So long, and I welcome myself to the big city.
I've kissed and hugged my latest family good bye.
But, as my old lady friend Gunilla so wisely pronounced, it is a difference in leaving something and going to something.
The first approach is associated with great grief and keeps you where you where before. This is very contra productive if you wish to go to where you point your toes, and wish to point your toes to somewhere that is not backwards and uppside down. Though laying upside down is good for your health and brings blood to your head. At least so my older sister told me, and they are always right. The other of the two ways of looking at changes makes you focus on development. Oh how many gray words have I not used by now?
Strawberries and coconuts, for it is summer.
Now, you have some colourful objects in mind. Good.
The very last day many cried. And then many cried som more. Their tummies did not hurt, but their hearts did.
Since I had already given this last good bye way to many thoughts I had already moved on, and I could focus on enjoying my last day. A sunny day in Molkom where the asphalt still smelled from last nights storm.
When in germany, if ever in germany, do not say "das war ein gross donnerswetter". This may disturbe them since this means something else. And do not eat sprouts since this evidently kills people.
When all the stuff, stolen flag included, was stuffed in the beautiful, old and tacky, red as roses volvo, and all friends carefully squeezed one last time, dear Gunilla in the red house on the hill got a visitor. In her garden where dogs, cats and chickens ran around and bumble bees cirkled around the flowers, she and her friend sat in the grove in the back yard. There was freshly brewed coffee, strawberries and icecream.
Sitting there and not belonging to anything more than gravity (and the clothes worn at the time. Not wearing clothes may terrify people) felt like when have had head ache for a long time and then suddenly not have it. Not because life in Molkom was pain and torture, not at all, but the knowledge of the end and the upcoming good bye had been bothering me for a long time since I had had no idea of wether I'd be able to handle my sorrow or not. Sitting there I could only look forward, confirmed with all the good memories from the place I was now to leave.
Pack it up pineapple
Look in your hide aways and use anything you have that is eatable.
If you are lucky it may result in a blueberry/banana smothie.
With only days left it is helpful to get rid of as much stuff as possible.
I'm trying to shorten my pen so it'll fit in my backpack.
Mr Pineapple is now going to the slaughterhouse.
Backup bitches
This time every year each student living at theboarding school is given a specific area to clean.
I didn't feel like cleaning, so I called for backup and made it a Party.
This is me, Pernilla, together with Agaton Frökensson and Flunt-Squibbelina Skrubbesson.
Yatta yatta bye bye and comissions of trust
self portrait
Less then a month til graduation. Leaving the bubble forever, and then what?
That answer is uncertain to most of us.
Molkom should be thought of as a springbroad to the real world,
instead of a base camp you always seek back to.
We will feel lost, we will feel lonely. But this will last for a week,
and then a bunch of other fun things have happened already.
It is not a very dangerous world out there. Not if you have good shoes and a toothbrush.
My lovely friends make me feel so good and like I can do anything.
You guys are awesome, all of you!
I cant se exactly what I will be doing. There is like anywhere to go, and I'd like to go everywhere.
I can imagine do almost everything, except for a bunch of things. And not only one thing, you know!
But I do know, I really like my car.
She rocks, and she rolls. To bad she doesn't have a top floor with bed, shower, fridge and wc.
Guess soon I'll count myself as homeless. At least for the couple of hours it'll take me
to drive from Molkom till Stockholm. Then I'll just crash at my dads house, where there is even room
for my car, aka "Skruttan". Actually, she will not get her own room, but some space at the garage.
Who named her btw? She named herself this winter when she,
(actually, sometimes its a he, a intersexuell car) refused to start.
Thank you, Tess Lydeholt Berg, for the commission of trust
and honour of letting me design and decorate your tank top.
Bipolar days, orange soda and ghost spiders
Found a ghost hotel in the window. What does a ghost spider look like?
During these bipolar spring days you just chill outside in the sun together with your old high school friends,
while enjoying an orange soda, take away sushi and the possibility to finally wear shorts.
Or, you meet up with you dear steph sister, here I interrupt myself;
The word steph sister gives one bad associations. When you here the word steph sister,
the girl you think of would rather place your head on a sharp stick and grill it like a marshmallow,
than lend you one tiny neck lace. She sings terrible, has awfully large feet and gets totally upset
over a tiny mouse in her tea cup. Bitch.
Steph sister; One of your best friends, who cares for you, who you care for.
She is wise, strong and has perfect sized feet.
She is the person you'd like to lay in the grass with, surrounded by others enjoying the sun in
Vitabergsparken. The park that day time is visited by loving couples, fathers with baby wagons,
mothers with baby wagons, bag ladys searching for cans, dogs chasing each others and friends
just doing nothing.
What ever happened to bipolar? It happens directly when the sun sets, and suddenly
the temperature sinks abruptly and you would like to have both hat, extra socks and the possibility
to asap get home or somewhere where there at least isn't a nice climate for polar bears.
During summer nights in Vitabergsparken, aca Vitan, whenever the whether alows it,
all kinds of interesting people like to gather there to enjoy the less Christian pleasures
that life offers, like drinking alkohol, fight and have sex in the bushes or surrounding flower beds.
Whenever necessary, the forest surrounding the park provides the perfect toilet.
If you are looking for an interesting spectacle I strongly recommend you to stay at least untill
10 o clock pm. Then in when the provide against alkohol starts. The police arrives to the party
to check things out. Anyone who's lucky to still have some lively lemonade left does anything it
takes to save it, wether he or she has to silently hide, perhaps in the snog-bush, for half an hour,
desperately drink everything, or endure the hunt apparently unbothered,
untill last seccond when uncle bluepuffs his breath in you neck,
asking whats in your bottle. Mister cool has two alternatives.
Either he obedient handles over his stumble juice to the nice officer,
who brutally ends the party with pooring the forbidden liquid out.
Or, he acts fast, grabs his dearest and makes a run.
This is usually a difficult and dangerous stunt,
and may result in some involuntary tripping of the physical kind that.
This depends on that people tend to end upwith troubles of manouvering themselfes
flexible and quick after spending a couple of hours in the dark shadows of Vitan.
Cheer up
fåglar finns olika hälsningscere-
monier. Spindlar till exempel viftar
med "armarna", kräftor och hum-
rar gör likadant med klorna.
- De vill visa att "jag är inte farl-
lig och tänker inte anfalla dig. Jag
vill snarare vara din kompis - och
kanske ha lite sex.""
Citerat från DN
"Amongst animals, insects, fish and
birds there are different greeting
ceremonys. Spiders for example
waves their "arms", crayfish och
lobsters do the same with their claws.
- They want to show that "I am not
dangerous and will not attack you.
I'd rather be your friend, and mayby
have some sex.""
Quoted from DN
solen kvittrar, fukushima strålar och fålarna skiner
This is how we do it at the boarding school
This is how we do location scouting in ghost town Grängesberg
Full moon ball at the castle of Douglas, Karin and Simon
those who weren't invited had descended upon the attic
When the sun shone in from every window
in every room you found people enjoying their
sleep, existence or their breakfast
Var är jag
En förbarmad igloo
Har du ingen red bull till vodkan, får du plocka rosenblad och göra likör. Startar inte bilen, se vad den istället kan användas till. En bekant volvo till mig protesterade djupt mot kyla och vrålade "vill inte" häromsistens. Nu stod han istället och tjurade under decimeter snö. Öppna dörrarna för nya möjligheter, och du kanske finner en magisk igloo med tillhörande wunderbaum och en leopardmönstrad nackkudde.
Bilreparationer är dyra, därav kylskåpetluftigt inrett med mycket utsikt.
Resultatet ur exotiskt, syrligt, välbekant, somrigt med höst, vinter och vår på samma gång.
Dijonsenap sällskapar med en påse morötter, en burk av pappas hemkokta äppelmos, smör, egengjord lingonsylt, tonfiskröra, yoghurt samt en halv burk mangotobak. I skafferiet är det lite "stuffa undan resten i sommarstugan"-tänk bakom inredningen. Det är varmt, torrt och där samlas tonfisk med diverse kryddor som vit- och svartpeppar, chili, kanel, mandlar, curry och en stor flaska olivolja, som står gömd bakom bovetegryn, havregryn, bulgur, tre knäckebröd och en trasig riskaka. Där inne i mörkret står ännu en liten flaska, med ett par tre, fyra, fem, starkt är gott, chilifrukter i botten.
Ovanför dessa frukter svävar en skogsgrön, trög sjö av olivolja. Och där fanns en apelsin och där fanns en lunch.
hitta ett don att hälla mat i, förslagsvis snygg och bra att äta ur
koka bulgur, typ en halv dl
krossa typ fem mandlar med mortel eller stekpanna
tänk vad klok du var igår, som öppnade en burk tonfisk, rörde ihop firren med olivolja, vitpeppar, yoghurt, salt, mer vitpeppar och en storklick senap, och lämnade till idag
lägg husgrund i ditt don med morötter, dunka ner apelsinbitarna, strö ner bulgur, droppa på chiliolja, en klick tonfiskröra och strö sist över mandeln. Voila, Bon Appétit!
Midnattliga måltider, polska salsadansare och otacksamma får.
Nyårsnatten, 3 pers och hund
squash
tomater
vindsrum
filodeg
madrasser
oliver
en hund
sesamfrön
Sätt ugnen på 200 grader.
Ockupera ett vindsrum.
Sätt madrasserna i hörn och på golvet i rummet.
Sätt öl i kylen.
Skär squash och tomater i tunna skivor. Roa hunden.
kavla ut filodegen, sprid sedan ut de uppskurna grönsakerna, oliverna och fetaost i olika formationer och kombinationer på de kavlade degplattorna. Glöm inte bort hunden. Strö över sesamfrön över filodegsbakelserna, sätt in dem i ugnen. Öppna en kall öl. Ge hunden en klapp och uppmärksamhet. Under tiden degen bakas, leta upp stearinljus, radio och filtar. Bär dessa till det redan madrassklädda rummet. Strö ut efter behag.
När bakelserna är gyllenbruna och uppfluffade är de färdiga att tas ut ur ugnen. Ta ut dem ur ugnen, akta så du inte snubblar på hunden. Bär berget, är det inte ett berg och enormt många bakelsebitar har du gjort fel, fler ölflaskor, guacamole om någon hunnit göra det, morotsstavar att doppa i och en tändare till rummet. Ramla inte i trappan. Pröva hundens tålamod genom att ställa brickan med de doftande små gyllenbruna undren på golvet framför honom. Hänförs och beröm hunden om det lyckas, ångra dig om det misslyckas. Skäll inte ut hunden om det försvann mat. Han var nog hungrig eftersom du aldrig ger honom mat och det är otroligt synd om honom, alltid.
Slå er ned på utvald plats, tänd ljusen, starta radion och luta er tillbaka med ert glas öl ni hunnit fylla på. Bäst är, om ni hittat ett rum med fönster. Allra helt med någonting utanför fönstret. Annars kan det näst sista momentet misslyckas.
När klockan slår minuter i midnatt är det bara att plocka på sig skor och klättra ut genom fönstret för att skåda hela stadens fyrverkerier och hälsa det nya året. Hunden bör stanna inomhus
När dagen varigt lång, timman slagit sen och magen kurrar högt och ser på dig med stora blanka ögon, är det alltid bättre, liksom i alla tillfällen, att se möjligheterna.
Vad vill du ha?
Vad har du?
Vika ska ha?
Alex kom hem en natt med hunger i magen
Mavros var också hungrig. Han har kronisk hunger.
Alex hackar, fräser och rör ihop ett par grejer ur skafferiet och vips fanns där tomatsås.
Jag kavlade upp armarna och vips fanns där en deg.
Vi tog på oss ögonbindlar och greppade tag och vips fann där en hop med spännande pålägg.
Midnattspizza när den är som bäst, och vips var den borta.
Laga midnattsmirakel är bara en bråkdel av vad trion plus hund hann ådstakomma under dagarna 10 jag var ett besök. Det hela började med en soppa.
Sedan kom en cykel med knepigt lås. Med cykel tar man sig överallt i denna stad. Mycket praktiskt, miljövänligt och hujeda alla, nyttigt. En Gaga-uppvärmning i danslokal med omsorgsfullt övertäckta speglar, som det ska vara.
Lämnar systern åt vidare dans med regissör. En liten dush och så fit for fight ut på stan igen med kamera.
En halvtimma senare bultar huvudet och det förbannade låset som man måste böja sig fram för att låsa var ett idiot-lås och så fort jag böjde mig framåt så bultade det satans huvudet ännu mer. Hittade ett apotek med huvudverkstabletter, ett bageri med två stora bakelser, två till mig, jag tackar jag, jag ska vräka i mig alla, alldeles själv, för det var huvudverken sugen på.
Hemmets lugna vrå bjöd på vatten att skölja ned pillrena med, och film att invänta paracetamolens verkan till.
Så helt plötsligt en dag, någon av de där dagarna efter nyår, hade vi plötsligt två festande polska salsadansare i vårt vardagsrum. Hur kom de hit? Varför pratade de så mycket? Visst var de väldigt trevliga, men sov de aldrig? Jo då, vi hade ju överlåtit självaste nyårssviten till dem. De kom, de snackade oavbrutet i ett dygn, skalade en apelsin och till och med delade upp det i klyftorna till de där galet tysta svenskarna som betedde sig som om de hade tankarna djupt inne i de svenska storskogarna, och så var de borta. Friden sänkte sig åter över Willem de zwjgerlaan 73, alla trappor upp.
Nu var kvällen här, kvälen då det var dags för stop-motion skapande i kyrka.
Bara vi, kameran och vår oändliga fantasi. Vi skulle arbeta med ljuset, instruerade Alex om sina visioner. En briljant idé föds, storhetsvansinnet grep sina klor i ett hårt grepp, och ingen skulle ju se för vi var ju ensamma i kyrkan. Högt upp i taket fanns det hänglampor. Dessa skulle dingla! Att nå dessa från golvet var en omöjlighet. Att nå dem från balkongen där orgeln stod var inte heller möjligt. Hur får man en hängande lampa att dingla om man inte kan nå den? Hade vi en lång pinne? Skulle vi kasta psalmböcker på dem? Skarpsynte Alex hade fått syn på ett snöre i köket där vi blivit erbjudna att förse oss själva med te till den körsbärspaj en kyrkdam bjudit oss på. Så med snöre knutet i tung, kastbar pryl försökte vi svinga snöret över lampan. Sikta och träffa för guds skull inte lamporna. Tungprylen flyger iväg, uppåt, missar lampan helt och dundrar i golvet med en smäll som får orgeln att eka. Bäst att stippa tungprylen i en vante. Under försök nummer två, bäst som vi står mitt i altargången och kastar saker omkring oss till höger och vänster trippar körsbärsdamen tillsammans med en annan fröken och frågar om det är ok att hon spelar på orgeln. Man får bara spela på orgeln om det låter fint, min egen tolkning på den tillsägelse jag själv fick, eftersom jag störde grannarna. Självklart får fröknar som kan spela orgel fint spela för oss när vi jobbar. Ackompanjerade till ljuv orgelmusik kunde vi nu stå och slunga blytung vante upp i lamporna. Svung, träff, slutet gott förutom sista bilden då lampstativet skulle kyssa mikrofonen. Då dog batteriet.
Herren kanske inte gillade att det hamnade lite snöre i hans lampor. Vi tyckte iallafall det såg bra ut.
Dessa får http://www.sandrinalindgren.me/index.php?/the-sheep-solo/
Om du gick barfota mitt i vintern och tuggade gräs skulle du förmodligen inte bli gladare av att veta att intill din hage finns ett pannkakscafé där alla andra utom du får kaffe och pannkakor. Du skulle heller inte vilja veta att pannkakorna var enorma och goda. Bättre att leva i ovisshet eftersom ingen nuförtiden glädjs åt någon annan.
Fly south, go Amsterdam
2010 is coming to an end. The news papers calls it "year of catastophes". Always so dramatic. I live in sweden. We don't have catastrophes here. Biggest one must have been when someone wrote the book "The involontary monarch". Wt..? Is he a human being? That's it, I'm flying south!
Better go Amsterdam! Bring saffron buns, legs of lamb with horseraddish cheese, but leave the sheets and towels. Douglas Adams will never forgive that exhortation.
Good ideas come at night, half asleep. The best thing to do is to wright them down.
Computer, note book, mobile phone
pen, paper, scissor stone
As long as you get whatever has gotten into your head down and legible.
vegetable.
For Christmas? No.
Meat.
Trick or treat!
...
Trick indubitable.
For a trick is as sweet
as any treat
it lasts longer
unless your treat is a bottle of bear or something stronger.
You can add any beat to it, as long as you keep up with the main pulsation.
You don't even have to keep up, if you always followed the beat you would never find new rythms.
Throw your knifes backwards, towards the audience, oh fearless artiste.
Break the pattern, make life thrillier.
Every living creature has its pulse. It leads, you follow.
Dance floor, DJ presses play, swing a long dear fellows hop uo you go, go, go.
Never stop.
Pulse never stop unless you die.
Thanks to my new christmas gift headphones I can now hear my pulse clearer.
Thanks Daddy Claus!
I press play, swing a long with my ears, dears. Only stop when spoken to.
Tones of Molkom
Busse Lulla
While crossing the road he got hit by a car
Poor little creature, did not get that far
He lied down in the snow, already dead
deep frozen, beautiful and red
I did not want to touch him, he surely was covered in germs
left on the ground, to be fed on by worms
With a leaf from an Asp i grabbed the diseased
to prevent the corpse from being maimed and squeezed
"Oh, trepidation" his head was tattered
some lumps of the brain all smashed up and scattered
The uncongealed grease had frozen to glue
I would have to use force to complete the rescue
"Now is when others would give up and bale"
I thought as I started pulling the tail
Halfway through my rescuing mission
a vehicle was approaching, this was his vison
Something furry between the asphalt and a girl
still stuck I was now wrenching the damn squirrel
Then with a "pop" the cadaver was unbound
he flew through the air before hitting the ground
My duty was fulfilled and a new game created
Toss with little rodent, or whatever is striked and inanimated
The end
Saturday morning after a buisy week, because of illness I'm dizzy and weak
During my breakfast I was fighting zombies. Enchanté
Legend of the toilet ghost
Me and Alicia sitting in her room
Peeking through the window, silent as a tomb
Suddenly behind us we heard a dreadfull cry
We flew up woundering wich one of us would die
Armed with Alicias broken guitar and printout notes
we went out in the hall hunting for the evil ghosts
I had no plans on meeting the dead
therefor I fled and yelled "take her instead"
"You can't catch me, I am locking the door"
unaware I was hiding in the room from where we heard the roar
The phantom screamed and attacked me from behind
His long and sharp nails scratched me and made me blind
For what is terrible and wrong I do no longer care
My eyes a closed and that is moore then I can bear
I am condemned and there is nothing I can do
I will forever moan and haunt the loo
Hunger and war is gone in eternal night
The rest of the world disapeared with my sight
I strongly recommend you to be aware of the toilet ghost
If you leave my bathroom filthy I shall make you into human toast¨
Det var en gång...
Erövran av fjärran länder, bortom kyla mörker och iskalla händer
Olkhon Island, Bajkal lake, Russia
Ulaan Baatar, Mongolia
Mongolian Steppe
Sommar blir till vinter, en hyllning till höst och pappor
Min pappa är den bästa pappan. Tack för att jag fick dig till farsa!
Nu för tiden är det ny årstid hela tiden. Nyss var det höst och sen vart det vinter,
men svamparna hade roligt i snön, och sen stod de glatt där igen, när det blev höst en gång till, fast baklänges.
Blir det sommar härnäst?
People of the Dead sea, machine guns and Synesthesia
Pizza isn't always pizza. There is home made pizza with butter fried chantarells, there is the pizza from the local Pizzeria with canned vegetables, perfect tomato sauce and dough, there is the fast and cheep alternativ you bur from the Konsum (grocery) which you can pimp your self with loads and tons of fresh vegitables, olives, ruccola, black pepper and olive oil, and there is that one pizza from the wounderful dinner that Vicky stuffed me and my sisters empty stomaches with, at that reasturant in Tel-aviv. Excausted from an entire day by the dead sea, we threw ourselves in her shower, borrowed her clothes (I had forgot how clean clothes could be) and went out on the balcony to wash our shoes with the out-door hose. It is important to make a good impression, so to end this "getting clean and not look like a sea monster"-session with style, I opened the tap instead of closing it. This resulted in an unsteary snake who went for attack. Therefor I made an elegant swing with the whole self and threw one of the sandals over the edge, while sand and water succesfully spread all over her nice pollished floor and collection of herbs. Fortunately, on the other side was a platform close enough for me to climb down on to get my sandal from where it had landed. Vicky helped, and without any further damage the sandal was reunited with us again. Vicky was cool, and Filo-dough pizzas, Tahini, red wine and a bunch of other both mysterious and delicious courses was ordered and brought to our table. Some people are lucky, they should be grateful.
The desparete struggle to find shadow and what happends if you don't
On the bus on our way towards the Dead sea I sat down next to a boy with a big machine gun in his knee. We spoke during the trip to Jerusalem, where next bus waited. For three years he is suppose to carry his gun with him at all time. Even in his sleep. Even whilst on short-term leave from his duty he had to bring it with him. It was not loaded. He wanted to give me some ammunition so I would remember him. That could have given me some trouble on the airport, so he gave me his facebook instead. Modern time, what would we do without you.
Even without the ammunition the Israels are extremly suspicious. Not for everyone, no, but for cheerful girls in shorts and sunglasses. I was held for maby one half hour, pushed to the side of the line. The other passengers came and left. My passport was sent to the next guard after the other. They all looked at it, pointed at me and then passed it to the next person.
GUARD
"Where is you lugage?" "Who payed for your ticket?" "Where did you stay?" "Why did you come here?" "What did you do on your stay" "Where o you work"
I
"I travel light" "I was the one who payed for it" "I stayed at my sisters place" "I came to visit her" "We visitet the Dead sea and took a Gaga class" "I'm a student"
GUARD
"What is Gaga?"
I
"you like.. float in the air" To help the poor guard to understand I showed him some floating in the air moves and CRAP WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING? No he'll deffinately think I am a drug dealer.
After explaining again that no, I dont have any more lugage and yes I was the one who payed my ticket and NO I dont have another bag they finally, but reluctantly, let me go. With only minutes until take of, I ran through the whole airport.
In these stressy situations it is important to be cool and to know that it isn't the end of the world to miss a flight. I would have a really impressive excuse to my work. "No sorry, I was captured by guards in Israel, I won't make it till Monday". Lucky me I run fast. Good bye Israel, see you soon!
I am a synesthetic person, like my sister and, according to wikipedia, 2% of the population. It's propably genetic, since it usually runs in the family. Colours, sounds, feelings, numbers, movement etc can be mixed in different assosiations. Unlogical and without any real pattern, but isn't it obvious that number 3 is green? While green is more to brown on a scale, moving towards indigo, since there is two "e" in it. Indigo isn't even close to the colour indigo, actually Indigo is kind of uniqe since the colours doesn't mix. The white from the "I"s doesn't fade into the pink or the dark brown. They have names for everything, don't they?
October is coming to an end. The smell of fall and rotten leaves shines more intense than the fair sun. Oranges becomes tasty, and the nights magical. Look at the stars and take a deep breath. The air is absolutely clean.
Journalists arrived, sat down, listened and left. Four times, all day and we tought them what we knew. Different stations. So many patterns everywhere. The lines, the shadows, colours, light everything, just look at them and reflect on what they bring to the picture. Teaching is telling. Open your mind, open your eyes. What do you see? Is it grafical? Is it in balance?
Welcome to paradise
Det finns en plats för oss på jorden, en plats i våra hjärtan,
Beläget mitt i norden, dit springer gärna snärtan.
Bland nyfikna kvigor och färgglada nyckelpigor
springer hon illa kvickt genom hagen, för att undvika horn i magen,
hem till farmor som vid spisen steker pannkaka
slår hon sig ned på kökssoffan i väntan att få smaka.
Så full fart framåt, ner till bäcken
syster skriker "akta dig för Näcken!"
För huvudet under vattnets yta så kanske du får höra honom ryta.
Lägg huvudet på kudden i ett dass från 1600-talet
somna och vet att inget på Kvarna är galet.
Bäverdammen
Illustrations
DVD cover by Alicia Klang and me
Affish for a short movie made on Molkoms folkhögskola
Drawing
