The Four-Chambered Heart

One more for the hall of shame: I tried to read a novel in French but I randomly chose the corniest one from Anaïs Nin, so it went straight to the side of Reservoir Dogs and 'Love is a Racket' as unfinished business.

There is however something there (and right before the 'Django' character began playing the guitar and 'Djuna' began to be neurotic) that has been in my head ever since:

'Tous les mots prononcés dans la vie tissent dans l'être un réseau compact de formes et de couleurs. Parallèllement au sang, circulent dans les veins l'essence distillée de tous les actes accomplis, les sédiments de tous les rêves, tous les désires, tous les fantasmes, toutes les expériences. Les sentiments vécus dans le passé se combinent pour donner à la peu ses couleurs, aux lèvres leur saveur, rythmer le pouls et forger le cristal du regard. La fascination qu'exerce un être sur un autre ne provient pas de ce qu'exhale sa personnalité à l'instant même de la rencontre'

Phew. Je m'appelle Mads.

'All the words said in life knit in the human being a compact tissue of forms and colours. Parallel to the blod, runs by the veins the distilled escence of all the accomplishments, the sediments of all the dreams, all the desires, all the phantoms, all the experiences. The emotions lived in the past combine to give the skin its colours, the lips its flavours, rhythm to the pulse and forge the crystal of the glance. The fascination that one being has on another comes from what the personality exhales at the very moment of the encounter'.

Last night I was sipping a pinkish drink and thinking what is it about Monsieur that made me zen. The quotation above talks about what makes people like people - forget for a second the Discovery Channel documentaries on finding a mate, hormones and zebras being chased by lions. Sometimes you meet people you are attracted to and have no clue what is it about. Believe above describes it well. The first layer is always the most ambiguous and the place where prejudgements are born. But speaking and actually listening can bring up this bundle of wonders that makes you wanna keep people around. Or not. It is not the 'today' what we present to the person, we cannot get rid of our fear of dark no matter how many years have passed.

I've always said that this world needs more people with imagination. Recently, added that we could also do with more people up to help other people. But actually this world needs more people who listen.

Merci pour l'existencialisme.
Merci pour les histoires et les chop-sticks.
Merci beaucoup pour m'écouter, Alexi D!

Use the Force, Luke

How Scandinavian of me would say Björk , but how Latinamerican of me it is sometimes to send hugs and moochies and you are the sunshine of my life to people I find fabulous. Where's the dark side when you need it?

I've though a lot about two crazy ladies. See, in the American stereotype, crazy now is getting out from a car without panties. I wonder why people buy in cheap talent and where these powerful females that have a lot of pain in their soul (and sing soul) are. Do you need pain to be expressive? Quite a debate. Living a life without contrasts does not make people better off to deal with existencial punches. People with a first-world dwelling can also make good artists, can't they? Our pain stages vary. War wounds do not necessarily lead to creativity, and a purely Copenhagian life where the tragedy is that you don't have shoes to fit your belt doesn't either.

I am going around in circles. First would like to talk about Lady Day. 'Gloomy Sunday' was the first tune I heard on my first five minutes in Amsterdam. Billie Holiday has a magnetic force that I fail to find in Katie M, Norah J or Alanis. She did actually have a crapy life: prostitution, love going wrong, sex, drugs and rock n' roll. And then Amy, Amy, Amy - my most recent love. Not a fairytale either - junkie, live fast, sing deep. Even take Woody Allen, for that matter-a depressive genius. These sad individuals that have had sorrow but are able to create, are the ones I identify with. Is this a common trait? Do you have to suffer AND be able to express it to be the best of the rest?

Once in January 2006 I had the Danish-dream-crashing blues. Artboy told me then that wish he would be passing through that set of emotions, as creativity lies where pain is. What a couple of freaking 'creative' couple of years I have had!

Nobody stands in between me and my man, it's me and Mr Jones (Me and Mr. Jones)
What kind of fuckery is this?
You made me miss the Slick Rick gig (oh Slick Rick)
You thought I didn't love you when I did (when I did)
Can't believe you played me out like that (Ahhh)

Amy W

Sin, Sin, Sin (With a Swing)

So ask this Catholic girl who went to a Catholic girls' school until she was neither Catholic nor a girl to talk about sin.

For all the sinners in the world who live rather scared by the sacred thunder, will have to say... DON'T PANIC (these words must be engraved on each Bible as well).

Once freedom has exploded in the soul of man, the gods no longer have any power over him.

Wish I would have said that, but it was actually Sartre. And I began thinking about it while watching 'My Summer of Love' last Friday - it is not a girly movie at all! Well, there are slumber parties and making out, but believe me, the girl-girl story is rather twisted. Anyway, the redhaired one day does a Nietzsche and screams: 'God is dead!'.

Quite a serious statement.

Living in the middle of two opposite realities is another tale with many advantages.

All my Danish friends nod and agree on the 'serious statement' above.
All my Mexican friends believe there's a God in one way or another.

And I get completely confused. So for my personal use, reached the conclusion that to sin is actually to hurt people on purpose, and consequences are pure behavioural/emotional reactions that will make life just more complicated. Good intentions, honesty, simple love, and kind deeds are in my mind 'heaven' (though current descriptions sound close to a day spa..). There's no more hell than the one you create around (have you ever been clinically depressed or lost a friend?).

My wise brother will for sure come up with very good arguments for the need of believing and the existence of faith, but religion (any) is just the expression of ethics with politics plus something intangible that I have lost, or just never reached.

So if I leave religion in the freezer (have been doomed around 754 times in the last five years), and begin dealing with freedom, will for sure avoid the vacuum. Or perhaps vacuum is not that bad.

Will think about it in the shower.

En pragtfuld PoMo. Chill out, emo kid!

This thing of having the heart numb is a tale with many advantages. First of all, branding is alright. Second, I'm allowed to be as emotional as a rainbow-the heart does not take punches. Thirdly (can you say 'thirdly' as you say 'trice'?) it is quite fun not to make sense. Like talking one minute about Aristotle, then about why I love the word 'allure', then about how come Marilyn Manson has a remarkable sensibility, and then a pragtfuld message on how much sunshine brings chatting with Amy Winehouse's other junkie (that being Simon).

So, first we tackle Marilyn Manson. As I've always said: art cannot be tagged as good or bad, it depends if it talks to you or not. And sometimes it talks to a lot of people, like Impressionism or Da Vinci, or even Jeff Koons, or it can talk to some and the artist makes it all the way to the walls of the cafeteria.

The thing is that I was browsing for the 'Personal Jesus' video and ran into Marilyn Manson's art. http://www.marilynmanson.com/ (loudspeakers off if you don't wanna recreate 'The Grudge' environment).

Unsolicited opinion: I think the guy is a mix of fauve, expressionism, and has a sense of aesthetics that makes even more contrasting his funky personality. From the feeling I had of Mr Manson, thought that going against everything is neither original nor fun - actually it's rather easy. So looking at this melancholic big-eyed paintings made me think that perhaps the guy merchandises his expressed denials to push the limits and actually bent so much reality that he can practically do whatever he feels like.

Now, what about Aristotle? I was kinda 'looking for Jesus' (bumper sticker: 'Jesus loves you, the rest of us don't'), and kinda found him by reading the 'Nichomachean Ethics'. Funny association that I owe to my evolved little brother - you have to find yourself to find the answers! And the same questions tormenting us have been around since the time of the Greeks wondering about life (and wandering in togas). The greatest concept I've understood so far: there is one kind of happiness that is based on other people's standards. Man gets miserable because that image is superior to the one he formulated. Nothing to do with ambition, it's just about ignorance of other worlds, and hence the impossibility to reach them.

Anyhow, think I'm beginning to sound PoMo (Post-Modernist), but nobody can blame me - Copenhagen is the Mecca of speciality stores and very small niche markets. On the necessity of feeling 'unique', everybody is becoming to look alike at very high price tags. What is more anonymous: living in a 40 million people city where nobody knows you or being part of a hip herd?

Will shut up now. Pass on the De-Tox Firefly.

Darling Boys

Close your eyes

Have no fear

The monster's gone,

He's on the run and your daddy's here...

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer

Every day in every way

It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy

Out on the ocean sailing away

I can hardly wait

To see you to come of age.

But I guess we'll both
Just have to be patient

Yes it's a long way to go
But in the meantime

Before you cross the street

Take my hand

Life is just what happens to you

While you're busy making other plans

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy...

(Lennon)