and then it all came down

to

toes

pavement covered in blood

can't decide wich one's the better.

i almost had a stroke

sadly though, i survived

view large:

in the shadows of the strobes

i have often been in such awe of the stagelights. huge rigs and competent people, strong lights and bright colors, lasers and smoke. the lot.

more sure is more.

and i love it.

why hello there, i am the bony king of this wasted land

or boyking, whatever.


and then, i went to a concertworkshop for children. yes, i saw many different things during that week. eclectic, to say the least.

:

i walk a dead line

one of my heroes. lars horntveth. it's that simple.


trying to edit well over 7k worth of photos in one sitting. it has proven impossible.

this (photo above as an example) is what i consider a 'coffeebreak'.

break fast break slow break it somehow

so.
someone calls me up. i arrive in italy. that someone is my dad. he tells me he's killed the radiohead-fish.
it's rather huge, and instead of white muscletissue it had actual flesh, the likes of perhaps a goat and measured 1m from nose to tail. he had skinned it alive. it lied there, in a small metallic tub of water covering half of the red body. its movements were of extreme pain. twitching and kind of screaming for help, yet lost for words. this was supposed to resemble the lead singer of the band and my biggest hero of all time, thom yorke. lying there. in immense pain, with it's muscles exposed, a bony face with no skin or scales on it, begging for mercy.
even if this was a bit hard to comprehend, i just seemed to know this was viewed as rather normal.. 'nah, it's okay. it's just a fish'.
it was him. no doubt. and my dad had caught him. game. we live in a new world now, where hunting down bands and artists has taken on a whole new meaning.
i felt sorry for it/him, lying there, unable to make any other noise apart from the spastic twitching in the water. but i also knew what a price this was. what a catch. feeling sorry for your biggest hero when he has been skinned alive and kept in that state of agonising pain is a weird sensation. i never fully understood it and just pushed it aside for later. but, imagine the mood you get in when you watch the movie se7en and they find that lazy fellow who's been tied to the bed and fed antibiotics to keep him alive in spite of all the sores, wounds and infections for god knows how long. this is somewhat close to how you react seeing the radioheadfish like that. alive in spite of all the agony.

we had to transport it home. it was an attraction. people gazed at it wherever i brought it. him.
someone even tried to steal it. .. him.

this is perhaps the creepiest thing i've ever dreamt. the saddest and the most ironic.
as if it was okay to treat thom yorke like that just because he happened to be a fish. in spite of all his achievements, his family life, his friends, his career and his visions for the world.
he was just a fish. and that's my cue to skin him alive, torture the poor thing for hours on end, using it for status and being such an egotrip about it i take him home as a throphy of how successful I'VE been.

i used to be 21

but now i only feel like a farmer trying to teach her vegetables how to say "mom" when i speak in public.

life really is that frustrating.

warning signs and sighs

not happy to the extreme with how this turned out, but ah and the well.
the idea is still the same. so, i want to make this into a real life BOY.
no wait.
i meant T-SHIRT, of course. sorry.

and wear it everywhere. it's a comment. made for fb-people who feel like documenting everything with pictures, like as if it was the only reason they bothered doing something. anything. i know the feeling of having loads of pictures from an event. i'm not saying it's a bad thing. i'm just saying, be careful which approach you choose. in it for the fun or in it for the pictures, also known as 'the status'.

i'm turning into jesus. holy fuck.


this wasn't even that interesting. the point is, i want this t-shirt.
end of story.

story ends here.

my brain. it's butter.

plot. please. plot plot plot.

i think i feel i swim
through oceans of pulsating worms

something simple, give me please.
i need it. a new drug.

turn us all upside down, stretch us out
think of how amazing that ball of gel is

you're allowed to see
you're allowed to speak
mind the bread

keep alive
keep a lie

foam
quality
form
quality
from
quality

not here. i breathe like yellow leather shoes

fall on the break
break on a fall
you standing is aerodynamic
considered the gravity

beg me, to not, be angry, with myself

give me ice and i'll stab my inner demons
melt away, drain them out, nothing left to put back

release me into the wild again, please
my knees hurt from all the saturated fats and pesticides

i crumble and they keep shaping
they laugh and i keep smiling

no, that's not here
yes, that's not here

fear
of inner life
fear
of lost outer life
inner space
outer space
not for you to grab

you see it on the television and think
that is mine

you claim and claim
justice decline

gun-shy

sometimes, i wake up laughing.

but most times, i wake up thinking about how thick i am.


that usually breaks my heart.

i'm a reasonable man

get off my case

get off my case

get off my case

i have an annoying condition

which revolves around
me
not
being
honest
with myself.

annoyance has its strange ways.

i have my strange ways.

logic and reasoning, but yet i leave out one of the most important mechanisms for defining something: honesty.

for putting things in a corner. for breaking off branches and tidy up a complicated mess of either emotions, situations, complex problems or the likes.

i fase honesty out as if it was a molecule of carbondioxide.
logic and reason has yet to explain this weird action to me.

they feel left out, cross their arms and say "look, we're just gonna stand here and make random assumptions untill you realise how far off from eachother we really are" whilst chewing gum just to make everything unnecessarily complicated.

well i'll be damned.
fasing out honesty is like NOT walking over a bridge onto new scenery, just because the bridge looks a bit old and makes weird noises.
i dare not take the steps onto what might be my defeating fall into an imaginary abyss.
obviously, i'd rather just stand here being afraid of what might have been instead of embracing the fact that everything moves on and it's beneficial to play on the same team as your logic, your reason and your weird chemical mishaps, also known as emotions.

simple momentarily denial will feed a growing demon inside of you for lifetimes to come.
nothing makes bad stuff thrive more than your own disloyalty and dishonesty to yourself.
the shame. yet, it mutes itself with even more layers of dishonesty.

break this habit. i hate having blurred out emotions that makes no sense, to which my reaction is to paint over these red dots with a thick layer of special paint designed to kill fungus and mold.

i'm so sick of this making me sick.

i tell myself lies.
i don't tell myself "it's all a lie!"

and everything stays every bit as confusing as always.

i buy a new cheesegrater

and try it out on some lemon.
because lemon might also be a good pizzatopping. 

as i shut the door i started thinking
"this fresh air makes me forget i'm a human"
and feel up on some relief.

i wish bringing curtains with you in public was more common.
because walking around with closed eyelids may offend people.

honey has something in common with me.
we're both 80% sugar and smell like an evil headache.

i hate plastic bottles.
they're no good for killing people with and bounce back if you throw them at something harder than a pile of leaves.

in the shop, buying beer.
realise what time it is.
half ten in the morning.
and think
"nice. this must mean i wake up earlier than usual"

i want to make a movie
but i'm too depressed.
ha ha!


..


it seems like my life is a huge long and strange void
a fantasy-world
where all i do is wait for someone to come around and say
"smoke that, watch this"
 or
"drink this, do that"

it's all just so utterly random. i don't care about making suggestions anymore. i just want to tag along to something. anything. really.

i pass out in the street

and a dog starts licking my face.
i think to myself
'glad i had those sausages earlier'