I have no faithful female readers. My blog, someone said, goes well with a brandy. Now that makes me disappointed. There is something very much out of the common about all this. I have one thousand and one womanish concerns and my absolute hero is Sheherezada, a mesmerizing genius of postponing everything that can be postponed; and you won’t even dare to call her a shameless postponer.

I am therefore very determined to bring back the beautiful ladies; so here I launch a very serious question: dear sisters, what do you think will happen if we’d use for – like two months or so – day care intensive creams and moisturizers and lotions (repairwear, triple action, superdefense, UV-response, UV white milk, lifting intensifier, calming stuff) before going to sleep AND night care creams (stop signs, anti-gravity, repair deep wrinkles, repair intensive night, smoother night, detox night, skin perfector, fortifying radiance stuff) in the morning???
Would it feel like flying to New York and back three times a week? Would we end up with a circadian rhythm sleep disorder? Would we still be the same stunning wives, sisters, girlfriends, mothers and neighbors? Or turn into zombies maybe? Or lose the sense of contrast, mixing left with right, night with day, bad with good, devils with angels, dreams with reality, Melody Club with Bach, Paulo Coelho with Dostoevky and Al Bundy with Jerry Seinfeld?
OK. I confess. It is the 3rd day when mixing up the cream bottles. It worries me. I already feel some transformations.Your anxious sister,
A.T.

I got an email from an unknown reader of this blog. He asked, among other innocent questions, why do I promote Billy Porter and violence , and why do I recommend the LSD-influenced music like Jefferson Airplane’s, and why do I devote so much space to “pop music like Blondie and Gessle which are worthless” – he writes, and why so many “tasteless charcoals” – he also writes.

I have to say I enjoyed reading his email. It was like hide ‘n seek: me, trying to guess what his criteria are all about, what his “religion” might be, and what are the standards he would like me to embrace; him, hiding so well, mixing labels in a slippery way, making up arbitrary assamblages of art-related terms, telling me I’m on my way but I’d need to practice more though, damn, I lost him. He won.
And I am left here, dealing with my failure.
Poor me… I admit, I have no ethical obsessions. And I always feared an abusive political corectness. I like Mick Ronson’s Billy and I am crazy about Jefferson Airplane. I still believe that “Surrealistic Pillow” is one of the best albums ever. Debbie Harry, just like Bowie, knows the art of compromising the right way, all her musical acts have a sort of awareness that simply impends them from being trivial. Gessle makes me think – in a general way though – of Andy Warhol: concessions that are never really believed as being concessions; made for the sake of both: art and money. A painted Coke can is like a “nanana” chorus. But as Borges has once put it, calling art a compromise is nothing but simplification as long as no one knows entirely what he’s doing. Andy Warhol never meant much for me (well, except for the Velvet Underground’s banana…) and Gessle has lately become so frightfully snobby that I seriously think about his (musical) personality and (artistic) tastes as having the feeblest originality ever to be found in an artist. Nevertheless, he’s still a case; just like Warhol; too shallow for even being misunderstood and yet, constantly got wrong. He’s so much fun.
As for my charcoals, phff… It’s a way of taking a firm hold of my imagination when thoughts and inner images are getting fluid and impossible to be used for other – more graceful – purposes. They rather express a crisis and not a boost of coherent inspiration. And I’m not a devoted painter. And my hand often betrayes my intentions. So my drawings might be tasteless in the end, yes. And my good unknown reader might have an unusual flair for detecting Goofies taking themselves too seriously. Thank you, my friend. The work of art above is dedicated to you. And so is the Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit”.

People crossing their swords in my head, warriers fighting for peace, well-trained terrorists manufacturing bombs, here comes 007 hanging on a golden gun and on a golden blonde, Napoleon traps agent Mulder and Joséphine provides scholarly agent Scully with inedit contraceptive tips, a palace is on fire, a bank has been robbed, two natural born killers and Joey Ramone are fighting over a restaurant table, nobody ever wins because I am the Law, and by the way, Luke, I am your father, people stand, run or hide, so much space and no comfy chair, if we could all sit down and come to an agreement. I have known love and I have known death, but I have never known sleep. I am tired.PS: Mick Ronson ‘s “Billy Porter” today. And I still can’t decide between The Undertones and Buzzcocks. However, I am also set on Tom Jones’ “I’ll Never Fall In Love Again”; for the sake of my mother who detests my blog.

CBGB, the punk Mecca in NYC, will be closed today. After Patti Smith´s performance. That´s a bad sign. The New York punk revolution in the mid 70′s has lost its meaning for today’s ears. No dirty, painted walls to bang your head against from now on. All we have now is Robbie Williams and Madonna. Who could still miss Debbie Harry?… I am really sorry for myself; I’ve never used their famous toilet. I wasn’t even close.

PS: But well, now’s time for me to think up some living tricks for a mid-October Sunday. How about Jefferson Airplane and “FeedYourHead” – live, ’67-’69?

PS2: Can someone please explain to me why do Swedish men spit in the street, for Heaven’s sake??

The shared habits. The blessed and the damned shared habits that bind people together and tear people apart.

PS: …as for the music, I am going with Dr. Feelgood and his “Baby Jane”, “Trying to Live My Life Without You”, “Put Him Out Of Your Mind” and the hopeless “See You Later Alligator”. For the sake of my dad; for the good old times; for my own sake, as I sit here, facing South, summing myself up. And did you ever try The Men? They’ve just released a great album and they’re from Lund. But you wouldn’t guess. You would think they’ve just landed from a ’64 London.

If you are not here, then I am not here either.PS: yet another charcoal of mine that once has been lost, but now, unfortunatelly, found.

Dear reader, I am pitilessly reminding you, in case you forgot for a Sunday, for a few hours, for a few minutes, or even if you didn’t forget at all after all, well, I still feel constrained by moral means to – I said – to remind you the very few harmless details below. Read them carefully as if for the very first time, once is not enough; twice is still not enough; make it ten times; just in case you failed to take it personally during the first nine readings.
Oh, and, reader, don’t take it the morbid way. I mean it in a sweet, tender, warm, gracious, free of acid, loving way. With a smile hanging on my face, somewhere between the left corner of my mouth and left ear. My smile may freeze right there, on the left side of my face by the end of these little lines. I had considered this difficulty, yes. So we’d better start. I hate grimaces.
Aging involves more than the acquisition of charming gray hair and melancholic wrinkles. As a person ages, decrements in structure and functioning occur at many different levels. Physiological changes occur in the cardiovascular, respiratory, nervous, muscoskeletal, immune and sensory systems of the body.
At the structural level, lean body mass, muscle tissue, bone density, and brain size all decrease. At the functional level, basal metabolic rate, heart rate, breathing rate, and kidney functioning decline, while blood cholesterol level increases. Age-related decrements occur in the functioning of cells, systems and combinations of systems. The number of neurons and neural cell dendrites in the brain decreases, and the neural transmission rate slows down. The little tubules and filaments of neural tissue in the brain become entangled, giving a spaghetti-like appearance (now that’s one lovely metaphor) to this organ. There is an increase in lipofuscin (the tiny yellow-pigmented granules in neurons) and an accumulation of the fatty, calcified material known as plaque at neuronal synapses. Changes also occur in neurotransmitters, chemical substances that are responsible for transmitting nerve impulses across synapses. Hardening of the arteries (the reader is perfectly aware of what arteriosclerosis means) in old age affects circulation of the blood, and changes in the structure of collagen influence the functioning of the heart, lungs, kidneys, and other visceral organs. Strands of collagen, a fibrous protein material found in connective tissue, bones and skin become linked together and less elastic with age; this leads to slower responsiveness and slower recovery of vital systems. These structural changes with aging are accompanied by reductions in basal metabolic rate, heart rate, and kidney filtration rate. Muscular strength also declines, and all five senses become less acute. A common sign of aging is the formation of a cloudy ring, called arcus senilis, around the cornea of the eye. Age-related changes in collagen promote osteoarthritis (the inflammation of the joints, the hands you’ve seen in parks, on the benches, on Sunday mornings…) and less flexible skin. Besides having a wrinkled appearance, the skin of older adults is rougher, dryer, more easily bruised, less hairy and more inclined to develop pigmented areas that may be malignant. These changes, coupled with a thickening of the eyelids and a hollowing of the eye sockets can greatly alter one’s facial appearance in old age. Behavior and appearance are also affected by the stiffening of hip and knee joints and compression of the spinal discs. This compression, which results from a loss of collagen between the spinal vertebrae, causes a stooped posture and makes older people look shorter. Thus, aging involves a breakdown in several systems within the body, ultimately resulting in death when a sufficient number of the cells comprising these systems are altered. Because aging produces losses in all body systems, actions that require the cooperation of several systems are most likely to be affected. For example, complex motor skills involving the coordination of sensory, neural and motor systems manifest a greater age-related decrement than simple, well-learned, automatic responses. However, older people usually do everything more slowly – or let me put it in a dignified, superb and STILL very accurate manner: more deliberately – then when they were young. It has been said, dear reader, that the most characteristic thing about being older is being slower, a process manifested in a wide range of physical and mental activities. …And this is what he said: ” oh sweet nuthin’ she ain’t got nothing at all oh sweet nutin’ she ain’t got nothing at all”, more tea anyone?…PS: foto – a superb Anita Pallenberg in the 70′s. I dreamt her last night after listening to some Stones. But well, I’ve always been a peculiar dreamer and I have definitely seen “worse” in my wandering nights.
Today’s songs: Velvet Underground with “Chelsea Girls” and “Sweet Nuthin’”, and Lightning Seeds with “Sense” and “Pure”.

…well, I have everything except strength.

I now feel the need to warn the reader not to mock me. I have two days left for making witty – childish – half-guilty – paradoxical word games. Two days left from my hazy childhood. Hazy, ambivalent days. And then, as Cohen has once put it, I’ll grow old and bitter. Infamous days. 29 infamous years in which I didn’t learn anything except that 1. people with daily little cruelties have an indisputable charm, 2. being a good researcher is not about having a huge apetite for facts, but rather about having a good metabolism, 3. Lightning Seeds (with Ian Broudie) have made the best pop ever, 4. people without any trace of frivolity are rather dangerous, 5. Simone Weil could have used a little bit of sense of humour, 6. Harrison is better than Lennon and Maureen Tucker is better than Nico, 7. most hopes are hopeless, 8. my father’s band (if it would have lasted) would have been a risible flop (Excuse me, dad, “Venera”??? What kind of name is that??) and it would have turned my adolescence into a nightmare, 9. the most graceful moments are born on the eve of disasters, 10. there’s no better laughter than Adrian Leverkühn’s, 11. every lonely island is a crowded place, 12. the novels and the songs having more than one author are like transpiratory common bedrooms at 6 o’clock in the morning, 13. sex is usually ambiguous and very improper for the stuck-up ones, 14. all the big truths are flexible and bourgeois (in the good sense of the word), 15. son of a plumber is better than Gessle, 16. if you lose the shades, you lose the Sun, 17. I sometimes woke up in somebody else’s night which I have – later on – learnt it was rather sinful, 18. the Paradise doesn’t have a good press in the religious imagination of the modern man, 19. laughing at my time is like pointing my finger at myself in the mirror, 20. one’s faith should be put in Leonard Cohen only, 21. self-mockery makes you, for some reason, less lovable, 22. long-termed relaxation is alienation, 23. not all things that are happening are REALLY happening, 24. I would be very shy if asked to dance with a father, 25. there is no thing worse than artificial naivety, 26. ladies are worse than gentlemen, 27. when there is nothing to hang on to, you suddenly have something to hang on to, 28. it’s interesting to wait for a wonder, 29. it wouldn’t be easy to be David Bowie’s closest friend, 30. a habit doesn’t always cure a habit, 31. it’s prodigious, it’s marvellous, it’s remarkable it’s the biggest chance one can get – having a few persons to put all one’s trust and faith in, 32. I feel better when I hope better, 33. we are made of lacks and surpluses of light, 34. getting myself into highly ridiculous situations was (and still is) like trying the Hell with my finger, 35. I have never found anything by pure chance, 36. some people love their anticlimaxes, 37. I have a certain sense of charade, 38. Miles Davis is better than John Coltrane and Lou Reed is better than John Cale and Hep Stars are better than Ebba Grön, 39. I find Louis Vuitton bags completely hideous, 40. Lund is better than Bucharest and contact lenses are better than glasses. Oh, infamous, hazy 10585 days of my life!…but well, let’s sing another song boys, this one has grown old and bitter.

The innocent indifference. The distance. The unconscious heartlessness of the lovers towards the world around them. The warmth, the even-minded attention usually laid upon this speckled world is suddenly taken back and reflected upon the loved person only.