rännstenskänning/from the gutter

2004-12-21T17:04:00.000-08:00

ja va fan de' e' ju julhelvete...

2004-12-21T16:59:00.000-08:00

wich fucked up genius composer are you

Click here for the Quiz

yours truly became this guy... predictable???

2004-12-19T10:53:00.000-08:00

a friend did a portrait of my female side...

a big thanx to Kat Rrose Sélavy!!!

pataphysique

2004-12-13T21:12:00.000-08:00

AUDIO:

UBU ROI

2004-12-13T21:04:00.000-08:00

pataphysics

SYLLABICATION: pa·ta·phys·ics PRONUNCIATION: pät-fzksNOUN: AUDIO:

(used with a sing. verb) The French absurdist concept of a philosophy or science dedicated to studying what lies beyond the realm of metaphysics, intended as a parody of the methods and theories of modern science and often expressed in nonsensical language.

ETYMOLOGY: French pataphysique, alteration of Greek ta epi ta metaphusika, the (works) after the metaphysics (pseudo-title of a work by Aristotle modeled on ta meta ta phusika, the (works) after the Physics, Aristotle's Metaphysics) : epi, after; see+ metaphusika, metaphysics; see metaphysics.

OTHER FORMS: pata·physi·cal (--kl) —ADJECTIVE

2004-12-09T15:49:00.000-08:00

tribute to Andy W

after an idea from Pebbles...

2004-12-05T17:57:00.000-08:00

And yet another Velvet Underground song...

I just cant resist...

1-2-3 If you close the door, the night could last forever Keep the sunshine outand say hello to never All the people are dancing and they're havin such fun Iwish it could happen to me but if you close the door, I'd never have to see theday again. If you close the door, the night could last forever, Leave thewineglass out and drink a toast to never Oh, someday I know someone will lookinto my eyes and say hello -- you're my very special one-- but if you close thedoor, I'd never have to see the day again. Dark cloudy bars Shiny Cadillac carsand the people on subways and trains Looking gray in the rain As they standdisarrayed And if you close the door, the night could last forever. Leave thesunshine out and say hello to never all the people are dancing and they'rehaving such fun I wish it could happen to me 'Cause if you close the door, I'dnever have to see the day again. I'd never have to see the day again. (oncemore) I'd never have to see the day again.

2004-11-30T18:49:00.000-08:00

to all of the scum

on the other side of the pool...

may you burn in hell,

a war aint got no winner

and you aint got no right...

2004-11-27T11:54:00.000-08:00

my brother Pal makes a tribute

to an unfortunatly nearly forgotten

swedish band... HJÄRNSTORM,

the only track on the web was this

* En Ensam Man/Min Skugga

(MaxiSingle, Musiklaget/Slick, XL-15, 1980)

aint that a shame???

2004-11-26T19:54:00.000-08:00

Norrländska drinkrecept.

Vid en mindre fest så brukar man gå igenom hela listan helt enkelt.

ARJEPLOGSCHAMPAGNE
Hembränt i Sodastream - apparat.

ATOMUBÅT (Norrländskt recept)
1 stort ölglas med hembränd sprit
1 st snapsglas med öl
Häll upp spriten i ölglaset, fyll snapsglaset med öl. Släpp ner
snapsglaset
i ölglaset. Drick och glid in i dimman.

ASSI DOMÄN
6 cl vodka
1 st snapsglas
1 ruta toapapper
Fyll snapsglaset till bredden. Ta sedan en ruta toapapper, vik
ihop och placera i glaset. Häll sedan alltsammans i munnen, svälj
vätskan och sug på pappret. Spotta sedan ut pappret i glaset. Så
enkelt - så gott.

BAILEYS (Norrländskt recept)
6 cl hembränt
3 cl Chokladpucko
Smakar som O'boy!

DRÄPAREN
1,5 liter hembränt
1 st stövel (helst Tretorn)
1 st fodrad sula
Pölsa
Tag och häll upp spriten i den tomma stöveln som måste varit
ingången en jaktsäsong (smakråd). Fyll den till bredden med
sprit. Tag sedan och koka den fodrade sulan i pölsan i 10
minuter. Lägg ner sulan i stöveln och jag lovar att det blir en
dräpare på alla sätt och vis.

FINSK CHAMPAGNE
Ett helrör Finlandia
En treo
Stoppa treon i helröret. Voila!

FINSK SOMMARSOPPA
Hembränt i en blommig tallrik. Ät med sked.

CHATEAU DE GARAGE
Hembränt serverat i vinglas, med duk och levande ljus.

DUNDERKUSE
1 liter vodka
1 liter blanddricka
+ mycket krossad is
Fyll en tillbringare med is och blanddricka. Ge skiten till
barnen och ta sedan tillbaka tillbringaren. Fyll upp med sprit och
svep! Kalas!

GETING
17 cl vodka
1 st geting
Skär getingen i delar, stoppa i vodkan och rör om.

GREK SPECIAL
6 cl Ouzo
3 bitar fetaost
+ mycket krossad is

GRUSTAG
Hembränt och surströmmingsspad.

GRUVTOLVA
1 del svensk ofärgad sprit (valfri volym, men 12 cl är att
föredra)
1 hjortron (naturell)

GRYCKSBO
6 cl hembränt
1 st raviolikudde
1 st snapsglas
Mums!

HAJÖGA
1 glas vodka
1 st blåbär

HÖGER-VÄNSTER
En flaska sprit i ena handen och en flaska läsk i andra. Ta en
mun ur varje och gurgla.

JÄGARSNAPS
1 liter hembränt
Älgskit efter behag
Rör om väl och filtrera. Njut i fulla drag!
En bra start på älgjakten!

KAFFEKASK (Norrländskt recept)
1 st sockerbit
Kaffe
Hembränt
Släpp ner sockerbiten i den tomma kaffemuggen. Häll i kaffe så
du inte ser sockerbiten. Fyll på med hembränt tills du kan se
sockerbiten igen.
Slappna av och njut.

KAFFEKASK (Halländsk variant)
1 st mynt
Kaffe
Hembränt
Lägg ett mynt i en kopp, häll på kaffe till kanten på myntet
och fyll sedan upp koppen med brännvin.

KLONAD
Sprit och kräftspad. Serveras i cocktailglas med en kräftklo
nedstucken
istället för sugrör.

KYCKLING SURPRISE
1 grillad kyckling
1 glas hembränt
Ät upp hela kycklingen men spara skinnet. Lägg i skinnet i
spritglaset
och låt stå cirka 2 minuter. Ta sedan upp skinnet och ät upp
det.
Avsluta med att svepa det som är kvar i glaset.

LINDOME ICE TEA
1 dl ABSOLUT Mandarin
1 dl ABSOLUT Kurant
5 dl Beck's (för färgens skull)
5 dl Jolt-Cola
1 hel citron (oskalad)
Blanda allt i en skål, släng ner citronen och drick!

MOCKFJÄRD
Pripps Blå folköl
Mäsk
Blanda ljummen Pripps och mäsken 50/50 i ett dricksglas.

PAJALA SUNRISE (original)
Ett glas hembränt skiktat med ett lager långfil.

PAJALA SUNRISE (variant)
Ett glas hembränt med en falukorvsskiva på kanten.

PAJALA SUNBURN
Ett glas hembränt med en stekt falukorvsskiva på kanten.

ROS-VIN
Plocka en taggig jävla ros. Lukta på den och drick ett glas
sprit för att du inte har någon att ge den till.

SAFFRANSISCO
Häll upp en halvliter hembränt i ett stort glas.
Blanda i ett gram saffran.
Drick och njut av denna exklusiva och exotiska drink!

SCREWDRIVER
17 cl vodka
1 st apelsinklyfta
Häll vodkan i halsen och titta på apelsinklyftan.

SILLA GÅR TILL
3 cl vodka
3 cl sillspad
En bohuslänsk favorit. Blanda väl och häll upp i ett snapsglas.

TEQUILA SUNRISE
1 liter tequila
Drick tequilan. Slut ögonen. Vakna i sol/trapp-uppgången.

VARGTASS
1 liter vodka
1 st lingon
OBS! Om lingonet får ligga i för länge kan smaken lätt bli
fruktig!

VINTERVÄRME
6 dl hembränt av valfri årgång
6 dl Glykol
Häll upp i PET-flaska, skaka ordentligt. Blunda och halsa.

VODKA LOSEC
6 cl vodka
1 st 30 mg Losec
Lägg Losec i ett litet glas, slå på vodkan. Svep snabbt

barmaestro:martin jonsson

2004-11-22T17:23:00.000-08:00

...!

2004-11-22T15:08:00.000-08:00

and here he is... again

Charles Baudelaire!!!

--Tell me, you enigmatical man, whom do you love the most? Your father or your mother, your sister or your brother?
--I have neither father, mother, sister, nor brother.
--Your friends, then?
--You're using a word which has thus far remained beyond the range of my vocabulary.
--Your country?
--I haven't the remotest notion of the latitude in which it is situated.
--Beauty?
--Yes, Beauty I could care for, but Beauty as a goddess, deathless and divine.
--Money?
--I hate the gold the way you hate God.
--So, out with it then: what thing is to your liking,you extraordinary stranger.
--I love the clouds... the passing clouds... the ones drifting around up there... way up there...those marvelous clouds!

2004-11-19T03:09:00.000-08:00

enterprise - enter paradise...

absolut space

a long trip to free BOOZE!!!

2004-11-19T02:41:00.000-08:00

100% true: scientists have discovered beer in space. Well, not exactly beer but alcohol - ethyl alcohol, to be precise, the active ingredient in all major alcoholic drinks. Three British scientists, Drs Tom Millar, Geoffrey MacDonald and Rolf Habing, discovered this interstellar booze floating in a gas cloud in the constellation of Aquila. Millar and his colleagues estimated the size of this cloud as approximately 1,000 times the diameter of our own solar system. There's enough alcohol out there, they say, to make 400 trillion trillion pints of beer. That's British or Irish beer, mind you, because if it were American weak-as-piss beer you'd have to double that figure. But how did this reasonably complex molecule (two carbon atoms, five hydrogen atoms, and a hydroxyl radical) come about? It's not the kind of compound that's going to arise spontaneously out of the cold depths of space. So what exactly is this cloud?

1. It's God's beer. He worked for six days creating the universe, and on the seventh day, he rested. And after a hard week at the office, wouldn't YOU fancy a large feed of pints?
2. It's Purgatory ("400 trillion trillion bottles, hanging on the wall, 400 trillion trillion bottles, hanging on the wall, and if one green bottle...")
3. Proof of a highly advanced but chronically dipsomaniac alien civilisation. A messy theory though, because it's reasonable to assume that if the aliens were going to construct a nebula of alcohol, they'd also have large clouds of crisps or peanuts (or pork scratchings or Pringles or pretzels or whatever) nearby for grazing on.

The gas cloud (with the utterly romantic name of "G34.3") is a mere 10,000 light years away: 58 quadrillion miles. So even if you hijacked the Space Shuttle and headed out with thrusters on full blast, by the time you got there Fianna Fail would be well out of office. No, unfortunatly, the Space Beer Cloud will have to wait for the far future, when humans can leap through wormholes in the space-time continuum at warp speed. And picture the scene when they get there...

2004-11-19T02:30:00.000-08:00

in space... no one can hear you puke!!!

a trip to an unknown jorney - Captains log

Captain Kirk: My....GOD! Sulu! What....is....THAT?

Sulu: It's a free-floating cloud of alcohol, sir.

Kirk: And we've just run out of Romulan Ale! Could it be a trap, Bones?

Bones: Damn it, Jim! I'm a doctor, not a distiller of fine spirits!

Kirk: We need that booze! But if we fly through that cloud, we'll be too drunk to drive! Just think of the penalty points!

Spock: May I remind you, Jim, that I am a Vulcan. We are a race of designated drivers.

Kirk: Well, all righty, then. Spock, drive us through! Bones and I will be out on the hull. With our mouths... open. To boldly drink what no man has drunk before.

2004-11-19T02:00:00.000-08:00

and Pal, my brother in vain

had paid another tribute to

the late Andy Warhol...

2004-11-13T18:20:00.000-08:00

from the hidden room in my soul...

poetry emotions
Lotta, Pagie and some other are pickin' on me
about that i ought to give you some of my own poetry...
so here we go... i hope you can forgive my english,
i'll do the best i can...
it is some poems from my book THREE TOWN
(the title taken from a beerbrand here in sweden)
and it is some contemplations from Amsterdam,
Berlin and Stockholm, the Stockholmpart is not
added here, yet, so Amsterdam and Berlin newly
translated by yours truly...

2004-11-13T13:11:00.000-08:00

he show you his teeth, that have rotten to soon

we begin in the Netherlands and the port of...

AMSTERDAM

NIGHTSHIFT:

SPACE!!! I shouted from the top of my lounge I HAVE TO HAVE SOME SPACE!!! so I opend a window and took a stroll down by the milky way… when the day was dressed up in his nightinggown and brains where restin’ in dreamwater I walked out loaded with hole because I wanted to shot me some stars, I was floatin’

(1sec…)

in eternity, then I fell down… then I fell to sleep in the shadow of the shadow where asphalt meets asphalt and I didn’t woke up, until… on the damraksquare the furious fog danced a staggering waltz to the forgotten song of a sailor who was not, P’Gell kept the beat on my ribs and I woke up from my trance and the yearning after space woke up with me… space… I whispered, all I wanted was some space…

DROWNING:

The pale child of the night is gasping for air, like the wale on the beach. The pale child of the night is sinkin’ among cats, yoygirls and spacecakeseater is sinkin’ together with his jolly junkies, those transparent blue creatures in the black lagoon in the red kingdom on the other side of the white… distorted faces just like his P´Gell disappears in a cloud made out of bubbles that raises as she sinks in the canals out of time
The pale child of the night cries and sinks just to see if there is someone out there who wants to, who can, save him. The pale child of the night sinks always this sick thing to just sinkdown, down, down, all the way down… out of the dead in to the red glow of dawn the strength in his weakness is to dare to miss and keep on sinkin’…

-Is there a bottom?

-Do you wanna know???

…then you should know the top is the bottom,

...so sink my friend sink…sink into eternity!

CANALMINERS:

A far to bright light in the dusk of time we dig to carve trough the pale blue surface a selfmade refugee in an artificial paradise a sign in the fog, three cross on the hill, Im nailed to nothing. bored beyond belief… nowhere is everywhere just like the canals and the crystals who dances in my pump, captured by my freedom… my head is expoiding under the pressure of my life, I burn my self down and out, night after night, just so that I, like the firebird Fenix can raise from my ashes and be reborn, again and again and again Poison helps me to fall asleep, and give me strength enough to wake up day after day afterC’mon P´Gell follow me down, in my long black veil, I promise to show you a shortcutback to the white light, back to the white heat…

FOR Van GOGH… AND P´GELL:

It is true P´Gell, just as true as the fact that the Devil holds a hand over the heads on those he calls his owns… It is true P´Gell, that when sick planets is doing a totentanz in the light of their agony and drown down in the eternal embrace of death, then we’ll float in the vortex of our souls, in stead of just… “ya know… whatever…” and fall down in some bottomless pit… It is true P´Gell, when everything implodes out in to the blue chaos, then our love will stand like a seamark in an expodin’ ocean… It is true P´Gell, that even if you will go down into the unknown, I’ll be the lighthouse that lead you to the stars and further, belive me P’Gell…

I belive

(…)

or do I

2004-11-13T13:10:00.000-08:00

in the shaddow of the wall...

I AM A CAMERA

ONE NIGHT BY THE BERLINWALL:

I was going out through the grey, further and lost into the white… finnaly I found, No Mans House…a place where the blindfoldedwindows staired, right through me… I saw a hole, the hole that counted…

Hours

Minutes

And Seconds

and suddenly it just stopped, I stopped… I Stumbled blinded by chrystals, I fumbled forward just to find No Mans Hand, and the shadow of someone that past here years ago… my shadow played with the shadow of persons unknown… but when I staggered away it followed me, muttering, because it couldn’t find its way home by itself.

BORDERLINE:

On the border, to our nomansland, I danced a dead-drunk POGO, in slowmotion together with my loneliness, and the shadows on the wall in your flat, Cassandra, my girl, my godess over the untamed smoke…On the border, to our nomansland, I danced a dead-drunk Tarantelle, in a stained gallery where other people were busting their frames busting out over a purple universe… On the border, to our nomansland, I danced a dead-drunk waltz, as time was counting down the snow in milligrams and liters while I faded out tight carresed with the smoke, out through the cracked celling…

ON THE RUN ON THE RUIN:

Cassandra your frames are emty, the glas has been smashed from within, and the prisoners are on their run… they cant do so, but still, they do godess of the holy smoke, you raise your magic stick and make the picture clear…there is something in a frozen always… on the pallete lays still unplayed chords, and the yawningcanvas is singing, a bloodred song… but your frames are emty Cassandra…Why?

UNE SAISON EN ENFER:

It was cold in hell during that spring, it was so cold that the fire of damnation frooze… it was so cold that the lost souls had to dress up in feathers from raped amorines… it was the time when Cassandra walked thorugh my lifeline… it was the time when she let my star explode… implode, in a cloud of different color and nightmares… it was the time when she broke me into pieces and fed me with myself… It was cold in hell during that spring…

so they say...

2004-11-12T17:04:00.000-08:00

I am the Dandy

Most of us feel trapped within the limited roles that the world expects us to play. We are instantly attracted to those who are more fluid that we are - those who create their own persona. Dandies excite us because they cannot be categorized, and hint at a freedom we want for ourselves. They play with masculinity and femininity; they fashion their own physical image, which is always startling. Use the power of the Dandy to create an ambiguous, alluring presence that stirs repressed desires.

Symbol: The Orchid. Its shape and colour oddly suggest both sexes, its odour is sweet and decadent - it is a tropical flower of evil. Delicate and highly cultivated, it is prized for its rarity; it is unlike any other flower.

***

and what kind of seducer are you??? take the test bellow...

http://www.users.bigpond.com/polite_society/seduction.html

2004-11-09T16:36:00.000-08:00

yet another lindström...

2004-11-09T16:08:00.000-08:00

an almost forgotten favorite

the HITCHHIKERS GUIDE TO THE GALAXY

ALCOHOL: Here's what the Encyclopedia Galactica has to say about alcohol. It says that alcohol is a colorless volatile liquid formed by the fermentation of sugars and also notes its intoxicating effect on certain carbon-based life forms. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy also mentions alchol. It says that the best drink in existence is the Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster

PAN CALACTIC GARGELBLASTER: A potent drink invented by Zaphod Beeblebrox. The effects have been likened to having your brains smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick. There are many voluntary organizations which will help to rehabilitate you after you've had one.

The Guide has instructions for mixing a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster yourself:

1. Take the juice from one bottle of that Ol' Janx Spirit.
2. Pour into it one measure of water from the seas of Santraginus V.
3. Allow three cubes of Arcturan Mega-gin to melt into the mixture (it must be properly iced or the benzine is lost).
4. Allow four litres of Fallian marsh gas to bubble through it, in memory of all those happy Hikers who have died of pleasure in the Marshes of Fallia.
5. Over the back of a silver spoon float a measure of Qualactin Hypermint extract, redolent of all the heady odours of the dark Qualactin Zones, subtle sweet and mystic.
6. Drop in the tooth of an Algolian Suntiger. Watch it dissolve, spreading the fires of the Algolian Suns deep into the heart of the drink.
7. Sprinkle Zamphuor.
8. Add an olive. Drink ... but ... very carefully ...

2004-11-08T19:41:00.000-08:00

wonderbar

vincent

van...

2004-11-08T19:31:00.000-08:00

SMOKE, SMOKE, SMOKE that cigarett... Now I'm a fellow with a heart of gold With the ways of a gentleman I've been told A kind of a fellow that wouldn't even harm a flea But if me and a certain character met That guy that invented the cigarette I'd murder that son of a gun in the first degree That ain't that I don't smoke myself And I don't reckon they'll injure your health I've smoked 'em all my life and I ain't dead yet But nicotine slaves are all the same At a pheasant party or a poker game Everythin's gotta stop when they have that cigarette Smoke smoke smoke that cigarette Puff puff puff And if you smoke yourself to death Tell St Peter at the Golden Gate That you hate to make him wait But you just gotta have another cigarette Now at a game of chance the other night Ol' Dame Forson wasn't doin' me right Them kings and queens just kept on comin' round Well I got a full and I bet it high But my plug didn't work on a certain guy He just kept a risin' and a layin' that money down He's raise me and I'd raise him I sweated blood I had to sink or swim He finally called and he didn't raise the bet I said "aces is full pal how about you?" He said "I'll tell you in a minute or two But I just gotta have another cigarette" Smoke smoke smoke that cigarette Puff puff puff And if you smoke yourself to death Tell St Peter at the Golden Gate That you hate to make him wait But you just gotta have another cigarette [ guitar - steel ] The other night I had a date with The cutest gal in the fifty states A highbred uptown social little dame She said she loved me and it seemed to me That things were like they oughta be So hand in hand we strolled down Lover's Lane She was oh so far from a chunk of ice And our smoochin' party was a goin' real nice So help and I think I'd've been there yet But I give her a hug and a little squeeze And she said "Willie excuse me please But I just gotta have another cigarette" Smoke smoke smoke that cigarette Puff puff puff And if you smoke yourself to death Tell St Peter at the Golden Gate That you hate to make him wait But you just gotta have another cigarette Smoke smoke smoke that cigarette Puff puff puff And if you smoke yourself to death Tell St Peter at the Golden Gate That you hate to make him wait But you just gotta have another cigarette Just gotta have another cigarette

2004-11-06T19:44:00.000-08:00

I dont have a clue what it says,

but its a text by C Baudelaire,

and a very nice picture...

2004-11-06T18:08:00.000-08:00

Och pojkarna i baren sjöng... "allt gick till sprit..."

medans Pebbles lät ord bli till handling.

2004-11-06T18:06:00.000-08:00

"var e mitt liv,

mitt scysta, schysta liv???"

2004-11-06T17:59:00.000-08:00

Allt gick till sprit

Trad arr/S Trygger

Allt gick till sprit

till rolig rolig sprit

allt gick till öl och till tobak

stålar hade jag en gång

men när dagen kändes lång

bytte jag dem emot tobak vin och sång

var är min säng

min schysta schysta säng

jo den har gått till öl och till tobak

för en hora köpte den

för så där en hundra spänn

och det räckte till en öl och ännu en

allt gick till sprit…

var är mina skor

mina schysta schysta skor

jo dom har gått till öl och till tobak

för när tårna titta ut

då var rara spriten slut

och vad gör man inte för en liten tut

allt gick till sprit…

var är mitt liv

mitt schysta schysta liv

jo det har gått till öl och till tobak

när jag står vid himlens port

och det är väl rätt snart gjort

får jag säkert vända om till annan ort

allt gick till sprit…

stort tack till Samuel

en mkt god kamrat...

2004-11-06T17:26:00.000-08:00

what the fuck are you doing over there???

2004-11-06T17:22:00.000-08:00

we dont need more burning bushes...

all we need is a revolution

Brothers and sisters,
I wanna see a sea of hands out there.
Let me see a sea of hands.
I want everybody to kick up some noise.
I wanna hear some revolution out there, brothers.
I wanna hear a little revolution.
Brothers and sisters, the time has come
for each and every one of you to decide
whether you are gonna be the problem,
or whether you are gonna be the solution.
You must choose, brothers, you must choose.
It takes 5 seconds, 5 seconds of decision.
Five seconds to realize your purpose here on the planet.
It takes 5 seconds to realize that it's time to move.
It's time to get down with it.
Brothers, it's time to testify and I want to know,
Are you ready to testify?
Are you ready?

2004-11-06T16:17:00.000-08:00

my brother Pals all time favoritesong

http://www.sr.se/P4/sjung/index.htm?key=HGF98W55

2004-11-04T01:28:00.000-08:00

the no 1 blockbuster in USA

kind of scary...

Carl Brandt prod. -04

2004-11-04T01:20:00.000-08:00

a message from M:r J Lydon to the U.S.A

Stained glass windows keep the cold outside

While the hypocrites hide inside

With the lies of statues in their minds

Where the Christian religion made them blind

Where they hide And prey to the God

of a bitch spelled backwards is dog

Not for one race,

one creed,

one world

But for money

Effective

Absurd

Do you pray to the Holy Ghost

when you suck your host

Do you read whos dead

in the Irish Post

Do you give away the cash

you cant afford

On bended knees

and pray to lord

Fat pig priest Sanctimonious smiles

He takes the moneyYou take the lies

This is religion and Jesus Christ

This is religion cheaply priced

This is bibles full of libel

This is sin in eternal hymn

This is what theyve done

This is your religion

The apostles were eleven

Now theres a sod in Heaven

This is religion

Theres a liar on the altar

The sermon never falter

This is religion

Your religion

2004-11-03T09:38:00.000-08:00

guds död i stugan

"Where has God gone?" he cried. "I shall tell you. We have killed him - you and I. We are his murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when we unchained the earth from its sun? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all suns? Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty space? Has it not become colder? Is it not more and more night coming on all the time? Must not lanterns be lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying God? Do we not smell anything yet of God's decomposition? Gods too decompose. God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves? That which was the holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? With what water could we purify ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we need to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we not ourselves become gods simply to be worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whosoever shall be born after us - for the sake of this deed he shall be part of a higher history than all history hitherto." Here the madman fell silent and again regarded his listeners; and they too were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern to the ground, and it broke and went out. "I have come too early," he said then; "my time has not come yet. The tremendous event is still on its way, still travelling - it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time, the light of the stars requires time, deeds require time even after they are done, before they can be seen and heard. This deed is still more distant from them than the distant stars - and yet they have done it themselves."

Also Spracht Friedrich Nietzsche

2004-11-02T17:25:00.000-08:00

heros from the east

2004-11-02T17:12:00.000-08:00

the picture of a hangover

a black hole...

The piano has been drinkingMy necktie's asleepThe combo went back to New York, and left me all aloneThe jukebox has to take a leakHave you noticed that the carpet needs a haircut?And the spotlight looks just like a prison breakAnd the telephone's out of cigarettesAs usual the balcony's on the make

And the piano has been drinking, heavily The piano has been drinkingAnd he's on the hard stuff tonight The piano has been drinking And you can't find your waitress Even with the Geiger counter And I guarantee you that she will hate youFrom the bottom of her glass And all of your friends remind you That you just can't get served without her

The piano has been drinking The piano has been drinking And the lightman's blind in one eye And he can't see out of the other And the piano-tuner's got a hearing aid And he showed up with his mother And the piano has been drinking Without fear of contradiction

I sayThe piano has been drinking Our Father who art in ? Hallowed by thy glass Thy kindom come, thy will be done On Earth as it is in the lounges Give us this day our daily splash Forgive us our hangovers As we forgive all those who continue to hangover against us And lead us not into temptation But deliver from evil and someone you must all ride home

Because the piano has been drinking And he's your friend not mine Because the piano has been drinking And he's not my responsibility The bouncer is this Sumo wrestler Kinda cream puff casper milk toast And the owner is just a mental midget With the I.Q. of a fencepost

I'm going down,

hang onto me,

I'm going down...

Watch me skate across an acre of linoleumI know I can do it, I'm in total control And the piano has been drinking And he's embarassing me The piano has been drinking, he raided his mini bar The piano has been drinking And the bar stools are all on fire And all the newspapers were just fooling And the ash-trays have retired And I've got a feeling that the piano has been drinkingIt's just a hunch

The piano has been drinking and he's going to lose his lunch

And the piano has been drinking

Not me,

not me,

The piano has been drinking...

not me

2004-11-02T09:00:00.000-08:00

never again!!!

a little song from carmen with slight different lyrics though

2004-11-02T06:16:00.000-08:00

man:

ooohhh, what is the malted liquor,

what gets you drunker quicker,

what comes in bottles or in cans…

men:

BEER!

man:

cant get enough of it…

men:

BEER!

man:

how we really love it…

men:

BEER!

man:

makes me think i’m a man…

men:

BEER!

man:

i can kiss and hug it…

men:

BEER!

man:

but i’d rather chuck it…

men:

BEER!

man:

fill my belly up to here…

men:

BEER!

man:

i cannot refuse a…

men:

BEER!

man:

i could really use a…

men:

BEER, BEER BEER!

BEER BEER BEER BEER BEER BEER BEER BEER

drunk man:

i cant remember how much I have had,

i drank a twelve pack with my dad.

drunk father:

(burp)

thats my son the drunken badly stud,

im proud to be his dad.

drunk man:

here, have some pretzels

drunk father:

no, i’ll call it quits,

those things give me the shwits

drunken man:

ha ha ha.

men:

drink with your family, drink it with your friends

man:

drink till your fat , stomach distends,

beer, it liquid bread its good for you,

men:

we like to drink till we spew, ew

who cares if we get

fat man:

i’ll drink to that

man:

as we sing once more…

what is the malted liquor,

what gets you drunker quicker,

what comes in bottles or in cans…

men:

BEER!

man:

cant get enough of it…

men:

BEER!

man:

how we really love it…

men:

BEER!

man:

makes me think i’m a man…

men:

BEER!

man:

i can kiss and hug it…

men:

BEER!

man:

but i’d rather chug it…

men:

BEER!

man:

fill my belly up to here…

men: BEER!

man:

golly I adore it, come on damn it,

pour it, do it for me brew it for me,

feed it to me speed it to me,

men:

BEER!

man:

the mist wonderful drink in the world, hooray!

(Burp)

2004-11-01T13:33:00.000-08:00

a big thanx to all our fans, and the members in Graven MC,

for a wonderful night... lets do it again soon! De Osaligas Kapell

***

Vi i De Osaligas Kapell ville bara medelst detta enkla meddelande tacka alla som kom till vår lilla tillställning nere i graven, och som gjorde kvällen till den mkt 3vliga tillställning den blev, så 3vlig att vissa bassister var tvugna att uppsöka hospitalet... Nej, inte för ngn psykisk undersökning, även om det kan behövas ibland, utan för ett brutet båtben i ena handen, inget ovanligt i rännstenskretsar således. Andra medlemmar av band och MC-klubbar nyktrade inte till förrns sent i måndagskväll och ytterligare andra klarade sig helskinnade, bl.a. en Maracas som envisas med att dricka Coca Cola...

Nåväl, en mycket trivsam afton när unga och icke längre fullt så unga kunde komma samman och ha mysigt under nästan organiserade former... Till alla eder som av en eller annan anledning icke lyckades dra er ner till Gravens mörka djup vill jag bara säga,"det var ju synd..." för er. För utöver att de Osaliga inte var allt för vilsekomna, Carl Brandt inte voro fullständigt intoxikerad utan gjorde ett gott nattverke så var Barrdungen den röda klippan i en allt för blå värld. Dessutom, som om inte detta var nog, så kom det gästartister som ingen, inte ens de själva, visste skulle spela upp på tiljorna, där var en Trygger, en Skamrockare, Ett stycke Blues-man i form av en Zebbe och en röd ulv i farbror Nilssonkläder. När festen slutade vet vi inte riktigt, men vi ska nog inte kalla det för matiné... När vår hovfotograf vaknar ur sin dvala kommer bilder från aftonen att finnas på vår hemsida

http://www.hardtogetrecords.com/osaligas_kapell/

tills senare... Ha Det Som Bäst så ses vi nästa gång vi hörs om inte förr...

Kapellmeister Carl Brandt

vad publiken mumlade om i efterdyningarna, d.v.s brev från fansen

Calvadosen bränner fortfarande i mina ådror när jag stapplar ner för trapporna till GRAVEN, där, där hör jag musik som får blodet att bubbla i min kropp, jag hör tonerna till de osaligas kapell, jag rusar in och där står de. Ben vita skjortor, svarta västar och svarta byxdon därtill, tillsammans utgör dem de osaligas kapell de har uppstått från de döda och vad är då inte mer passande än i GRAVEN… Carl rosslar fram: - Vi är osaligas kapell… Mycket bra kompat av Violinisten Markas, Basisten Clabbe och gitarristen Pebbles. Tack för en bra spelning, hoppas att det blir mer ”ta mer”. PS Ni blir bara bättre! Men vad hände med den svarte och staden?

vi höres!

Broder Pal

Tänkte bara säga att ni var riktigt bra i lördags! Fast det var fanimig inte lätt att hitta dit...

Ha det!/Jörgen

jag måste tacka dig för CD:n. Har lyssnat på den ett par gånger och tycker att den är kanonbra. Jag tycker att alla låtar är bra, oftast mycket bra avslutningar av dig, vilket känns genom den stämning som ligger kvar efter att låten avslutats. Själfull är väl ordet. kanske, jo det är nog ett ganska bra epitet... Din röst är också mycket bra, härligt mörk, men samtidigt naken och ren, personlig och träffsäker. Poesin är också mycket bra, konkret och symbolisk. Vissa gånger skrattar jag till som på låten Ingen plats. Det är en bra variation på låtarna, det känns hela tiden spännande. Du harhittat en bra ordning på låtarna. Alltså sammantaget, ett kanonresultat. Jätteroligt att du/ni fick till det så bra, den kommer att bli spelad många gånger här hemma

Lev väl...Mats B

Jodu din gamle svartrock...Nog hade vi det rart alltid! För tillfället återhämtar jag mig.

Ännu inte återställd...Hälsar vänligen

billey sh/

Oh nej! Jag hade verkligen tänkt komma till Graven föratt höra er i lördags men jag har varit sjuk i helgen (feber och förkyld).Typiskt, det låter som jag missade något bra...Jag kommer nästa gång!Kram Helene F

Helen klarade sig förmodligen bättre än många av oss andra som verkligen hittade ner i graven, hennes levervärden är med mycket stor sannolikhet betydligt bättre (friskare) än oss andra arma satar som hittade ner i GRAVENS mörka djup... Men vi ses nog snart igen, och då får hon bättra på dem... (kapellmeister)

2004-10-31T23:21:00.000-08:00

BEER

I don't know how many bottles of beerI have consumed while waiting for things to get better. I dont know how much wine and whisky and beer mostly beerI have consumed after splits with women-waiting for the phone to ringwaiting for the sound of footsteps, and the phone to ringwaiting for the sounds of footsteps, and the phone never rings until much later and the footsteps never arrive until much later when my stomach is coming up out of my mouth they arrive as fresh as spring flowers: "what the hell have you done to yourself? it will be 3 days before you can fuck me! "the female is durableshe lives seven and one half years longerthan the male, and she drinks very little beer because she knows its bad for the figure. while we are going mad they are outdancing and laughing with horney cowboys. well, there's beersacks and sacks of empty beer bottlesand when you pick one up the bottle fall through the wet bottom of the paper sack rolling clanking spilling gray wet ashand stale beer, or the sacks fall over at 4 a.m. in the morning making the only sound in your life. beerrivers and seas of beerthe radio singing love songs as the phone remains silentand the walls stand straight up and down and beer is all there is.

Grif Griffin

2004-10-31T23:19:00.000-08:00

they comin' to take me away haha

2004-10-28T04:54:00.000-07:00

They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-haaa!Remember when you ran awayAnd I got on my kneesAnd begged you not to leaveBecause I'd go berserk?Well. . .You left me anyhowAnd then the days got worse and worseAnd now you see I've goneCompletely out of my mindAnd. . .They're coming to take me away, HA HAThey're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HATo the funny farmWhere life is beautiful all the timeAnd I'll be happy to seeThose nice, young menIn their clean, white coatsAnd they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!You thought it was a jokeAnd so you laughedYou laughed when I had saidThat losing you would make me flip my lidRight. . .You know you laughed, I heard you laughYou laughed, you laughed and laughedAnd then you leftBut now you know I'm utterly mad!And. . .They're coming to take me away, HA HAThey're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HATo the happy homeWith trees and flowers and chirping birdsAnd basket weavers who sit and smileAnd twiddle their thumbs and toesAnd they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!I cooked your foodI cleaned your houseAnd this is how you pay me backFor all my kind, unselfish loving deeds?!!Hah. . .Well you just waitThey'll find you yetAnd when they do they'llPut you in the ASPCA, you mangy mutt!And. . .They're coming to take me away, HA HAThey're coming to take me away, HO HO HEE HEE HA HATo the funny farmWhere life is beautiful all the timeAnd I'll be happy to seeThose nice, young menIn their clean, white coatsAnd they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!To the happy homeWith trees and flowers and chirping birdsAnd basket weavers who sit and smileAnd twiddle their thumbs and toesAnd they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!To the funny farmWhere life is beautiful all the timeAnd I'll be happy to seeThose nice, young menIn their clean, white coatsAnd they're coming to take me away, Ha-haaa!

2004-10-24T19:58:00.000-07:00

some worlds from unknown friends around the world...

we really apriciate those nice lines...

so we will invite you all to a stroll

along the road to the big sleep...

THANX TO U ALL

2004-10-24T19:06:00.000-07:00

without knowing what we are saying in the band,

or maybe just because of this,

we got letters from here and there.

here is some of them...

This sounds so good! Pelagus FRANCE

goodness gracious Carl - you rock. - Marni Matikka USA

Just think, you will most likely go down in history books for
all the great music you give society. Linda Berroth-Linderman USA

Carl is great, as great as his band, and the music they plays. Tomi K POLAND

2004-10-24T19:01:00.000-07:00

Hello Carl and "De Osaligas Kapell"... I went to your home page & checked out your music. It's very good...you're a very creative & talented group of guys. Unfortunately, I do not understand Swedish (my stepfather's grandmother was from Sweden..if she were still alive, she probably could've read it for me!)...I still enjoyed the site, despite the language barrier.

Koni Clark-clifton

Bakersfield. CA. USA

2004-10-23T18:26:00.000-07:00

the goodfather of us punks...

2004-10-23T18:09:00.000-07:00

i been holding this guy back far to long ladies and hängslemän i give you all the one and lonely... ~Charles Baudelaire~

GET DRUNK

It is necessary to always be drunk. That's all there is to it, that's the only question. Not to feel the unbearable burden of Time, that breaks your back and bends you to the ground, you must get relentlessly drunk.

But from what? From wine, from beauty or power, whatever. But do get drunk.And if sometimes, on the palace walks, say, on the fresh green of a grave, in the gloom of your single room, you wake up, your high already fading, or altogether gone, then ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, ask anything that hurries along like these, anything that groans, anything that thunders, that sings, that speaks, ask it what time it is.

And the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, they will all tell you:

"It's the drunken hour! If you don't want to be the wretched thrall of Time,my man, then be drunk, ceasslessly drunk. With wine, with beauty or power. Whatever."

shaved her legs and then he was a she...

2004-10-23T16:20:00.000-07:00

Holly came from Miami, F.L.A.Hitch-hiked her way across the USA Plucked her eyebrows on the way Shaved her legs and then he was a she She says, Hey babe Take a walk on the wild side She said, Hey honey Take a walk on the wild side Candy came from out on the Island In the backroom she was everybody's darlin' But she never lost her head Even when she was giving head She says, Hey babe Take a walk on the wild side Said, Hey babe Take a walk on the wild side And the colored girls go doo do doo do doo do do doo Little Joe never once gave it away Everybody had to pay and pay A hustle here and a hustle there New York City's the place where they said, Hey babe Take a walk on the wild side I said, Hey Joe Take a walk on the wild side Sugar Plum Fairy came and hit the streets Lookin' for soul food and a place to eat Went to the Apollo You should've seen 'em go go go They said, Hey sugar Take a walk on the wild side I Said, Hey babe Take a walk on the wild side All right, huh Jackie is just speeding away Thought she was James Dean for a day Then I guess she had to crash Valium would have helped that bash Said, Hey babe, Take a walk on the wild side I said, Hey honey, Take a walk on the wild side And the colored girls say, doo do doo do doo do do doo...

2004-10-23T13:39:00.000-07:00

i heard that you got some problem with your miss americacontest over there, maybe the reason is that you aint got this kind of cute model that we have here in sweden. the swimsuitbeauty is one of my best friend and also one of the former member of the club GRAVEN MC, the place that De Osaligas Kapell are gonna visit and play at this weekend, and the ruomor is wandering about that he's the father to the penguinartist wich apears earlyer on this months diary. (the picture published by permision of the model himself).

2004-10-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

De Osaligas Kapell, towards the light (?)

2004-10-21T07:09:00.000-07:00

through the tunnel to the distant ligtht

a yourney everyone must make

the fire of damnation burns so bright

your soul is mine to take

a little tune from the Agony Café

2004-10-20T15:45:00.000-07:00

Pelagus, the author of the poem down bellow...

just for a minute i stopped breathing

2004-10-20T15:24:00.000-07:00

JUST FOR A MINUTE

I STOPPED BREATHING

Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the mother pig, stuck in a cage, with babies around, fighting for a drop of milk. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the bleeding bull, locked in the arena, in the name of culture. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the lobster thrown in the boiling water, in the name of gluttony. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the sheep, whose throat is sliced in the name of GOD. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the rabbit, with his eyes full of tears, full of perfum, in the name of a fake beauty. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the force- fed goose with the swelling liver, in the name of celebration. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the calf, torn off his mother, in the name of fashion. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the mother cow, with her swelling pius, in the name of a calcium ratio. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the thousand trees, uprooted from the soil, in the name of decoration. Just for a minute I stopped breathing. I was the red rose, cut from her branch, in the name of love. Just for a minute I stopped breathing.

Just for a minute, stop breathing. Who are you? Just for a minute, stop breathing. What are you feeling? Just for a minute, stop breathing. How are you feeling? Just for a minute, stop breathing. Just for a minute, stop breathing. Just for a minute, stop breathing. All these minutes put together… are your life… All these minutes put together… are life… In what name do you consider yourself as the master of life? Just for a minute I stopped breathing. It hurts, I'll never do it again. Just for a minute, stop breathing…

pElAgUs

2004-10-19T07:20:00.000-07:00

frågan man ställer sig under stundom måste i all ärlighet bli "Vad fan är detta mystiska fenomen De Osaligas Kapell" som dräller omkring på den här bloggen?" och den alltid lika eminente ordekvilebristen Billey Skamrockare hade som vanligt svar på tal, "De osaligas kapell- En synnerligen intressant visensemble anförd av den legendariske Carl Brandt, tillika en Hyvens Tjomme!" och så kommer den ständiga följdfrågan "vad spelar ni för musik egentligen??? och på det kan jag bara svara... Svarta Sånger & Rännstensrock'n'roll,

kom gärna med egna förslag på den eviga frågan...

det kom ett brev

2004-10-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

Natten är mörk och det enda jag kunde se var gatlyktornas, elektriska sken.
Sedan vaknade jag av en ilsken signal, jag lyfte luren och i den andra änden hörde jag en röst, en röst som stilla sade:
Kafkas apostlar, endast för föryckta.
Jag klädde snabbt på mig och försvan ner för trapporna och lät mörkret insluta mig.

Självklart är det en lysande idé.

Vi får väl sammanstråla i ärendet.

Hälsningar
Broder Pal

2004-10-18T09:16:00.000-07:00

lajv again

2004-10-18T09:15:00.000-07:00

why does these two boy look so gloomy???

they only got coffe on the table in front of them...

2004-10-15T18:29:00.001-07:00

JOIN THE CLUB!!!

for all of us who have a very bad...

eeh...

what's it called now...

(...)

i got it on the tip of my tounge, but i can't see it...

ooh, ooh!now there it is...

MEMORY, for all of us with bad memory...

there's a club called...

(...)

just take a look at the picture above,

and i think it all comes clear...

maybe...

Carl B

(i presume)

2004-10-15T18:29:00.000-07:00

Minne, jag har luckor i minnet... sådana därna små alkohål...

big contest i absurdum

2004-10-14T15:13:00.000-07:00

if you take a good look att the picture below, you'll probably see one face or another that you do recognice, so what you shall do is to select as many namne on those faces and send them to cb@post.mansic.com and those of you who got most namnes right will be given a copy of De Osaligas Kapells latest promoCD when they plays at the club Graven MC (the Grave MC) oct. 30. (click on the picture to get a better view.)

2004-10-11T13:05:00.000-07:00

a little contest,

try to recingnize as many people you can on the picture

and win a better life, or something like that...

2004-10-04T17:01:00.000-07:00

a little something

from a friend

a night to live
i’ve swallowed the pill

sleepness came

i closed my eyes

but i was woken up

bollocks pronounced

again & again

i’m not from this place

everything seems so odd

i don’t understand most things i see

take me back home

but i cannot remember…

where i’m coming from

pElAgUS

2004-10-01T17:23:00.000-07:00

the grim reaper,

from T Pratchetts reaperman,

rocks on...

this is it...

it is what it is all about
whatever we do
we cant escape it...

death

and his clock

"that is not dead
wich can eternal lies
and within strange eons
even death may die..."
H P Lovcraft

2004-10-01T16:41:00.000-07:00

a song from The Agony Café, that is an tribute

to one of the greatest horrorwriter ever H P Lovecraft

and his masterpiece about the myth of Cthulhu...

Haunted House In Arkham
C Brandt

Just like the mud in the swamps embrace
Like the rain that flees the sky
And the mirror that wears yor face

O´ my friends you are born to die…

Welcome to my house in Arkham
To the place were nightmare´s born
Yea my haunted house in Arkham

Where your soul will be torned…

Through the tunnel to the distant light
A journey everyone must make
The fire of damnation burn so bright

Your soul is mine to take…

Welcome to my house in Arkham
To the place were nightmare´s born
Yea my haunted house in Arkham

Where your soul will be torned…

I see the dark side of the universe yawning
That´s where the black planet roll without aim
That´s where they roll with their horror unheeded

Without knowledge, lustre or namne…

This is the place where anguish dwells
The worst nightmare will come true
For you my friend and for everybody else

My room is waiting for you…

Welcome to my house in Arkham
To the place were nightmare´s born
Yea my haunted house in Arkham

Where your soul will be torned…

2004-10-01T15:23:00.000-07:00

a portrait of me,Carl Brandt,

in my best suit.

The piece of art was created by

my nevö Moa Tärnström...

2004-10-01T15:07:00.000-07:00

Pal Warhol in action

A picture from the family...
my brother Pal
doing his best
to do a Warhol.
and getting it out
quite well...

2004-10-01T13:53:00.000-07:00

illustration to lullaby 4:39 bellow

2004-10-01T13:02:00.000-07:00

DONT FEAR THE REAPER...

or like Carl Michael put it in my translation

Do you fear deep in the grave to sink?
well my friend poor up another drink!
and take then dito one,
dito two,
dito three...
and feel your sprit come free!!!

allright i will take it easy on C M Bellman for a while...

2004-09-30T19:16:00.000-07:00

DE OSALIGAS KAPELL -SVARTA SÅNGER OCH RÄNNSTENSROCK N ROLL(CD) Bellman in a modern style or what to call this. One from the old punkgroup APA here together with some more make a really interesting record here. Here it is 22 songs and that´s a really nice hour we get here with the group. I want the vocals to come more foreward in the music and the thing I think about is that Nick cave must be a favourite together with Bellman and then comes the song Den Gyllene Tronen which must be a Cave-cover in Swedish. Very interesting record which never have a chance to be a big hit and come up to the charts and therefore it´s so much better, black singer/songwriter rock n roll.(SEVEN) 21/9-04

DE OSALIGAS KAPELL (MINI-CD OSA 001) Somewhere in the mdidle of the tango I think about Reeperbahn and then I don´t mean the street because I think it is the singer which gives me those vibes. On this record the song is more foreward and therefore the record gets more interesting. Music which maybe have done more success in the crowd in the end of the 80´s or in the beginning of the 90´s when groups like Tapirerna , Camouflage and those bands were really big. But for me it doesn´t matter because I love their music from the first time and this minirecord have much to give to me. And mostly when the violin is there and it gives the music a personal touch.(EIGHT) 21/9-04

both revues from the site www.surf.to/skrutt. Seven and eight on a scale to ten aint so bad...

2004-09-30T17:04:00.000-07:00

lullaby 4:39 PM
i ought to go to bed... as ussual, but i find it extremely boring to do so, but when i do i can rock my self to sleep with this cute little song from Carl Michael Bellman

Sleep, sweet tiny Carl, in peace,
'Twill soon be time to wake thee;
Time to taste our time's disease,
Its bile shall ne'er forsake thee.
What's our world? An isle of woe.
Breathing, born, to death we go;
Too soon the grave will take thee.

and a good nigt to you all...

2004-09-30T13:16:00.000-07:00

J T Sergels drawing of his drinkingfriend C M Bellman

Fredman's song no. 10

Drink till after twelve or more,
Live it up with madmen !
Earth is but my chamber floor
And the sun my lantern.
Nothing else is worth a pin
If my head but giddy spin,
Giddy spin,
giddy spin,
Giddy spin,
giddy spin,
Until it's so drowsy
Nothing more can rouse me.
In my grandad's overcoat,
Torn and out at elbows,
Here I stand, on brandy dote,
'Mid the queerest fellows;
Out of pretty goblets bright
Tipple morning noon and night,
Noon and night,
noon and night,
Noon and night,
noon and night,
Till I'm just another
Boozy red-nosed brother.
If my sainted father stood
Suddenly before me
"Son", he'd hiccup, "skål !
That's good, Brandy best doth warm me.
" "Brother mine," I'd then reply,
Let us toast the morning sky,
Morning sky,
morning sky,
Morning sky,
morning sky,
Then to thy repose, sir,
Thou again mayst go, sir."
Were I but a man of wealth,
Gold my pocket lining,
Christmas day I'd dress myself
Like the king, when dining.
Then I'd purchase and I'd use
Coat and waistcoat and new shoes,
New shoes,
new shoes,
New shoes,
new shoes,
And of course I'd buy, sir,
A watch upon my thigh, sir
! But my throat can't stand such loss,
'Tis a very drought, sir.
What is gold, when got, but dross ?
Pull the cork right out, sir !
Let us steady on our legs,
Drain this bottle to the dregs,
To the dregs,
to the dregs,
To the dregs,
to the dregs,
Then let death attack us
In the blood of Bacchus.

The order of Bacchus Some of the mighty drainers of tankards in Fredman's Songs can be seen to have originally featured in Bellman's most exhaustive suite of poems, entitled Bacchi Orden-"The Order of Bacchus". It was the heyday of freemasonries, which, like other social 'orders', flourished in Stockholm. Popular for his art as an entertainer in verse and music, he belonged to several such. Often these orders had their secret ceremonies; knighted their members; held funeral orations over departed brothers, etc. This gave Bellman the idea of founding an Order of Bacchus, of which no one could become a member who had not twice lain dead drunk in the gutter. It was a purely imaginary order, such as never met in reality. But Bellman's accounts of its festivities are most vivied, truly alive. from the site sweden.se

2004-09-30T08:58:00.000-07:00

autum down in the GRAVE

with De Osaligas Kapell

2004-09-30T07:39:00.000-07:00

till minne av Evert Taube

"hit me' en rännsten,

jag måste skalda...

2004-09-29T08:23:00.000-07:00

in the heat of the night...

2004-09-29T08:03:00.000-07:00

from the gutter

i'm already in the gutter...

next stop will be the drain!!!

Alien Sex Fiend

Space! he shouted

from the top of his lounge

I need more space!!!

so he walked out of a window

and took a strool

down the Milky Way

...

soared he fell

asleep

...

and woke up wasted

in the shadow

of a shadow

just in the spot

where asphalt

meet asphalt

space... he whispered

i only wanted som space...

2004-09-28T18:14:00.000-07:00

king of booze

2004-09-28T18:11:00.000-07:00

King Of Blues

dont ya know i got nothing
so nothing to loose

i am just the king
the king of blues

the king of booze

Agony Cafe

2004-09-28T15:21:00.000-07:00

EYE CANT SEE THE POINT!!!

2004-09-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

God dam the sun...

who told the sun to visit my outburnt brain today?

who told the blacksmithsparty that they cold use my head for their meeting?

who was the idiot that try to outdrink the bar during the late hours of yesterday?

probably the same idiot that's sitting infront of the screen right now...

so whats new?

2004-09-27T07:54:00.000-07:00

cant stand it anymore

(a very free translation)

Nattlig frustrationC

Brandt/L Reed

Det är inte lätt att vara man

Jag gör så gott jag kan

Men min kropp är en ruin

Till bredden fylld av heroin

Jag står inte ut nu,

jag står inte ut...

Jag lever med en purpurkatt

Som föddes i mitt blod en natt

Vi är två själlösa djur

På knä i dödens tambur

Jag står inte ut nu,

jag står inte ut...

Men om hon kommer tillbaks

är det okej

Ja om hon kommer tillbaks

är det okej

Helt okej för mej

Min kropp är en flod

Fylld av förorenat blod

Himlarna dryper utav svett

Att va man är inte lätt

Jag står inte ut nu,

ja står inte ut...

Men om hon kommer tillbaks

är det okej

Ja om hon kommer tillbaks

är det okej

Helt okej för mig

2004-09-27T07:45:00.000-07:00

Tommi can you hear me?

2004-09-27T06:57:00.000-07:00

for Tommi "rust never sleep..."

if you like this and stuff like it i think it would be a good idea to walk over to my rocking friend and whatch him out, the namne of his site is tear for the shadows that gone. but i hope you find your staggering way back to me sometime... where should heros meat if not in the gutter? or as M:r Cave put it "The moon is in the gutter [...] just me and the moon...

2004-09-27T06:20:00.000-07:00

De Osaligas kapell

och Grott Nicklas

Nyheter från rännstenens dunkel

2004-09-26T14:05:00.000-07:00

I slutet av okt. kommer De Osaligas Kapell att spela nere i Graven, de kommer att framföra en del nyskrivet/tolkat material av farbror Nick Cave, och lite av sina Stig Dagermantonsättningar.
senare i höst kommer de att spela tillsamans med den eminente David Sandmark.

2004-09-26T13:42:00.000-07:00

My daughter Rebeqqa listening to the stars

att kura skymning

2004-09-26T13:34:00.000-07:00

i helgen var jag i studion, men inte för att kämpa med de osaligas kapell, utan för att hjälpa min dotter Rebecca att spela in lite musik. "Snälla pappa, kan inte vi spela lite rocknroll nå´n gång?" frågar den lille åttaåringen, vad svarar man på det? klart ungen skall spela rocknroll... sagt och gjort, en egen trudelutt som hon kallade Min Käraste vän, och den gamla klassikern Varmkorv Boogie... avslutningsvis ett citat från ovan nämnda lilla dotter...

om man är riktigt, riktigt tyst

så kan man höra stjärnorna sjunga...

or in english

"if you just are taken the silence to your soul,

you can hear the stars sing..."

Rebeqqa Gustavsson

2004-09-23T19:26:00.000-07:00

innan det blir svart igen...

2004-09-23T19:25:00.000-07:00

humle

NATURLYRIK- eller är det den gamla vanliga spriten igen

Du, minns du…
Minns du när vi var unga.
När vi var unga som så?Jag minns…
Jag minns till och med
Vår barndom…
Jag minns,

när jag en tidig försommarmorgon
satt på min pappas arm,
och dåsade.
Han vaggade mig sakta
av och an,av och an,
av och an
under den skira humlespaljén .
jag plirade in i solljuset,
som strilade ner
genom grönskan,
och glittradei det daggvåta gräset.
Några spyflugor surrade stilla,
och i hammocken spann katten,
omgiven av solkatter.
De små humlekottarna
vajade sakta,
sakta,
sakta
i den stilla sommarbrisen.
Jag kände mig loj,
yrvaken som jag var,
och kikade sömndrucket
på kottarnas stilla vals.
På bordet glittrade glaset,
med sitt gyllene innehåll.

2004-09-23T19:21:00.001-07:00

svartavinbär

Jag minns också när semestern var tillända,
då kom de kvalmiga sensommardagarna
med sina pollenstinna humlor,
och vi fick åka till faster Anna.
Vi sprang i hennes vildvuxna trädgård
och lekte kull,
bland vinbärsbuskarna.Trots att vi inte fick.
Hon påstod;
att vi var oaktsamma,
vi tyckte;
att det var hennes små löjliga staket
som var bräckliga.
Dom borde tåla att man faller,
och vi föll,
-jo jo!vi föll som furor.Först faller en
Sen falleralla,
bland vinbärsbuskarna.
Svarta vinbär var lite beska,
men gick förallandel att äta,
de var betydligt godare i saftform.En bitterljuv smak
som spred sin arom
långt bak i gommen.Till och med som en rap
var det gott…

2004-09-23T19:17:00.000-07:00

enbär

Vidare minns jag,
när semestern kom
och vi åkte ut i skärgården.Dom karga klipporna
reste sig som fort
vid horisonten.
Dom karga klipporna,
med sin kalla mossa,
där vi kröp omkring och lekte,
tills våra knän var sönderfnasade.I skrevor och prång växte enarna,
med sina oätbara blåa bär.
Dom som luktade så starkt
när man klämde sönder dom.Av enarna ,
de raka enarna,
kunde man göra pilbågar.
Dessa kom väl till passnär vi lekte indianerOm man låg i skuggan
så svalkade klipporna skönt
när solen gassade som värst.
Det hände att mamma kom upp
till våra ”klippiga berg”
med citronläsk och is i en karaff
som också hjälpte till att svalka
när man blivit svettig och varm.
Med enbärsluktande fingrardrack vi med giriga klunkar
den uppfriskande citrondrycken,
så att isbitarna klirrade
mot våra tänder…

2004-09-23T19:05:00.000-07:00

malört

Svagt, svagt minns jagvår mormor.
våran skalliga mormormed aparmarna.Henne besökte vi ibland,
på helgerna,
när sommarlovet tagit slut.
Det var roligt,
visst var det roligt.
Men ibland,
ibland när andan föll på
ville man rå sig själv.
Vara ifred.
Då brukade jag krypa
igenom de risiga malörtssnåren
och in under kökstrappan.
Där luktade det lite dävet,
och stora långbenta spindlar trivdes,
precis som jag,
i det fuktiga dunklet.Det lilla ljus som malörten släppte igenom
var grönt,
giftigt grönt,
det var ett av mina favoritställen.
Om man fingrade på de sträva malörtsbladen
fick man fram en frän lukt
som följde en länge.Det hände, ibland,
när jag låg och insöp
den stickande doften ,
och filosoferade,
att jag domnade bort,
somnade…
Och vaknade inte till liv
förrän mitt i natten
av att jag frös,
jag frös så jag skakade…

Sen …
Sen minns jag
Sen minns jag fan inget mer…

2004-09-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

då hörs en sång...

2004-09-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

om livet, om de levande.

om döden om de döda

De osaligas kapell

C Brandt
När lodisar kryper fram ur sina hål

Och himlen dryper av glödande kol

Och dagen har drunknat i sin kväll

Då hörs en sång

melankolisk och lång

från de osaligas kapell

de osaligas kapell

när lyckan hånler åt småfolkets ve

och solen frånser varåt den skall le

när ens hem är en cell

då hörs ett skrik

som kan väcka lik

från de osaligas kapell

de osaligas kapell

när knivar glimmar i nätternas djup

och långa timmar förkortas med en sup

när värmen finns i en butell

då hörs ett skrål

genom tidens vrål

från de osaligas kapell

de osaligas kapell

De osaligas kapell (repris)

när gryningen randas,

det är dags att gå hem

och du knappt kan andas

du hostar upp slem

ditt liv är en ren bagatell

då syns ett ljus

i ett ödsligt hus

det är de osaligas kapell

ett gryningens hotell

de osaligas kapell

2004-09-23T17:31:00.000-07:00

freja utan päls...

hommage till Lou Reed

2004-09-23T17:25:00.000-07:00

En nattlig eximination

Freja i päls
L Reed/C Brandt

Kom och kyss min sko av läder
Min sko av läder är för dig
Kom och lev i nattens städer
Nattens städer lever i mig

Kom med klockor till din herre
Till din herre kom klädd i päls
För du vet det blir ej värre
Blir ej värre än blodröd räls

Jag är trött... Kan inte sova.
Har fått vaka i tusen år.
Därför vill jag att du skall lova,
mig att vila i dina sår...

Så klä av dig dina kläder
Lägg dina kläder på mitt bål
Låt mig visa min värld av läder
Min värld av läder och min själ av stål

Så kom till mig jag skall befria
Skall befria dig från din hud
Du kan tro på min profetia
Min profetia följ mina bud

Jag är trött…. Kan inte sova.
Har fått vaka i 1000 år.
Därför vill jag att du skall lova,
mig att vila i dina sår...

Smaka piskan så låt den smeka
Låt den smeka ditt bleka skinn
Kom till mig så skall vi leka
Visst vill du leka vännen min

2004-09-23T17:17:00.000-07:00

I need a fix,

´cause i´m going down...

Andy Warhol (R.I.P.)

drugstore cowboy

I travel through the needel

a journey in my vein

back to my private universe

in a bloodred train

i know just why i did it

to get away from all this pain

now i´m comletely lost… i´m insane

i´m just a drugstore cowboy

and that´s just what i wanna be

yea just a drugstore cowboy

a thousands lightyear from me

well when i meet my maker

the damage will be done

i´ll travel through a chaos

hell and heaven will be one

i´ll try to kiss the star

then just crash into the sun

okay that´s that i think it´ll be fun

i´m just a drugstore cowboy

and that´s just what i wanna be

yea just a drugstore cowboy

a thousands lightyear from me

agony café

2004-09-23T17:00:00.000-07:00

its hard to be on top

if youre down and out...

Fredmans Epistel nr 23

Ack, du min moder, säj vem dig sände just till min faders säng! Du första gnistan till mitt liv upptände; ack, jag arma dräng! Blott för din låga bär jag min plåga, vandrar trött min stig. Du låg och skalka; när du dig svalka, brann min blod i dig. Du bort haft lås och bom för din jungfrudom.

Tvi den paulunen, tvi ock det verke man till din brudsäng tog! Tvi dina ögon och ditt jungfrumärke, som min far bedrog! Tvi ock den stunden, då du blev bunden och din tro förskrev! Tvi dina fötter, då du blev trötter och i sängen klev! Ell' kanske på ett bord att min bild blev gjord,

Ett troget hjärta platt jag föraktar; tvi både far och mor! Här ligger jag i rännsten och betraktar mina gamla skor, Tvi tocka hasor! Rocken i trasor! Skjortan svart som sot! Si på halsduken, lammskinnsperuken och min sneda fot! Det kliar på min kropp; kom och hjälp mig opp.

Känn mina händer magra och kalla darra vid larm och dån; se dem av vanmakt vid min sida falla Liksom vissna strån. Ögon och kinder, allt sammanbinder dubbel skröplighet. Himmel, min tunga orkar ej sjunga om den fröjd jag vet; om kärleksro och kvaloch en full pokal.

Läska min tunga, ack! söta safter, spriden i kärlen ljud! Jag är en hedning, hjärta, mun och krafter dyrka vinets gud. Fattig, försupen, i denna strupen finns min rikedom. I alla öden, i bleka döden läskar jag min gom, och i min sista stund glaset för till mund.

Men krogdörrn öppnas, luckorna skruvas; ingen i staden klädd. Stjärnan av morgonrodnan liksom kuvas ned i molnens bädd; solstrålar strimma, kyrktornen glimma, luften blir så ljum. Var är nu kappan? Här ser jag trappan ned till Bacchi rum. Giv mig en sup, min själ törstar snart ihjäl.

Nå så gutår, jag vill mig omgjorda, ragla till bord och stop. Nu ska de styva leder bliva smorda, smorda allihop. Hurra, kurage! Lustigt, bagage! Friskt i flaskan, hej! Nu är jag modig, tapper och frodig, och jag fruktar ej. Ännu en sup ell' par! Tack, min mor och far.

Tack för vart sänglag, skål för var trogen, som gjort vid brudstoln sväng; tack du som virket högg och drog ur skogen till min födslosäng: tack för din låga, för din förmåga, du min gamla far! Kunde vi råkas, skulle vi språkas, supa några dar. Min bror du bliva skull' och som jag så full...

Gutår, Bellman... för dig höjer jag allt för många glas

2004-09-23T16:48:00.000-07:00

Another day, Another pain...

eller förmodligen samma gamla vanliga skamlighet... under kjolen intet nytt som dom gamla grekerna aldrig sa, jag borde veta, jag har idkat greko-romersk brottning i snart fem veckor och i morgon är det tenta... så kan det gå, hur fan skall det gå...

den dagen den korgen, inget är för evigt inte ens dessa förvirrade rader...

rymd vrålade han,
jag måste ha rymd!!!

sen öppnade han fönstret
och klev ut
på vintergatan...
stukad slocknade han
i skuggan av skarven
där asfalt möter asfalt

(...)

och vaknade
av att det stora vita
skar igenom
det marmoriserade
och ristade sin smärta
i det grå...

rymd viskade han
jag ville ju bara ha lite rymd...