I grew up where urban Sweden intersects with rural Sweden—close to fields and creeks and deep dark forests, but also close to protective fencing shielding us from the forest; close to noisy construction sites and big-billboard-commercials and home. My childhood is reminiscent of the artwork of Simon Stålenhag, especially his “Things of The Flood” (http://www.simonstalenhag.se/), if you subtract the giant robots and dinosaurs. Didn’t have any of those unfortunately. But the atmosphere was there, and there was whole lot of other shit that went on, and is still going on—everyday life now. (I’d also like to add that if Stålenhag would have known what was in store for the future of bioputers, he might not have made some of those pictures—biomass growing in electric appliances; a spine coming out of a radio; guts within an old-timey TV-screen. It’s eery, often, how life mimics art, or however the saying goes.)
The plan is to write about everyday life using this blog. And not necessarily the objective “this is how it is here in central Sweden where big business roams free and test their shit on us” kind of everyday life, but my own everyday life. Imagine this as an internet based diary, in which I might also post some rants and random pictures and stuff I make… or something. Hopefully someone is interested, because the door is open: step inside, taste some joy and cheer and big-eyed wonder, and also some deep dark feelings like frustration and hate and shaudenfreude and other fucked-up shit. This is a journal after all: nothing I would like my family to read.
And I highly doubt they, or anyone I know, ever will. This blog will be thoroughly hidden in the noise of the great internet. But just in case someone I know do find it: all the names will be switched up, for the sake of anonymity. My name is not really Max. My sister’s name is not really Felicia.
However, if someone who do know me more than as an acquaintance were to find this place, and take a closer look, they would probably have no trouble seeing through my shallow attempts at integrity.
Anyway: there will be no introduction. I will not tell you, “This is me.” Just keep reading if you want to know more. It’s a journal after all: everything I write here should be adequate for you to get an idea of who I am. And if you do not care to know the first thing about me, just stick around to read about a Simon Stålenhag-ish kind of life, here in the outskirts of urban Sweden, where we do not have huge robots but a bunch of other shit all over the place. I once found a dead “Sperret”, with cables coming out of it’s spinal cord, dead in the middle of a field.
So there’s that.
(I also apologize in advance for potential grammar errors. As you probably understood, English is not my mother tongue.)