Sunday, November 29, 2009

how very very very disturbing.

Obviously, I'm all for such a thing as an "Entertainment industry", but sometimes it just gets to be too ridiculous. Now, most people know who Aaron Carter is. In 1997, Aaron Carter released his first album, simply entitled "Aaron Carter". Carter was 10 years old at the time. Since we're used to this kind of thing, that does not appear to be odd. But when you look at the song titles, and content of the songs, the whole thing becomes extremely dumb. Remember the hit single from the album, called "Crazy little party girl"? Crazy.little.party.girl. Really? It might just be me, but I'm very confused about what a 10-year old, crazy little party girl does. Does she flash her non-existent boobs? Does she drink herself stupid off alchohol that she can't get anywhere? Does she have promiscuous sex? All things that come to mind are very disturbing. I'm assuming "crazy" implies dancing vividly, giggling like a retard and running around a lot, but isn't that something all 10-year olds do? In any case, I'm not following.



Or what about this one? This is 12-year old child star, Amy Diamond's song "What's in it for me?". It's also pretty dumb. The sentence leading up to the chorus is "I'm not a perfect little girl, but I should get what I deserve, and I refuse to be your mother". This sentence could mean two things:

1. This 12-year old girl is dating someone who should be able to take care of himself, but isn't, thus forcing her to act like his mother and caretaker. For that to be valid, he'd at least have to be 18 years old, since nobody demands that you take care of yourself before that age. So, what we've got here is an 18 year old dating a 12 year old. How romantic.

2. She's dating a boy of similar age, who just can't get his shit together. He goes back and forth, he's unsure of what he wants, and he just keeps messing with her mind. I just became a lot uncooler, since I wasn't even remotely interested in romantic mindfucking at that age. Or any kind of fucking, for that matter. I just wanted to play soccer.

So, miss Amy Diamond, I guess your question still remains to be answered. What is in it for you? Well, if you're dating an 18 year old, teen pregnancy is invevitably in the cards for you. And if you're dating a 12-year old mindfucker, again, teen pregnancy is probably in it for you. Have fun with that. Hey, what if it's a song about abortions?



This whole thing has made me realize what my next project should be. I'm going to write a book of poetry, called "Is it legal?" The book is meant to put emphasis on all the forbidden love out there. Here's a sneak peak:

Looking at you standing over there
So firm and nice
Should I walk over?
Would you mind?
Red, Intense, Love, Hate, Doubt
Your friends are all so cool
My mind is racing
Would people understand our love?
Feelings might get hurt
But what do I know?
I just want to be with you
Forever
Or at least until you're 13 or so


I told you this shit is really disturbing.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

fail.

I still can't get over the fact that I went to Bowery Hotel and missed that one of Sweden's most famous bands played that night. It's not often that you get to see a band that normally plays for 20 000 people, play for a crowd of 200.



The fact that I missed it, makes me feel something like this:

Friday, November 27, 2009

Thursday, November 26, 2009

contemplaficinations

We currently do not have any furniture in our apartment, which is why I'm eating pasta on the floor. It's almost becoming somewhat of a theme. Or "följetong", as we would say in Swedish. I don't know what the Sri Lankan word for theme is. That is why we have google, people.



Also, I've been thinking about New York lately. I have no desire to move there now, but it's always been my ambition to move there at some point, at least. Life there is too intense for what I'm after right now. And right now, I don't feel like living in a city where people don't hang out during the day. I'd like to think that there are other things to do but work and party. Especially when 98 % of the parties consist of standing around, trying to be be cooler and caring less about shit than everyone else. At least on Manhattan. So, what age shall we say then? Maybe 26? 28? 32? To be honest, I'll probably move to New York when I'm under the faux impression that I'm at my peak in life, and then I'll leave again because I'll realize that I actually don't want any part of it.

Until then, I'm just going to continue watching Charlie in "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia". He is, without a doubt, my favorite character right now.


Wednesday, November 25, 2009

New Years resolution

I think I know what my New Years resolution is going to be this year. I'm giving myself 5 years to have visited all these countries. As you can tell, Africa hasn't really captured my interest.















The following would also be really cool, but are secondary choices:













See you there.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

old polaroids part 2


Me and Anna, New York 2007


Erik, Me, Linus, Ines and Mylie, Gothenburg 2007


Joel, New York 2007


Evy, Paris 2007


Joel, New York 2007


Homeless man and Me, New York 2007


Me, New York 2007


Holly, New York 2007


Me and Miel, Paris 2006


Erik, Paris 2006

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Use a condom.

Let me tell you about how messed up my laptop is: The CD-drive doesn’t work, the computer needs to be plugged into the wall at all times, I have to move the mouse constantly if I want the internet to work, and the following keys don’t work: A, Z, CAPS LOCK and Tab. Oh, and I saved the best one for last. This stupid computer won’t let me empty my own trashcan, because I do not have ”sufficient priviligies to perform that action”. What the fuck does that mean? I bought the computer. If I don’t have sufficient priviligies, then who does? Is there a person out there who’s unaware of the fact that now only he has the sufficient priviligies to empty the trashcan on my computer? Do I need to set off on some sort of quest to find this person? I’m telling you, it’s like the Sword in the fucking Stone. King Arthur, if you’re reading this, I need your help pulling the sword out of my trashcan, please.

I honestly don’t get it. Did my computer just wake up one day and decided, ”nu-uh, you’ve lost all priviligies to this body”? I've never encountered such defiance in my own home. It's quite shocking. And this raises all kind of weird questions for me. Was I a bad owner? Did I not treat it right? I always made sure there was a fresh power supply nearby, I always gave it the best new software, and I bought a case to keep it warm. Sure, I might have smacked it around a bit when it didn’t do what I told it to, but I never took it too far. All I ever asked in return for taking care of it, was that I got to play around with it a little bit after a hard day at work. Is that so bad? Many people will probably say yes, but I bet all those people have young, hot office-computers that they can play with, thus relieving them of everyday stress.

Well, in any case, I’ve had enough. If anyone wants to take my belligerent, ungrateful, dumbass computer off my hands, feel free. Because I’m fucking out .


Friday, November 20, 2009

old polaroids part 1


Ever since I can remember, I've been taking Polaroids. Now, most of you will think that means I've always had a Polaroid-camera. That is not the case. I'm just bad at remembering things that happened before 2006. Especially since my life before high-school was pretty much the most boring, shitty, inbred existence ever. Now, I have hundreds of old Polaroids lying around, and I really want to post them, but I haven't gotten around to scanning them all. If you've read this blog for a while, you'll probably recognize most of these, but I thought all the new readers might enjoy them. I hate the fact that I need to point this out, but yes, these are actual polaroids. They are not an online program that adds a white border to your photographs, so you don't have to pay the extra money that polaroids cost.


Me, Erik and Linus in our apartment, Paris 2006


Anna and Alli, New York 2007


Linus, Stockholm 2007(?)


One of my first shoots, Paris 2006


Darjeeling, India 2007


Peter, Linus and Andreas with stolen sign, Gothenburg 2007(?)


Anna, New York 2007


Busy P and SoMe, Paris 2006


Holly. New York, 2007


Me eating pizza, New York 2007


This was right before Maja left for Brazil, and we were talking about how she is going to be a great photographer. She proved this by cropping off my head in this photograph.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Special, yet ordinary people.

Remember when tv used to be fun? You know, splendid shows like 90210, Melrose Place, Sunset Beach, etc etc. They're brilliant. To me, they could almost be compared to Kafka, in the sense that nothing ever really happens, but every chapter is still every bit as intriguing and well written as the last. Anyway, today I finally figured out what those epic shows are actually about. They're not about nothing, in fact, that couldn't be further from the truth. If you think about it the next time you watch one of them, you'll realize it, too.

I know the shows are meant to portray ordinary people, who always manage to get themselves into tricky, yet exciting situations. That's what you're supposed to think. Maybe that's what the script writers think, too. But I know the truth. These shows are about a very specific, ancient type of people, that have only appeared a select few times throughout history. I'm talking about "people who don't walk straight into a room, but for some reason, stop for a couple of minutes just around the corner, to listen if their name is being mentioned in the other room, so that they can hear things that they would be better off not knowing". Those people.

I mean, who does that? Who stops for a while outside every room, to listen if their name is being mentioned. Since this happens all the time in every episode, it's impossible that it just happens by chance. I mean, the characters have to play the odds somehow. Don't get me wrong, I love all shows mentioned above, but they're supposed to be about normal people. And by "normal", I don't mean boring, I mean "not insane". How you'd even pitch a concept like this to a producer is beyond me.

"New shows. Brainstorming-time, come on."
"Sir, I have an idea that I think could be great."
"What is it?"
"Well, you know how, when you enter a room, you kind of just enter? Or maybe even knock?"
"Yes."
"Well, what if you didn't?"
"Didn't what?"
"Didn't just enter rooms. You stopped outside every single room to hear if anyone is saying bad things about you."
"Why would I do that? That's creepy.
"That's what makes the show unique, sir!"
"Wow, that sounds pretty dumb. Continue."

We all know where they went from there.


Saturday, November 14, 2009

Please let us pay you to shoot something you don't care about.

I don't have anything against the concept of marriage. You know, you get everything down on paper, you get to announce your love to the world, and you get to throw a huge party where everyone pretend like things last forever. It's pretty cute, actually. What I fail to understand, is why people's cerebral capabilities seem to greatly devolve, whenever their wedding is coming up. Do you know how much money people spend on weddings? It makes me genuinely angry when I hear people talk about it. Especially since you always hear people talk about it, as if it's a good thing to spend as much as possible. It might just be me, but I'd like to think that people get married because they are in love, not because they share the same monetary retardation. Even cutting costs in half, you could still throw a magnificent party, you just have ditch some of the abundant crap. More specifically, I'm talking about the concept of "Wedding photographers", aka the biggest bullshitters in any hemisphere.

These people charge like 3 000 dollars to maneuver a camera that has an automatic setting which works just fine with anyone operating it. Why can't you put 3 000 dollars in a savings account, give it to charity, or buy a midget entourage instead? All of those things make more sense than paying some moron that much money to shoot something he doesn't give a shit about. I'd even venture to say you'd get better photos if your little niece was running around with disposable cameras. At least that'd be original.

But then there are really great wedding photographers that know how to take really artsy shots, thus giving everything that little extra edge, and making your wedding memories extra special. That's not the case, though. Those photographers are simply at a party where they don't know anyone, and they're fucking bored. That's why they're taking stupid photos of hands linked together, flower arrangements, and mirror reflections of rice flying through the air. In fact, if you know anyone who's having a wedding, and doesn't know a single person who can maneuver a digital camera, give me a call and I'll come do it for free. I will eat roadkill before spending that much money on someone who probably just couldn't hack it within the category of photography where he/she initially wanted to place himself.



Other things that have been going through my mind today:

-What are "Oriental flavored noodles" supposed to taste like? The orient?
-It sucks being sick on your last couple of days in New York.
-People who think someone like Adriana Lima is the most beautiful girl in the world. You people are easier to please than puppy dogs.
-I really want to see The Fantastic Mr Fox.


Thursday, November 12, 2009

fan vad gemängligt


Here are some pictures from the past week or so. It includes Boys Noize, Basement Jaxx, fashion shoots and general randomness. Also, I broke my camera. You won't believe it when I tell you how, it's ridiculous. So, we were waiting for the JMZ at Lorimer Street, a station that is above ground. And by above ground, we're talking 30 feet, at least. Anyway, I was drunk and chewing a piece of gum. When I felt like I was done with the gum, I wanted to spit it out and kick it in the air. I did manage to kick the gum in the air, but as I kicked it, my Yashica T4 slipped out of my pocket, and dropped 30 feet onto the pavement. Boys will be boys, huh?




















pics: Rob the cop