Paper and Death

I am here in the festive exile that is my parents' house. It's actually not very festive at all. Somehow I'm not feeling it very much this year, and I am much too neurotic to feel peaceful. However, it's quite a pleasant neurosis, if there is such a thing.
So here's my brother playing Adeste Fideles on his bass, and I'm sitting in my room trying not to fall asleep over Kafka, or considering if I really want to watch Lord of the Rings (it's such a Christmassy thing to do). And all the while I'm going pleasantly mad inside.

Anyway let's have some pictures.

Me. Wearing the lovely scarf I got from Irina and Lisa. (It's got foxes on!)



One of the strangest (but coolest) presents I ever got. From Eva. Piggy.


The bed that I will purchase on Saturday, with the money my parents gave me.


Shame that I cannot afford all the complicated accessories that make it worthwhile. (Which is something I actually said to my parents last night. Naturally I was referring to sheets and pillows. Err.)

What an odd entry.

Would you like to come over and trash some furniture?

It's a boy!

There was a mutant baby pepper inside my orange bell pepper.
They will take over the world.

Með hjartað í buxunum ...

So many things were done yesterday. None of them can be spoken of.
With my heart in my mouth
With my heart in my pants
Hoppípolla ... Hopp í þér. Ég vill búa inn í þér.

Throw girl scouts at ticket touts. That way both parties suffer.

If I had one wish
I would invert all the colours
just for one day.

I just gave 35€ to an arsehole, just like that.
But, wtf! No regrets!

Of Fingernails and Bumper Rails

Significant. Other.

Currently drawing energy from ...

Ed Harcourt - Shadowboxing

Hanging off the bridge by a fingernail
Trapped in the harbour when the ship set sail
Boy you're one card short of the pack
Begging for your baby to take you back
Stubbed a cigarette out on his hand
Scrawls her name across the sand
But it disappears like King Canute
The tide didn't like his attitude

Always shadowboxing
Face up and throw your gloves in
Lose your imaginary friends
Always good for nothing
She can't ever love him
No man is ever innocent

Bouncing off the walls with no wish to land
Erase your fingerprints and your retina scan
'Cause there's no point in the life that he should lead
Chain his leg to a piano and sink through the weeds
Gone are all the dreams that last forever
He towed the line when never meant never
They had something better than the cynical beast
Weren't sucked in by the popular disease

Always shadowboxing
Face up and throw your gloves in
Lose your imaginary friends
Always good for nothing
She can't ever love him
No man is ever innocent

This song reminds me of being in England. Therefore it makes me feel nostalgically good, and simultaneously ancient. It was 2 years ago. Other people have changed their lives since then. I still feel the same. Everything is different, somehow, but it's not like I've yet got any laurels to rest on.

Dringlichkeit besteht immer.

Hahaha, I can't believe it. There's rumours now that there might be a Smiths reunion in the course of the following year.

Link To Article Thingy

Seems like the financial crisis is the best thing that could have happened to us. :)
What a strange world this is.

Shame that Jarvis is much to righteous to be motivated by monetary matters to initiate a reunion. If Pulp got back together that would solve all my problems. <3

Kevin, Hidden Topshop Model

Eva says, this is true friendship:



I say, friendship's got nothing to do with it. :)
In fact, it's sort of an unforgivable offense that it looks better on him than it ever will on me.

The dress costs as much as the tickets for the blur gig.
I am, somehow, sublty, nearing a nervous breakdown.

Try, try again.

July 3rd, Hyde Park

See you at the mindreaders ball.

COLANDER

All I want for Christmas is a pink or yellow colander. Actually this is not true, I would rather prefer if people didn't give me kitchen supplies. I respect kitchen supplies, but they're somewhat unromantic.


The most romantic thing I can think of, at the moment, is being snowed in. If I was snowed in, though, I'd rather have a large cured hind leg of pork in the house.


Almost unrelatedly, don't you just love how xkcd crawls into your head, all? No? Just me then?

McStudio

For the last two days we've turned our rehearsal room into a little makeshift recording studio. Four songs were recorded, and these (rather crappy) photos were shot:



Matthi is fledging already!


Once more with feeling ...


Gregor. Tuning. As per.


Martin, a.k.a. the Wizard of Sounds.


We have cake, and a gallows.


I am sure that it is a violation of human rights to take photos of someone while they're playing a wind instrument.