This is Radio Freedom

Take me to the worst party in town
Put your finger in my martini

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Start your iTunes. Click on Radio. Click on "Eclectic" and find PigRadio. I did.

Standing in the shadows at the end of my bed

In a clear and intense dream last night my cold was diagnosed as a terminal illness. Without any newfound wisdom or clarity, I began living out the last days of my life feeling empty and finally proven right in my prophecies that I could not possibly deserve all this. I remember wearing a bath robe, drinking wine out of a duralex glass.

Go go go kart

There I go, in the lead


And here I come, placing first

And there I stand, tall and proud

Listen closely

..to todays songs, (just click on the "1. Little boxes" and the music player will start..)

Webcam of my house...

Top right corner house..

Sketches for my sweetheart the football fan

Hi baby
I went to the park this evening. Sitting in a chilly office all day looking out at a perfectly blue sky has made me envy the unemployed, and I felt that I should try to profit from some of the sun instead of just whining about it. So I took my bike and my book and my backpack to the city park, and I found a spot that would offer anther hour or two of waning sunlight. These are the kind of summer days when even these dying rays are warm enough to feed your skin with energy and warmth.
As usual I was alone. This was one of the things I thought about. I am not a very lonely person, and I certainly have no problem socialising or meeting people. To my own surprise, a fantastic group of the worlds most beautiful people gathered in my back yard last saturday for my moving in-party

((I use parenthesis the way you teach me) and there and then I thought of the TAW song where he sings "It's summer here, with the worlds most beautiful people", a very true summer feeling I recognise(and thinking of Tomas of course made me think of you))

and this alone could stand as some sort of proof that I have no real trouble making friends. But somehow, and this is what I thought of tonight, as I have many times, somehow I still manage to spend most of my time alone. Days and nights go by, and I can hear of others in short glimpses of another kind of life, where there's always a group of people going out for beer, having a barbecue, playing freesbee. I have seen people from around me mix while I stand here on the sideline, waiting and watching.
And I really don't want to make out as if I'm complaning, but I really wonder what it is that I'm not doing, or doing wrong. This is one of those things that make me claim that I have my fair share of social handicaps. There are these things about group socialising that I just don't get. These instinctive flock behaviours that everybody seem to go through with the ease of a water slide, I feel like the only penguin left on the ice. When did everybody else slide in?
Because that's the thing. I have no special preference for this solitude. Sure, I like a fair amount of time on my own, and I have quite a few hobbies to keep me busy, but a lot of times I wouldn't mind going to the park for kubb or whatever.
And let me also add that, sure, maybe I can be little stand-offish. And lazy. So, it's not as if nobody invites me anywhere. That's not it. It's the nuance of never have been apart of a group, never having flown with a flock.
Just a long, brooding thought. Thinking it took a lot shorter than writing it down.
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And then I thought a longer thought. And this thought was, as I was looking around at all these groups and couples, summer dressed and happy, and having assessed myself as being the only loner

(and again, I don't want to complain, all I wanted to do was to soak up some sun and read my great book)

, this next thought I thought was of you. I thought of what I might want more, and I looked at the couple on the next blanket and I really really wanted you, just you, to be there. You wouldn't have to say anything or do anything, I would just have loved to lie with you inches away on a blanket, reading.
This was a long and floating thought.
I thought it as I was sitting, stealing glances at the happy couple next to me

(it seems these days, just about any girl I see, all she does is remind me of you).

I thought it as I lay on my back, thinking how the little stringy clouds high above looked the same as still photographs of thin powdered snow being blown into snaky patterns on the asphalt behind timber trucks.
I thought of it as I wondered where I would take you if we got up north this summer.
I thought of it as I fiddled with my remaining dreadlocks

(I haven't told you yet, but I finally cut them. Now, there's only a tuft of them left, hare-krishna style, on my head).

I thought of you, and then I thought I'd write this open letter to you.
Hope you read it
Hope you like it

There were three police cars and a fire engine as well

Yo skids

Last night I went out walking at 3 am. I thought I might get some interesting photos of Uppsala. And maybe I did or maybe I didn't, but I did have some strange experiences. Two meetings of an older generations quite polarised views of ME, or rather of the Youth.
The first was while I was taking some photos of grafitti paintings in an underpass. A couple around 45-50, slightly drunk, happened by. The man, who did most of the communicating asked what I was doing and if he also could be in the "film". I said they were only stills, but to humor him I took his picture. As they parted, jovially staggering supported by each other, he made affirmations as to the necessety to Live for Art.
At the end of my walkabout I had to cross the train tracks at the station house to get home. As I walked along the platform, a bell started chiming and a flashing light told me to "stop". So I did. And as I had my camera with me and nothing better to do while I waited, I set the tripod up and looked around for the train to come. A man from across the tracks adressed me. I don't remember his exact frasings, but he kept asking what I was doing and what I would take a picture of. Confused I tried to keep a ready out for the train while saying that it was the oncoming train I was photographing. He seemed agitated and angry and finally his line of questioning revealed why. "It's because it's painted isn't it?" he said. "Why else would someone be out at this time". I was shocked and delighted to have been mistaken for a delinquent, and felt a surge of adrenalin. I argued with him for a while, saying he was a very prejudiced man, and that had he looked around at the glowing pink morining sky he would understand that there are many reasons to take a camera out at 3:30 in the morning. He, meanwhile, didn't relent, didn't listen. Finally, realising he could do nothing about the situation, neither the real one nor his imagined one, the bitter conductor growled "Well, now I know what you look like". I congratulated him as he was walking away and the train entered the station. I didn't get any good shots, but I am thinking of documenting train grafitti and tags as a photo project.

Gnight

Part II - In which a world record is broken

So, since I promised I better get on with my story of how I spent my time on Ireland.
The Girl met me at the bus stop. It was surreal. It was like coming home and still feeling like a stranger in a strange land. Again with her, I was filled with the sensation of being out of place, undeserving, like I was mistaken for someone else and let into a fancy party.
Walking home to her place, we just talked and kissed. I don't remember this time in any great detail, still upset and focused on my material losses and the precarious situation it had caused me. Dropping off my stuff was the plan, but we fell into each other and rested at her place for a while. I have to add that it was quite a dump. Sorry baby, but I think you felt so too.
Then we strolled over to Baby's sister to watch Lost and pick up an extra pillow and a cdplayer. As I look back, writing this, that looks good, the bare essentials. Two lovers, a pillow and a cdplayer. And from the memories, more than any street or café in Galway, those things seem to have taken a big place.
Sister was nice, she didn't grill me, she didn't give me the evil eye, the crook eye or even the stink eye. I was somehow expecting her to be very protective. Why? I don't know. Because of how precious I feel the Girl is perhaps. We spent an hour or so with her and her flatmates, watching Lost as I said, and they were nice as well.
The first few days went as follows. Kissing a lot, hugging a lot, walking a lot, sleeping some, buying stuff i needed, going to cafés. Wednesday night, we arranged so that I and Sister was to cook, as The Girl was at work (café, part time) and we whipped up quite a nice dinner. An eclectic mix of simple and yet exquisite foods such as blue cheese gratinated tomatoes, bruschetta, grilled vegetables, wine... I felt we did a good job, and got a chance to get to know each other a bit. Which also went well.
Thursday, we had made plans to rome a bit, so we hired a car and took it for a few miles around some really strange places before finding the routes we were looking for and finally the Letterfrack Old Monastery hostel. It was like a little adventure, driving around the islands west of Galway, ending up at a cul-de-sac called Lettermullen which at least had a small store which supplied us with cookies, bananas, apples and informed us of our actual lokation which was a hop, skip and a jump from where we thought we were. Backtracking, we took some precautions to ask for the way when in doubt.
Coming up toward the Connemara, it finally felt like we were moving somewhere. Mountains rose out of the mist, and the road signs were back to English, having been all in Irish during our stumble in the western county Galway. Slaloming through, we stopped a few times just to get a look and take some air in. At some point, the stunning Kylemore Abbey came out of the trees across a small lake, like a Disneyland Castle but better.
This was my second trip to the Old Monastery, and I loved it again. Such a nice hostel, with a feeling that is for me unique. I promised yet again to return and spend more time. During thursday afternoon we managed to go for a naturewalk in the connemara national park, eat a tiny serving of veggie spring rolls, drive what I think was called the Connemara ring, and last but not least, sneak into the grounds of the aforementioned Abbey where we met some spooky girls who spoke with a german accent, smoked and rode skateboards. Ghosts, most likely, because who ever heard of an all-girl boarding school run by nuns in this day and age. "There used to be a school there but something terrible happened.. " and so forth.
We spent only one night there. I felt we could have spent forever. This is now 4 nights together and I was still feeling like it was all amazing. So much for worrying about annoying each other after a while.
Instead we raced back in the morning, afraid to be late with the rental car. Of course we were hours ahead of time. Friday night I was beginning to feel the beginning of the end. I knew, The Girl would be working saturday, and so, time was suddenly not on our side but against us.
Saturday, I went with Sister and her friends to Lahinch to attend a Guinness world record attempt at getting the most surfers on a single wave. Although the weather was really the worst, that is calm, cold and completely still. Finally the tide brought in some surfable waves and, i have learned in retrospect, they actually did beat the record. Something like 46 surfers on one single wave. It left me relatively untouched, but I did appreciate the band that was playing before the attempt AND the pie I had for lunch.
As the afternoon progressed I kept looking at my watch. I didn't want to get back late to Galway. I really didn't want to miss a moment with The Girl. Fortunately we got back before she got off work.
Then I spent the last night in Galway.
Then I went home.
The End.