GAAAAAAAAH!

Today I am getting nothing done. Nothing. At all. I am leaving for Barcelona in less than 48 hours. There's a shit-ton of things I should be doing. Packing, for an example. Installing my new iPod. Downloading songs. Filling up my new iPod with the yet non-downloaded music. Washing all my clothes. Calling friends. Cleaning up my room. Digging out my guitar case from underneith all the crap in my closet. Throwing away old make-up, putting in a bag the few items I actually use. Deciding on a bag, a pair of jeans, a jacket or two. Folding socks (OK, who am I kidding, not going to happend, but still) & T-shirts & everything else needed for a couple of months on the road. (Or in this case - on the boat.) This is how I feel about all this:

FUCK IT.

I couldn't care less about ugly bags & crappy bracelets & shitty clothes with stupid stains on them. Dust in the corners. Burried guitar cases or songs I keep forgetting I want to hear anyways.

I can't find my bikini. The bastard has chosen the perfect timing to go missing. You would think a bikini would be thrilled to get to go to the sunny beaches of Barcelona. Mingle with hot Spanish swimwear all day long. But not this one, apparantly, oooh no. Hey Bikini! -SEE IF I CARE. You're ugly anyways.

I'm not packing anything. I'll go like this. Or in my pyjamas. Bring a toothbrush, maybe. A pen & a shot of Tequila. No wait. I can get that there.

Now - World, I am going to lock myself in the bathroom, get into a nice HOT bath, & not come out until you're looking much prettier than you are now.

Can you do that for me?!

I wish the world was a soccer team, so I could yell at it.

(Why am I like this? Am I getting resfeber? ME?! I never get resfeber. Fuck this. )

Take That, Bear-Sucker!

YES!

The Secret Is Out

My brother made the day. He said 'wouldn't it be awesome if planes didn't really fly, they just had SUPER-LONG legs that could roll over everything?'

I said I quite agreed.

(You can) Call Me (Al.)

Call me.

(That's not my phone number.)

Fuck Canada

It is Friday night, it's 00.25 & this is the state I should be in:

This is where I'm at:

Fuck Canada.

Filippa Bark 4-ever.

Filippa Bark - I can't decide whether to laugh or cry, so I do both. At the same time. Over & over again.

Ch-ch-ch-check it out here: 'Filippa Bark om påsken'.

'Påsken kom fram tack vare Jesus Christus.

Som är känd från Bibeln.

Det är han i mitten.'

...

Curly Girly Foureyed Redhead (She has no feet.)

It has been very silent lately. My blog, my room - no songs, no screaming or shouting or Laughing-Out-Louds, the simple reason being - I've found lately, that I've had nothing to say. The silence - spreading from the many dustshadowed corners of my head - left my room, hours & days empty, leaving me to simply sit & stare at the walls or down into the darkness of my coffee cup. It's been boring, but I think it might have been a neccessary break for me. No words. No melodies. No bags or drawings or clever things to say. Just me & my boredom, & the hours we've killed together.

But it just couldn't go on any longer. & as always when I doubt, wonder or simply lose faith in Wonderlands - I turned to Drew Barrymore.

I am in love with the woman. I want to be her best friend. I want to call her every day, water her plants when she's out of town. I want to marry her & have her babies. I want her to tell me everything is going to be fine, & that she 'believes you can be the person that you dream of being.' & I want to be able to tell her that I think she's perfectly right.

I know that I have said this before. It just needed to be said again. She's a fucking hero. & nothing gives me hope like allowing myself to believe that she & I are very alike. Drew, thank you for always giving me that kind of bright-colored-easy-living-at-peace-with-the-world-hope, that seem to pour from every word you say.

Thank you for making it okay to be confused, functional, whimsical, crazy, bored, boring, high, normal & nutty.

"I don't really have any destructive behavior anymore, because I've tried that and I don't like it. I like being a functioning adult."

"Every morning I stay in bed for ten minutes to ponder my place in the universe; then I wash my face and check my karma." [on her morning routine]

I guess there's just something about her that my hippie-genes can't resist, no matter how hard I try.

Not that I can say that I am trying.

Oh, & a punkstar wrote a song about me today. It goes like this:

'Curly girly foureyed redhead / she has no feet / she has a wheelchair & the wheels on the chair / go round & round & round & round & round the town. '

I wasn't aware I had no feet. Good thing he told me. It's actually quite catchy, coming to a radio close to you soon, I bet you that much. I drew him a picture to thank him. This is him:

Anyways. I'm off to make a difference.

Peace.

Bored Beyond Belief

This is how bored I am today: