriker, från andra änden av bordet): Ha! Du inser att du säger emot dig själv där. Tacos är lågt stående mat. Alla gillar tacos.
Bror: Du inser att du någonstans i Sydamerika klassas som förståndshandikappad.



Vad tycker du?