Thursday, September 29, 2005

My shopping list

I was pondering not to do this "Sylvie Fleurie" stunt, but what the hell.

1. A very big scarf from David Meyer (that Italian genius)
2. Vintage shoes by Wayne Hemingway...I love those "Hovercraft" snowshoes.
3. A gigantic bottle of ODEUR 71, by Cd'G. I will lick your feet Rei, where ever you go....!
4. A new herbal aftershave toner from Kiehl's......Why can't someone set up a franchise in Scando?
5. Another pair of suede wormies from Red Tape......with love for the box too...
6. White plain fine cotton shirt from Stenströms....simple and effective.
7. A box of "1 week" chocolates from Witamer (Brussels)....can't buy anywhere else...bring pls.
8. The complete Catalogue Raisonné of Picasso, by Christian $ 55.000.....YES..!
9. The grey pebblestone carpet by Nina Marcini in virgin wool....someone else carry to me though.
10. The steel "Calatrava" watch from 1946 by Patek Philippe....with black lizard strap from 'Ohm'.

Sylvie can keep the shopping bags....I keep the goodies!!!

Monday, September 12, 2005

Kind of funny about art & religion

This so totally cracked me up...I'm still in a chuckle...!
Credit to The Art Newspaper

“Disrespect the Koran and Allah will turn you into a mutant”
By Sebastian Smee

MELBOURNE. Images of life-like sculptures of imaginary genetic mutants by the Australian artist Patricia Piccinini have been circulated around the Islamic world as a part of a hoax story about a girl from Oman who was turned into a beast by Allah after throwing away the Koran in a dispute with her mother.In April, an image of one of the figures from Leather landscape, a sculpture exhibited by Piccinini at the 2003 Venice Biennale, was posted with the story on a Sudanese Arabic language website, sparking a massive response from Muslims from everywhere from Nigeria to Afghanistan, and causing the Australian artist to be swamped with e-mail enquiries.The extraordinary urban legend appears to have originated in India in March, where news reports appeared of a girl in Pune who had turned into a lizard after kicking away the Koran in a similar argument with her mother, causing thousands of people to besiege a local hospital where the lizard girl was rumoured to be.By the time the story was picked up by the Sudanese website, the location of the tale had shifted to Oman, and a picture of Piccinini’s sculpture was attached. Islamic online messageboards were then inundated with thousands of requests for links to the picture.Piccinini first discovered images of her work had been illicitly used after traffic through her website rose from 150,000 in April to 950,000 in May. A Sudanese journalist, Nizar Usman, wrote to Piccinini by email: “I heard about the story from my daughter (10 years old), she heard it in her school. Then I read it in a notice board in front of the main gate of a mosque where there was a large gathering. Then I read it in Alhayat daily newspaper.” Speaking to The Art Newspaper Piccinini said: “It’s distressing to me, since they’ve stolen my work and used it in a way that is the complete antithesis of what I’ve intended.” The artist has now posted a notice on her website that reads: “This image was stolen from Patricia’s website and used without her permission... The image is a picture of an art work [which] is about genetic engineering and our evolutionary links to animals. It is not intended to refer in any way to any religion or religious practice.” As ever, urban legends are notoriously durable. In June Arab-language newspaper Panorama reported the same story—set in the West Bank town of Taibeh.

A lesson in shitstirring

Why do people shitstir eachother so much?

The human condition is predominantly set on benign mode, but every once in a while we find immense joy in letting things degenerate into malignent mode. I often hear "well, that's only because he/she is so insecure that he/she is shitstirring so much"......complete crap, I say.
We love to backstab people. It's in our nature to do so. Evolution has always favored the most hansom and stong specimens set forth to secure our reproduction. Today evolution has been taken over of by lab-rats, DNA-sequencing and a varia of scientific engagement. What left to inscribe human nature? Shitstirring...shitstirring...shitstirring!

I propose a social evolution based on shitstirring.
Where one would rise to the top of the ranks simply by admitting that the way that was made available to reach it, was paved with a plethora of broken knives stuck into the backs of many many people that you know, or at least wished that you knew.

My top 5 list to create hell for your friend/s on a typical day, based on an abundance of shitstirring.

  1. Wake up before your partner on your day off. Leave the house and write a note saying in the simplest terms "I'm soo disappointed!" Turn off your cellphone for the rest of the day, then when you come back, pretend that nothing, absolutely nothing has happened.
  2. When you get to your place of choice to have brunch/lunch, leave a pile of cash on the table BEFORE you order. Tell the waitress that "this is your tip, if you fuck up I will deduct from this pile, until I see fit what your service level is worth". When you leave, bring all the cash with you, regardless if she was nice or not.
  3. Be constantly asking the person you talk to the same question he/she has asked you and when they get really irritated, answer "I don't know" everything.
  4. Be rude at the supermarket, preferably about something to do with pricing or something. If they snap back at you, go find a family-pack jar of honey and "accidently" drop on the floor. "I'm soooo sorry"...bye bye. Better yet; buy an enormous amount of food and stuff, knowing you can't afford it and ring the whole thing up at the cashwrap, just to realise that you don't have the money. Get the loaf of bread and the cigarettes and leave the rest.
  5. Tell your boss that your colleague at work was seen in a pornoshop, buying the movie "Frau Schmidt mit ein Donkey" the other that not a "preverse" movie?

End of lesson.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Sunday things

Malmö sunday september 11th
  • Four years ago there was a serious case of 'real estate' deflation across the waters and today I start my blog. Two seemingly unrelated events, but maybe not. All things have a tendency to intertwine and if you search hard enough, you can extract meaning out of the least and most insignificant things and events. So........
  • After having passed the amphibiac stage (before re-acquiring lungs, for the first morning cigarette) I wedge myself into the shower for a thourough rinse, thinking that in a few hours I will remember exactly were I was and what I did four years ago. (I was in Copenhagen, in fact), but I can't remember what I did last Thursday for example. So I go onto:
  • Sorting my books, I'm especially irritated with the fact that the complete Catalogue Raisonné on Francisco Goya has somehow ended up next to to the Swedish version of the Quran. I mean, what on earth do they have to do with eachother, or perhaps there was some divine intervention when some of my less popular acquaintances decided to mismatch my bibliocontents so disrespectfully? There are too many weird artbooks to go around and some malicious literature too to accompany the recent translation of the fundamentalist handbook. Heavy drinking sessions in combination to an overdose on intellectual content at my house tend to do to bugger people up, so be warned.
  • Brunch at Mocca (on Friisgatan). Luckily, the tiny sliver of trendy jetsetters in Malmö have not discovered this place yet, so they tend to hang out across the street at SORL, which is an overpriced, semidesigned and underperforming establishment run by a seriously bitter ('daughter' who crept into daddy's pocket kind a girl). Mocca, however, has all the ingredients to make it a true success story. Great coffee (unquestionable), Great bakery (in the slowfood tradition) and above all an amazing cruising spot. Many of my best flirtations have begun humbly from the corner of Nenad's little establishement. A mix of the occational beautiful person (in hangover disguise) together with a portion of (horny) illegal immigrants and young parents, (who haven't yet figured out that they have no place left but surburbia), makes Mocca a vibrant and at the same time funky sort of place. The thing to ask for is the "specialare", it's not on the menu, but it's a pick and mix frenzy of the 'good for you' food and the 'not so good for you' too.
  • A quick flash into Triangeln shoppingmall, for some retail-pornography. (meaning of course Kjell&Company and Claes Ohlsson) There's always some little do-dah that screams for my attention and wants nothing more than ending up assisting my computer, or some other entanglement of gadget-hell at my house. It's becoming a Sunday ritual nowadays, I can't stop it so I have bowed into it instead.
  • Call at least 5 friends on different continents in the afternoon and evening to update myself on their in and out of love situations, the progress and/or rapid degeneration.
  • Evening is spent blissfully over an illegal copy of a realityshow, yet to be published here in Sweden, or some braindead thriller.