100 Bullets
The above is a link to the home page of Eduardo Rizzo, artist of the 100 Bullets comic book. I read a preview a while ago, but never got around to buing it until last weekend, in a trade paperback. It was brilliant, a really good crime book. Try it. It's about justice and injustice and doing justice or not doing justice. By any means necessary. The first storyline, in particular, was extremely catchy and the chica starring it was one of those comic book heroines one can't help falling in love with for a wee bit.
Yeah, I went to the hiphop jam saturday. Got in for free even, but i was really tired. The event was cool, but I didn't think it was that strong. Too many testosterone pumped shaved b-boys in the crowd. As per usual, Loop Troop were awesome. DJ Static was extremely swift as well. I was glad to have been there, but it wasn't a crucial event or anything. Still, always fun for a dirty old man such as I to scope out the "cootchie". Why on earth do b-girls wear so fucking much spandex, hiphuggers & short tops? I swear, they don't even excite me. I'm just curious as to why they choose to wear something so revealing in such a crowd of assgrabbers as the average hiphop audience. I don't understand squat...
Monday, May 29, 2000, 07:31 p.m.

Finsta Dataklubben
Damn! One of the first pitas I wrote was linking to Finn Finsta Hallin, a young sharp fella I got to know a couple of years ago. He's a graffer (or was), a poster artist, a sticker artist, a prankster and now he's studying at one of Sweden's foremost graphic educations. Sometimes, he sends me weird irrbotic email. Today, he updated his homepage. Check out that kicking li'l ninja boy!
Monday, May 29, 2000, 04:06 p.m.

Popawheelie, madam...
Well! I say! I dis and I dis and I dis and it's all futile. Just after I ranted against student policies, I got an email saying I could go to the Looper concert. Free of charge, no less. First I met up with some friends at Ariman: Frans, Jenina & Slim Hel. Out of Friday happiness, I speed-drank beer & Fernet B. The concert was so-so, cuz I was fucking drunk. Someone poured beer down my crack. All in all, it was pretty cool, despite me being my usual friday dead tired. I love friends.
Monday, May 29, 2000, 11:29 a.m.

Environmentally friendly webserver...
Hm. I'm a bit "bummed", as the slackers on tv used to express themselves a few years back. Ah, you americans! How you make us laugh. As to why I'm bummed: well, Looper plays here in Lund today, but unfortunately at a student's only place, where rigor disallows the entrance people to stretch their fucking silly fucking student couterie fucked-up rules. Woe is me!
On the other hand: tomorrow there is a big-assed hip hop jam here which I'll most certainly visit, yes siree. I will do the following:
1. get inside
2. have a beer, or maybe a big glass of iced cider
3. nod my head
4. give kudos
5. pay respect
6. say nice things to nice girls
7. go home and sleep
Have a nice weekend, people. I will.
Friday, May 26, 2000, 02:40 p.m.

Old news, IBM... (wanking sprocket)
You know, I'm not down with the whole stock buying business that everyone seems so involved with. Many people that I know are good people, buying organic food and stuff. But when it comes to stocks, everything is up for grabs. You know: "They're a badass monopoly, so what?! Let's make a buck!" or "So they blackmail the government into lowering the environmental demands, so fucking what?! Let's make a buck!"
It's a pretend world, just like my daddy said. It's not real, it's not just. It's an illusion for the sheeps that we are, walking right into a state of oblivious slavery where we think we are rich and free. Pah! Fuck my face and then slit my throat, suh. At least I have more NASDAQ stock than the poor schmucks toiling along at the plant.
Thursday, May 25, 2000, 04:35 p.m.

Toodle-pi, old chap
When I woke up this morning - which was pretty fucking early and all dim morning light - I had dreamt a follow up to pi. Or rather a version of it, starring me, which made it more bizarre in a eraserhead-y kinda way. More sexual. More grand. Why watch such an old movie in the year 2 thousand, you might ask. Because it was just released here, straight-to-video, that's why.
It reminded me of a cross between Eraserhead, Illuminati and Clean, Shaven. Clean, Shaven, if I remember correctly, was not a really good movie, but had some highly disturbing moments and a very nauseating soundtrack, signed Hahn Rowe. Lodge H. Kerrigan, the writer-director, did one movie afterwards, but he's been quiet since 1998. Maybe he's working on something. Anyway, a very dark movie with some very creative sound work. There's some scenes that's been lodged in my brain ever since I saw it in '95: one, where the main character is removing one of his finger nails, looking for hidden transmitters. Another, where the same character shaves his entire body, shaving so close, he removes skin... clipping his hair and scalp at the same time... and then shaving UNNECESSARILY close to his nipples. People should see it. That Kerrigan boy sure had some promise in him...
Wednesday, May 24, 2000, 05:13 p.m.

Straight Outta Trollywood
Lars von Trier's Dancer in the Dark won the Palm D'Or in Cannes last week and presumably wasn't worth it. The fun thing about it is that it was recorded basically in "Trollywood" in Trollhättan, Sweden, which is a small industrial town on the skids, next to the even smaller town where I was born and raised and lived until the tender age of 22. I worked at the SAAB plant in Trollhättan for 16 months, '87-'88. What has been coined Trollywood by the press is an ugly-ass set of blackened buildings less than a kilometer away from the place I worked. It is so fucking weird. The other recording sites were Copenhagen (in Denmark), Kil (a tiny town some 100 kms from Trollhättan) and Billingsfors (which is total Twin Peaks country). This is like my backyard. Or was. Tiny villages out in the woods close to the norwegian border. And in those boondocks, Catherine Deneuve & Björk whirled around.
Is this an hallucination? I even hear that friends from my youth who stayed was in the crew (Hi Lotta!). Pinch me.
Tuesday, May 23, 2000, 02:44 p.m.

All in favour of loobylu, say 'AYE!'
Shit Alabama, as we say here in Sweden! Die Loobyluchen hast eine dot com weibchen bekommt! Or something like that. Web-lumpenproletariat such as your truly is lagging far behind. Still, I'm a dot org:er at least.
Loobylu is brilliant, as I'm sure I've written before. And with the transition (or expansion) into a fullfledged "homepage", she sure is in full effect. BAMM! It looks very very good. "Lickable", to quote Steven effin' Jobs. "Tasty" might be a more appropriate term. Anyway: great work!
Although: since Loobylu included ME in her link list (why, i don't really know. Maybe because I'm a downright affable guy who uses the "F"-word a tad too much. I blame that on being swedish, and watching too many movies!), I guess I need to update more often and a lot better, which this posting doesn't confirm, no sir. Maybe, just maybe, I'll try not to be too obscene. My masturbation habits are not in the public domain anymore. I think. Damn! Forgot to pull the curtains again!

Apart from being stungunned by the release of loobylu.com, I also got trank'd by being wined and dined by some friends that I do posters and flyers for. Sunday is a cool day for massive imbibing of ethanol-based drinkable fluids. We played croquet, downing havana club & gin-tonics all the way to oblivion. Afterwards, we ate, starting with a Cuban Manhattan. Then I had gazpacho with poached quail eggs and saithe caviar. Fucking egged! The main dish was pink duck breast with barbecued yams and compote of rhubarb. De-lish! I ended the meal with a so-so double espresso and a glass of grappa. Then I ran thru a fountain and got totally soaked, and the evening was pretty cool, too. So I went home, undressed, and accidentally fell asleep instead of continuing the festivities, which - allegedly - ended in heavy petting, nakedness, serious bruising and falling over while taking a piss on a church. Damn. I shouldn't of missed that...
Tuesday, May 23, 2000, 01:56 p.m.

I LOVE arcane software!
I've been looking at this goodie proggie from time to time: Back-to-Basics. It has a certain vibe about it, that I'm sure would help me become the rocking rockstar I've never wanted to be, if it weren't for the serious babe-a-licious action connected with it. I oughta shave off my hair. make me come to my senses again. The hot weather beating on my balding scalp makes me insanely inane.
What, I ask you, is a good headwear for summer? Bandanna? I think I'll go all Little Fucking Steven Van Fucking Zandt on yo ass! Punk ass bitch! I'm fucking Little Steven with my cock in a socket and a gat up my crack. ph33r m4h 1337 ski11z!
...and then he woke up...
Friday, May 19, 2000, 05:09 p.m.

I'm NOT Jack Hammer!
Damn. I knew someone had had to come up with the name before me. And - lo and behold! - he's a porn actor too, starring in such prestigios films as The Annabel Chong Story and The Queen From S.M.U.T.. Whan can I say? I've never been that down with porn, although i know a few names. Strangely enough, I actually know quite a lot about the subject for someone who never watches porn. Haven't seen anything since that tape got stuck in my VCR.
By the way: I saw a movie yesterday, which I actually found very good. It's from 1998, but was just released on rental here. The title is the somewhat stale Another Day in Paradise and the director is Larry Clark, of Kids and photography fame. The acting was incredibly real, and I've never seen James Woods in such fine form. Over par, man. Gritty's the word.
Friday, May 19, 2000, 02:15 p.m.

Snug with Smug
I came up with yet another great porn name today: Jack Hammer. How ya like me now, poundin' away like a big ole piece of machinery. After a barrage of names sent to me by mi compadre Jim - Lee Bollox, Rocky Hard, Hardy Poker, Randy Spear - I was hard pressed to come up with a better name. I'm sticking with Rimmer Keegan (although people have been telling me that it sounds like a gay or bi-and-beyond actor), but ya gotta admit that Jack Hammer's flying pretty high-falootin' high.
On a brighter note, I haven't been as vexed about sundry things the past few days as I usually am. I even listened to Bikini Kill today, without feeling guilty for listening to something as post-haute as riot grrrl. And I'm astounded by all the girlie action on town: flaxen, dark, lithe, jumping, laughing - it makes me happy to be a boy. You'd have to twist my arm beyond pleasure to make me call myself a man.
Also: today I put a rework sign up at my main site. I usually hate these things, but I felt bad about neglecting it for so long, I just had to do something! Even if I have no clue whatsoever what to do about the redesign. Upcoming sites that I'll soon be working on is a site about hip hop culture here in Lund, and possibly a portfolio one for my friend Frans' photography. Plus I'll try to finish the Circus Flabbergast one. Ain't I the busy bee who never gets busy? DAMN STRAIGHT & YOU CAN TAKE THAT TO THE BANK!
Thursday, May 18, 2000, 08:08 p.m.

Moi? I've already had cancer
Phoo! The last few days, the heat have been really obnoxious, and I actually feel a bit torrid - not in the sexual way though, heaven forbid! Thing is, I gotta be careful with the sun. Frig's sake, last year I was diagnosed with a mild form of skin cancer, which I was told at the party last saturday will show up in a paper to be presented in Frankfurt or somesuch learned nexus in Europe this summer. Man, I finally made it: Top of the motherlovin' scientific world!
Wednesday, May 17, 2000, 08:52 p.m.

SUEELLEN
My Lard! Usually, I just put my head on the pillow, and fall asleep within seconds, and then I sleep straight until morn. But this nite was one of the worst sets of sleep I've ever had: waking up, headache, having to pee, having to shit, closing windows. I've almost felt sick today: sore and tired.
This, I guess, is the price one sometimes has to pay for partying too much. Like wednesday, when I went to see God Is My Co-Pilot, and was pretty much sober after drinking 6 bottles of Kilkenny. Thursday, my friend Catta came down from Stockholm again. I went to Ariman with fresh posters & saw a rocked-up combo belting out songs in the stooges-sonics vein with a Ramones tempo. Uncanny! The Knockups, they're called. They were really good too. I think that having a singer wearing glasses, make all us glasses-wearing dorks feel all high'n'mighty & ruff'n'tuff.
Friday, I learned that my friend Werner became 30 yo the very same day. The real party is June 3, but a li'l impromptu bash was thrown together. Serious drunkenness commenced. I remember a few moments, none of them too flattering.
On saturday I was dead tired, having only slept 5.5 hours. I went to feed the cats of a friend of a friend and eat some pizza at Alfredo's. Then I and Catta missed a bus, ending up taking a cab to the opening of Frans' exhibition. It was cool. We kicked around, drank Dr. Pepper and aphrodisiac energy drinks. After a couple of hours, I went to Frans' studio to help set up the party. I thought that I'd stay sober, but I missed the opportunity. Instead, I got pretty um drunk, once again missing a golden opportunity to, well, ask a gal for a date. Or something. A king of courtship I ain't. All in all: a great weekend. I just wish someone'd give me a backrub, like, right fucking now.
Monday, May 15, 2000, 05:20 p.m.

Thus endeth "The Invisibles"
This weekend, I finally recieved the last issue of the highly uneven The Invisibles comic book. I must say, for what it's worth (which is precious little, I'm sure), I've really really ENJOYED reading it. The language has been hilarious and influencing to a non-native speaker such as yers trooly; can anyone but Morrison come up with a phrase such as "Manichean murder machines" and drop it squatly into a comic book. I think not.
[side note: I actually know - approximately - what Manichean means, but I must say that in the context of "murder machines" it makes no sense. If I remember correctly, the manicheans were a gnostic weirdzo sect who were heavily into a black/white worldview. Also - this might sound a tad to weird - they're supposed to have become extinct due to 2 things: one. they were persecuted, tortured and killed as heretics. two. they ate only cucumber and melons and died of lack of minerals or whatever the fuck you need to survive.]
So after a few years of amusment, the comic book ends, in an anticlimactic boredramatic finale. This book, I'll re-read several times. I suggest you pick up the collections at an adult emporium near wherever you plant your ass.
Not that I think many people read this page. 1-5 visits per day is kind of in the web wimp division, don't ya think? The day before yesterday, I finally concluded my aural machinations with the Supersuckers live I recorded from radio. And I must say that the end result was far better than the original broadcast. Yesterday I encoded it to layer 2 for convenient, um, storage.
Finally. The 3 past mornings I've showered while listening to Zeke and hot-diggity-damn! those showers are fast, baby! F-A-S-T! Because Zeke is one hot-to-trot R'n'R combo. Not to everyone's tepid tastes, I'm sure, but it sure makes me soap up so fast I get blisters all over. How ya like me now?
Once again, I was positively blown away by M. Chen's diaryland thingamajig. I wish I had such a command of yer ole anglo lingo. I hardly command Swedish better than everybody. And that wasn't a typo. I'm a mean mutha swedish stylist. Dig my umlauts, bubeleh. And PLEASE mail me your porno names, so that I know someone is watching. (ain't talking to you, Jim & Buck, you've already got your porn names!).
Sorry babycakes, can't make it to-nite: I'm going to watch God Is My Co-pilot. By the way, godis in swedish means candy. mmmm-M!
Wednesday, May 10, 2000, 02:36 p.m.

Jim Goad is getting out of jail!
Sir Buck, Esq., mailed me this interesting tidbit: a new page dedicated to the bad boy of zinedom - Jim Goad. As many people know, Goad published Answer Me! for four issues, culminating in the much-hated Rape Issue. He then went on to publish The Redneck Manifesto, a defense of the redneck, on Simon&Shuster. Goad is a good writer, logical and uncompromising. It'll be real fucking interesting to see what Jimbo will do with his life, once released from jail. Why he was in jail? Read about it at the site. Judge for yourself: was Goad something akin to a political prisoner, or just a simple kidnapper?
Monday, May 8, 2000, 09:30 a.m.

A New Phrack, chillun!
Dang! A political introduction about the Elian Gonzalez ruckus by in-fucking-charge-guy route! A refreshing detour from what is usually written in what at least used to be the world's foremost hacking e-zine...
Friday, May 5, 2000, 03:59 p.m.

Go, Spyder, go!
Pathetic. A little script and - boom-biddy-bye! - the wintel world goes limp. That's one thing. The other thing is that pricks posing as experts say that "the internet" is threatened and shit. Well, what about us who run boxes that never get a virus, and never go down: MacOS, OpenBSD, Linux and Solaris? When shall the windows users get wise to the pulchritude that other OSs possess? Stop whining and get with the program, laymuhz!
Spyder? I'm tired too. Should I write some vbs? Pass me the beer.
Friday, May 5, 2000, 03:48 p.m.

Opening of Artgenda in Helsinki, featuring me, wearing nothing but briefs
This morning, when i was fullfronting my neighbours and playing air guitar to Rocket from the Crypt, it dawned on me: my porn name is Rimmer Keegan. Everyone's gotta get a porn name. Mine is Rimmer Keegan. Pucker up, baby - daddy's ready to rumble.
Mail your porn name to rimmer.keegan@sunnerdahl.org.
Friday, May 5, 2000, 09:43 a.m.

Once, I played the Stylophone
Or three times, rather... I played it twice with Sugardaddy, which is just noise with non-musicians, and once with Fredshetsarna, where I actually managed to play several real solos. Simple as writing, as Rolf Harris put it. Fredshetsarna is actually a thing I'm proud of: we wrote and rehearsed a heart warming song about racism and ignorance in about 2 days. We entered a competition and won, although some people in the audience thought we lacked in taste. Post-fucking-ironic Gen Y-ers, we dressed upp in nazi garb and the like. I was wearing a brown shirt and jackboots, looking mighty dapper. Bad taste, maybe. Anyone who knows us, knows that we're the antithesis of nazis, but that we used to go for the jugular of taste. Water under the bridge, but it'd be hard to explain the video tapes that still exist.
Today, I feel like a loser. My skin itches and my neck is kinked. I stayed up until 3 this morning, talking dirty on icq. That is almost sad. I don't feel a pang of conscience or any such thing, but I feel that it's a fucking waste of time, sporting a boner for hours and talking about that with strangers. It's not alienating or something. Just a waste of time. I don't wanna meet these people. I want to dream about rose bushes, primrose paths and a cold cold glass of white wine at the end of the road. Somebody save my soul.
Thursday, May 4, 2000, 10:34 a.m.

Bergman Rock
Swedish indie rock stalwarts/mainstays bob hund just released their first English single under the moniker "Bergman Rock". And they released it in several formats, including a real nice 256 kbit encoding AND a cover as PDF.
I'm getting goosebumps here. Where fuckwad tightwads like Metallica and Dr. Dre sue napster, the small bands keep distributing their songs as mp3. Look at labels Mordam, Man's Ruin and Kill Rock*s for cripes' sake! They flaunt their music! They give us hope! They are nice! Big companies are nothing but A&R pussywhipped bad excuses for music. Nothing but, man. If ppl are so boring they prefer that kinda music before real alternatives, i say distribute the hell outta Metallica.
I'm a pirate, yeah, but I buy more music than since the event of mp3. I listen to more music, I find more music, I buy more. And that, my friends, is something big bucks will never understand. Instead, they let loose the dogs of RIAA on kids and mp3.com alike. Like dinosaurs, they must surely perish, slowly and painfully. Just like micro$øft and I.
Wednesday, April 26, 2000, 09:45 a.m.