Happy birthday, me!

Why mourn M. Jackson when you could celebrate my birthday!? Just kidding.

22 years ago I was born a Tuesday similar to the one yesterday, with heavy rain and thunder (actually, the lightning hit our apartment while my mother was squeezing me out). This year’s birthday turned out to be a quite calm one. Niklas and I had dinner, followed by tea at home in front of a movie. Boring? Nah.

Calm and lovely, exactly how I want it to be celebrated. I’m saving myself for Friday, when a bunch of friends are coming over for a spontaneous party.

Love / Birthday girl

Memories from Adele

Since Adele left this world behind, our apartment has been filled up with her pictures, furniture and china. I love being surrounded by her, remembering her through the tiniest of things. Curling up in her armchair, reading in what used to be her light, I know she’ll always be a distinct part of our home. Her memory does not only live on in our hearts but she’ll live on in our home as well.

Bret Easton Ellis strikes again

I love The Hills. And I’m in great company. This is magazine Fantastic man on Bret Easton Ellis on The Hills:

He is, however-and on this subject, he is highly animated-a huge fan of MTV’s scripted reality series of the young and the monied in L.A., THE HILLS. “I think THE HILLS is the greatest show I have ever seen in my life,” he says, sincerely. “It is a modern masterpiece. I think that ADAM DeVILLO is a mad genius. He creates it and controls it perfectly.” Mr. ELLIS is very specific about the way he watches THE HILLS. “I’m holding off on Season 4 right now. I started watching a bit of it, but I’m waiting until the DVD comes out because I want to see it all so beautifully mastered. Even if you download the show there is that irritating MTV logo in the corner. It doesn’t work for me that way. It has to be on a big screen with the sound right up. It blows me away…I’m sorry, but whoever invented HEIDI MONTAG and SPENCER PRATT are just…nothing matches it. I’ve never see L.A. look more beautiful in a work of art. There are no movies that are as beautiful as that.”

Thank you and goodbye Lucksmiths

An overwhelming part of me finds it pretty pointless writing anything at all about the other night at Debaser, where I went to see The Lucksmiths one final time. Not because it wasn’t memorable, but because it reminds me of how ignorant I’ve been and what I’ve missed out on. Though I’ve listened to Lucksmiths for years and years and though I have so many lovely memories to these songs, but also because of it, it took me their break-up to rediscover them. Music next door has never felt quite as perfect. “It might have been the music from next door, reminded me I should have missed you more, a song I’ve heard a hundred times before.”

They opened up the set with Good light, my favorite song from their latest album, and they played several of other favorites: Self-preservation, Sunlight in a jar, Synchronised sinking and The year of driving langourously, just to mention a few. They were just as sweet and adorable as ever. I guess you could say it was everything I expected – in a very good way.

But all good things must come to an end and with this in mind I couldn’t have left Debaser with lovelier memories of Lucksmiths to add to the collection (and this comes from someone who is absolutely incapable of handling endings – no matter how friendly, happy and positive…). I couldn’t have asked for more.

Birthday and summer plans

Last year I celebrated my birthday on a plane heading towards Serbia. The year before that I worked 12 hours straight. And before that I saw Depeche mode live after hours of queuing. And the year before I didn’t really celebrate much at all, nor did anyone else, because of the London bombings. So I’m thinking, maybe it’s time for a change? Maybe I should throw a huge, crazy party in the honor of myself? Maybe not. More than anything, I feel like kick-starting the vacation and leave town.

I know I haven’t told you about our plans for summer this year. If I did you’d probably think I’ve gone completely insane. Niklas and I have been offered to stay at this lovely place way out on the Swedish countryside. It’s a 19:th century house surrounded by woods. There’s no running water but there’s a lake. Most importantly, it’s very isolated from the rest of the world. It could be me embellishing, but I think it sounds like heaven. We’ll just bring our cats and live as one happy hermit family.

Find me, nothing more

Today, the search for Keith Bennett is officially over after 45 years. Keith was murdered by Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, known as the Moors murderers since their victims were buried on the Saddleworth moors (UK). Though he’s been missing since June 1964, his remains haven’t been found. And though Hindley and Brady has had every opportunity to reveal were Keith is, they never have. Hindley died in 2002 and since 1999 Brady has been busy trying to starve himself to death at a mental hospital. Knowing that all it takes to find Keith and give him a proper burial is for Brady to show a little humanity, makes me question what kind of perverse pleasure Brady finds in his secret. And no, I do not consider Brady’s letter to Winnie as an honest attempt to help find Keith. Today, my heart and thoughts go out to Winnie – and Keith, may you find peace wherever you are. Despite the official end of the search, the case is not and will never be closed.

A case that will be though is the murder of Catrine da Costa. Her remains, at least part of them, were found 1984 in Stockholm. Since no murderer(s) have been convicted, despite serious suspicions, the case will be closed, according to Swedish law, July 18 this year – 25 years after the gruesome findings. Her murderer will walk free, unable to face a trial and a sentence.
A tiny parenthesis: if you want to know more about Swedish murders, look here.

Perhaps we could just blame her murder on Thomas Quick? He seems fairly willing to admit to just about anything, with a little help from Swedish police.

Saturday chillin’

That’s what my Saturday looked like. Stockholm can be absolutely wonderful.

Happy, that’s me!

I went to pick up the package from Will Schaff. Not only did Lotta arrive safely, but I discovered that this beauty had managed to sneak in as well. William is a kind and caring man who’s easy to love. If you haven’t discovered his artwork yet, it’s definitely time to! You can find him and his art on flickr. One of my current favorite pieces is this one – not only because it’s an amazing picture with a lovely message, but also because it reminds me of Morrissey’s Boxers. Needless to say, I am a very happy owner of these fantastic Schaff pieces!

The Moz report

As y’all should know by now, I saw Morrissey live at Hovet two days ago.

For once, I decided not to queue. Instead I spent the crucial hours before the concert alone with Morrissey. Watching, reading, listening. I met up with Niklas, Björn, Lina, Jenny and her friends that afternoon. By then I was a nervous wreck sitting on needles – disguising it perfectly, I imagine. But then again, I never said I’d be much of a company, though I very much enjoyed it. Seeing Morrissey live is personal. It’s between me and him and no one else, just a bunch of Morrissey fans who feel exactly the same. It’s probably similar to what Christian people experience while going to Church; they go to Church for a personal meeting with God, they just happen to share it with the local Christian community. Yes, I know I just compared Moz to God. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Even though I didn’t queue, I ended up pending between third and fifth row – which was fine by me. Sure, there were a few more people between me and Moz than what I’m used to, but I felt just as close to him as ever.

By the way

Exactly what I needed. Thank you Will. I still love you, only slightly more.