This one saved my week

I´ve been playing instruments and stuff. Playing has always meant the ultimate sense of freedom for me, cause there´s no need for me to produce anything of value. Of course I want to do great music as well, but if I fail, it´s not the whole world. Nobody asks me things about music or expects me to know a shit about anything. I can just do what the heck I want and play with effects and shit as much as I want, cause I don´t even know of the do´s and dont´s. I don´t know what´s out and what´s not, which button to push or which small sign means what in the program. It´s exactly like me and photography, but when it comes to photography people expect me to know a hell lot of things cause I´m educated. I don´t know a shit about buttons and effects when it comes to photography as well, and I guess that´s nothing to be proud of. That´s called "failure" in one language and "artistic freedom to do what the hell you want" in another. I am constantly caught in between, like a sheep between the fences of all the endless interpretations of how to live a life in the world. Why is it that I never really know what it is that I want to do? My favourite situation is when you have no alternatives. Just one, shitty road to walk.
Anyway, you can listen to the first piece of musical weakness here.



But now I want a new one. I mean this is from 1988, can you imagine the sounds?

Thoughts about depression

I´ve done a lot of thinking these last few days, cause someone close to me is going through a pain I haven´t seen before in my life. I think I might never get into a real depression, because I seem to have something in me that almost automatically turns me upwards, just when reach the bottom. This sounds so stupid as I write it. But let me explain. When everything feels like shit I usually write down the factors that makes everything feel like shit. Then I see what I can change immediately. Usually there´s something that you can do something about quite quickly.
The problems with really deep depressions are, that you aren´t able to even develop a healthy thought about things like how to get better, because the option that there is a chance things will get better IS NOT THERE. Often you are not able to write a single line, even worse - to even take a look at your own life and the circumstances, and what you might be able to do about it.
My biggest problem these days is - how to give hope to someone that has lost every last fraction of what there is to hope for and believe in? How to inspire someone that wish he were dead? What to say? Where to begin with someone who TRUELY DOESN´T CARE?
Me in my stupidity thought a little good old therapy by talking and getting to the bottoms of the problems, will bring an easy relief, but I recognize myself getting more and more helpless, the more I see NOTHING improve - the days are just copies of each other with no pattern whatsoever.
Before, I was very sceptical to medications like "lucky pills", but I recognize I am changing my mind. I naively thought you could talk any person out of depression, but now I consider depression more like an illness, like any other fysical illness you might develop. Which needs treatment. If someone wants to die, that person is not well, and needs to more or less artificially get a new idea of what it is to feel happy.

Sanningar

Sorry folks, men jag är riktigt cyniskt inställd till det MESTA just nu.
Omständigheter har lärt mig att man
1. aldrig ska älska nån för mycket för då blir man bara lämnad
2. när nån vill ha "en paus" i ett förhållande vill de bara ha en på väntelistan medan de själv får lov att knulla runt och testa ett annat slags liv och sen vill de kunna komma tillbaka som om ingenting hänt OM de ännu vill ha en
3. när nån påstår sig vara "fullständigt ärlig", ljuger denna
4. dåliga nyheter kommer inte en och en, dom kommer I GRUPP

Bevisa att jag har fel.

Life is kicking me in my own damned ass, asking me "so how do you like this? Fall already? Nope, guess I´ll have to kick a little harder next time." And FFFFFKH, another kick. And I suddenly find myself laughing.

Whisky and farmers

Happy days and nights. Yesterday we spent drunk in Helsinki city. Pia and me ended up in a strange place where a retired guy gave us whisky from a coffee cup. His two farmer friends from Hyvinkää came over, and I realise this was a chance I very rarely get. This might sound weird, but I almost never meat real Finnish people like this, like completely regular nothing-else Finnish farmers. I tried to communicate in my very rusty Finnish. We talked about farming, politics, machines that you use in farming and something about phosphor that I still don´t understand. It was basically like trying to talk to another species of monkey. I had absolutely NOTHING in common with these guys, what´s more interesting than that?

So long, orange from Versailles

Today I heard my mother´s concise information that she was going to throw the orange from Versailles away. It has been resting here in a coffee cup by the window since August 2007, when my mother visited me in Paris and we visited Versailles, and saved this tiny orange from being squeezed into the ridiculously expensive orange juice that they sell in the gardens of Versailles.
Now the day has come, when there´s not much more of an orange left of the orange, so we both agreed it´s time to put the sweet little thing into the wheel of reincarnation.

Nights

I really can´t sleep these days. Oh, I mean nights.
Know the feeling when you just want to FFW the night as if it was a boring video? This is how I feel every evening when that stupid thing comes along. Somehow the other people around me disappear and actually fall asleep. I don´t understand this complicated process.

Nights are made for couples. You can just lie there and be fucking 2. For the lonely people a night just means more loneliness.

Someone just came in and PUKED RIGHT HERE!

Coincidences, or?

Life is strange. I think I am getting sick cause I got lost somewhere in between realities. Lost somewhere in between all these places and where it is that I should be. Cause during the last few weeks I surely have been living so many lives. I met an Ethiopian man in a bus who told me he had died many times in his life, so he´s not afraid anymore. He escaped from a concentrate camp when he was 13 and lived on the street for four years. One cannot do much else than just look at these people and sort of admire them. One feel so small next to these real survivors.

I spent new years eve with a bus driver and his family in Guatemala City. He somehow wanted to take care of me cause he had once been taken care of in the US as well.
This is how it goes. The good things you do to other people just keep on coming back to you. I am saying this like it´s something new and strange, but of course it´s not. It has just occurred SO OFTEN during these last few days that I have to point it out.

Imagine - you go by bus from point A to point B. On the bus there´s a shitload of people you don´t know and never will know, all with their individual stories. Imagine now that you actually get the opportunity to know someone, and in 12 hours you will know where that person has spent his last 11 years, what he is dreaming of, how his girlfriend´s house looks like and how much her mother likes dolls.
This is exactly what happened to me. I got to know a South Corean guy at the bus from Guatemala City to Puebla, and ended up spending the night with his girlfriend´s family. Also, they didn´t want me to spend a night on my own down in the dangerous downtown, and I am not the one who refuses to stay at people´s houses, as it is one of my biggest interests just to see how people are living.

What can I say? Not more than 2 weeks away from home and already been at two stranger´s homes.
This is life how I like it.

Me with Alan, the bus driver and his family in Guatemala City

Me in Puebla with the Corean guy Sang Yon and his Mexican girlfriend Veronica and sister

See more pics?

MAGIC forests, and people and cars, and hand-painted signs, and children and LOVE and Spanish, and weirdos

es todos.