it’s the 26th of february and livejournal tells me i haven’t written in a month, such taxing business and an uncomfortable fact but surely there are (there are) far worse Naked Truths to subject myself to; for example the every day evidence or grievance that is this world progressively-falling-apart. but pictured to the left — is me posing against my bedroom wall as a girl woman of extraterrestrial kind. an entirely self-involved, spontaneous idea and also perhaps insane; as this took place a week night between the graveyard hours of 2:oo-4:ooam while i was coming down with developing sickness (associated symptoms such as fever + shivering, breathing difficulties) and forced to “double over” for uncontrollable coughing fits in between the shots, in other words i felt like hell. still the finished product unveils none of these elements and appears instead pleasing and creepy, creepily pleasing which makes everything fine and what would art be without The Great Suffering anyway? besides my tentative nightly literally infected gestures towards photography & digital artistry i also finally finished the redecoration of personal spaces which has been l o n g overdue and made some critical as well as altering decisions in terms of Course and Life. it’s a curiosity and inexplicable how i’m so seldom struck with patches of urgent creativity unconditional need to express and when i am, it’s either not allowed, impossible, inappropriate or extremely inconvenient.
and so this is what it feels like, to be perfectly unmedicated.
I was here when she with whom I walk wasn't born yet, and the cities on a distant plain stood intact, before they rose in the air with the dust of sepulchral brick, and the people who lived there didn't know. m a x . r i c h t e r .
little more than 33 days ago, the interview. i did actually go, i actually made it there despite standing immobile on the subway platform for ten or fifteen minutes collapsed in sheer psychological constraint. even the fucking million storey building appeared intimidating with big panes of long window glass, overwhelming sharp architectural structures and the interior so upper business class with neutral clean palettes such as grey and white or black, cubic working spaces and a high technological yet distinctly impersonal atmosphere. i was instructed to wait by some piece of furniture, probably felt like puking but displayed instead a manufactured look of bystanding-impassive until the interviewer showed up and as i’ve told a number of people, it was interesting. he was interesting as he without much effort embodied every unspoken prejudice one might have about “people in stockholm”, what “they” might be like; an unmistakable business brat in a fancy suit, very pompous and he commented upon such things as how i was obviously very artistic, insinuating that i’d be better off with a profession pursuing THE ARTS and claimed my Artistic Nature to be something of a peculiar development since after all(!) i’m from a Military-based Small Town way up north and so i should logically have an exaggerated interest in guns and blood spill and violence, etcetera etcetera. christ and also jesus, yes, i’m not even kidding although i certainly wish i was. it was so provoking, deeply hilarious and Wrong on so many separated levels that i became pretty fucking defensive and severe with him, i think. my eye contact was solid, set-in-stone and shifted not once during the one point five hours i was there, i countered each question articulately and immediately, sometimes i even surprise myself &so on. i could sense he wasn’t very satisfied or impressed or whatever with some of my answers, i wasn’t at all what he was looking for and naturally i didn’t get the job but i’m alive and not dead so what are my complaints . . . . my remaining days in stockholm i anticipated going through emotional turmoil feeling lost or anxiety-ridden, irrationally unwelcome and other comparables, but nothing of the sort occurred. it was all around just so Nice and likeable, in fact. i hung out with S, A and C-a who are all first-rate company and J took us to a queer/feminist bookshop where i stood radiating peering into each shelf examining the titles and shouted ineffectual remarks to no one like “i want to buy every single thing in here!” J suggested i’d purchase the oscar wilde action figure and i’m quite gloomy in retrospect that i did not.
i stayed with S-i at his apartment and he spoiled me without restriction; took me to dinner twice, provided me with red wine and discussed&introduced me to spectacular music. example: robert wyatt, which i have been listening to and reading up on excessively, the man spellbinds truly and is a genuine source of inspiration. the rock bottom album currently ranks somewhere on my top ten list and is ever so suitable for Loud Play when one is alone lonely numb forsaken broken down or whatever kind of breakage the human mind and body is capable of submitting, separately or mutually. alifib might very well be one of the most jarring gorgeous absolute love songs ever to be written, sea song and shipbuilding, shipbuilding oh-my-god. and to think the BBC crew back in 1974 almost did not let him perform a live version of “i’m a believer” on the grounds that it apparently wasn’t Appropriate with a man-in-wheelchair on stage, disgusting. at least one can always count on humanity as a whole, to be thoroughly depressing always, be it 1974 or 2009. but robert wyatt, i was completely unaware he’s been collaborating with people like björk and provided max richter with the spoken word passages heard on songs from before, what’s there not to admire? i’d like to meet him some day before he passes (or i do), if only merely to say – “thank you.”
several weeks ago and ever so many hours subtracted, L and i went to a big club event at fiskekyrkan and i’m struggling to remember the details. i think it was the first time in a really long while that i wasn’t critically concerned with and directly affected by the density of the crowds, although i should have been both high-strung and disquieted as there were an unusually heavy attendance and no space at all to dance unless you’re the kind of person who’s completely at peace with being pushed pressed and squeezed intimately together with whoever happened to be around you. it should have made a significant impact on my mood and cause me to react strongly physical nausea but somehow it didn’t and i don’t know why. well, i did experience notions of “pins and needles” while suddenly regressing in memory of my last visit to the place – that whole doctor thing – but other than a scene of excruciating humiliation, nothing happened so why do i linger in the past like this. i sat on a chair and spoke to M who i only come across randomly and it’s a persistent pleasure whenever i do, then met D by the staircase who in a very intoxicated state exclaimed “girl! your livejournal is a masterpiece!” and also touched my face which would have made me blush if i hadn’t been so curiously In Tune with myself . . . . another weekend my sister came home for winter break and brought her boyfriend along, i invited L and we threw a gigantic dinner followed by endless games of trivial pursuit + poker while hannah proved excellent multi-tasking skills as she served The Table superb drinks and licorice shots simultaneously. the initial plan was to get transport to luleå for a house party but this was cancelled and we all became perplexed concerning What To Do. we ended up at the only(?) club in my town, called i c e . which was a first time for everyone, for me especially as i’ve lived here since august and i’ve not bothered looking into what this town really has got to offer at all : mainly because a large-scaled number of the inhabitants repeatedly seem socially unconscious no collective voice unexciting and Tame, i’d probably just feel Out of Place. but giving things a chance is always better than not giving anything so we went. and were unpleasantly surprised. the music was ghastly but fun in that awestruck i-can’t-fucking-believe-they’re-playing-5ive! sort of way. it was like stepping into a time warp and re-entering the 90’s, also they played spice girls remixes. i’m still giving it some perfunctory thought, whether or not the dj was actually for real and simply passionate about the era or if s/he had some sort of off the wall alluring sense of humor. furthermore, it appeared as if the majority of the i c e . attendees were all part of a bridal shower – either that or the girls just coincidentally favored dressing up in ball gowns breathing the very air of High School Prom and the boys were all about tuxedos. CA didn’t enjoy himself in any apparent way and looked like he’d been through unrelenting sessions of electric shock therapy, wanted to go home early but we forced him to stay as we sat down on tall bar stools by a table and proceeded our shared yet detached Observance of The Scene. hannah was approached by a man with british accent who shouted “you guys look like models!” and i became the target of a boy someone, exceptionally wasted who insisted upon calling me caroline. i said “my name is not caroline, wrong person – sorry.” to indicate misfortune and he said “are you like, sure?”, slurring so much it was difficult to decipher and then “but so. what is your name? can i buy you a drink?” i replied “my name’s deserie and thanks for the offer but really — No.” here’s when hannah leaned across the table and yelled “OF COURSE YOU WILL BUY HER A DRINK. COME ON, NOW OFF YOU GO!” which is exactly what he did. stumbled back ten minutes later, drink in hand which he put down in front of me and looked pleased with himself. i uttered something like “oh my. thanks, how kind.” he took my hand and said “okay, i can’t remember what your name is but hope you like it. very nice to meet you.” then ran off to Elsewhere, pretty strange. CA advised me not to drink it because of the risk for “drugs” and i suggested we’d all share it since if that’d be the case, there’d be a mutual collapse into temporary unawareness. either of us got sick and having emptied the glass we skipped out on a cab ride and walked home through a light snow fall. at least the club name was full of thrill-inducing however empty promise.
just learned: antony & the johnsons, live at CIRCUS sthlm. thursday, march 19. 7.3opm. i had no fucking IDEA and it’s holy fucking sold out, of course. i’m in absolute paralysis and disbelief in response to this derailing piece of information that i didn’t know about until too late. might have to engage in very specific destructive and personal enactments the crying light the crying light indeed and devastating oh my god : i shan’t forgive myself Ever for missing out. but i do have purchased tickets to fever ray and her nearly exclusive concert in luleå and the anticipation is growing by the minute. for the unfamiliar i’m speaking here of karin dreijer of the knife. i’ve never been enthusiastic enough to pronounce myself as a fan although their music is without doubt very good for their genre and but i’m more into them. as they seem so honestly odd and eccentric it’s hard not to be compelled. now, the solo project; very knives atmospheric but a sound of its own still, perfect writing to and if i had a heart stands out, lasts - i’m certain she will acutely deliver on stage even though she clearly isn’t antony hegarty.
i’d like to have known nancy cunard personally, not only was she aesthetically immaculate but she was involved, politically. subversive, anarchistic and courageous, true to her causes. as a comment on her scandalous behavior, one of her conservative relatives is said to have muttered “what is it this time? drinks, drugs or niggers?” let’s hope she’ll be one of the five people i’ll meet in heaven, or something. according to my search engine there’s an electronic resource on her biography by lois gordon at the university, which means i’ll have to get myself a card and Go There . . . . other books : since my mind strays, i’ve mostly been focusing on nonfiction in the field of gender theories and as i am slightly bias to social constructivism, judith butler has been of primary interest. i’ve just begun reading myths of gender by anne fausto-sterling and i can already tell it will delight or enlighten me, if not (hopefully) both. i’m also working towards requiring (sexing the body), some works on transgender studies, (extraordinary bodies) and (crip theory) by robert mcgruer. the latter i have to read, i n e e d to read as it strikes me by excerpts alone, to be positively amazing.
i have railed against and condemned the (aquascutum fashion advertisement) for quite some time now and forced far too many people to listen to my lamentations, my mother even stared at me blankly and said “can i please be excused. i need to lie down.” upon my entering the kitchen to Discuss. but so it does anger and piss me off that there’s only heterosexual couples kissing. and instead of putting for example a boy + boy in the crowd to participate, they styled a girl or two in fashionable short/boyish hair, how absolutely cutting edge. or incredibly Safe, holy yawn and frustration. it’s possible i care too much, it’s the little things – oh, but i have to. one of my acquaintances called me up the other night to inform me he was almost done writing his second(?) novel. and asked for permission to base a minor character in some coming-up-work, on me. he said “among other things s/he will have your eyebrows, your hypochondriac tendencies. plus i’ll make the character a hermaphrodite.”
and how could i refuse you.