Suburban Bounty

These are pics from Karolina's and Egil's home, where I had my get out of the house floor polishing work day. And what a good day! Hey you, let's do it again, shall we?

Today I feel so excited I feel weak. This could backfire. On the other hand, since I'm a funny little beast I keep forgetting I'm excited. I think it's a normal day. And then I remember.

So what's happened?

Well of course there is tonight, but that's a bit too far away for my childish mind. Tonight is tonight. I'll revel in it when it happens. No, it's a minor task, something one might say is quite everyday:y that's got me in this mood.

I'm gonna do something that Bookofmiri does a lot, and you know what? I'm not gonna do it out of necessity and I'm even gonna try and enjoy it!

Figured it out yet?

Funny because it's true

Don't we remind you of Betty and Don Draper in suavity, handsomeness and composure? I think so.

I think I'm the only one in the world who really likes this photo.

Tomorrow it's one year with the Glenn. I've already advertised about this great event but here goes one more time:

Babajan, Katarina Bang 73, Stockholm, 21-01

Flexi DJing til our arms drop and we become DJ Handsfree the brutal version. The icing on the cake is we'll play our first Colouroïd track Red Star. My my. I'm not sure it'll be the final ultimate version, but great and loving and fun it'll be for sure.

PS1. Great things to do with make up.
PS2. Are people really this dumb?

Last last weekend: Ice ice liebling

Glenn determinedly sliding away for his Norwegian lookout castle.

After Kaknästornet we did one of the things that I like the best - take an ice walk. It's even better with sunshine, the little shards of ice glittering into you eyes, a crisp sensation. I love the fact that your city can suddenly start feeling like wilderness or something aged that doesn't relate to now.

The idea was to take a glass at beloved Blå Porten but it was breaking at the seams from mothers and babies and retired people and tourists, it sounded more like a merry beer hall than a quaint little Carl Larsson:y place.

So we went home.

Today, this morning, sitting in bed with the sheets wrapped around me, this feels very far away. What will next weekend be like, starting off with our musical celebration?

Last weekend: World from afar

After all the art we had a dinner party at home and then shot off to celebrate a birthday in the name of acid.

Sunday morning called for brunch... I longed for a place full of light and sunshine. How about Kaknästornet? Probably because I'm a Stockholmare since birth I've never been.

Vego brunch at the 28th floor, there's nothing wrong about that.

The view inspired me to start a Flickr set for my growing collection of cities as seen from telescopes. I'll keep the pics coming, little by little.

The enormous, lovely Babajan bar sign.

PS. This Friday Glenn and I celebrate our one year anniversary at Babajan with a Flexi DJset and also we'll play our first Colouroïd track! Welcome!

Last weekend: Three women

After Lee Miller we attended Shirin Neshat's Women without men and Hyun-Jin Kwak's Girls in Uniform, both of them at Kulturhuset.

Of Kwak's work I especially liked Agonist, that would be very scary pretty at home, well in the next much bigger home, where there are walls and walls in abundance.

For me, Lee Miller was the strongest experience of the day though, the ease and topic choice and the exquisiteness of the quality of the photos and the slight sepia tint in the black and white:dness.

I didn't like that they had written that the reason she was able to cope with the horrors of war was because she'd been sexually abused as a child. I don't think they'd justify a male war correspondent's capability in any such fashion. Do you?

Today my laptop is firmly placed on my other Perstorp kitchen table that resides in a suburb of Sthlm. The hallway floor is being polished and I'm not welcome home 'til tonight.

Last weekend: The garden of green people

A visit to Millesgården was the beginning of a long beautiful weekend that did end in some grumpiness on my part. I took 196 photos - but don't worry, I'll only post a few...

Lee Miller at Millesgården, what a good exhibition, a talented artist and an interesting life. The humour and the grimness, side by side.

I especially liked the human breast on a plate photo, even though I can barely look at it.

Have a happy Monday folks, I'm as tired as can be.

Dia de los Owl

We've got a new friend, a slightly menac:y looking owl that is surprisingly reminicent of a Mexican Dia de los Muertos scull. It seems my uncle and his wife gave it to my parents many years ago, and no one really took to it. Until now, of suorce. I wonder if they gave it 'cos they liked it so much, or because they didn't?

(The image links to its' original location.)

I wish I knew a little something about it and what's behind its' gloomy exterior. It has a tiny smudgy red and silver sticker that seems to say SÖL twice, but that doesn't mean anything to me.

Who are you, tiny owl?

Flexi Fünf

Looking at these pics from Wednesday's DJgig at El Mundo, I start thinking of Potemkin (pronounced potjomkin as part of the pleasure, then try and say Kleine Ulrichstrasse five times quickly), the only good bar in Halle-am-Saale. Mind you I was there last in 2007.


In 2007 Halle was like wading in lukewarm milk. I had followed my friend Anja there, she had an exhibition, her last before she moved on to performances and installations and a great book project that I'll tell you about once it's released (I can't wait!). Halle had in my view become quite preppy and commercial and mundane.


I lived there in 2004, before I had taken to photos. Then it was quite lovely - so poor, dark and boring. Everywhere beautiful houses and tiny pink palaces falling apart. Every second house was restored, and every other dark shambles. Ghost tram tracks led straight into walls of buildings - a photo opp waiting to be ceased.


I lived in a bad part, that wasn't very bad. The flat was heated with coal ovens. You had to go down to the basement and chop wood and shovel coal to commence the slow heating process. I couldn't handle the axe and was allergic to coal dust, so Norman my flatmate and landlord kindly prepared the ovens for me so they would be on when I got home. I slept on the floor on a mattress next to the oven dressed in all the clothes I owned including two overcoats. When I took a bath I went into the tub still dressed. Slowly as the water defrosted me I'd peal the layers off. Outside my window was the helicopter platform for Europe's biggest hospital specialising in car accidents.

All of this I miss kindly - though I don't want to go back. I'm still in touch with Norman and saw him last this summer. I'd love to see his wife Renata, their kids and Russian dog.

Potemkin. A tiny bar with round marble tables and black silk wallpapers, a crowded dark corridor, perfect. Should you ever pass by Halle, have a coffee, a drink or a meal. Or take a walk along the river or a peak at the castle that holds the art school. Halle also has a theater where actors play alongside puppets as big as themselves. And three beautiful old cinemas, and absolutely nothing there is in English.

PS. A portable city. Magical lovely.