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.