NME Awards.

On the whole, the place is a freakshow.
However I award the prize for best heartwarming moment to Damon Albarn and Graham Coxon "hitting" (oh these journalisms) the stage together after ages of strife and enstrangement. Nice one, boys.




And best group-coordinated outfit to the inexhaustible souce of awesome that is Franz Ferdinand.

YAY for PRIMARY COLOURS! ! !

Thanks for that Alex. <3>

And I give another special award to Robert Smith for looking sweetly like an aging female tobacconist. A sulking, gothic aging female tobacconist.

D'aw!

I could continue by giving away awards for Looking Identical - but I wouldn't know whether to give it to Alex James and Freddie-from-Skins or to Last Shadow Puppets ... or for Worst Outfit Of Your Career, Sorry My Lad to Patrick Wolf (Sorry, my lad!), and so on and so forth.
But I am trying to keep this here blog succinct and sweet, and a pleasure to read.

Spooky.

I have just realised (once more) how the events in my life bear an uncanny resemblance to Jeph Jacques' "Questionable Content". (I wonder if I can make my eyes go red like that?)

Well, of course, if you try enough, you can make anything resemble anything, and you can make yourself believe anything. Which is not exactly clever, but it is oh so much more pleasant than raw, abrasive truth. I do what I always do on such occasions and try to see the ridiculous side of everything, until enough time has passed to lull me back into pleasant sleep.
Why-oh-why am I not a super-hot female? Fairhaired and nimble. That kind of thing never happens to those.

Full circle.

Please listen to: The 6ths - Give me back my dreams.

Defining lyric:
You can take my heart
It was always yours
Just give me back my dreams.

And I mean it, because I don't function very well on less sleep than I deserve.

What on earth am I going to do?

Knowledge is Power.

Wisdom: Its much easier to lie to yourself when no one but you knows the truth. So shut up and eat up.

Uslu Airlines

These so fall into the category "What I want but cannot afford." They're 19 € each. And even more perplexing, the shipping to Austria is 26 € even though their headquarters are in Germany.
But I am sort of obsessed with them. Especially the green one, Lesquin.
Oh, give us money.

Grå Moln

I want this desperately:

Stockholm!

I finally got my head round to uploading those photos.
I apologise: They're all very poor quality because I am a bad shot with a crappy camera. Then there was never enough light, and one was constantly reluctant to stop and stare and find the time to take a picture because of the cold. So the photos are even worse than mine usually are. But at least they should give you an approximate idea of what we were up to, during those 4 and a half days.

First contacts with the swedish language.

Travel Companion

The niceness turns to slush at our feet.

Me neither!

Foggy Pålsundet as seen from Långholmsbron.


What I ask for in a town: An ample supply of narrow cobbled streets!


Tyska Kyrkan.
It's almost impossible to take in the size of the church inbetween those tiny alleys. And of course, the very top is obscured by fog.


These are not my own glasses. I covet them, though.
(This is our hostel room, which used to be a prison cell.)


We love the sea, and we love ports.


"Dear Diary. Things I learned today: The Vasa museum is not about knäckebröd."


On the last morning, there is finally enough light. But no more time, or money.


We love to fly, and we love airports.


Hej do!

What I've been doing recently ...

Please ...

... excuse my silence.

Let yourself be entertained, meanwhile, by my five-year-old self dressed up as Pippi Longstockings and eating messily.

Because you don't have the time

Seabear: You're Not Strange Enough (Hey, Let's Make Some Mistakes)

You know, you and I
We used to be strangers
But now we are just strange

And I'll fall asleep on your floor
I'll wake up outside of your door
And I'll put you in a stone
Made out of words

Because I can see
You're up to no good
Yeah I can see
You're down to just stacks

And it's warm enough to be cold
And we're young enough to be old

You're not strange enough
You're not strange enough

Bringing the "eek!" back into weekdays!

What's it all about these days?
A few impressions.


The venerable Effi @ Café Carina



Planet Earth ...


... and Outer Space.


... and Scrabble. We're pretty good.

Will I sleep tonight?

Having gone through the traumatic experience of watching Dancer in the Dark, I can add to my lists of daily sources of consolation, I'm really happy that I am not Lars von Trier.
I liked the film (although it seems wrong to say that about something so terrible), I think it's a masterpiece, but I just would not like to inhabit the mind that spends its days thinking of stories like this ... or Dogville.
Nevertheless, Björk is amazing, and I'd gladly swap her face for mine, if that was possible. She is adorable, bewildering and impressive at the same time. Wow.