let's fuck it up boys, make some noise

it was nothing out of the ordinary. got a bit drunk courtesy of bubbly and red wine, drank pretty much anything i could get my hands on, got money and a lollipop from mr dj, might have pushed my way through the dancefloor and stepped on some sensitive toes, smoked in the bathroom, talked to the girls who had the same dress as me on, saw a beautiful man, got a hug from a boy i've talked to once before - about from where he recognised me (probably thought i was the lil sis from gossip girl, i get that a lot), befriended a girl by dancing as a maniac to babyshambles, screaming out the lyrics, even tried to start a riot in order to get another song when the lights were turned on, didn't work. i might even have pulled a belly button ring. not sure though. the question is what i did in between.

please don't confront me with my failures

too drunk to fuck, too honest to lie, too tired to write. writer's block is slowly killing me. the skin on my left thumb is cracked open and i'm sick of life. at least i'm leaving in less than a week, i'll ride doubledecker buses all the way through my youth, forget all about the snowy streets and tired jokes, i'll quote oscar wilde and hope that no one realizes what i'm doing, that everyone thinks i actually come up with these witty comments as i go, i'll sing and dance and live under the influence, and i'll manage when sober, the books i read will never be finished because once finished they're in the past and i'd like to stay for as long as i possibly can, in due time i will know the ballad of reading gaol by heart, i'll spraypaint all the grey into black, if i can i'll write a book that will change absolutely no one's life except perhaps my own, when i feel like it i will stop listening and start imagine things in my head, i'll drink too much coffee, i don't care if it's good or if it's bad, maybe i won't get alzheimers maybe i will get cancer, i'll never read the newspaper except when i'm on the train and if someone decides to discuss recent events i'll just act as if i know what they're talking about, i'll be right in front at gigs and i'll push my way up to the singer if i have to and then i won't know any of the lyrics, i'll just be there, drunk and fucked up, and when i come home i won't go to sleep because i'll write stupid blog posts, and i won't trust anybody, not even my closest friends, because god knows people are cunning and everyone might just be waiting to stab my back, and i'll listen to conor oberst and think he knows my pains and sufferings simply because he writes sad songs because he does too much drugs, and i'll romanticise peter doherty even though the magazines call him junkie and my mother says he's gross and he might seem like a douchebag but he writes amazing poetry, he really does, and i'll still be addicted to facebook even though it makes me stressed, and if you're still reading this text you're worthy of a big round of applause, too bad there's no one there to hand it to you, and in my head i'll always be the heroine while in reality i'm not even the heroin, when i let my hands go they always write this shit, i have no idea what i just wrote, and this will be the end of it. when rock 'n' roll is dead where the fuck will i put my hopes and trusts and dreams and longings?

work is the curse of the drinking classes

on public demand (by that i mean one friend telling me my last post was cute) i thought i'd write once more in here while still on swedish ground. right now i am in over my head in preparations for my last night of drunken mayhem in sweden. that is, i'm trying to figure out what on earth i should drink and how the hell i'll get my filthy hands on it. i really should be focusing on translating grades and giving my cv the final touch but i suppose the whole "i'm leaving the country in a fortnight" - thing has yet to sink in.

i am a real mess right now, haven't showered for two days, reading oscar wilde and letting alison mosshart sing me som kind of i-am-not-a-bit-tired-but-can-i-just-fall-asleep-anyway - lullaby. this kind of meaningless existing is really taking it's toll on me, i honestly feel drained and my absolutely exhausting efforts for today was making myself a meal (i don't know if i should call it breakfast, lunch or dinner), reading and taking a walk. life is fucking amazing sometimes. and that was me being sarcastic, as i find it safer to tell you since some people are thick enough to don't catch up on sarcasm. it'll happen a lot here. sarcasm that is.

i probably won't write again until i've left this nation of decay but i know better than to say it'll definitely not happen. hopefully next time i'll actually have something to write though. hopefully i say, not likely.

take a drink of my red wine, i've got enough to go around

i wasn't supposed to start this blog yet, it's not my time, not yet. i had to warn you though, this blog is, in the words of the gallagher brothers, about cigarettes and alcohol. not that i am particularly fond of oasis, quite the opposite actually, stuck up dickheads in my opinion, didn't do any good after the nineties anyway. that's what too much ego does to one. let's not linger on oasis, i was supposed to introduce myself, or atleast that was the idea. i love it when you hear a song for the xth time and one of the lines suddenly stand out and starts to mean something to you. i love the smell of books. i love hats. i love cats. not the musical, the animal. i love to listen to music on your ipod and have that special song give you some much needed confidence when you walk past people you want to feel superior to. i love dancing when drunk. i love singing. i love the smell after spring rain. i love dark coffee. i love vinyls. i love songs that save our lives. i love red wine and czech beer. i love discussions out of the ordinary. i love london.

the things i hate will become obvious over time, but i'd rather not start an aquaintance by hating. that might scare somebody off. but i do hate when i realize i come of as stupid when i'm drunk.

i am afraid of the dark. i am afraid of being left completely alone. i am afraid that i will never see a meaning to life, just go through it like i do today. i am afraid of horror movies. i am afraid of the feeling i sometimes get when looking up at the sky on really cold nights. i am afraid of being unimportant. i am afraid of endings.

really, how much does a blog tell you about the orator? what you'll read are just fragments of my life, what i choose to share with the world wide web, my self portrait. retouched and edited. it's a narcissistic story, where i choose the me you get to know, it's a one way relation where i pour things out and you read, comprehend and interpret, it's my truth, now tell me yours.