Thank you Mikke for directing readers to my blog!

In this post there are no harsh words.

If you want to see what all the fuss was about you can scroll down to the post below this one and check out the last vid of the four posted there.

I’m not the type of person to be offended easily and after I got it out of my system by bloging it I don’t feel the need to take the matter further.

I wont be reporting him to our principal, as was my first thought. Its in the past now and I’ll let bygones be bygones.

Now, more vid’s from Angoulême!

Angouleme-videos pour vous mes amis!

No sleep all night on the train before doing this vid because of that amazing Jenna-book… I’m now thinking “what do I have to tell?” “how could any story be as heavy and awestricing as Jennas?”

She truly is a remarkable woman.

Drama! I will elaborate on these incidents soon enough. The night before I recorded this vid I was lying awake in my bed considering wether to report my teachers disgusting behavoiur to the principal at Comic Art School or not. I think I’ve decided to just write about it here on the blog, and hope that he slips up again so I can rage against him, mano a mano.

It’s been so long since I let my rage out. A good build-up in my system, ready to burst with explosive controlled fire which will burn him to an unrecognizable pile of ashes of his pathetic impotense.

But then again… maybe I should go easy on him. After all, he’s just a sad and weak excuse for a man…

I am, and allways will be, stronger than he’ll ever even hope to be. I am the empress, the goddess, the magnificent and he’ll allways just be a squeeky little mouse gnawing at my feet trying to get attention.

Do I lift my foot to smoosh him under my heal, or do I simply walk away with a digusted look on my face? We’ll see mes amis… we’ll see…

Ooohhh yeeeaaah… more fantastic news from the train ride… Someone stole all of the cash from my wallet (2000 SEK) somewhere between Malmoe and Koeln. I discovered it when I needed to pay for a cup of coffee.

Johan came to my resque and paid for it instead.

He’s a good friend that one.

I chose to see this whole stealth buisness as a lesson in the futility of this world… Everything will be lost in the end. Everything that comes to us, will one day go away and leave us. Even my own life in this body, will be lost one day. This flesh will rot. The people who knew me will die. Nothing of what I was will follow me anywhere. All of these days I’ve spent in this life, all of the lessons I’ve learned, will die as I die.

So there’s no point in thinking that we own anything. It can all fall out of our hands at anytime.

I still have faith that everything will be allright though… I can’t explain that notion right now, but it’s really strong and it makes me feel invincible. 

And hey! There’s no point in crying over spilled milk now, is there? Why give myself suffering and anxiety over something I can’t possibly change no matter how hard I try?

No, instead I’ll choose to give energy to the aspects of my life that I can actually do something about.

Like my teachers missbehaviour.

I am leaving you.

I’m going to Angoulême on tuesday.

The fanzines are printed and sewn. Both “My Stockholm diary” and the new one “Frida -for good and bad”. I’ve been in my studio all weekend just getting stuff ready for the trip. Spent a couple of hours working on my unique business cards.

It’s a thing I do, like a game, or a fortune cookie, if you will. I simply write some inspirational message or life lesson by hand on the back of  ’em. Each card gets its own original message. No two messages are the same. Then when I’m giving out my business card, I spread them all out like a deck of cards, and have the person in front of me choose one (without seeing the messages of course). Then they turn it round and read the message… and I have a rock solid feeling that they allways get exactly the message that they need to hear in that moment.

 In other news, I’m still wearing the same clothes as I had on Friday. Geeet freeesh, Friiidaaa… seriously.

Buuut I do enjoy the smell of my own sweat, so I ain’t really complaining… ^_^

Seven pairs of clean underware are lying on my sofa waiting to be packed. I need to get a pair of headphones for my mp3-player tomorrow so I don’t have to sit and socialize all the way to france… Nothing wrong with socializing really, but when it comes to train rides I prefer dissolving into my own space

I’ll be away for a week… A week without facebook. A week without bloging. And (if my mobile phone fuckes up like it usually does) a week without sms’s.  

Ulrika! My darling sister! How to manage for a whole week without talking to her?!

Guuurkaaan!!! Hallå! Hur ska det gå? Älskade älskade du! HUR SKA DE GÅ UTAN DEJ I ÖRAT?! NÄE JAG VILL INTE VA MED OM INTE DU E MED. DU ÄR MITT ALLT. MITT LILLA GRYN. MIN STORASTORASYSTER. MIN LIVSKAMRAT. MIN BÄSTIS! det finns inget som är som en syster. :’)  

I need to remind myself that I’ve done this before. I mean I was even away for a silent retreat, without any distractions whatsoever, no books, no pen and paper, no nothing. Just silent meditation out in the woods, far away from civilization. And when I got back, the world hadn’t disappeared.  

This’ll be good for me. I think I’ll make some sort of good-bye-video tomorrow… As a final post… Before I go…

Why does it feel like I’m saying farewell for ever?

Why do I get all sentimental?

What’s wrong with me?!

It’s only a week for christ sake!!!

oh.

hehe…

I know.

It’s that time of the month. Of course. 

God, is there anything in me that isn’t just the cause of hormones?  It’s pathetic. I’m a f-ckin’ animal. “I am not a man, I am an animal” (quote from the not so famous spin-off to “the elephant man”… called “the elephant woman”)

Nah. I made that up. There is no such film. The elephant man was a good flick though! Totally “see-worthy, see with your eyes that is.”

What’s up with the quoting Frida?

Uhhhm… I don’t know. Just one of ’em nights I guess.  

Heh. Allright. Now be a good girl and go to bed. 

mmmkey… g’night.

nightynight honey.

from my sketchbook.

sexy lajdy. uuuh ju ar so sexy, sexy lejdy.  yes. so very very sexy. 

blah.

I love markers.

I’m gonna get married to markers.

We’re gonna have lots and lots of little marker-babys.

Yes… You’ll see… I’ll make it happen.

Okay, that’s it… I’m going to bed now.

Cry baby, cry as much as you want. But know that the hurt is over. We are stronger now.

Last night I got that urge, or what ever it is, to sit down by myself in my room and sketch a new comic story. 

It got to be 10 pages, but I might make it longer if I decide to slow down the pace a bit… Add som more silent panels perhaps…

Yeah, anyway, then my sister called and we spoke over the phone for a long while. She wanted entertainment since she had no tv where she was and her boyfriend had told her he needed his “alone time” (ah, men… ya gotta love ’em…).

So she called me. For entertainment. And that’s toootally fine.

Sometimes I call her for entertainment. Or for support when everything feels like shit. Or just to have someone to sit silent with for an hour or so. Expensive phonebills, sure, (since she refuses to get Comviq kompis!) but totally worth it.

Anyway, back to the comic. I read it aloud to her over the phone.

She was silent for the most part. Answered a couple of questions I had (questions like: do you remember how old we were when that happened? was it insense and soap in the box?), then towards the end I heard her voice had gotten all thick and broken.

She was crying. For a moment there I felt like a psychopath, I laughed and exclaimed “haha, you’re crying! It’s good! It’s a good story! YES!”. It was the best feedback a story of mine could get.

Then she asked me to change it. She was afraid that dad would read it and get upset.

I’m not changing it.

But I will say that this is only my story, my truth right now. It is not meant to be the objective undisputable truth. No, it’s only meant to be a good story and a step on my own personal way towards liberation.

And hey, dad’s made us upset quite a number of times, and we were only children then, so what should we go tippy toe ’round his ego now for, huh..?

I think that maybe it’s the sense of shame that gets my sis’ so nervous.

I feel it too.

Shame. Idiotic feeling. Shame should die.

As I see it, if you get the shit out in the open it’ll strengthen you instead of break you down. It could end up making me a heartless self centered psychopath of course… but I’m willing to take the risk. So far I still feel love and compassion for my fellow travellers on this long road called life…

Gettin’ jiggy with it

Na na na na nanAnA, na na na-na nanA!

Just had that song in my head. Has nothing to do with this post, really.

Yeah, so anyway, I’m working on a threepage comic that only two people have read so far, but I figure that it’ll be like with my previous dirty comics. That I’ll get distanced from it when it’s finished. It’s like when the work is done it takes a life of  it’s own. Like a child. Sure, I was responsible for giving birth to it, but where it chooses to go after that is it’s own journey and I can just tag along for the fun of it.

Here’s the panel I’m inking right now.

I love her jaw line.