Everybody wants to go to bed with
everybody else, they’re lined up for
blocks, so I’ll go to bed with you.
They won’t miss us.Beautiful, sobbing, high-geared fucking
and then to lie silently in the freshly fallen
snow beside the one you love. That’s all.
- Richard Brautigan
The year of 2011 was like when your favorite tv-show goes to shit. Drowned myself in false euphoria. There was a fairytale with an NC-17 rating that I killed all by myself, no one was fucking expecting that. Dilly-dallied around. Faked my own death for six or seven months. Took a train to Stockholm four times. Blacked out and found myself half dressed in a hotel room in London. Forgot to dress like a whore on Halloween. Overdosed on life and love and red lipstick and vodka. Raging inferno that burned for weeks. We talked about birthday cakes and champagne but all it ever was, was a disaster. Always in love with everyone, forever in love with no one. Dancing is therapy/therapy is dancing. Hotel room 116 in Barcelona, beer from the bottle and lit cigarettes. Car accident. That guitar of yours made me reminisce. Refused to turn twenty-three but life gave me no other choice. Oh longing for the day you can Yelp people. The coocoo crazy drunken nights you don’t remember and the half past dead sundays wondering who the fuck you are. Disco and power naps equaled tiny suicides. Shining like a precious metal you had my attention boy, get out of my heart now. No emojicons can express. On a broken roof and broken chords can sing a little. The wicked games that forever are two years and three days old. Music is more dynamic than words but them words will last longer. Sleeping on airplanes. Tiptoeing around with a gun to my head having a stranger telling me who I am. 30-second-love-rendezvous. The mystery hanging over every one of our conversations. Tipsy on romance. Five dollar red wine and the haze. Smiling just to confuse everyone, no one. Spent my days somewhere much like wonderland. You were far from the usual. Life is a suitcase and strange cities and half empty bottles and I don’t want to stop. 2012, what up.
Abel Tesfaye aka The Weeknd – The mixtape trilogy House Of Balloons, Thursday and Echoes Of Silence.
For those of you who follow me on Twitter and/or Facebook probably thinks this is awfully repeat-y of me. I have for the past ten or so months been going on and on and on about The Weekend and these mixtapes. Why is for the simple fact that I, hands down, think that these are the best “albums” of 2011. Sure there was a whole lot of (other) great albums/mixtapes/EP’s coming out last year, but The Weeknd’s trilogy mixtapes beat ‘em all in my mind, but that does not mean the others not are worth Mentioning:
Frank Ocean, Tyler The Creator, Lil’ Wayne, Florence + The Machine, How To Dress Well, Active Child, SBTRKT, Jay-Z and Kanye West, M83, Kurt Vile, Drake, Metronomy, Mobb Deep, Jamie Woon, The Roots, Washed Out, Cut Copy, The Drums, Kaskade, Blouse, Deportees, Crystal Stilts, Fleet Foxes, Girls, A$AP Rocky, James Blake, Is Tropical, Yuck.
Needless to say, I could go on and on and on. And I am just as schizophrenic when it comes to music as always.
You can download The Weeknd’s mixtape trilogy here.
last but not least: check out his remix of Florence + The Machine’s Shake It Out.
After months of silence and hide-&-seek I am bringing this baby back to life. Ooooooh-oui-oui.
When a music fan thinks about going backstage at a show, the romantic image one has is of a glamorous nirvana, where the drinks flow and the beautiful people air-kiss and float serenely several inches off the ground.
Anyone who has ever spent more than a few minutes backstage in the hours leading up knows that the truth is far grittier. One is more likely to find chaos than they are cocktails.
Don’t you just hate opening bands?
I sure do. You can not imagine the immensity of the fuck I do not give about these bands.
If I was in a band I would love to be the opening act for another band. But seriously, when you’re a fan of the headlining band, you’re the audience, and have to see these opening acts, you feel like you just want to crawl out of the venue and fall asleep on the dirty street outside.
You get to a show and is super excited to see your favorite band play, and there’s a fucking opening band. At first you’re like ”Ok, shit might be good”. They start playing and you soon realize that it is painfully slow, you’re not interested in this particular band at all, they might even be really good but all you’re there for is your favorite band and do not want to listen to anything else. You go outside the venue for a smoke, followed by going to the bar to get a beer, and the opening act is still not finished. Your ears are bleeding, your head is pounding and your feet hurt like hell.
By the time your fave band hit the stage, which usually is one or two hours later, you’re drunk and in a bad mood. Like every part of your body hurts. Somehow, you still manage to forget all about that as soon as your favorite band starts playing their sweet tunes. Only downside is that the opening act played for like half an hour but it felt like forever, and your fave band’s show is about two hours longer, but it feels like three minutes, then the show is over before you know it. Afterwards, your body is even in more pain, not to mention your throat! Of course you lost your voice. And you’re soaked in sweat, your own or someone elses. You walk outside the venue, looking like someone in the opening band threw up on you, and there they are by the tour bus: your fave band! You just have to ask them to take a picture with you. A picture that will be a complete failure because of your beautiful self. Even though you feel like shit and all, it has still been one of the best nights ever, because of the music. You’re so happy you wanna jump up & down, go out partying like there’s no tomorrow, sing out loud even though you suck at singing, you wanna call every one of your friends and tell them all about it.
My favorite band always have one, two or even three opening acts, every show. They’ve had everyone from The Veronicas to A Rocket To The Moon as their opening bands. I have absolutely nothing against these bands, I’m happy for them that they get to open up for such an amazing band, as in my fave band, but I still don’t want to be there during their shows. After being a fan for the past 14 years of this band, I now know that I should always, no matter what, arrive late to their shows. I am just not putting myself through these opening’s any longer. I’m done.
Most of the time, I have to admit, that I actually like their opening acts. I would totally go and see a full show with The Veronicas or A Rocket To The Moon, it’s just that opening thing-y that bothers me, because when I go to a band’s concert, I want to see/listen to THAT band, not some other band.
I’ll confess one thing: there has been ONE opening act that I absolutely loved. I used to come early to my fave band’s show’s just to get to see that band. Most likely, it’ll not ever happen again.
AMERICAN BOYS & CUDDLING
Last year in Los Angeles, I met two awesome Aussie ladies who were traveling around America. We hung out for the few days they were in town & had a blast.
A conversation about American dudes and cuddling was brought up quite often during these days. We soon came to the conclusion that something ain’t right about that. We all had our stories involving the subject in matter. And they all seemed to follow the same pattern: American boys first priority is to cuddle and not to have sex. We’ve been over this a hundred times but we still don’t get it.
Lets say you’re out partying and you meet this so-hot-you-wanna-chew-off-your-arm-dude. You start talking to this guy, flirting, and you can just feel the strong attraction. You’re probably never gonna see this guy again, so you want to make this night the best night ever. You leave the club/bar/whatever together and he brings you over to his place. You might have a little too much red wine, but who cares, certainly not the dude. You’ve been waiting all night for him to make his move, but nothing has happened yet, so in your mind you’re seriously considering making the first move yourself. We all know for what reason you let him take you home in the first place: you wanna get some of this dude. If you wouldn’t, you would have been somewhere else by now. Finally the boy asks you if you wanna stay the night, you immediately think ‘fuck yeah’, but you keep him waiting for a while and then replies with ”yeah, sure, why not”. You get into bed and he goes ”You like cuddling? You wanna cuddle?”
DUDE ARE YOU FIVE YEARS OLD? You were only there for getting some of that ass and then you’d be long gone before he even knew it was over, but dude wanna fucking cuddle. Great. You didn’t think this guy was too interesting, all he really ever was to you was totally gorgeous and sexy. And then the five year old wants to cuddle and you’ll be out the door within 10 seconds thinking ‘post-sex cuddling is totally fine. But before, no thank you’.
This happens alot. With American dudes. Like didn’t you get your share of cuddling as a kid or what’s the deal? Is your penis too good for my vagina? Goddamn.
I love Sundays. I love you every week.
You can sleep in. You’re allowed to be lazy all day if you want. You can sit on your couch, eat candy, drink some fine pink wines, & have a lovely Twin Peaks marathon. Alone, or with friends, as long as you stick to being lazy, that’s what Sundays are for!
Read a good book. Draw a picture. Write a poem. Go out in your sunny backyard & pick flowers. Watch your favorite movie. Light up some candles & listen to old LP records. Bake a cake! Or whatever tickles your fancy.
