This is me when I was 15. Or 14… Asch, it doesn’t really matter exactly how old I was… I was younger than I am now.
And I was in love with B.
Madly in love. Like a constant pressure on my chest. A constant pain through my teenage years.
I would have done anything for him. Anything. I’d have cut off one of my arms if he needed it for something, removed my uterus with a scissor if that would have been to his pleasure,
I’d even have killed another human being for him…
Lucky he never asked me… might have regretted that whole “cut-off-my-arm”-thing in retrospect…
Anywayzzz, as you can easily deduce, this is one page of a *longer story. And it will eventually end up in Kolik förlags Novellett-utgivning.
*That 26-pager I told ya’ll about the other day… Yes, apparently it was good shit.
Back to the book.
Winners never quit.
I’ve gone through the old sketches for my book tonight and a new spark lit in me. I haven’t looked at it for months now ’cause something in me just choked up and I had to put it away. But with spring comes new flow… And I sat down tonight, and read it through, first page to last, and well… it’s good. Not finished. Not perfect. But good.
I actually laughed a couple of times (had forgotten that there were funny moments in it) and then there were a couple of pages that sounded weird that I simply ripped out.
It’s too short though. Not so much in number of pages as in content. I need to continue the story and let it contain some memories from Athens too. Like the drug incident. And the first time I saw a naked man (there were two of them and I was supposed to look all cool and relaxed next to them). And that time with the film crew in Gamla Stan.
Oh, and by the way… I’m in love with Style (Neil Strauss) now. He’s awesome. So warm, charming and easy going.
Mystery, on the other hand, is too damaged. He’s the kind of guy you have a futile obsession with… the kind of guy you date for a while and have a lot of fun with… The kind of guy who takes you for an emotional roller coaster ride and leave you all legs-shaking and adrenaline-pumped.*sigh*
But Style now… Style’s the guy you marry. <3
Yesterday I devoured my mentor Fabian Göransons adaptation of Strindbergs Inferno. I was intrigued and fascinated by herr Strindberg in a totally new way.
Coming from a background in drama/theater I only knew Strindberg through his plays (Fröken Julie, Fadren, Ett Drömspel…). He is a magnificent play-write and I loved working with his texts back in the day, but I had no real perception of him as a person. To me he was simply the words of his plays.
Now, reading Inferno, I find a connection not only to occultism, but to Emanuel Swedenborg of all people!
I was practically brought up in the Swedenborg church (the lords new church, a reformed christian church based on the writings of Swedenborg). My grandfather, Olle Hjern, is a preacher of the church (and writer of Swedenborg-literature) and throughout my childhood we had our family gatherings at the Sunday service in his church.
I totally had no idea that occultism and Strindberg were linked to Swedenborg! I kind of just stored the whole Swedenborg-thing away as boring grown-ups-stuff. Monotonous preachings and excerpts from the bible (“… så som det står skrivet. i Lukas evangelium.”) while me and my cousins snuck away to play hide-n-seek in the back rooms of the church.
Shame on me! Time to go search through my spiritual heritage.
Swedenborg and Strindberg, here I come!
(and did you know that Strindberg was married to Frida Uhl?! Thats almost Frida Ulvegren! It’s a sign, it has to be a sign!)
A friend from Sthlm just sent me this on FB saying she thought of me when she read it.
HaHHAHHaHhAhHah! Yes! That’s me exactly!
Only exception that my dad didn’t take me out fishing and never patted my head out of empathy. But other than that, EXACTLY ME!
A few months back I began working on a comic about my dad and how my upbringing has affected me.
After rewriting some pages and a few minor image changes I consider it finished. Though I’m not 100 % sure on the last panel… Maybe less tears would feel better… ’cause I don’t feel sorry for myself.
Maybe I did when I wrote it… But today the sun is shining and I’m thinking that a romantic relationship isn’t the goal of my life now anyway.
These daddy-issues are actually working in my advantage at the moment. They are probably what spurred my creativity in the first place.
Naaahhh… shouldn’t give all the cred to dad for that… Mom’s been really good at encouraging my expressions in different art forms.
Anywayzzz, here it is. Very bad quality, but when I print it it’ll look much nicer. Might make a fanzine of it for SPX… We’ll see.
I like it.
It’s fifteen pages.
If you’ve read the previous version you can scroll down and enjoy the last two pages of the story.
No, none of us understood any of it, but we both knew that this was the most beautiful gift he had ever given to anyone ever.
Two years… without a word… and then… the most beautiful gift…
That is so fucked up.
The sad thing about it all is that I know that his behaviour has shaped me.
I get obsessed with guys that give me a little attention and then turn cold.
Oh, God. The last one was extremely daddy-issue-projected…
Will I ever learn?
No. No I’ll never learn.
It’s as if there is no true love for me…
only a bottomless need to be seen.
Please dear good God, prove me wrong.