Smash It Up! Tour
Yikes! It's been quite the weekend...
wed: see below
thu: went for lunch with old friend and housemate Johan. Went home to meet my visiting friend Jim. Sat around chatting, drinking and listening to some rock, some punk rock, some dub and some Slayer. Went out for dinner. Ate catfish. Went to Ariman to see D-Men & hang out. Got dred fucking tired before midnight. What gives?
fri: Had breakfast with Jim. Catta came by & we went shopping. I cooked some salmon with basil mashed potatoes & a youghurt sauce with capers, garlic, red onion & shit. Yeah. Some salad with that, too. Catta went to the movies & I sat around slacking out. DJ Cheb and Catta came back and we had something to drink, and went to Ariman for drinks (surprise!), but got tired soon and went to Richard's and watched Fist of Legend. Damn! Martial arts movies mess with my head: I walk like a cat, feel like a slick sumbitch. Pwah.
sat: went up early, went to the flea market with DJ Cheb & Catta. Bought 2 Cormac McCarthy books & Foxfire by Joyce Carol Oates for like 40 cents. Bought the swedish variant of backgammon, Bräde, for about a dollar. Bargains! Went to the state liquor store - which is now open on saturdays, bless satan - & bought wine, beer & cider. Ate a late breakfast. Catta went to Malmö & I went to a hiphop jam with my man Phat Pat, da hiphop cat. Syster Yster was was battlin' her 14 year old brother Professor P. Heli was doing some cool guest rapping, almost sounding like Roxanne Shanté. Mobbade Barn Med Automatvapen was kicking it, being obnoxious, obscene, obese (DJ Large!), but main rapper PST/q was fucking weak, missing rhymes, forgetting cues. Seron & Organism 12, 2 of the other crew members, however, were awesome (to use an old "dudeism") & DJ Large was one of the better hiphop dj's I've seen...
sun: woke up, dead tired. Waited for Catta. Went to Empe & barbequed for the first time of the year. Drank some white wine. Returned home after a while. Drank Purkmistr & waited for the clock to turn 9. Fuck. Did a compilation CD for jenina's birthday. Went to the Smash It Up gig, rocked, especially to The Hives, got drunk, but not dead drunk. Followed a drunker girl home at 3 AM, ate a cheese sandwich & slept on her couch.
mon: Yawn. Woke up in the pre-summer heat that we currently have, dried out and with the feeling one gets when waking up in someone else's apartment, alone on a couch. Dang boring, yeah. Went home. Kicked back with Catta, ate breakfast. Frans came by and hung out. So did Alex, who became my guest chef for the day, doing some bad ass stuffed chicken filet with ruccola salad, basil, olive oil, cream, fresh pasta, jalapeño and what-have-you. Extremely fucking totally tasty! Man! Am I happy Alex is moving back or what?! Next weekend. Almost the event of the year, yeah.
I don't feel old, but I sure as all behinds in norway don't feel young either. I'm next to numbed. Bored. I have fun, but it doesn't run very deep. Still, charmed.
Tuesday, April 25, 2000, 05:53 p.m.
Mars's di-a-ry
What the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I almost only visiting girls' homepages. Have I turned into some kinda "girlyman", or what? Nah. I'm just ribbing y'all.
I gotta tell you about my friend Honk. Honk, he's a great singer. Like Glenn Danzig with balls meets Johnny Cash. Anyway. Honk's really tattooed, and one of his first tattoos was "HONK" on his upper arm. That's got nothing to do with anything. Anyway. Almost a decade ago, Honk was in London with his then girlfriend. Upon being introduced to a couple that his gf had befriended, Honk shook hands, briefly.
- I'm Honk.
- Honk?
- Like in "Honk, honk, move over, motherfucker!" [pushing person to the side, going for beers in the fridge]
Maybe it sounds childish, but I thought it the epitome of cool when I first heard it.
That Honk fella? Yeah, he's cool. As in to-fucking-tally cool...
Thursday, April 20, 2000, 12:36 p.m.
Boss Hog rocks me not
The week is at an end and yesterday I saw Boss Hog. Which was a slight disappointment, actually. Sure, Cristina Martinez is foxy like nobody's business, and the rest of the crew is pretty cool as well. But what a fucking boring voice she has! All in all, the set was not ROCKIN' at all. I stood watching Ms. Martinez' admittedly gorgeous tush, singing Turbonegro's Don't Call Me Motherfucker, Motherfucker! in my head. Then the set was a-ok. Call me rigid, but Boss Hog were better in days of yore. Also, I was a bit bummed that Cristina didn't do her oft-referred-to strip. I wish she'd leave the singing to drummer Hollis Queens - who's got a considerably more interesting voice - and stick to exotic dances instead. Sexist pig, moi?
I'm washing it all outta my skull now by listening to the Entombed & Men Of Porn tracks I just downloaded from the Man's Ruin site. Shitty encoding, rocking songs. Fuck, I'm hungover... ...and tonite I mo go see D-Men again, drink with Jim, a visiting friend, meet Catta and whatnot. It's easter & I will eat eggs like the eggeater I am. Only the "ecofriendly" variant, of course. Such is the extent of my punkdom.
Thursday, April 20, 2000, 12:01 p.m.
House on Haunted Hill
Back in the days, when Honk, Buck, Werner, Empe & I still ran Haunted House, we showed the original House on Haunted Hill. It's a bit frightening, but also a bit tarnished by age. A bit ridiculous, as it were. But the new one was actually a bit of a tingler. The DVD was voluminously stacked with goodies, such as a comparison with the original with great William Castle footage. This, my boogie chillun, is the boon that DVD was created to grant.
Tuesday, April 18, 2000, 03:50 p.m.
Bornmag
Cool design and some nice writing. I spent a while browsing around. It requires flash at some places. A bit of it might be considered pretentious. Slap me with a cod or somesuch thing. See if I *really* care.
Wednesday, April 12, 2000, 02:27 p.m.
LLLL!
To-day, I'm a bit hung over. It is, after all, wednesday morning. Yesterday, a girl possibly came on to me. It was very flattering. But of course, I missed the opportunity.
Today, quite fittingly, I'm wearing my Jim Woodring t-shirt, the one with that milkcartonlike pup screaming "LLLL!". I dare say that it gives my face a nice sheen compared to the horrid pallor it would otherwise have. A word of wisdom: whisky and beer makes a nice pair. If my balls swing low? Do the pope use a buttplug? Damn straight in your face, dweebster!
Wednesday, April 12, 2000, 11:04 a.m.
TRIIAD
Yesterday, I got 2 packages in the mail. The first one was a Triiad t-shirt that my brother bought in Paris last week. All green & beautiful. The other was a Crime & The City Solution CD from my man Keinmensch. I love snail mail. It gives the world edges, disrupting the streamline of digital transmissions. Letter. Stamp. Post. Something to verify your real-world existence.
Tuesday, April 11, 2000, 09:20 p.m.
Atomjack's mp3 shack! Good man, there!
Fuck me! I hardly didn't drink anything this weekend. The new I: sober pig.
Friday: hung loose at the Kungsgatan crew. Watched TV, as well as the previously mentioned video where my brief'd crotch plays an important rôle. The song is called Deeper and the band is called Speedbump. It's actually a pretty boring song, as most house tracks. But my man Svante sings almost like Barry Fucking White, and the video is lo-fi fun. Hope it will render me popular among the ladies. I slept at a couch.
Saturday: woke up early and went to a flea market with Slim Hel. I just bought some cloth. I'll give it away to a friend who likes fabric and patterns. Me? I really don't kare for that stuff. Had some coffee and a so-so chicken/bacon/chutney ciabatta. Went to Malmö to help a friend of a friend, Katja. Katja is pretty as all darn-me, cool, tough, nice and creative. That's my kinda gal. We hung at their studio, drinking coffee & beer, eating sushi and goofing around. And of course fixing Katja's G4 & iBook for optimum performance. I like it, even though I've done it so many times before. Of course, the company helped. That Katja, she sure is something. As per usual, I couldn't find a proper way to show her that I enjoyed hanging around with her. Ah so. Maybe some other time.
Sunday: Slim Hel called and woke me up. She wanted to go to IKEA, a classic swedish sunday pastime. We borrowed a car from Petter, Slim's boss man, and a friend of ours. When we arrived, i was ill-advised to have a small bottle of red wine with my breakfast/lunch. Thusly, I bought some things that I really didn't need. It was fun nevertheless. Afterwards, we went to Malmö, had some coffee with Yo, Urb & Jenny. At home, I put up some lamps that I'd bought, put the new rug on the bathroom floor, had a wank, washed a new pot, assembled a dish-rack, listened to some Hot Snakes. Hel called again, asking me if I wanted to come with her for a photoshoot. Frans was supposed to click her for a swedish monthly. Fuck knows why. They were both a little secretive. We went to a frigid beach after sunset, 5° celcius, tops. Frigid. I filmed some, and Frans snapped the vogueing Hel. Possibly, I'll post some leftovers later. Frans's supposed to develop the rolls today. Then, just like that, my sober weekend was over & done with. Wotta life.
Monday, April 10, 2000, 07:12 p.m.
