5.29.2008

Conscious wastedness on weekends


Alkoholen är bedövningsmedlet som tar oss genom livets operation.
- George Bernard Shaw

Writing about alcohol for my swedish presentation and I'm having such a good time.

Life's a waste of time, time's a waste of life so let's all get wasted and have the time of our life!!

Found some hilarious pictures, hope people will enjoy my presentation as much as I will. It's not serious at all, basically just crap, but I love it.

the intoxicating power of wine

freeing one from one's normal self, by madness, ecstasy, or wine

the divine mission of Dionysus was to mingle the music of the aulos and to bring an end to care and worry

the constant romanticism surrounding alcohol fascinates me. even though i lived through some pretty bad times, problems cause by alcohol, i still see drinking in a romantic light. i dont hide it. on the contrary, i love to show off that hey, i love to drink till im belligerent. how mature is that for starters. not at all i would say. still i know loads of people, many of them adults, who just love to get wasted. it's a cultural movement, the conscious wastedness on weekends. drunkenness is not only the perfect excuse to behave like a three-year old, if you do something really embarrassing, you can just say you dont remember it. name a better place to meet new interesting fun people than at parties. name a better way to have a really good laugh at everyone (including yourself) for being downright stupid and crazy.
i will always live in la vie bohème. hating convention and pretension. TO ABSOLUTE! gosh it's good. and keep loving the wild life. cause thats how life should be lived. crazy. no ties. free. traveling. space&time. gazing at the stars in highness, wondering who made this perfect universe, deep midnight discussions, sensing the numbness spreading, euphoria. and make the same goddamn promise every painful morning - "I will never ever drink again".

5.28.2008

IDM

haha. as i thought.

im such a toy sometimes
no real feelings, just a plaything
to be thrown around

maybe that's why i love toys.
toys playing with toys playing with toys playing with...

dolls

in an endless circle

Freud lärde oss om lustprincipen och realitetsprincipen. Lustprincipen styr när man väljer den lätta lösningen först och sedan får betala med obehag. Om man t. ex. köper en chokladkaka, så smakar det gott en kort stund, men sedan får man betala med ökad vikt och kanske ånger.
Realitetsprincipen innebär att välja det svåra först. Belöningen kommer på längre sikt, när man kan uppnå sina mål i livet, t. ex. att gå ner i vikt eller att skaffa sig en bra utbildning.

Sartre said that we humans form our lives through our choices.

i see. ive heard it a million times. from friends who seem to knot themselves in trying to find wisdom, and from basically all self-help internet sites there is to encounter. just telling this doesnt help. people dont need no lectures. think most have had enough of them.
self-help is underestimated though.

Don't take the wrong turns, take the hard ones.

5.27.2008

Just ask goddammit

Time to grow up maybe?
It's like I'm trying to beat myself up. No hunger.
I'm 18. Time to act maybe?
Not just sit around and wait in the passenger seat.
While the car crash happens.
Goodbye little irresponsible, weak, girl.
Time to take what I want.
Know the fear and do it anyway.
Such an unlimited consciousness.
Wish all happiness for Romeo&Juliet.
Take what I desire.
Ignore insecurities, fears, humiliation and broken pride.
Have no reason to be depressed, yet.
Part of life.
Time to grow up.

5.25.2008

How I wish you could see the potential


This place rings with echoes of
Lives once lived, but now are lost
Times spent wondering about tomorrow

I don't care, if we lose it all tonight
Up in flames, burning bright
Warming the air of the world

(Rise Against)

Can anyone be happier or more lost? I'm not supposed to feel like this, because he probably doesn't feel the same.

This weekend has been amazing, filled with memories I will have forever, of sun and friendship, of a love that never dies, days that never end, sunsets and sunrises, and a party that goes on forever. On my birthday I went to Tivoli with the people who mean the most in this world to me; my family, and my other family - Stinis baby, and Mads. Sweets, flumming around, fooling around, karusellsnurr och kärlek. And then late late when we went back, we met another person who means the world to me - Kudde. And then we went to prepare a party.
And party it was, not for everyone, some left (disappointed?). But some really knew how to party - like spykisterna (KÄRLEK!). Fan utan er hade det inte varit nån fest. Så jävla underbara att det inte är sant. To sit outside and just drink, watching the sunrise and listening to a packad spyksit performing a blues about pissa i busken med snus under läppen. There's nothing more wonderfully flummhappy.
I hope people had fun, cause I had a hell of a time...

It's like my heart can't take
My fall in love every day
And I feel like a fool

(Death cab for cutie)

5.20.2008

Multiverses on my mind


This is the last week I'm 17. This is the last Tuesday I'm 17.
So much planning to do for the amazing weekend, but right now I just need to sleep.
Awesome happiness-weekend with S. Sun-bathing, out with the boat, swimming in the ocean, BBQ party... And this weekend is make-up store, Tivoli, and huge kick-ass birthday party!! So excited about everything.
And school and work going well. I'm happy!!
My OP in Swedish is gonna be about alcohol, kinda funny huh.
Sometimes there's just butterflies.
I love the feeling of that.
And sunshine on my shoulders.
Makes me happy.
Sunshine, almost always...
And the surprise we're planning for the party is gonna be so much fun!!
Can't wait!!
All these dreams.
Take hold of me
out in the universe, head spinning among stars
all the love songs ever written
music for...
Happy time. Sugar high, chocolate friendly. Coffee-free.
Sing star.
Time travelling.
Living in a multiverse.

5.14.2008

I don't look baked!

god had long hair-and a goatee,
and if eyes were pretty glazed-if he looked spaced out,
would you buy his story,
would you believe he had an eye infection.

and yeah yeah, god looks baked,
yeah yeah, god smells good,

when god made this place in the beginning,
did he plant any seeds or did he put them there
for adam and eve, so they'd be hungry
for the apple that the snake was always offering.

and yeah yeah, god rolls great,
yeah yeah, god smells good

5.12.2008

Hiding from a universe that's ugly like herself


Coconut sunscreen is the best!! I wanna eat myself.
Working when you know you get cash for it is the best!! Even if exhaustion is the price you pay for money.
puffy is the best!! love playing around in the sea like five-year-olds!!
Exams are not the best, even if it is just practice, and I definitely don't enjoy science projects. Especially not when...
Oh well.
Everything has its price, does it not.
Been a very long weekend, my online habits can tell.
Loosing contact...

Been a very long time without my music too. Two days. Which is very very long for me. I drank sunshine instead. And got high. And tanned. A little at least.

Out of the limelight. It burned my skin, the red light flashing, out of time. Wasted a lie and wasted your time. Out of life.

I write so many letters in my head, I think the problem is, I never send them.

Sugarcult:

She takes off her make-up
And looks like everyone else
Hiding from a universe thats ugly like herself

She paints on her cute synthetic personality
Wasting all the hours on the things she'll never be

One, lie, living in a mirror
Cause this time she loves herself too much
she's such a pretty waste
she's just the perfect one for me

She thinks long and hard about her phony honesty
Layer after layer covers her insecurities

This, time, she's such a bore.

"Underwear"

Take a life
and hold it underwater
Wash the hands of all these things i've done
If the body moves inside the closet
all we do is stare
while shes in her underwear

All the eyes
On every sunday paper
Pictures of the horrid things i've done
If i didnt act on my addictions
then we couldnt stare
while shes in her underwear

5.08.2008

Special cocktails for the ladies with nuts


I think pretty much everyone needs a laugh right now. To get some relief from all the painful examination.

In a Tokyo Hotel: Is forbidden to steal hotel towels please. If you are not a person to do such a thing is please not to read notis.

In a Yugoslavian hotel: The flattening of underwear with pleasure is the job of the chambermaid.

In a Bucharest hotel lobby: The lift is being fixed for the next day. During that time we regret that you will be unbearable.

In the lobby of a Moscow hotel across from Russian Orthodox monastery: You are welcome to visit the cemetery where famous Russian and Soviet composers, artists, and writers are buried daily except Thursday.

In a Bangkok dry cleaners: Drop your trousers here for best results.

In a Tokyo bar: Special cocktails for the ladies with nuts.

From a Japanese information booklet about using a hotel air conditioner: Cooles and Heates: If you want just condition of warm in your room, please control yourself.

From a brochure of a car rental firm in Tokyo: When passenger of foot heave in sight, tootle the horn. Trumpet him melodiously at first, but if he still obstacles your passage then tootle him with vigor.

5.07.2008

Kära Piff!

Nu är jag trött på alla anorexiabarn!
(Sisådär, nu har vi allt lurat dom riktigt ordentligt.)

Jag har skrivit en dikt. Den består av fyra rader och ligger mig nära hjärtat. Eventuella nobelpris i litteratur mottages på tisdagar efter klockan halv tre. Jag slutar tidigt då.

(Läses med inlevelse, gärna ståendes på ett ben på en stol. En svart.)
”Se, vad vore livet utan popcorn?
Vad vore glädje utan sexuellt relaterade skämt?
Vad vore golv utan implanterade madrasser,
Och vad vore kaffe utan vanilj?”

Nu har vi varit djupa också.


Kära Piff.
Min rädsla för smygemos med snygga handväskor och rosa elefantörhängen har drastiskt ändrats, med din hjälp, till en obotlig förkärlek till en speciell rosahårig emodam, vi nämner inga namn här, som jag numera även vågar be om tuggummi från.
Du är minsann en sann vän som aldrig sviker, som hookar ens kompisar utan att blinka och är en ytterst trevlig kaffekompanjon såhär på kvällskvisten. A det kallar jag en redig kompis det.

Nu sparar vi alla smarriga detaljer som jag tänker avslöja om min älskade Piff tills nästa gång jag explotionerar denna vackra blogg.
(Explotionerar. OJ vilket vackert ord. Helt påhittat av mig. Det måste bli en bidragande faktor till det väntande Nobelpriset. Tisdagar, glöm inte det.)

Missa inte det.
Vänliga hälsningar,
Din Puff.

5.04.2008

My notebook will explain


There's nothing to lose, when no one knows your name.

No one told me
The right way

I wanna rob
you of your game face

I can't find, my medications failed, again again

I surrender; I know I've been a pretender

lyrics messed up in my head. by the music that keeps me sane. and the words that spin my world.

I took the pills
I took the advice
The panic stopped
But still, I'm not right
Racing thoughts and wasted time
It's the same old story-line
This is my nursery rhyme
And it goes:

I believe in medication and I believe in therapy
And I believe in crystal light.
Cause I believe in me, yeah.
It's so uplifting, fuck yeah!

(motion city soundtrack)

Cause I will bring you down
I don't want to miss
I don't think you can handle this
You've lost what you can't find
Never what you had in mind

(sum41)

Of a getaway car that'll take me out of my mind, tonight

Plastic bags and paper hearts
All belonging in shopping carts

goooooooooooodbyyyyyyyeeeeeeeee - we wont give up the fight!

in fact, i wish your heart was mine
and i can hear the memory in my ears
back to the years and all those tears

(the rocket summer)

Billy Talent - "Nothing To Lose"

Need more friends with wings
All the angels I know
Put concrete in my veins
I’d always walk home alone
So I became lifeless
Just like my telephone

There’s nothing to lose
When no one knows your name
There’s nothing to gain
But the days don’t seem to change

Never played truth or dare
I’d have to check my mirror
To see if I’m still here
My parents had no clue
That I ate all my lunches
Alone in the bathroom

There’s nothing to lose
When no one knows your name
There’s nothing to gain
But the days don’t seem to change
There’s nothing to lose
My notebook will explain
There’s nothing to gain
And I can’t fight the pain

Charles Baudelaire:

Livet är ett sjukhus där varje patient är besatt av längtan att få byta säng.

Man måste alltid vara berusad. Det är allt, det är det, det gäller. För att inte känna tidens förfärliga ok, som krossar och tynger er till jorden, måste ni berusa er, oavlåtligt. Men med vad? - Med vin, med poesi eller med dygd, alltefter behag. Men berusa er!

Smart kille det där.

5.03.2008

Le Poète est semblable au prince des nuées - PARIS



To all those listening, this is my story
About a confused girl and a boy that's boring
So either look at me, stupid and awkward
But you leave and tell me it seems much better

So she'll run away from the problems
She knows distance can't make hearts follow

(a change of pace)

A song that is in my head.

So. Paris.

Day 1
3 hours of sleep the night before made for a very tired-eye journey. As I always roll.
Slept on the airplane from Copenhagen to Charles de Gaulle. Ok, pretended to sleep. Dreamed I changed songs on the iPod, only to wake noticing myself with hanging head and spit dangling from the corner of my mouth. Not changing songs at all. Shuffle.
RER train to Denfernt-Rochereau in Montparnasse, Paris. Check in at Hotel des Voyageurs. Déjeuner dans café Daguerre, du poulet avec des pommes sautées.
Then for some reason. We went to Pasteur. A very interesting bloke, who like experimenting with pasteurization (haha his name, haha). He invented that.
He had a vercy nice abode, very charming indeed. And a really nice grave-place, a crypt to be compared with the one of Napoleon. Gold and intricate decorations.
I love the fact that you can find pâtisseries and boulangeries on practically every street corner. Paris makes you fat. Or makes me fat at least.
Tarte de fraises, éclaire du café et chocolate, du fromage (chevre!), des fraises, baguette, mousse au chocolat, vin du rosé etc.
The room was very nice, and the company too. I'm glad we got to know eachother better.
Missed a certain someone. But I think I messed it up somehow.

Day 2
Musée de Rodin, very interesting. Sculptures by Camille Claudel. L'abandon. Beautiful and thought-provoking, feeling cultural to my very fingertips. getting lost inside a world of art and ideas. Tänkaren. En trädgård. Och mycket regn.
Place des Invalides.
Yes. Des invalides for real, I actually saw one there. But the rest of the people were mostly very (too) healthy and obnoxious tourists. Such as ourselves.
L'église du dome, if it's called that. Somewhat like a Paul Cathedral, only updated in gold. And of course different by the fact that Napoleon's bones are beneath it. Cost money to see his grave, so couldn't be bothered. He was kinda like an asshole anyways, like most bigwigs in history.
Jardin des Tuileries. The last days of the royal family. Guilloutin. And the rest of the bloody history of the French revolution. Not much égalité and fraternité among the tourists there, no sir.
Puddles of rain. Flumm flumm flumm.
Louvren. Just outside, fucking much people.
Place de la Concorde. L'obelisk. Not much to see really, just more people, and a bunch of cars, around this egyptian pillar. Didn't get the charm of it.
Champs-Elysée. Walking there under the flowering chestnut trees, feeling my stomach eating away at itself of hunger. feeling calm and at peace, but still pre-occupied with thoughts of Tokyo. (why??)
Sephora! What a pleasant surprise. Just had to buy something, just because it was Sephora, and just because it was Champs-Elysée. Love that street. If Champs-Elysée was situated in Tokyo, along with the Eiffel Tower, then Tokyo would be absolutely perfect.
L'arc du triomphe. Ate picnic-lunch at the other side of the roundabout, watching the beautiful arch and the confused tourists.
Walked down another avenue. Big street, no shit.
Then we came to a small park, on our way to the Eiffel Tower, where we suddenly were assailed by a hail-storm. Running to take cover, some thunder rolled in aswell. It was quite mighty, and the rain that followed was rena rama syndafloden.
Then we bought an umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh from an indian little boy who obviously liked sex and asked if i did too. (no reply)
then Eiffel Tower and Champs-de-Mars. Beau, beau, beau. très magnifique.
Found a metro and went home after that.
Much wine later at night. Ojojoj :)

Day 3
Kyrkornas och trädgårdarnas förlovade dag.
Som franskaläraren kallade det.
Since it was the 1st of May, they sold fleurs de lis everywhere. And we went to Notre Dame. Spectacular, spectacular, no word in our vocabular. I was completely lost in reveries about the Hunchback of Notre Dame, just because I love that disney version. Adored it when I was little, used to dress up like Esmeralda, and dance. Really have to read the real novel by Victor Hugo. Seriously, I love french. We're gonna do Baudelaires poems now when we get back to french class in school. Love it.
Promenad utmed Seine.
Boring lunch.
Quartiers Latin
L'église St-Germain. The oldest church in Paris. Beautiful star-spangled ceiling.
café du Flore
St. Sulpice, the Rose Line. Here conspiracy theorists gather to try and de-mystify the myths about this magical line. I don't think Da Vinci meant any harm to the church, and Dan Brown, in my eyes, is a very clever guy. Manipulative but brilliant. Love his works and would never partake in people talking shit about him and his works. The Da Vinci code is a really nice read, even if most of it is just nurture for conspiracy theorists. And there was nothing special about the Rose Line in St Sulpice.
Jardin du Luxembourg. A very nice garden. Little children playing with their mini-boats. Could have stayed there all day. Most days. If only the weather was warm and sunny. Tokyo needs this place too.
Panthéon wasn't open, but we saw the exterior before finding our way to Rue Mouffetard, the oldest street in Paris.
We walked down it twice, hungry for crêpes, but didn't find any that looked good.
Jardin des plants, not a very nice garden. Just strange. Greenhouses taken out of the Harry Potter pc games, loved it, felt like I was inside a computer game, inside the hp world. And found this nice pavilion, on a hill with a labyrinth of buxbom leading up to the top.
A long walk back - tired feet and legs. Hurt.
Cimitière du Montparnasse - Sartre + Beauvoir - they're buried here, nice offerings placed on their tomb. Reminded me of when I was at Tolkien's grave in Oxford. people placed like letters and notes, pens and jewelry, flowers and money, on, beside and everywhere around the grave. Not that they can see it anyway.
Finally got our crêpes at a restaurant. With cidre. Mmmmmmmmm...

Day 4
Started with Musée D'Orsay. Shitload of people, queuing for at least an hour before we even got in. And then it was too packed to really enjoy anything. But saw the Masters, the impressionists.
The paintings that really got to me were Parsifal by Redon, L'enfant au chat by Renoir (magical eyes), Salomé II by Corinth, La charmeuse de serpents by Rousseau, Seule by Lautrec and Naissance de Venus by Alexandre Cabanel.
Art is so amazing. felt so much for just creating a masterpiece myself.
After the aerial needs had been fulfilled it was time for the flesh to get its fill. So we went to the Moulin Rouge. Just kidding. We went there, but didn't go into any of the plentiful whore-houses along Clichy. Le butt de Montmartre is really really beautiful. Went up to Sacre-Coeur after getting lost and walking around all of le butt, just taking in the surroundings and the atmosphere. Picnic at the green slopes under Sacre-Coeur. Lolling in the sun for hours.
Then we went to Café Les Deux Moulins. Amélie de Montmartre's café, the place she worked in the movie. That movie is one of my absolute favorites, just because she is so amazing. Can so see myself in her, that's probably why I love it.
Night - last time with cheap delicious wine, last night in Paris. We finally succeeded to log into facebook, which made me write stuff in tipsyness. hehe, sorry about that.
And yeah. We drank. Me more this time.
Wine is good.

Day 5
My head cannot stand effect from when the night began
And I screw my life up evermore as I puke my lungs out on the floor
And I fuck my life up evermore and I shit my heart out on the floor
Allons-y.
Think something happened to my foot. Somewhere between listening to Dresden dolls, trying to get my camera back from stina, shoving her into the table so that all the chocolate spilled like diarrhea, and playing superman, jumping around in the bed.
I'm sorry I'm such a silly person sometimes. åh herregud.
We went down into the Catacombs. Goth esthetics and beautiful death quotes. And of course the bones of the dead. The skulls grinning at you, life so lost but still so alive. (Du önskar att du ska få ett långt liv, även om du lever varje dag som en död)
Lunch. Fraises. Du soleil, enfin. De la glace et une madame danoise.
Charles de Gaulle n'est pas sympa.
But The Rocket Summer is perfect airport music.
Think I was at the same gate as a member from Less Than Jake. But maybe he just had a fucked up haircut.

Security is a fake
I could have brought a bomb
in my shampoo
And now I'm faking illness
Scared of being exposed to the world
Burnt my tongue and retreated

Thoughts. That guy is really cute. Zac Effron look-alike. A glance and I want him. Next moment, I find myself wishing I was a supermodel. So that all guys would want me. And then the recital of all y flaws and faults follow. I definitely think that I gained at least 2 kilos here in Paris.
Patheticness to new heights.

And to finish off with some nice words I scribbled down, letting my mind fly away with me, waiting for take.off.

I'm worse than what I hate
The greatest hypocrite of all

There's a million disadvantages in a soft look
The moment of make-up, make-out, take-out
Street lamps fading in the backseat of a car
Roundabout kisses fading in memory

Living the lies of untruth
kids in designer gear
lost everything but what they wear
and they'll soon lose that too
Undressing under hungry eyes
manipulative madness
and lost hands
bury themselves in indiscretion
So far from what they really crave
the bed will become their grave