Polyb

Format

2010-12-02T14:30:00.006+01:00

I will not let Facebook kill away any further blogposts, dammit!
Its not facebook per se that is the culprit but rather the limits on character amount when writing status updates. They sure are market friendly arent they?
Any longer ponderings or in depth expositions are rendered effectively dead. Of course, if your adhering to a laconian rhetoric go ahead, make my day!
Either we all turn Spartan or we see facebook for what it is – a crippling mode of communicating thoughts and ideas that doesnt allow for longer textual expositions.

Thats the realisation I have come to these last couple of days.
And it may very well contribute to some more blogposts being rolled out on this site.

Hollow Reaction

2010-08-23T23:06:00.002+02:00

Moments of deception, with burning hatred in my breath.
To stray this much with my everyday suicides.
Exhaustion in the fleeting. Appraisal of the feeble.
The dreaming beyond our presence. Unrevealing.

Lost the nerve chilled unto the last touch.
Towards the mindscapes of an insane soul.
In a thousand pieces, struck out in sudden chock.
Cut deep, in my presence. Bleeding in a hollow reaction.

Stray this much with my everyday suicides.
In complete disconnection.

Within my total darkness. I stab at the shadows, the curtains of fear.
Scarred by the perception of a world in fire. I reach complete
disconnection as my soul turns cold.

Let it all die away in the discomfort of the masses.
Against the cliffs crushed by the Nights dark waves.
With the light blinding our minds eye. From the living our beings disconnected.
Emancipation through estrangement. Our actions disaffected.

Miramar

2010-07-08T18:37:00.001+02:00

Just listen to this duo from Puerto Rico.
So nostalgic!

Miramar (music)

Solos

2010-06-04T00:51:00.008+02:00

Me dices que si, claro que si, y salimos juntos en la noche
La ciudad nos caza, nos quiere matar – escapamos hacia adentro.
Tu corazon se llena de sangre - al ritmo de la tempestad.
Nuestras sombras en la luz de la noche, un eclipse de la otra vida.

Mueves las manos sobre un imagen ficticio
Crees que estamos solos.
El aire nos sofoca con la presencia de miles espiritus
Su murmullo resuena, nos estan hablando.

“Solo estamos muertos soñando.”

Los años pasaron, me perdistes, seguimos viviendo
te vi en varias ocasiones
Aunque solo en mis sueños.

Abraza las momias hechas carne, amarra la soledad que baila sobre el pastizal.
Amanece y levantate ya que la distancia no te deja respirar.

Necesito descansar, necesito tomar aire
y respirar el sereno de esta noche tragica.

Tus ojos me miran, fijados hacia el infinito.
Te cargo de nuevo, tus brazos alrededor de mi cuello.
Las manos frias, sin pulso - ya no siento tus suspiros.
Me despierto y me regañas
por haberte matado.

Y ahora estamos solos
soñando.

Flaming June

2010-06-04T00:30:00.005+02:00

The summer air ignites
by the impetuous of a flaming desire.
Flaming leaves are blown
by the wind.

Scorched by the heat of June
they dance between the trees.
Fallen,
the ground is blackend
by their velvety texture.

A crescent glow iluminates the lingering shadows,
insence fills the ardourus air.
Passions breath sets ablaze the daunting calmnless.
Enforced by a flaming desire.

The shading leaves that hide the flowers,
my liquid edges engulf your soft curves.
Like dust over a newly sprung flower,
your every existance is covered by me.

Flaming June,
your deep lips kiss the moon to sleep.

Your steps
give the beat to Gayas heart.
Your speech
gives the melody to life.
Markt by your touch,
the Sun burns even brighter than before.

Why A Song Called ‘Walk On’?

2010-05-27T11:18:00.003+02:00

Most of us may have heard of the popular rock band U2 and their international freedom work which they express both in their songs as well as in their political activism; like in their song ‘’Sunday Bloody Sunday’’ or their Zoo TV tour. But how many of us have heard about the female Nobel Peace prize winner Aung San Suu Kyi or her struggle for peace in her native land of Burma? Thanks to U2 and their song ‘Walk On’ which they dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyu on one of their albums more people have been, (and will be) made aware of the current issues that are troubling this trouble stricken country as of today. While there is much going on to raise international awareness around the world we are faced with the bitter fact that not everyone may have heard this song (or even listen to U2”). We also have to acknowledge the fact that mass media of today is not always as informative or unbiased as we may want to believe. The purpose of this small text will therefore serve as a small informative account of the Burma issue and what the International Workgroup is trying to do. The key problem in Burma has always been the violation of human rights by its Non democratic military government. This government was introduced by Ne Win a General who in 1962 rose to power after staging a coup d’eta with help from the countries own military. ‘The Burma Socialist Program’ (which the new leader instigated the same year) has followed the policy of wiping out local armed ethnic opposition groups in Burma who struggle to assert their own identities and cultures. To achieve even greater ‘success’ in this war the General introduced in 1970 the ‘4 cuts program’ which would cut off food, information, recruits and financial support to any possible armed opposition in the country. This war has had disastrous consequences for the people of Burma. Burmese people living in the ethnic border areas have become victims of a brutal military regime which commits human rights abuses, forced relocations, village destruction’s, killings, rapes, forced labor and countless other atrocities on a day to day basis. Where does Aung San Kye fit in all of this, you may ask. While the government is ruled by a military regime (partie) it is not doing so without an opposing one.

Carl Elds Ateljé

2010-05-24T18:28:00.009+02:00

Efter att ha promenerat från Sveaplan och förbannat den täta biltrafiken vid övergångsstället till Bellevue park stöter jag nu på ännu ett hinder - på adressen finns ett hus som inte alls är ateljén. Det måste vara bakom huset som ateljén finns tänker jag och fortsätter vidare upp för en backe förbi huset. Jag ser nu framför mig ett brunsvart trähus omslutet av ett högt staket med en vit gipsskulptur ovanför dess ingång – nu har jag kommit rätt tänker jag. Efter en öppen grind, en öppen dörr och förbi ett lekande barn når jag till slut välkomsthallen (eller foajén). Ett lågt bord straxt till vänster om ingången är uppställt med bullar och kakor samt en kaffepanna och te, det doftar hemtrevligt med kaffe. En innerdörr står på glänt och jag ser en ung kvinna som talar till en grupp besökare som mest består av kvinnor runt 50+. När gruppen kommer ut passar jag på att gå fram och presenterar mig själv. K. som jag intervjuat lite kort över telefon är inte där och två unga kvinnor har istället ansvaret för ateljén idag, Y. och M.. Det visar sig att dom kan berätta om verksamheten i korta drag och att jag inte alls behöver bli nedstämd för att K. inte är där idag. Efter en kort intervju som båda svarar på (som jag kommer att redovisa senare) och 25 kronor i inträde (studentpris, annars 50kr) kliver jag sedan in i ateljén för att titta närmare på konstverken och inredningen.

Ett stort rum på förmodligen ca 80kvm med en långbänk i mitten av trä, stora fönster både i vägg och tak, vita slitna träväggar, slitet trägolv, massor av skulpturer i olika material och former oftast ljusa vita till ljusbruna i färg, affischer från början av seklet och 30–talet, och en stor röd pärm med artiklar om ateljén som museum (om diverse hot och aktiviteter som pågått och nämnts i tidningarna) finns med bland det jag först lägger märke till. Jag fortsätter vidare runt ateljén och tittar in i två mindre rum, ett cylindriskt samt ett fyrkantigt som liknar det stora rummet. I det cylindriska rummet på ca 4m i diameter med namnet rotundan finns en liten staty av en pojke, flera foton uppställda, en liggbänk, och en byrå. Gåvor från Carl Eldhs vänner står det vid ingången. Statyerna och skulpturerna är inte uppställda efter något specifikt system, utan har ställts upp sporadiskt efter exempelvis vissa som avbildar August Strindberg eller andra som placerats mot väggarna för enklare översyn. Ateljén liknar ett växthus tänker jag och statyerna tycks torra och behöver nog vattnas snart. Ljuset från taket och den motsatta väggen lyser in genom dom fyrkantiga öppningarna som består av små fönster. Det är en lustgårdskänsla över platsen som badar i dagsljus, där älven Puck från Shakespeares En Midsommarnattsdröm säkert skulle känna sig hemma när mörkret faller.
Det är uppenbart att ateljén har lämnats så pass intakt som möjligt. Den tänkta målgruppen ser ut att vara konst - och historie intresserade i alla åldrar och oavsett kön, som vill uppleva en viktig konstnärs säregna ateljé från en svunnen tid.

M., en av intendenterna på museet berättar att det var Carl Eldhs dotter som sist bodde i ateljén och att den inte skall göras om, utan lämnas orörd. Hon tilläger att hon arbetar halvtid och att verksamheten är hotad bl.a. ekonomiskt. Jag frågar om det finns en tänkt målgrupp och får som svar att den innefattar alla men att man i dagsläget arbetar på att utöka intresset bland skolorna. Det framgår tidigt att det inte är utan problem som museiverksamheten fortlever. Ekonomiska svårigheter och diverse hot som t.ex. bygget av den ’Norra Länken’ i närheten har bidragit till att en stor tjock röd pärm förberetts som innehåller allt som skrivits om museet, och som ligger framme för besökaren att bläddra i. ’Framtiden ser mörk ut’ säger M., ’det kanske stängs till årsskiftet’. Det är alltid dåligt med pengar ’som Strindberg museet’. På frågan om marknadsföring och verksamhet utöver visningar får jag veta att det ibland arrangeras privata visningar och arrangemang, med bl.a. konserter. Affischer ute på stan och reklam i dagstidningarna och på tunnelbanan utgör en del av marknadsföringen. Man har även funderat på att utnyttja bostadsdelen av ateljén (en låst del av huset) med verksamhet för barn. Museet är öppet april t.o.m. oktober med högsäsong i juni.

M. lät mig kika på en undersökning av den museipedagogiska verksamheten vid museet under juni, juli och halva augusti (Carl Eldhs Ateljémuseum – Att utvärdera en museipedagogisk verksamhet) skriven av Helen Simonsson, student vid Lärarhögskolan. Jag tittade närmare på verksamhetsförslagen som lagts fram av museipedagoger och på besökarprofilen som Helen undersöker.

Enligt museipedagogerna kan verksamheten utökas med olika temavisningar, exempelvis:
• Barnvisning,
• Teknik och Gjutning,
• Prova-På-Verksamhet,
• Eldhs Skulpturer i Stockholm.

Helens besökarprofil utgörs av en konstintresserad kvinna i åldern 50-70år, bosatt i Stockholm. Hon läser tidningar men inte Internet. Hon är rätt nöjd med museet men vill gärna veta mer om Carl Eldh och hans relationer till samtida kulturpersonligheter och vill gärna ha en utökad caféverksamhet på museet.
-
Ett museum är en ickekommersiell, permanent institution, som tjänar samhället och dess utveckling och är öppen för allmänheten, som insamlar, bevarar, undersöker, förmedlar och ställer ut – i studiesyfte, för utbildning och förnöjelse – materiella vittnesbörd om människan och hennes omvärld. – The International Council of Museums i Paris (ICOM).
-
Om man utgår från denna definition tycks ateljéns fortsatta museiverksamhet säker (ickekommersiell, permanent o.s.v.). Men så är inte fallet. En mer djupgående studie måste göras för att förstå varför dessa problem överhuvudtaget existerar. När en tunnel ska byggas, som hotar en ’permanent verksamhet’, eller när en institution blir beroende av sponsorer för att överleva så rör vi oss istället på en marknadsekonomisk och politisk nivå – inte den som definierats av ICOM. Att prioritera bort ett kulturarv mot en trafiklösning av riksintresse eller att halvera bidragen till en institution har istället fört in museet in i en politisk och marknadsekonomisk debatt. Utöver en påtvingad marknadsekonomisk positionering har dessutom en politisk debatt uppstått. Denna debatt uttrycker sig i formen av en stor röd pärm, personal som jobbar halvtid och en mörk framtidssyn. Den talar till en marknadsekonomisk omvärld som inte lyssnar.

Soul/Shape

2010-04-25T21:16:00.004+02:00

I murdered, kissed, reflections and connections
Several, many, details that are You
Transfixed multiplicity
Interwoven fabric
A Self in many
Assembled

Shape
Soul

You
Me

Dance of Salomé

2010-04-19T17:29:00.002+02:00

Make your flesh tidy...paint your lips with bee-wax
Never mind your arms and legs; they’ll merge in a twist
As joined extremities to the long figure in motion
Stretch out your spine until it breaks.

Paint the air...breath it tense, your sway excites my passion
O’ what perverse beauty stings at my soul
To feel the heart beating unwillingly
As the bastard child, touched by tragedy.

What bird’s song fades within my senses?
What unknown feelings crash upon my flesh?

Intensify the dance; be my lust’s remedy!
Give my lips the touch of ecstasy
Lay upon me the sense of guilt.
The slopes of the red sunset stretch wider with the horizon
The cry is distant ... the voice of reason is dead.

Lick not the wounds of innocence
As it’s blood may kill the mundane
The womb hidden within your trance
Cradles the weak and frail
Dance until We die...

The Wind and The Lizard

2010-03-09T23:39:00.007+01:00

"One evening I seated Beauty on my knees. And I found her bitter. And I cursed her."
Arthur Rimbaud

“I hope my silence will convince her” L. thought for himself. He wiped off the sweat on his forehead and continued to watch as the old woman in front of him slowly stirred the solution in a brownish jar. It had been a hard day for him, asking people around for directions under a scorching July sun, and he had quickly found out that Javanese people are not extremely talkative during this month.
“I don’t know whether I should be doing this, you know, people are awfully suspicious around here.” The woman suddenly said with her local accent. “There is no slametan that will suffice to authorize it.”
L. knew how important the religious ritual of slametan was for the preservation of social order in Javanese society. It is used to bless and in the same time authorize almost any object, event and purpose in Javanese culture. Slametans make it’s subject accepted by the whole, to all the rest of the people and it protects it from bad spirits.
“ Yes I know, but I will pay you more than sufficiently in order to make up for it later.” With this he took out his wallet and handed the woman 800 rupiah. The woman looked at the money and then on L. with a surprised look on her face.
“But Sir that… that would be too much! I just couldn’t. ”
L. knew that it was an incredible sum of money, the same amount would easily pay for a wedding slametan, but he was willing to pay it even though he didn’t believe in slametans. As a Dutch lieutenant he was already risking his reputation wandering around in these parts of Modjokuto, which where considered by many as the lowest and most degrading of all the towns.
The old woman finally accepted the money and hid it under a yellow shirt that lay on a small round table next to her bed.
“You know that it will be useless to give a slametan after you have consumed the potion. The damage will already have been done.”
“I don’t care, the most important thing is that it is well prepared , and I trust that it is so - Isn’t it? ”
“Oh yes of course. I always make it like it should be done and according to ancient custom. You will not be disappointed.”
With this L. took a step towards the old woman and looked at the jar she was holding. The woman quickly poured it into a small flask and handed it to him. L. looked at her briefly and then turned towards the exit to make his leave. The woman walked passed him to the door and slowly opened it, at the same time looking as to make sure no one was watching. When given the signal L. rapidly walked out and made a sharp turn to the left towards the main street outside. He would have to hurry to the hotel before the local police started patrolling the streets. It wouldn’t look good if he was caught walking these streets at such an inappropriate hour.

2.
Back at the hotel L. had a difficult time hiding his emotions. He was euphoric to say the least. He was thinking to himself how lucky he had been finding what he had been looking for. The curtain of the balcony door seemed to mimic his excitement by tossing with the night wind. After having secured all doors and windows, he now found himself left with the final task, to make sure that the old woman had not tricked him. Opening the upper drawer of the night table L. picked up a small leather pouch. Placing it on the small night table(stand) and then opening it, a small lizard of a greenish color crawled out. It was a tiny thing, just four to five centimeters in length and with small teeth that seemed to loose themselves within a straight line that was its mouth. L. picked it up and held it up against the dim light cast by the ceiling lamp.
“ What will you show me tonight my little friend ? ” L. reached for the potion which he had laid on the bed. It was slippery with its own solution. L. hesitated to lick his fingers. The lizard was in a firm grip in his hands and he poured some of the solution on it’s head. While waiting for the liquid to be absorbed into the lizards skin, L. poured some of it on his own frown. He knew that he would feel dizzy. The old woman had instructed him to lay down when using the potion and he quickly lay down on the bed while placing the lizard beside him.
He felt his eye lids becoming increasingly heavy. He strained to keep them open. He was falling asleep. A tickling sensation ran across his face. He opened his mouth to gasp but was unable to breath. He felt paralyzed and wanted to scream.
L. opened his eyes. His heart almost exploded. It was pounding so fast and so out of place that he felt a panic attack running amok within his senses. He saw things in a shade of gray, unreal and without warmth. The surrounding vista was made up of a dune like landscape that seemed to engulf him with waves of texture. He was still on the bed but he didn’t feel like himself. Was he the lizard now?
The wind that blew inside the room seemed as a hurricane to him. He seeked shelter within the soft fabric of the bed. Not daring to move, he struggled not to breathe to heavy or loose control. It was hard. He didn’t control the lizards body completely, and saw himself being carried away in an incredible speed towards the wall next to the pillows. He felt light, almost floating in the air. Dizzy and disoriented L. felt like puking. Do lizards vomit? he thought while trying to open his or its mouth. Nothing. He was confined to the lizards own needs which didn’t seem to include puking at the moment. The lizard was now running up the wall with such swiftness that L. didn’t even try to control it. As not to distract it, L. tried to close his eyes. He didn’t want to make it fall down from such a height. His heart was pounding terribly fast, banging violently and making his senses tremble. The room seemed to blur out in a whirling frenzy of passing images. The lizard was running down the wall now, towards the opening to the balcony. In this moment L. could see himself stretched out on the bed. It was terrible, not only was he inside the lizard but he had no control of his own body now. There was suddenly a big bang, an explosion that tore his mind apart.
He opened his eyes. He was looking at the ceiling. It looked almost warm, full with colors. Was he himself again? After trying to touch his face with his hand he breathed out with an incredible sense of relief. He was himself, thank God, he hadn’t become lost or trapped inside the lizard. But what about the lizard?
He looked for the lizard but couldn’t see it. He searched the room without success. When stepping out on to the balcony he finally found it. It was laying on the floor, motionless. L. poked at it with his right index finger, nothing. It was apparently dead. L. picked it up and threw it into the bushes outside.

3.
It was late in the evening when L. arrived to Djakarta. The streets were sprawling with life like in a mass epileptic seizure. The increased worries of a possible Japanese invasion seemed to cut a deep gaping wound into Djakarta’s night life. Even though General Ter Poorten had dispatched enough soldiers to safeguard the coast to the South Chinese Sea , there was a common disbelief in the Dutch army’s capabilities of defending its colonies - if not assisted by allied forces; L. knew that the moment had arrived. He could sense it in the July breeze which was thick with excitement. The flaming atmosphere seemed to hold its breath waiting for the perfect moment to unleash its fury.
He sat down on a chair outside one of the cafeterias most frequented by Dutch servicemen in Djakarta -‘The Silent Swan’- and gestured for one of the waiters to take his order. The small establishment was to become his hiding place from the brooding evening. The thick night seemed to mingle with the hysteria of the city, choking the last breaths of peace and tranquillity out of him. But at least he was sitting down. He tried to act unaffected by the stir outside. The whirling faces with their transfixed stares and gaping mouths, where common expressions of the people who passed by him. He imagined them as fishes in a pond that was now being emptied of it’s water. He ordered another drink, whisky on the rocks. Maybe the drink could help him maintain a decent pose; he wasn’t going to let the locals see him as a coward or a panic stricken fool running around the streets like they were doing.
While there, L. suddenly felt someone grabbing at his shoulder. He turned reluctantly to see who it was. A tall man in uniform and with a big mustache was drooping over him, almost walrus like. It was Captain Lodewyk Aartse, one of the regiments few men dispatched to Djakarta almost two years earlier than L. The arrogance still showed on his smiling face that glistened with sweat and apparent exhaustion.
“Still sipping away the hours, aren’t we?” The captain grabbed a chair and seated himself next to L.
“Maybe, but why not, nothing seems to be happening here anyway”
Ignoring the irony in L.’s last remark, the Captain motioned for a drink, while seating himself on a chair next to L’s.
“I guess you know why I’m here”
“Honestly, I don’t”
“Look around , don’t you think people are a bit happier than usual?
“They want us to leave, those bastards.” “
“All this dam commotion outside - its euphoria disguised!”
The possibility of a Japanese invasion was quite real by now.
“Why would they prefer the Japanese from us?” L. asked reluctantly.
“I dont know but they sure seem to”
The Captain didn’t seem to like much of his surroundings. L. wanted to ask the Captain why he so disliked the Javanese people – didn’t he find Javanese culture mystical and exciting, it’s people friendly and colorful? He asked the Captain instead whether he wanted another drink.
After several more drinks the Captain said:
“ I hope you have your things ready, we’re leaving for Borneo on Friday. They badly need the reinforcements and I guess the Japanese are staging their initial attacks for next week by now.”
Dammed all this fighting, he thought. Why should he be sent of to Borneo?
He had been so sure that he was to be stationed at Java until things got stable. What about his plans?
He had wanted so much to discover other objects that he could collect before leaving the island.
“Well, thank you for the drinks, I hope you report yourself to headquarters by noon tomorrow, remember we don’t have much time. I’ll see you later.”
The Captain rose, almost tipping the chair over, he was drunk but made his best not to cause a scene. L. shook his hand and rose he too. He felt a bit wobbly, maybe he was just tired. He didn’t give it much thought.
The day had ended. The sky was dark blue with the last tones of red and yellow fading away.
They both stepped out on the street and said goodbye once more - parting ways later on.

Hårt

2010-03-06T21:49:00.004+01:00

Strand, utkant, ett döende skimmer

Utgjutelse, förbannelse – slocknad

Natt då min hand grep vid dig

Slog dig, dräpte allt som älskat någon som mig

Havet andades tungt, vågorna skar djupa jack ur den svarta sanden

Det svaga skimret som dött bort, ersattes av ditt blödande rop

Vilse i ett bortom som ingen känner till

När lär vi oss?

Det hopp som finns inom oss alla kan inte styras, inte ersättas av andras drömmar

Vågorna slår hårt mot strandens kant

Djupt skär dina klagorop in i min själ

Likt stranden har mitt liv legat

Och likt havet slår du emot mig

Arete

2010-02-16T02:28:00.002+01:00

LONG SEEK, OUTSIDE THE DREAMDOME
LEAVE, BREAK THE HOUSE THAT NURSED YOU
YELLOW THE EYE, BLIND THE GIRL
RIVER BLUE, CUTS THROUGH THE BLEACHED WOODS.

SOMEWHERE, GONE IS THE AIR
DRUNK BY THE MOMENT, A SCREAM IS MUFFLED.
THIS TIME YOUR SHADOW WONT HIDE YOU
YOU'LL BE WHAT YOU SEEM UNTILL THE WAVE CATCHES YOU.

YOU’RE SANITY WON’T BE THERE ANYMORE
IF NIGHT IS THE BLACKNESS OF YOUR THOUGHTS
AND THE LIGHT YOU FEEL IS COLD TO THE TOUCH.
YOU’LL BE ALONE, WHEREVER YOU ARE.

Cyraneczka

2009-12-03T17:18:00.001+01:00

Ett tag sen

2009-11-17T00:39:00.004+01:00

Ja, det var ett tag sen jag skrev i bloggen. Vad är egentligen poängen kan jag tänka ibland och precis nu undrar jag varför jag skriver ett inlägg överhuvudtaget. Så jag ägnar det här inlägget till att skriva en liten påhittad historia istället.

Eller kanske inte, det är sent och jag är trött.

Ha det gott alla ni som läser och som kikar på bloggen lite då och då, eller hela tiden.

Héctor Lavoe

2009-10-01T00:22:00.001+02:00

Religious Stomp

2009-09-28T22:54:00.002+02:00

This video cracked me up so hard I just had to find some more...
...so here you go:

District 9

2009-09-07T23:01:00.013+02:00

A couple of days ago and here I am with a friend watching what looks like a documentary. It's fleshy, hot and sticky of south african heat, mismatched clothes, and quirky shantiness. The sweat and grotesque grin of an absolutely white man, an office although clean but dirty looking – the white man is talking to the viewers with an upbeat yet unsettling afrikaan accent. Images from a ghetto back up his words. Other white people, maybe his work mates, are seen interviewed talking about the man we are watching. They are saying that something has happend to him. In the following scene we see him walking around in a slum area with heavely armed police. We know something will happen to him. But what?

District 9 is by far one of the best sci fi movies I have seen. Please, go and see it – it will not insult your intelligence.

As a sidenote, this will probably be a very good sci fi movie year. Movies like "Moon" and "Avatar" are planned to show up later.

Assigned Companion Cube in Portal LOL

2009-08-18T22:11:00.003+02:00

Facebook

2009-06-28T23:05:00.002+02:00

Gotas de Agua Dulce

2009-06-22T23:01:00.003+02:00

Autor: Juanes.
Álbum: La vida es un Ratico.
Canción: Gotas De Agua Dulce.

LÍRICA:

Hace mucho tiempo no me enamoraba de unos ojos tan bonitos
comunes de lo sano brillo
Era lo que menos en mi plan estaba
aunque te admito que a veces soñaba
con la belleza de tu mirada

Quiero llevar el ritmo de tu corazón
para bailar entre los dos esta canción
la verdad, me estoy volviendo a enamorar
la verdad, quiero que sepas que....

Lo que yo siento por ti, es amor
Ya lo es que me hace nutrir, el corazón
droga que me hace inmune, ante el dolor
gotas de agua dulce, rayo de sol.
(X2)

Llévame, de ser preciso, por la semblanza de tu sombra
yo se que tu prendes la luz y en mi vida te asomas
como las blancas palomas, cuando la plaza se toman
con vuelo inmortal

Quiero llevar el ritmo de tu corazón
para bailar entre los dos esta canción
la verdad, me estoy volviendo a enamorar
la verdad, quiero que sepas que....

Lo que yo siento por ti, es amor
Ya lo es que me hace nutrir, el corazón
droga que me hace inmune, ante el dolor
gotas de agua dulce, rayo de sol
(X2)
Es lo que yo siento por ti(X3)

:: video and lyrics posted by kaiserd82 at youtube

Dead Can Dance

2009-06-22T19:40:00.001+02:00

Diente Perro

2009-05-28T01:56:00.000+02:00

Contigo

2009-05-22T23:32:00.004+02:00

Where The Wild Things Are...

2009-05-05T03:20:00.004+02:00

...becomes a movie!

Traced in Air

2009-04-14T22:26:00.006+02:00

Bought the digipack version of Cynics new album 'Traced in Air'.
Will probably be swept away from real life for a while,
which means I won´t be back to review the cd for you.

Ill just leave you with a video that a cynic fan made.

Vegetable Orchestra

2009-03-23T23:50:00.005+01:00

Another video

Flying Car

2009-03-20T23:27:00.002+01:00

Rusalka

2008-11-24T16:01:00.005+01:00

Rusalka (mermaid)

An incredible movie I saw in the cinemas the day before yesterday.

Carribbean Cinemas (A Memo)

2008-10-29T13:41:00.012+01:00

Carribbean Cinemas

An Explanation, Anyone?

2008-10-22T15:00:00.002+02:00

El Vecino

2008-10-21T11:35:00.014+02:00

Estoy dando un vistazo al impresionante trabajo de crear un tebeo. Un ejemplo es la creación del tebeo El Vecino por Santiago García y Pepo Pérez que se encuentra en la página de Pepo Pérez.

Si queréis ver más tebeos solo pincha uno de los enlaces en el blog Con C de Arte que teneis abajo (en la parte derecha de mi blog) donde veries una multitud de blogs y escritos que cubre el arte de tebeos.

Hotel 626

2008-10-17T15:02:00.007+02:00

Go here

If your time is earlier than 6 PM (18:00h) change the time on your computer to something between 6 PM and 6 AM and reload the webpage.

Register with some fake info (the site doesnt check). You don't have to use your microphone or webcam.

Prepare to get very very scared.

Extending Life

2008-10-15T11:55:00.003+02:00

The Psychohistorian

2008-10-14T15:30:00.005+02:00

Those of you who have read Asimov's Foundation trilogy may remember the "psychohistorians". Paul Krugman, this years nobel prize winner in economy admits in an interesting essay of his that he had a secret fantasy of becoming an psychohistorian himself. Read his essay here.

Spore Släpps Idag

2008-09-04T11:00:00.009+02:00

Handling och mål
Spelet går ut på att styra evolutionen från mikroorganism till rymdfart och världsherravälde. Spelaren skapar sin egen varelse som sedan skickas till en global databas och kan delas med och spela mot andra spelares varelser. En originell del i spelet är att skaparna ger dig en ickevålds-möjlighet. Du kan faktiskt spela hela spelet utan att föra krig eller mörda andra varelser. Valet är helt upp till dig.
Spelet är uppdelat i fem faser av evolution, inspirerade av andra spel och filmer: Man säger att om man minimalt använder den konstgjorda utvecklingen, så tar det 10-15 timmar att nå den femte fasen från den första.

1 - Cellulära fasen
Du styr och utvecklar en varelse inte helt olik "Pac-man" genom en urhistorisk sörja av alger och bakterier. den här fasen liknar "pac-man", då man ska äta allt som är mindre, och undvika allt som är större, som vill äta din figur.

2 - Varelsefasen
Din varelse har utvecklats till ett komplext kreatur, och tar sig upp på land, där ditt mål är att överleva och para sig med andra av ditt slag. Du får gradvis utveckla hjärnan upp till en viss nivå då du avancerar till nästa fas.

3 - Stamfasen
Dina varelser har utvecklat intelligens, och du får chansen att utveckla dina varelsers kultur. Istället för att enbart ha kontroll över ett djur förfogar du nu över en hel stam. Du får chansen att utveckla deras byggnation och industri.

4 - Civilisationsfasen
Du bygger och utvecklar en stad åt dina varelser. Beroende på hur du format deras kultur kommer dom att bete sig olika. Du har full kontroll över utseende och funktion av allting i ditt samhälle. spelet liknar realtidstradegispel som "Black & White", då man vinner genom att ha full makt över världen... antingen fredens eller krigets väg

5 - Rymdfasen
Till slut får du chansen att bygga ett rymdskepp i en av din stads mer avancerade byggnader. Du får nu möjligheten att besöka och efterhand även forma andra världar. man kan skapa en galaktiskt federation, eller starta interstellära krig.

All text tagen från Wikipedia

Din Sork!

2008-09-02T14:14:00.020+02:00

Läser precis om en gen hos ca 30 procent av sveriges manliga befolkning som kan sabba kärlekslivet för oss män. Genvarianten vid namn AVPR1A (finns inte hos alla män men tydligen dubbelt hos vissa) förstör receptorerna i en viss hormon i hjärnan som är involverat i beteendet kopplat till kärlek och parbildning. Samma gen påverkar tydligen även sorkhannarnas "kärlekshormon" vilket är intressant då det visar hur tydligt arv och miljö påverkar oss oavsett om vi är människor eller djur.

Caution

2008-07-27T23:28:00.009+02:00

Some pics from Copenhagen Zoo caught with my mobile phone. From my last visit to Denmark last week.

Feeding the animals is prohibited!

Do not climb up.

Verbatim of Reminiscence

2008-07-27T23:00:00.011+02:00

Aclaración:
Es una breve vida que vivimos. Una palabra dentro de un mar de conversaciones. Tres actos escritas como partes de un recuerdo. La suma de una vida anterior.

“Hurry get up, I think Juán yelled water!”“Are you sure?”“Yes, I’m sure.”
We hurry down the concrete slope, down the road leading away from the highway bridge. Eddie, a fat teenager with long black hair and me, the new kid. The people waving at us from a distance are our friends, I think. We run towards them. Eddie tells me our only means of escape is with that guy, the ‘what’s-his-name-again’ with the car. Maybe it’s the guy patting Juán’s shoulder and grinning like hell.
“Hurry pendejos, I’ve been yelling water ages ago!”
Again I find myself in a car packed with people. I get an elbow from Raúl, Yolanda’s hair in my face, and Fifo’s new Dr. Martens shoes on top of me. We are in a hurry. The driver isn’t slow in making us understand this, putting his foot harder on the gas pedal. Outside buildings flicker passed and the heat inside the car suffocates me. There is no sound. Everything is mute.
“No sirens, no blue light, nothing - what the hell Juán!”
I want to scream out my frustration. I don’t know half of these people. Hell I don’t even know why the police would be chasing us! I try burrowing myself into the corner. With the help of Fifo’s body pressing upon me I almost succeed. I’ll just close my eyes and soon all of this will be over.
I hope...

It’s been a couple of minutes, maybe more, maybe less. It’s dead quiet. The air is thick with tension that I cut through with my blearing eyes. My eyes are narrowing, scrutinizing every part of the car. All over the interior, the dashboard, the windows, the heads of people, and the back of people, my mind wanders. No one is looking at me - no one is looking at anyone. I’m being left out. I can sense it. Something is not right.Yolanda is looking out the window, she starts pushing Raúl like she wants to wake him up. He remains motionless, droopy, like a sack of potatoes spilling over unto the floor. With a jolt, he reacts.
“What the hell Yolí!”“Stop this shit Raúl, look at him he isn’t scared, he looks pissed as hell.”
All eyes on me, grinning faces that rip into my head.
“I’ve been fooled. These bastards were just kidding around. I should have seen it coming.”
If I could, I would steer this piece of shit car into a nearby police car. With only me as the sole survivor, I would stand triumphantly laughing at these idiots bad joke gone wrong.
“There’s no police, what the hell. We just wanted to see your reaction.”“C’mon man, it was only a joke, don’t get mad.”
I’m not mad, I answer. I’m just tired.
“Let’s go to Eddies place. We can watch some ‘traces of death’ while we wait for Miguel to call.”“What about José, is he coming?”“Don’t think so, he works nightshift at Blockbusters tonight, the sucker.”
Our car slows down, makes a right turn and leaves the sun setting in the back. Eddie’s house towers in front of us. Some dogs run besides the car.
Soon we will be sitting in Eddie’s giant water bed, drinking Medalla beer and listening to the new cd of ‘Death’. I hope Maya is there, she’s always cool. Usually she can handle her boyfriend.
Yes, Juán can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.

We are sitting on Eddie’s giant waterbed, Juán, Raúl, Yolanda and me. Fifo has gone home and Maya isn’t showing up. It’s warm and damp. The coquis are singing while the buzzing of the city recedes outside. Outlines of our bodies are cast in the shadow upon the wall in Eddie’s room. They resemble a huge blob of xenomorphic materia pulsating with extremities occasionally protruding from its greater mass. No, we are not high, or stoned, or drunk – we are just bored. Somebody knocks at the door.“Hey kids, you want something to eat?”“No thanks mom, were not hungry, just leave us alone.”“Hey man, I’m hungry”, Juán whispers."There is some pizza later" Eddie tells him.A big part of the xenomorphic mass frees itself. It’s Yolanda who needs to go to the bathroom. The rest of us are bobbing on the bed like a boat on an open sea. It feels strange, only we in the room, the guys without the girl – a bit tense, a bit hostile, even stupid. What’s the purpose of being together in this tiny room on an ocean of blankets and a cozy waterbed if we won’t score with any chick? Eddies guitar playing is driving me mad, Juan’s yawns are gargantual and Raúl is probably mentally on another planet right now.“Shit man, this sucks. What happened to the traces of death video?”“Juán!, I’ve told you a million times, José still has it. You’ll get it on Monday, ok?”“Sure, whatever asshole.”“Hey guys why don’t we tell horror stories!”“Stories? What you mean?”, Juán asks, giving me a suspicious look.“What the fuck, why not.”

Eddie lays down his guitar and turns his chair towards us.“You start, but let’s wait for Yolanda first”.“Sure”, I say.Finally, Yolanda is back. She’s wearing a bit of makeup. A hint of fresh rouge, burning red on her puff cheeks. She’s looking away embarrassed. While she sits down, the upper corner of the bed is hit with a new wave of water.“You like horror stories?”, I ask her.“ I don’t know, you mean like Friday the 13th kind of bullshit?”.“Hm, not exactly, but something like that. Only more psychological.”“Sure, why not”, she answers.Ok, here goes.It was a full mooned night, cold and windy. You know when the trees look really scary, branches extending like crooked arms up into the moonlit night sky - that was how the trees looked like this night. These three girls, like 15 year olds, had been to a disco and were walking back home. They were all tired since it was late.“Were they hot? The girls I mean?”“Shut the fuck up moron, let him finish his story!”.

I continue. They were all skimpy dressed, you know in skirts and shit like that. One was called Anna, the others Rebecka and Martina. Anna was really freezing and was hurrying like hell to get home as quick as possible. Rebecka and Martina were chitchatting away, smoking some cigarettes and talking about boys (you know like always). Their footsteps echoed in the night, their fine shoes clapping against the sidewalk. No other sound except their footsteps and their own voices could be heard. The wind made a mess of their long hair.Anna was biting hard against the cold wind. She wanted to be home soon. Very soon. You know, like right now, instantly. She was ignoring the other two girls. Focusing on how to preserve some heat and hurry home.All of a sudden she reacts. There’s no laughter, no talking - nothing. Only her footsteps can be heard. She looks to her side and behind her. Both her friends are gone. She’s all alone.“Where are they? Rebecka lives even further away than both me and Martina, she couldn’t have passed by without me noticing her. Sure, Martina’s house lays further down the creek, but she would never cross a dark alley this late by herself.”While listening after their steps and looking ahead on the road behind her she notices how she is getting warmer around her neck and throat.“Maybe I’m getting sick”.

She decides to forget her friends and continues walking.All of a sudden a shrill shriek is heard from within the woods that startles her. She can hear the flapping of birds but doesn’t see them. Now, the wind isnt as cold as it was before. The branches around the road seem to bend themselves towards her.She is almost home. From a distance she can hear a phone ringing. Her house is not far away, she hurries to get there just in case the ringing is coming from here house. Maybe it’s Tobias, the cute guy she met at the disco that is calling.The phone is still ringing when she opens the door. It’s been ringing all the time. She runs into the kitchen to answer.Too late, the answering machine has already started its recording. She grabs the phone and says hello.

A voice that she recognizes, low and filled with tears is heard speaking.“ I am so sorry. I had to call you. I know you don’t want to see me, but please listen to me. I know you think it’s my fault that Anna is dead. That I should have picked her up that night, that I should have known that it was dangerous to let her go out by herself that late but…”She tries to interrupt.“Dad, who is dead? What are you talking about?”.“…I couldn’t know. And I am so sorry. Please believe me Sara! I guess I’ll see you at the funeral. Please don’t hate me…CLICK”

“Dad!”Her screams echo in the empty kitchen. It's pitch dark around her.She walks back out into the hall and turns on the light.In the mirror in front of her she sees her mother behind her with a big knife. Her throat is bleeding profusely.Her mothers icy cold voice is heard saying:“You shouldn’t have been born. You ruined my life. I’m sending you back from where you came from!”Muahhaahahahha!!!!!!!!!“Maaaan!, that was such a dumb ass story!”“I liked it, really cool ending. So she was already dead?”“Yes”, I answer.“And you Yolanda, what did you think?”“I don’t know, it was a bit strange – too strange for me, I guess.”Before we can talk some more Eddie's mother shows up, unannounced as usual.“Hey kids, there’s some big-scary-fish movie on TV if your interested.”“Oh yeah, you mean Jaws!!! Cool!!! It’s the third movie where he is really big and fat, c’mon lets go and watch!”Everyone hurries into the living room.We call our horror night quits and bury ourself in the sofa. With some Little Cesars pizza that we swallow down with ample amounts of soda we call it a day and forget how boring we really are.

Eye Candy for the Chicas

2008-07-02T11:44:00.010+02:00

Since I couldnt go to Puerto Rico this summer I've scoured blogs and myspace pages for some info and pics of whats happening over there. I stumbled upon this pic from the Justas in Ponce, an annual sports event (more like spring break) in April. Instead of the usuall bikini wearing girls i saw this one.

It's not from this summer but I thougt it was a good pic for the chicas out there. So heres for the chicas reading my blog. Enjoy.

Pic from this myspace page

Rec NOT For a Dream

2008-05-12T16:07:00.016+02:00

My musings these last couple of days have been quite grotesque. I have replayed the last scenes of the spanish horror movie REC in my head over and over again and I find myself liking them more and more.

It's like that tickle or pinch that keeps you from falling asleep, but the opposite in this case. The scenes have summoned an eerie almost cozy feeling of safety.

A voyeuristic feeling, similar to the one you get while watching hurricanes, tsunamis or even violence playing on the TV which makes your sofa or livingroom feel even more safe and tranquil.

The movie over all is quite good. The final scenes are my favorite because of their atmospheric character.

Disfraz de Tigre...uah!

2008-04-18T15:05:00.007+02:00

http://www.austrohungaro.com/hidrogenesse/

Silvio Rodriguez

2008-04-15T11:49:00.010+02:00

Ojalá que las hojas no te toquen el cuerpo cuando caigan, para que no las puedas convertir en cristal.
Ojalá que la lluvia deje de ser milagro que baja por tu cuerpo, ojalá que la luna pueda salir sin tí, ojala que la tierra no te bese los pasos.

Ojalá se te acabe la mirada constante, la palabra precisa, la sonrisa perfecta, ojalá pase algo que te borre de pronto:
Una luz cegadora, un disparo de nieve, ojala por lo menos que me lleve la muerte, para no verte tanto, para no verte siempre, en todos lo segundos, en todas la visiones. Ojala que no pueda tocarte ni en canciones.

Ojalá que la aurora no de gritos que caigan en mi espalda, ojalá que tu nombre se le olvide a esa voz, ojalá las paredes no retengan tu ruido de camino cansado, ojalá que el deseo se vaya tras de tí. A tu viejo gobierno de difuntos y flores.

Puya

2008-02-01T13:52:00.001+01:00

Yet another band from the island. A bit corny in the beginning but at the end they play like they did before. This was one of those bands that rehearsed at my former university where heaps of students hanged out. There's also some nice footage of the island.

Our Pain in Heaven

2008-01-29T15:38:00.000+01:00

Our Pain in Heaven / My Friend Mantis

Add to My Profile | More Videos

This video is from My Friend Mantis, my brothers musical project. The video was shot by Álvaro Aponte a longtime friend of ours.

Gogol Bordello

2007-12-03T22:51:00.000+01:00

My mobile cam recording of Gogol Bordello's last song at Debaser medis in Stockholm.

The best live band I've experienced in ages. See them if you havent done so yet.

Put A Wig On You

2007-11-07T11:03:00.000+01:00

Hey there, Bret
I see you looking down
Don’t want to see my little buddy there with a frown
Just because I get more women than you
That’s only because they don’t know you like I do.
Sure, you’re weedy and kinda shy
But some girlie out there must be needy for a weedy shy guy.
They want you as a needle when they’re rolling in the hay.
Just hear me out when I say

Bret, you got it goin’ on.
The ladies get to know your sexuality
When they get to know your personality.
I said, Bret, you got it goin’ on.
Not in a gay way
Just in a hey, mate,
I want to say that you’re looking okay, mate.

Why can’t a heterosexual guy tell a heterosexual guy
That he thinks his booty is fly?
Not all the time, obviously
Just when he’s got a problem with his self esteem
Don’t let anybody tell you you’re not humpable
Because you’re bumpable
Well, I hope this doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable
If I say you’ve got a boom o wow
Come on, Bret
Help me out now

Bret you got it goin’ on.
I got it goin’ on.
That’s the conclusion that I’ve come to
But that doesn’t mean that I want to bum you.
Bret, you’ve got it goin’ on
Got it goin’ on
No doubt about it
We’d be getting crazy
If one of us was lucky enough to be born a lady.

Oh, if one of us was a lady
And I was your man, if I was your man
Well, sometimes it gets lonely
And I need a woman
And then I imagine you with some bosoms
In fact, one time when we were touring
And I was really lonely
And we were sharing that twin room in the hotel
I put a wig on you when you were sleeping
Put a wig on you
Ooh ooh ooh
And I just laid there and spooned you

Bret, you’ve got it goin’ on

:: From the HBO TV Series Flight of the conchords

Metal

2007-10-15T14:33:00.000+02:00

Now I get yet another reason to talk about this all female death metal band.
There are two new songs posted on their myspace page.

What I like with this new material are the epic undertones - the opera mixed with grim and low voices and their blatant disregard of delivering fast paced mosh pit mayhem without contemplation.

These at times doom metal sounding songs mixed with some excellent solos breaking out into grind core quality tempo shifts nail some very heavy riffs into your spine.

Nice, very nice indeed.

Give them a listen here

BTW: I watched their videos on youtube and found several that reminded me of the puertorican metal scene when I used to play on the island with the following motto - 'play wherever, whenever and with whomever as long as your drunk'.

The Beauty of Hacks

2007-08-24T23:56:00.000+02:00

I love hacks! With the Internet there's always a good chance you'll find one that saves your day. Usually they go against company regulations, manufacturer recommendations and require a bit of guts from your side - but how sweet it is to take that risk and then see things working afterwards (even if they don't work then at least you tried).

Today this simple but oh so useful hack made me very happy. If you have been struggling with a laptop or other device with a 7 pin s-video output accompanied by a meagre 3 inch adapter cable (thanks Dell!) that gives you a black and white image on your TV, then this hack will fix some sweet colour for you.

This is the geekiest post I could have posted on a Friday night, but what the heck now I can continue cutting wires and use them for other hacks - that's also entertaining.

Per Sarcasmus Ad Astra

2007-08-18T00:16:00.000+02:00

Sarcasm: the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.
- Fyodor Dostoyevsky

A prolonged use of sarcasm from my side will probably follow many years to come. Considering all the unnerving intrusions at work and sometimes in other places it's surprising I havent considered it's use earlier.

With gusto will I spread salt in the eyes of all arrogant bourgeoisie that pester me hence forth.

Lo and behold feckless people! there is an antidote to your pompous demeanor.

Climbing

2007-08-12T23:59:00.000+02:00

Pics of some trails I tried this weekend. The climbing went good (I reached the top) but the bouldering (last pic) was extremely hard which I will attempt again with a vengeance.

Into the Wii Hours

2007-08-08T00:21:00.000+02:00

From cutting vegetables, preparing dinner and setting up the wii...

...to Lisa, Annika, Martin and Niklas playing until late in the night...

...my livingroom transformed more and more into a virtual tennis court

Dirty Advertising

2007-08-06T15:57:00.000+02:00

Finally a video by my friends Dávila 666.

Celestial Voyage

2007-07-19T23:55:00.000+02:00

Cynic playing live at Hovefestivalen, Norway

The World Accordingly...

2007-07-17T14:00:00.001+02:00

Puerto Rico and Midsummer

2007-07-07T19:58:00.000+02:00

So how was my last trip to Puerto Rico?

Its been great. Hard work, but great. Helping out my parents with fixing the house, the cars and so forth and then being with friends in the night, drinking beer and watching bands play.

I may have given the impression of only focusing on family and friends. Thats exactly the case. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with my parents who I hadnt seen in 1½ years. We are all split up, my parents in San Juan, my brother in San Diego and me in Stockholm.

Background: It's been like that since 2001 when I decided to go back to europe ( just europe, I was tired of the USA influence in Puerto Rico, the need of a car all of the time and my short temper with any noise or distraction I usually encountered in the big city). I wanted more peace and quite, away from the super shops, the big roads and the crazy consumerism. I could have settled in Spain, Italy or any other southern european country or even Holland - where I had been contacted by the University of Amsterdam to start my masters studies in social anthropology with focus on ethno medicine.

But I chose Sweden, the country where I had been born and grown up in. Looking back I think it was the best but ´oh so boring´ decision I could have made, since Im half swedish, know the language and have half brothers and sisters there. As soon as I came back one of my half brothers Jörgen had some bad news. He couldnt offer the job position he had promised at Flextronics, since the company was cutting back on people and the need of spanish speaking people had been haltered completly (for their new projects in latin america).

I knew that I would have to get a job as soon as possible, any job. I got one as a mailman and soon after that a steady job in charge of the computer systems in a big retail shop.
Almost two years later I started studying again (truth is, I was starting to hate my job).

Present day: Now theres only 10 points left (like 2 months) or something of writing the thesis paper. But I still havent finished my masters 6 years later which is embaressing I think, but at least I have been working during all this time - which for me has been more important, since my studies are linked more to personal curiosity than solely career building. Yes, there have been good openings for anthropologists mainly in the USA and England but not in Sweden or elsewhere in europe. Now its changing rapidly, thats why im leaving my thesis open - if my current work comes to a halt or I find something interesting abroad thats where im going.

Now I've explained a bit more than I was supposed to, I leave you with some pics and videos.

PUERTO RICO

My mom

Two of my best friends since I was 15 + Eddie. Arnaldo, Eddie and Raúl + me

'Emo' band in Taller Cé

Bad noise concert = empty

Orlando's dog likes my footwear

Outside the very bad and empty noise concert (''music'' in background)

SWEDEN

My french friends have arrived! They stay at my place and they bring fuel :)

Wendy and Mary

Franco and Andreas (wheres my drink?)

Sunrise at Lappis Beach

BBQ at my place with Alexander, Ina, Stéphanie, Don Pascólico and Mathieu

Lappis Beach party

Cynic Reunion

2007-06-27T10:52:00.000+02:00

I'm back in Sweden, having celebrated Midsummer with friends. I´ll get back to more pictures from my Puerto Rico trip and the last Midsummer events with posts later.

This post concerns the reunion of one of my favourite bands of all time, Cynic. I´ll just link you to an interview with the bands puertorican lead singer/guitarist Paul Masvidal and to their myspace page.

La Casa de Nuevo

2007-06-08T05:38:00.000+02:00

The previous picture wasn´t enough apparently. Here are some more. Other pictures of the house will probably be posted later. The bookshelves are new (hence the gaps). All other rooms except the guest room are full of books (including the garage!).

Millos Birthday BBQ

2007-06-06T21:59:00.000+02:00

Fifteen Again

2007-05-30T23:46:00.000+02:00

I´m still at my parents place, not being able to avoid my friends any longer. I want some work done before leisure time.

It´s been strange to go back in time, being a 15 year old kid again. Finding how much our bodies remember - the trick of opening a special door, finding cheese in the fridge without looking or smelling for it, or where to best walk when outside.

Soon I´ll meet up with Orlando who is rehearsing at the moment.

At this time i´ll be dependent of my friends for transportation which sucks since I don´t dare use the Ford mercury. I haven't driven a car in quite some time, and that car is huge and menacing with all it´s faults.

People have separated, moved and found new jobs. Life has continued. But as soon as they hear my voice it´s like no time has passed at all. The health and well-being of our families is the first question asked. After that ´when do we meet?´. The warmheartedness, the concern for loved ones and for your well-being is something I like with my friends. It´s nice to be back.

In Puerto Rico

2007-05-28T22:21:00.000+02:00

I'm in Puerto Rico.

This time I'll be blogging a lot more about this visit than previous ones, hopefully following up with posts, photos and maybe even video (2GB memory in my camera should do).

Blogging is an excellent way of taking down notes and documenting experiences.

Yesterday I was in Newark. Being in such an affluent society as the USA makes me uneasy sometimes. I like to distance myself from commodofication, unnecessary shopping and so forth. But the temptation was strong. At the airport you had so many bookshops. Imagine, in one of 3 terminals you had 2 Borders bookshops. I wouldn't miss passing by one while wandering around waiting for my connecting flight to San Juan, Puerto Rico. I love Borders!

What did hinder me instead was the inability to take out cash from any of the ATM machines that inhabited that airport. I only got a message saying 'Process canceled - Cannot reach your bank' . Had to pay my food with my VISA. So no spontaneous shopping from my part.

At my parents place I checked with my bank and they charged me for all the 5 times I tried to take out money and registered the transaction as confirmed. So almost 4000 Swedish crowns have been subtracted! I have called them, and they will investigate what has happened and promise I will get my money back. Luckily I have my emergency master card with me (I don't trust banks) so I guess I'm covered this time.

Alrighty, back to the trip. At the moment I'm in my parents place. Very happy its not so hot as it should be. I should call friends who are free today (its Memorial Day).
I suspect tonight people will gather in front of some TV to watch the traditional Miss Universe Contest - that Puerto Rico usually wins:)

Maybe I'll just take it easy and stay here watching the show with my parents, to catch up for all the other times I have missed it.

I just learned that our representative is called Uma Blasini. A 24 year old of 1,88 meters who was treated for thyroid cancer last year. She's very, very hot. Check her out here.

Hasta luego!

Rome

2007-05-21T13:22:00.001+02:00

Nu är jag fast igen.

Det produceras extremt bra TV serier som The Sopranos, Six Feet Under, 24, My Name is Earl osv. men förr eller senare kryper en viss ångest in, ''jag sitter framför dumburken, lär mig inte ett smack och faller dessutom för ett klassiskt säljknep, TV:n är din vän".

Har nu tillbringat två dagar i sträck med att se alla missade avsnitt från säsong två av TV serien Rome. Under första säsongen tittade jag lite då och då. För knaggligt och långtradigt för min del tyckte jag tills att konflikten mellan Caesar och Pompey skruvades upp avsevärt.

Just nu leker jag med Rome, oftast till sent på kvällen. Romes mamma är schysst, vi får puckla på varandra, smutsa ner oss och till och med tafsa på varandra om vi har lust. Samtidigt lär jag mig en massa historia, leker med häftiga vapen och klär mig tidsenligt. Här råder ingen brist på saftiga intriger och hemligheter. Var vi än befinner oss finns något dolt, något hemligt som kan uppdagas mot en viss summa denarius eller ännu fler sesterius.

Rome har fler lekkamrater, bl.a. många av mina vänner. Över ölen pratar vi dels om TV serien men aldrig om våra personliga utflykter med vår lekkamrat. Vi är ju vuxna och får göra vad vi vill egentligen. Ändå sitter vi fastklistrade framför dumburken och äventyrar.

Adventure of a Lifetime

2007-05-08T13:47:00.000+02:00

I'm following my friend Giovannas blog with keen interest. Shes doing her MFS (Minor Field Study) in anthropology in Sierra Leone. Thats something I've always wanted to do.
There are some very nice photos and accounts of her journey. Check it out.

Giovi's corner of life adventures...

Puff Puff Lady and Premonition Station

2007-03-30T21:14:00.001+02:00

I will stare you down kid! Feel my wrath, look deep into my hollow eyes and behold your future! One second and our eyes meet. Puff, Puff, and the smoke engulfs me. In the old ladies eyes I see a grey future sprinkled with colourful memories, a lonesome persons life. The life of probably thousands or even more people here in Stockholm,

Sweden

. On this Friday with its youthful rampages and spring atmosphere I take notice of this old lady. She looks ragged, grey and ghostly. In this popular food court, she looks so singular, so lonely, so boring. But her voice soon breaks out in fits of bad temper. ''Why can’t I smoke here! Where should I go then!''
Having eaten and drunk some coffee I continue to the subway station. I spot her again. This time she approaches the bench where I’m sitting with other people. She reaches for something in her handbag and performs the 'I need my medicine now!' body gesture. I instinctively stand up and walk away while trying to not attract attention. She’s about to lit a cigarette when a middle aged man stops in front of her and with a 'my voice is the voice of God ' demeanour informs the lady that she cant smoke here. He receives a pat on the shoulder from an old Asian guy and a thumbs up. The old lady looks bitter. She waits until the civil hero has left and lits her cigarette anyway. My train arrives and I’m about to step inside when I see her looking at me. She walks closer towards the same doors I’m approaching. I step inside and walk almost the whole length of the wagon to avoid her. Finally reaching my station and exiting the train I find that its completely empty besides me and some lonesome drunkards.

A New Chapter Hopefully

2007-03-25T20:54:00.000+02:00

Finding oneself isn't easy. There have been many paths I've been able to take and most of the time I've been confused both in body and in spirit. What should I make of something, where should I go, what should I do. Certain decisions have been of a negative overtone, I havent trusted in anything or anyone to respond positively and instead I've blurted something out with spite and vengeance. One thing I tried to believe in was my recent relationship with a special person.

I havent blogged about this relationship. I didnt mention the persons name even though she meant alot to me. I only wrote some lines in spanish that summed up how life continues and why some people just cant get along.

What exactly does that mean?

I find it interesting how much one works to fit in, to not hurt others, to not embaress others. It's understandable and good of course but what about other aspects of life where decision making is affected by a preconditioned lifestyle - to consider everyone else, to not act true to oneself.

Listening to my dad over the phone who tells me to find myself, find God, go to church. Being brought up an active catholic doesnt mean I'm practicing now when I'm 30 but there still is something in rediscovering oneself, God or whatever.

I'm moving to a new place soon. A completly new place, an apartment where no one else has lived. Where I can take it easy, call my own place and ponder what options I have without feeling trapped in a place where negative decisions where made. I hope to find myself again. In my own church. Start a new chapter.

Ahh Taka-Taka-Taka-Ta-Ta-Ta

2007-03-05T22:23:00.000+01:00

Thats part of a song I'm trying to mimic with my absurd onomatopoeia, you know the taka taka thing.

Just listen to the song 'Gran Final Absurdo'. It's Fofe, the singer of Circo who does some extremely original stuff . Please listen through the whole song, its very impressive.

Strangers

2007-03-01T22:36:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I finished reading Taichi Yamada's Strangers (Ijintachi to no Natsu).

Clear and straightforward writers have always been effective in scaring the bejesus out of me so I expected at least one sleeples night gripping my pillow hard.

Instead I found how increasingly cozy each reading was becoming, how I longed to tuck myself into bed and experience how the portrayal of human psychology warmed me with feelings of empathy and human understanding. Good writers captivate and Yamada is very good in doing so.

The novel itself was not that frightening but knowing how good a writer Yamada is I'm sure there will be 'The One' novel or text of his that will chill me to the bones. I'm certainly looking forward to that moment and I'm already looking for more of his writings.

Burning Face (Longbranch, Aguadilla 1994)

2007-02-25T20:26:00.000+01:00

Visitando la Escena

2007-02-22T15:41:00.000+01:00

Joel's photos

Från Monotoni till Frigörelse

2007-02-19T22:45:00.000+01:00

Det är inte ofta jag skriver på svenska i bloggen. Vid närmare eftertanke vet jag nog varför.

Jobbet.

Stressiga arbetsuppgifter, besserwisseri och munhugg samt långtradigt arbete har allt oftare förknippats med det svenska språkbruket för min del.

Genom att skriva på ett annat språk i bloggen skakar jag av mig det alldagliga, det spända och det emotionellt krampaktiga.

Språket som andas tung monotoni, gissel och trötthet under arbetsdagen blir det semantiska oket jag slänger av mig när jag tar det lugnt, andas ut och inte stressar.

Rec for a Dream

2007-01-26T22:18:00.000+01:00

These last days I've reluctantly woken up, hit the snooze button and continued sleeping until the nine minutes of snooze time have passed - just to continue dreaming a bit more.

These dreams have been very vivid and strangely rich in details I know nothing of in my wake state.

Like yesterday for example, in the last part of a dream I had I was hotwiring some kind of electric box in order to bypass the circuits of a giant computer on one of the moons of some exoplanet. I remember there was this really hot girl with me, she was telling me I was useless (I think) making me feel worthless. When I had hotwired the circuits she just stopped talking and started singing or something?! A strangely coloured sun filled the sky and a cool breeze filled the damp corridor we stood in. We were just about to have some hot sex when I woke up.

Other dreams I've had have probably been good candidates for a great action movie. I end up waking up with a 'wow that was great!' feeling that leaves me wanting to ''replay'' the dream again.

Leaves me wishing I could record the dreams somehow...

Culturally Determined Phenotype?

2007-01-05T01:22:00.000+01:00

At school I learned that a phenotype (e.g., eye colour, skin colour...) is any detectable characteristic in an organism determined by the interaction between its genotype (genome, DNA) and environment.

It's interesting to consider the interpretation of phenotypes here in Sweden, at least in my own case - being half puertorican (latinamerican) and swedish (scandinavian). I think there are some interesting effects on peoples attitudes concering phenotypes when taking in account their own culture.

In my case I have observed that there often is a stereotypical image of the latino, where one easily forgets the fact that latinos differ wildly in phenotypes - white, brown, black, brown eyed, blue eyed, small, medium, big, caucasian like, hispanic like, indian like, african like, asian like...etc. The list continues.

In my case, its been often that since I'm not blond and having strong dark eyebrows my eye colour is mistaken for black or simply brown and that I've even been considered of dark complexion. Fact is that I have green-brown eyes (see picture) and I'm rather fair skinned. Even more interesting is that living in such a homogenues country (phenotypically speaking) as Sweden anything else that is not typical 'swedish looking' is almost immediatly labelled dark - except asian, which is just called asian looking here.

I'm wondering here about phenotypes being determined by cultural attitudes toward ethnic belonging or origin. Even if I myself may have a hard time knowing if a person is latin, arabic, italian or whatever I do try to not let it affect the simple observation of that persons phenotypes (such as eye colour or skin colour) regardless of my guessings at what that persons origins or ethnic background may be.

Post 101

2006-12-29T18:28:00.000+01:00

Alright, it's been 100 postings in this blog, with this one being post 101. So how does it feel? Well, discomforting somehow. I started out blogging about my observations and thoughts, particularly things concering my student corridor and my friends. I guess I led readers into believing this was the main purpose of my blog. But a bit of social critique, ethnography, reviewing of bands, comics doodeling, writings in three different languages and blatant advertising of friends bands (including my own) amongst other things hasn't exactly been true to that purpose.

Looking at other blogs, particularly those in swedish, I've found that most of them seem to keep themselves to one particular subject or at least one way of writing - maybe to justify the blogs usefulness. In that sense I guess I have failed miserably. Theres never been such an inclination from my side. So here you have another thing I wanted to blog about:

A new DVD box of Jodorowsky's El Topo and The Holy Mountain (both remastered) is supposed to be available. Heres a link to this realease, showing at cinemas right now. I warn you, Jodorowsky is one very, very strange guy and his movies are very explicit. Theres a flash presentation of him and his work (quite graphical) when you follow the link. Now you know.

Stuff I'm Working On

2006-12-14T23:10:00.000+01:00

Been ranting about my music long enough now. No more talking, I'm posting a link to my own music in the sidebar of this blog. Check it out if you want to. The page is mainly a means of sharing my work with friends who also make music.

Mate in Wintertime

2006-12-10T17:40:00.000+01:00

Been a while since I posted anything on this blog. Been preoccupied with my own music where my stay with the band I played with has ended. There were obvious differences in musical preference and commitment - I guess I tried to hijack the band without really knowing it myself. Well, the result has been that I’ve focused more on my own music and the contacts I have in Puerto Rico and the US, but also in other parts of Europe.

Maybe I should explain the title of this post. It has nothing to do with music but much more to do with wintertime. This winter has been really strange so far weather wise. Sometimes it’s extremely cold, other times warmer and other times even very warm. Not much snow at all but as always the dark afternoons and the early nights. Already at 3pm it’s getting dark and it’s very depressing. One thing people usually do is to drink ample amounts of coffee or tea, besides eating allot more - I’m no exception.

Then I remembered yerba mate. That green tea from South America. I was introduced to it by Giovanna, my friend from brasil/argentina. I googled the name and found that its quite healthy, and I was drinking it alot during the summertime. Then I just stopped.

After drinking alot of espresso and brewed coffee during lunch and dinner time this last year I can say that I've felt sluggish and not at all good after the initial coffee kick has settled.

I don’t really know why I’m blogging about this tea - I guess I just wanted to share some thoughts on how to get through this depressing time without drinking something as unhealthy as espresso or brewed coffee.

Science Fiction Performed

2006-11-14T13:29:00.000+01:00

Just got an invitation to yet another performance event by friends in Puerto Rico. Since I'm far away from Puerto Rico at the moment I wont be able to attend as usual. But I would like to share some of this bands photos and the atmosphere they create when performing live. Here are photos from one of their acts in Don Pablo in old San Juan. I'm including one of their flyers also. They are very science fiction oriented, where there performances are accompanied by movies and art exhibitions.

Photos and video Matotumba

2 x Halloween

2006-11-08T21:25:00.000+01:00

It's been alot of halloween celebrating for me this year. The 31st is of course the usual date but then here in Sweden we have it one week later. So it's been two halloween parties -which has been great.

The first one (31st) I was dressed up as a decadent puritan at Carpe Noctem (Bonden) in Stockholm. On the second party (no pic) I was dressed as an inmate that had been beaten up (or something).

Hope everyone had a great halloween!

Photo taken by Sofia and Micke

Trip to Dortmund

2006-10-24T11:46:00.000+02:00

Back from Dortmund, Germany.

I've been visiting my good old friend Felix in Dortmund. We celebrated his birthday with a big party in his old flat where his friends showed up including me and Benoit from France. It's been a very good experience with everything from nice people to nice food, and off course extremely nice beer and jägermeister. Got to see a little of Essen, but mainly Dortmund. Always nice to find how much one can experience in just 4 days, everything from new surroundings, ways of thinking, people and interesting encounters. There where bonus happenings also. I met two swedish girls on the plane to Germany, one who got my number and email so we will stay in touch. On my way back a guy from New Zeeland living in Australia talked about everything from his life in Australia, Essen and this being his first trip to Europe. He left me his email and two bottles of australian wine and an invitation to Australia.

Pictures will follow soon.

BTW. Thanks Benoit for the red wine!

The Band

2006-10-04T14:06:00.000+02:00

I'm playing in a band again. This time it's serious. We have a gig coming up in two weeks with 20 songs in the repertoire - so its been alot of rehearsing lately. Three hours, two times per week, in a studio only 5 minutes south of downtown Stockholm. I like that we are all from different places - Sweden, Puerto Rico, Mexico, Italy and Kroatia. All of us settled in Sweden, not just visiting. Lets see how it works out.

BTW. Check out the all female death/blackmetal band Matriarch from Puerto Rico. Finally some women who kick serious metal ass!

Street Musician

2006-09-30T13:27:00.000+02:00

If you walked Götgatsbacken yesterday night you might have heard me play guitar and sing. I had bumped into a lost friend who was playing on the street. Together with him was his new girlfriend from italy and a girl from germany, who was selling paintings besides him. While updating ourselves about the passed year he told me about his ex girlfriend who had been in a coma after a failed suicide attempt and how this last year had been a living hell for him.

He handed me a beer and asked if I wanted to play guitar with him. So there we were, two guys playing guitar and singing again - and it felt great!
It had been a while since I had performed for other people and I had missed it alot.

That night we sang and played music for hours and later used the money we had earned to buy beer and play some pool with friends we met that had been passing by and who had now joined us.

Más Vale

2006-09-29T16:25:00.000+02:00

Más Vale, är uttrycket som bäst passar in en solig fredag som idag. En fredag som bäst fan i helvete borde bli bra. Som inte kan liknas vid ett syrabad av bitterhet i form av chefens galla, tankar på alla ex som varit utflippade eller ölen som smakade blä förra helgen. Här ska mening urskiljas, ytan skrapas bort, och under alltsammans ska det fan blänka, stråla med positivt levnadslyftande ljus - lika hårt som hos en amerikansk baptistfrälsares endorfiningjutna och febrila leende på TV.

Somliga finner acceptans med hjälp av ett snyggt klädesplagg eller en look, stämpeln av godkännande vi alla ser i skyltfönstren. Den ohyran går bort i dag. Idag ska inga omdömen påverkas av något kravlandes levande varumärke som massproducerats av mode industrin.

En öl med en vän. Vi går dit vi vill, inte efter hur människorna ser ut eller där våra skor bäst matchar inredningen.

En sån dag är en lyckad dag.

Más vale que hoy sea así

La Emergencia

2006-08-30T15:06:00.000+02:00

Today calls for a music video. A day like this, when the sun lights up the buildings that yesterday were drenched in grey wet autumn. Something to lighten up the spririts, a reason to see life as living, breathing - not as stale as just before.

Video

Destinación al Otro

2006-08-10T23:19:00.000+02:00

Es raro, pero si ocurre. Encuentras tu pasado traducido en otro idioma, en otra cultura en otro pensar - en otro modo de vivir. Encontré una página asiática con todas las canciónes, fotos y información sobre mi grupo de música metal/goth que yo tenia de hace tiempo. No quiero dar la dirección electronica de esa página todavia, ya que no estoy seguro exáctamente del propósito de aquel. Solo pienso que es curioso como las obras de uno affectan a otros, sin uno saberlo.

Night and A Teddy Bear Called Nothing

2006-08-03T02:15:00.000+02:00

Teddy is a brownish rug mammal tilted on my bed
At an angle that equals my own, while I'm disembodied overhead.
My blanket, the battlefield where my arms and feet fight for space
On the floor my pillow defeated by spiritual thousand volt seizures.
Teddy is the priest exorcising me
Teddy likes to be called Nothing
He is soft and warm with cold peering eyes.

Buried in his fur are old yellow toothpicks
Leftovers he stole from all the restaurants we visited.
“Did you keep the score, uh?”
Teddy slowly opens his mouth unable to fully lift his head
“Boy, keep pestering me while I sleep and I’ll rip your head off!”
My hand waves mockingly at him from above.
“You’re too slow and fat, besides everyone hates you for being Nothing.”

Teddy’s shadow is cast upon the walls by a passing cars spotlight
His growls fill my head as the room is lit up.
“Look at the crucifix boy and repent!”
A prism of colours reflect in Teddy’s eyes seeking their target.
Hard into the bed I crash, deep within the thick blankets
I am suffocating, waving my arms and legs to get rid of the heat.
One, two, even five toothpicks are buried into my body
“Feel that? Now you’re not going anywhere”

Pinned down, forced to sleep within the warmth I so despise.
My hand reaches out struggling in the darkness
Finally, Click! I find the button.
Air, cold and soothing hits my aching body and mind.
Far from my bed and the present, Teddy is swept away.
“Goodbye childhood, goodbye Teddy, goodbye Nothing.”

Comics I'm Reading

2006-08-01T22:48:00.000+02:00

Today I noticed that serieteket (the library of comics here in Stockholm) had aquired more material from one of my favourite comic artists, Chester Brown. So I grabbed them and some other titles I hopefully will like.

I will post the titles and pictures (to start keeping a record of what I have read).

The image for Nosotros Somos Los Muertos is wrong (#3 not #10). Couldn't find one and I'm too lazy right now to scan its cover.

BTW. I want this book after I have read these comics. It seems hilarious.

It's A Deal Garlic Man!

2006-07-31T12:31:00.000+02:00

My friend Niklas and I have made a deal.

We will try all the 101 shots that pub Bröderna Olssons have on their menu. At least 2 new shots per week hopefully within one year. We will check which of them contain garlic (i.e., no garlic breath, no good garlic shot). Maybe we will round it off with a garlic beer and/or a garlic dessert.

They are also opening in Palma (Spain) apart from Stockholm and London. So educational trips to those pubs are not out of the question.

I'll probably stink garlic but what the hell. It's all for a scientific cause.

Antibes

2006-07-29T11:40:00.000+02:00

Visited my friend Benoît in Antibes this past week.

From discovering the city to playing dodge ball on the beach until 5am, playing board games and visiting Cannes, Monaco and Nice, being burned by medusas and having drunk britts and dutch people spill beer on each other while we all sing along to a brittish cover band on La Gaffe....its all been great!

Thanks for having me Benoît:)

Here are some pictures

Soledad

2006-07-20T14:29:00.000+02:00

A lo mejor es un buen comienzo.
Como dice la gente que tal vez pierden todo.
La luz que nos alúmbra y desarropa el disfraz que engaña nuestras mentes.
Me quéma el exterior, todo lo que pensaba era real.
Solo mís propías sensaciónes ajeno los de ustedes permanecen.
Y solo quedo.
Muy solo.
Para vivir.

Reggae For Some Peace of Mind

2006-07-17T21:17:00.000+02:00

A little peace in the form of reggae.
Cultura profética always took the limelight away from other bands when rehearsing at La Glorietta (an outside open house/lusthus) at the University, Rio Piedras.
They have always been a very open and friendly band singing about peace and unity.

At times like these, with bombings, terrorist attacks and G8 meetings I find their music fitting.

Check them out here:

Video from one of there live performances. Song about peoples fear of standing up for themselves and against the pretext found in certain types of music.
Cultura profética ('reggae rústico' my favorite song)
more cultura profética ('donde no alcanza mi verso')

I really like this last songs lyrics. I'm adding it here:

Quisiera palpar el silencio.
Ser el yo quien sople el viento.
Bañarme de estrellas quisiera.
Vestirme de mar y de cielo.

Practicar el lenguaje.
Que no se habla ni es silencio.
Hablarte en otro idioma quisiera.
Decirte asi lo que no puedo en verso.

Llegar donde no alcanza mi verso.
Mi mente surreal no es suficiente.
Quiero llegar donde no alcanza mi verso.
Mi verso oohh...

Quisiera habitar en tus piernas.
Creciendo como la hiedra en ti o navegar mil leguas quisiera.
Fijado en el timon de tus caderas.
Caminar la llanura.
Que haya en tus ojos encuentro.
Bañarme de tu cuerpo quisiera.
Andar las costas de tu cuerpo entero.

Llegar donde no alcanza mi verso.
Cantar y recitar no es suficiente.
Quiero llegar donde no alcanza mi verso.
Mi verso oohh...

Danzar sudor y cadencia.
De pulso agitado y sereno.
De ver tus suspiros quisiera.
Embriagarte con mis besos.
De tu piel tu mirada.
Mil canciones de noche engendro.
Pero antes de cantarlas quisiera.

Andar las costas de tu cuerpo entero.
Llegar donde no alcanza mi verso.
Tu cuerpo imaginar no es suficiente.
Quiero llegar donde no alcanza mi verso.
Mi verso oohh...Oohh...

Give The Cup To Zidane

2006-07-10T20:01:00.000+02:00

I'm taking a look at the obvious juxtapositioning that took place yesterday at the world cup finals.

We saw:
Two football players.
One incident.
One reaction.
One result.
Juxtaposed within the context of football playing a condemning in the form of a red card.

But in a larger context. Acknowledging the need to make a stand. To say 'no' this cannot continue. The winning part was the opposite. And the outcome should have been different.

Zinedine "Zizou" Zidane.
The greatest football player in the world (1998, 2000, 2003 and probably now 2006). Called by experts one of the best players of the last decenium. Has dedicated much of his time and money engaged in social projects against poverty and rasism.

...vs.

Marco Materazzi
Italy's (and probably the worlds) most hated football player.
Check out this video if you dont believe me.

....
We all saw what happend. Theres no question in my and many others mind (e.g., this italian blog) that Zidane did the right thing. He had already announced his withdrawel from professional football. This was a perfect opportunity to do what all profesional football players had always wanted to do, but not been able to do during this world cup:

Kick this clowns ass once and for all.

Yes, Italy got their cup. But it was relinquished by Zidane and hence rendered worthless the same moment that Zidane probably lost interest in it. Letting scumbags like Materazzi play is a statement in itself that the game of football has lost much of its purpose. Zidane must have felt very dissapointed at the whole spectacle. Letting a clown like this make a mockery of all he stood for and the game he loved so much.

Värme/Heat

2006-07-04T12:50:00.000+02:00

Vi slår oss ner, Federico och jag, i halvskuggan kisandes mot klipporna. Rynkorna hos ett gammalt landskap, en öken, utan luft. Andalucía, Cadaqués, El Morro - samma blodstemperatur, samma värme, slår mot oss, trycker ner oss.

”Sanden måste vara stekhet.”
”Förmodligen likt lava som koagulerat, torkat och pulvriserats” mumlar Federico.

Är det rom eller whisky jag dricker? Solen snuddar horisonten vart eftersom. Många nätter har passerat och vi är båda utsvultna och trötta.

”Härligt att öknen är lika röd som vår tro, skänker oss vila och trygghet.”
”Vad menar du med tro? Republikan visst, men inte kommunist för fan Federico!”

I sanden ritar Federico en figur. Skuggan av handen som rör sig slår hårt mot klippväggen bakom oss. Trolskt sveps figuren fram, böjer sin kontur efter den tjocka sanden. Ett hårt stick i naveln och Federicos figur är klar.

”Se, sanden är magisk. Levande, som du och jag, om än utan mänsklig skepnad”.

Federico lägger sig på marken bredvid sin figur. Hans vänstra hand greppar tag i sanden så hårt att den blir blodröd.
”Ursäktar du mig en stund? Marken pulserar fortfarande av förnimmelse, och jag vill veta om jag ska dö snart."

Solen träder åter fram. Bränner bort Federicos tårar och han reser sig upp. Figuren ser ut att sjunka ihop, ett dovt rop från fjärran. Likt en tjur böjer sig Federico fram, rusar fram och ropar.

”Granadino! Din jävel, är det min tur nu, är du tillbaka för att stånga ihjäl mig du med!”

Hans armar och ben suddas ut i värmen, ett svart streck som gör djupa hack i omgivningen. En till klunk. Jag sväljer syran. Tittar ut men ser inte längre Federico. Han är borta. Jag lyfter blicken från min bok med Lorcas poesi. Lägger den vid min sida och sluter ögonen.

Bandas

2006-06-29T15:16:00.000+02:00

More bands, as always from Puerto Rico.
The musical scene is growing. I got a glimpse of my friends new materials and projects when I was there during New Year. Much has happend since then. I'm trying to keep updated. Here are the bands:

Circo (before called Manjar de Los Dioses, guitarist friend from ex- Burning Face)

Balún

Vic Vega & The Caligaris

La Experiencia de Toñito Cabanilla$$$ (They really hate the police. Had a near death experience 10 years ago with this band. Police started shooting in the air after a fight erupted at one of their plays.)

Negros vivos

Tropiezo (Jose, guitarist from ex-selfless)

LopoDrido (another police hating band)

Crissalida (new songs, check out 'some kind of love') very close friends in this band)

Midsummer Day and No Headaches

2006-06-24T13:44:00.000+02:00

Don Pascólico, Felix, Stephanie, Mathieu, and Malte together with a whole bunch of other friends are visiting. This is the best time of the year in Sweden, during midsummer.

Midsummer Eve yesterday and I feel surprisingly fine today. We were all quite surprised that nobody in our group had become excessively drunk, considering the amount of alcohol we brought with us to complete the arsenal.

My little theory is that all the running around, football playing, frisbee throwing and dancing around imitating small frogs, pigs and musicians has had a good effect on us - somehow its made us better equipped to handle the alcohol in our bodies.

No headaches and fine weather today, perfect conditions for watching the match between Germany and Sweden.

The Splendid Mediocre

2006-06-18T23:27:00.000+02:00

I am getting increasingly sensitive to anything I find false, arrogant or glamorous. It's been often that I find a band or a person who has all the appearances of a good musician or whatever but underneath the surface is utterly mediocre. Its effect on me could be the same as when a corpse (during a wake or visitation) leaves an imagined scent of stale putrefaction in my senses. I need to get some fresh air.

Clip List

2006-06-14T12:15:00.000+02:00

Today people are like walking corpses on a bright sunny day!? The heat is taking the must out of people. Here are some clips to cheer you up:

Death is coming for you
El repertori de Ronaldinho
Girl caught cheating
Russian spider man
Colbert roasts president Bush

Summer seizure

2006-06-12T14:32:00.000+02:00

The heat, the melting lipstick that smeares all over the place, stilleto elbows that mockingly oscillate through congested streets. Another flock of teenage girls stampede the fertile city grounds. Frusting homeless alcoholics, spray the air thick with yellow beer vapour. Shrill cries from children with ice cream blobs on their tiny fingers and noses. Vanilla smelling and red cheeked, brightfaced and smiling while exhausted parents dig their pockets after small change.
Where is the water, the soothing bath we all need? How much bathing do you get with your small change?

What Ancestor are You?

2006-06-10T13:54:00.000+02:00

I've been watching this documentary of Patagonia on swedish TV. Many links to Magellan appear which lead me back to thinking about my ancestor Juan Sebastian Elcano.

He had been forced to join Magellans expedition to circumnavigate the world in order to avoid punishment from the Spanish king Carlos I (after pissing of the king when he surrendered a ship to Genoan bankers). I wonder what he was like? Maybe my aunt has something of his character in her when she pisses of the family?

I found a list that sounds very brooding called the List of survivors of the first voyage around the world. Maybe history will or has repeated itself. That theres anyone in the family who might be forced to make a horrendous trip or something similar and maybe becomes famous while going through hell.

What people (who might be related to the people on the list of survivors) have I met or will I meet? How would the meeting between us be? Are there any traces of our ancestors character left in us that may or may not dictate our actions and trigger similar behaviour?

A Past in Metal

2006-06-09T14:27:00.000+02:00

Ten years ago I was a complete metal head. I had long black brown hair, always wore black and my dad thought I was a satanist. As a devout catholic it was hard for my dad to accept that me and my younger brother could listen to noise resembling a laundry machines centrifuging and dress ourselves in t-shirts with impaled demon heads and hammer smashed faces.

A couple of days ago I was thinking ''how do metal freaks dress nowadays in Puerto Rico and how is the music?''

I looked up some of the bands currently playing and found the answer - nothing has changed.

More interesting are the similiarities between the both countries I grew up in, Sweden and then Puerto Rico. A metal head dresses the same, no matter what.

Here are some pictures of bands that played while I was active in the metal scene.

Puertorican Band...Again...But Video

2006-05-19T11:07:00.000+02:00

La Escena - Again

2006-03-20T00:24:00.000+01:00

Updating myself (and this blog) on the band and artistic scenes of Puerto Rico. Two bands this time, with the art of some of the bands members. Not wasting any time on introductions, its late and its freezing.

A Controller Revolution

2006-01-27T12:12:00.000+01:00

Been looking at the controller for Nintendos upcoming Revolution consol. It looks really cool.
Being able to fish, play instruments, smash, hit, shoot, fence...and so forth requires much more physical movement and player involvment which for me translates into more fun.
For a person that hates sitting pinned to a chair while playing games its definetly a step in the right direction. Lets see how the system itself ends up being like. I hope it will rival the PS3 in performance but what the heck if its more fun to play I'll probably get it anyways.