Letter

Dear Reader,

Due to a longer series of unfortunate and irrelevant events, the latest writings has vanished and reappered in a new shape. In the Chinese year of the golden pig, when everything feels a bit twisted , it’s time for this blog to put one foot to the ground and take a political stance.

For quite a time now the swedish mediaclimate has revovled around the issue of human impacts on environment. This is essentially a nice gesture. But, like any other Hollywood film there has to be some kind of a threat (this is hotstuff journalistic people!!), where the swedish media has labeled this threat The Climate Threat. To smother this bad villain the swedish government decided to appoint a commission. Commission comsmishooon. It’s with laughter and sorrow in my heart one establish the fact that the whole thing feels like some kind of wierd part from Franz K.’s Das Process. Hey, let’s hide all of the worlds environmental issues in a bureaucratic web of commissions. Yeah, why not.

Anyways; the core of this discussion is that the swedish government are bastards with double standards (Mr. Fredrik R. would do more for the environment if he let his fuelswallowing SUV stay in his garage), and the swedish media takes common people for uncritical fools. Let’s examine the latter more closely. It’s a known fact that such a diffuse subject as the climate change never would have got so much attention if it weren’t for this mild swedish winter. The logics of media involve that journalists do not report about an event if they can’t twist, simplify, concretize or impersonate it. The issue of climate change is neither of this. So how come this issue is all over the swedish newspapers? A guess is that high-position editors suddenly noticed that ski-season was in danger and they no longer could take their SUV’s to the scandinavian mountains. And as we all know, this is of great importance for them, so they can keep on spew whatever crap on us. Is this cyncial? Let’s first talk about how human race is the only species that are destroying their own possibility for survival, then we can talk about cynical.

Sincerely yours X

Position

My girlfriend is lying in the sofa - talking with her cats on the phone
They are breifing her about the world economy situation
General index – down 0.1%

A foreboding atmosphere
Memories – flickering on the computerscreen
It’s cynical in a way
Was it meant to be?

the burghers of France

1.
La belle epoque was according to mystics and historymakers a period of positive moods, greiflessness and a belife of better future to come. The conception is roughly translated into the good ol’ days. If the days actually were good or not - we’ll never find out - what matters is our idea about this period of time in history. Nevertheless the the burghers of France were sipping on the sweet nectar that a long time of peace and prosperity had given them. You imagine that the burghers were taking their Sunday walks on the boulevards in their white linen costumes and strawhats - just to sit down at some random café and quench their thirst with a fine wine. In such a climate, when survival no longer were hanging by a thin thread, there was time for contemplation and self-fulfilment. One started to question one’s place in existence here on earth, the meaning of life if you so want it. To mitigate the monotony that comes with spare time and find a meaning in existence people turned to art – for it’s beauty and surperficial values. Soon people realized this was perishable and they turned to the hazardous green absinth instead – and so a world of denial. Much of the following chat must therefore be regarded as pure bullshit.

01.35 am, close to a century after this moods reached their definite peak (some consider the shipwrecking of Titanic as the point were the uncritical belife of a better future finally was buried, some the outbreak of World War 1) they re-appeared through a revengeful french zombie on a dj-set in the insignificant town of Gothenburg.

2.
Killed in a car crash back in 1986, Kavinsky is now a zombie in need of revenge. His records are the story of his first steps in the world of the living dead.

The plot is a necessary element of conceptual music such as this. Kavinsky is telling his story – a story from a zombie-perspective. He has returned from the world of the living dead to perform a playful dance with the contemporary world’s Faustian autoerotic automobile fetish. And by using song titles like “Testarossa Autodrive,” he begins his tale with one of the 1980’s most easily recognizable symbols of cultural status, technology, mobility, and the need for speed: the Ferrari.

01.00 am. Standing in an apparently neverending queue to and old and respected jazzclub – which after midnight is transformed to the most hard-core house/techno/electro-club you’ve ever seen. Pulse, beat. Smoking a cigarette, thinking of better times. The cool hipster-kids on the balcony has put on their most scornful smile, thinking – I’m inside, you’re not. Later on - twenty or something minutes later – even I was let inside, however having a different kind of smile on my face.

The dancefloor pulsating. Very soon this pulse is in my veins, I’m feeling every inch of it. It’s an undescribable feeling. In the middle of this drunken haze a familiar tune is reaching for me. A hundred and twenty something beats per minute, “Testarossa Autodrive” starts in epic 80’s cop-movie style with only a beat and the arpeggios that flutter above before a quick move of the synth’s pitch shift fakes a whammy bar and everything explodes. It smells like burned rubber from a red sportscar and a rotten zombie in a collegejacket, it’s an excellent fragrance.

3.
As I take the tram home to my student-appartment I realize that I’m living in la nouvelle belle epoque and tonight I was trying to find some kind of meaning of existence in art. Did I just touch it?