26th and running

The winter accelerated to it’s usual blinding speed and then crashed right into, or rather – all through, Christmas. I won’t go into much detail of how I got through this the most stressful and cant of holidays (not to mention rather enjoyed most of it) and just skip ahead to present time.

I’m back on the northbound bus I used to ride too fckng many times a year back in the days when I still studied and played in the best rock band to never release an album. The stubborn monotony of the green, brown and white Norrland landscape gradually induces a state of sweet coma. I had a moment of weird magic half an hour ago when the bus drove into Umeå, hometown of AvsC while My Cool blasted in my ears. Some kind of twisted, familiar irony. (It also reminded me that I have a couple of e-mails to reply to. I just need a day or two in the studio…)

A question that will haunt me all throughout 2008, much as I like the guy’s music:

Who shoved what up Alexis Weak’s arse?

And then another day

The best way I’ve found to get through things is to turn off the cell phone, never even open Mail and get on an aeroplane for two and a half hours. They day has been rough but a turning point in it’s own way. Life begins anew on Friday. See you then.

This week in nonsense

You know how it is. You’ve been constantly accelerating for a couple of weeks/days/hours/years/whatevers. And then everything kind of runs straight into the wall and there’s only so much you can really do about anything. And that’s when you sit down with a cup of tea on a Friday night, spend the weekend playing Monopoly, catching up on sleep and have the time of your life. I have this warm fuzzy feeling that I wish I could catch more often.

I had no idea a game of Monopoly could last for 7 hours. All is well though, The Borg didn’t win.

I’m trying to listen (as in “Listen” listen) to Prince’s double disc greatest to really get into him (never took the time before) but keep getting suckered in by Van She. That EP is ruddy brilliant.

On a side note, look what some kind soul handed me this morning. Anyone who knows my address is cordially invited. I will cordially kick your asses though.

Gothenburg Book Fad

As anyone living in, near or in the general blast radius of Gothenburg will know the Göteborg Book Fair took place this weekend. For me it had three noticeable effects; my cousin Miriam visited, (which was awesome) everyone got extremely drunk and then hung over (and I mean everyone – the entire city’s population and then some 30 000 visitors) and I bought a couple of books. I’ll probably go into more detail later on, including my thoughts on the publisher Natur & Kultur’s things for strippers, (right now I’m opting against posting the videos on Youtube even though it would increase this blog’s traffic by the thousandfold) the brilliant new tracks Miriam introduced me to and how I’m pretty fed up with people doing coke. Get over the eighties already.

All in good time.

An angel dies

This night me, Maria, Peter & Jenny attended the weekly pub quiz at the Red Lion. We were quite decent and racked up a score of 16 out of 30. I also took the time to list Keith Richards as the dead member of Rolling Stones. Mostly for the hell of it.

We did however win the bonus competition (best team name based on a lie your parents told you when you were young) which earned us an unnecessary round of shots. Feel free to join “Every time you touch yourself an angel dies” for an hour of trivia bloodbath next Monday.

It was Peter’s idea. Honestly.

Keeping it up

So here I am listening to Kylie’s supposedly leaked album wondering why I didn’t write any of her songs. A little too tired to actually fall asleep, a few thoughts too many bouncing around.

I guess I’ll get to sleep another night.

Edit: Damn. I thought we agreed we’d had enough for this year.

The First Worthless Evening

So here’s a quick update since I have nothing of real interest to write: I’m alone and panicking.

Usually I like to put on an act that I really, really need my private space. I’m big on not answering the phone(s), not reading my e-mail for five days, not see people for a week straight, never setting iChat-status to anything but “away”. My answering machine says outright that I never check my messages. Yeah, all of that is really easy when there are people around you. Subtract everyone, including the person you live with and I’m climbing the walls within four hours. It’s turning out to be a lousy week unless I find stuff to do. (So don’t hesitate to come up with things to invite me to. Like kicking a football around, kicking some Playstation ass or, oh, go on a Dance Revolution spree at some arcade! Or something that’s not about competition. I’m fine with that too. I’ve even set my iChat status to “Available”.)

In other news…

What is wrong with Don Henley? Did he get an extra songwriting chromosome? Surely he must be missing something, just to even out for the incredible talent he’s been given. I’m guessing his right foot or the ability to eat with cutlery. (There’s probably a word for the latter condition.)

I’m terribly late with a couple of remixes (deadline… yesterday, I think) and should be listening to nothing but dance music. Catch up on Fluokids, mix tapes and the latest releases over at Juno to find inspiration and be on top of the ever anxious house culture. Instead I get suckered in by Don Henley and keep playing The End Of The Innocence over and over again. My Last.fm-chart for next week will suffer from severe Henleyitis.

It was a big big year for fashion, a lousy year for rock and roll.

(My God what a bunch of egocentric me-isms this post turned out to be. I’m terribly sorry and I promise to write something of general interest next time. There I go again. I’m terribly sorry and I promise to…)

Interlude

Here’s what I’ve been up to.

(Picture taken at Fiskebäck.)

Are poor thieves artists?

I just realized that I’ve managed to misquote the quote that gave this blog it’s name. When I hum the line in my head I always add the word “then” to make an upbeat of three eights. The original upbeat of two eights is, of course, a whole lot better. Darn you, mr. Watt.

I’m officially on holiday since Monday morning and have started feeling pretty OK again. The omnipresent fatigue is pretty much gone and the stacks of cds/12″ I bought but never listened to all the way through (or in some cases, didn’t listen to at all) are starting to diminish. I have even started casually reading some of the finer music blogs, idly browsing Virb (Myspace is just too… repulsing) and resubscribed to Lovefingers. There are gems out there. Expect some thoughts on all that soon.

Also expect a list of reasons why turning off your cell phone dramatically increases the quality of your life. And your THUG2 high score.

Pretending it’s not freezing cold

Activity may seem low around here but that’s just because things are moving at 182 km/h (that’s 113.089557 mph) outside of the keyboard/blog/spare time-combo. Two days until I have some time off. I’ll treat you (all… three of you) to movie quotes and other stuff then. For now… here are two filler pictures from Gothenburg. Gothenburg is ice cold this summer (not in the Andre 3000 sense) but we’re doing our best to ignore that fact.

Fredrik at Lokal.

Gustav, 200 7″s, a lawn and warm clothes.