I had a kind of “up” day.

Even going to the dentist felt ok.

Now it´s dark again and i´m reminded that i am here and everybody else is …somewhere else.

Even God avoids Skillingaryd.

If that is bacause of his cowardice or some speck of good taste i dont know (even God finds the Bible belt…icky)?

Usually the night is “my” time (nocturnal simply sounds cool).

There was a time when clubbing was as part of the routine as eating and strange underwear turned up in drawers on occation.

No wonder i´m religous, i gotta talk to someone i guess (though the Christian God handles his beer poorly and has a lot of issues, including a need for anger management).

I´ll just reminicse about the “glory days” and secretly luagh at those still waiting for a “future” to suddenly turn up.


As i bumped in to a couple of friends from Gothenburg it got all too clear too me how i am now a stranger even to that life.

I am between lives!

I dont belong or feel at home here and i feel totally cut off from where i was and what i was too.

It´s like i´m tainted by where i live.

Like it has rubbed off.

I believe that you DO get affected by your environment, though that can be for good too (good and bad often being quite subjective ).

Even at my worst i felt MORE then than i do now. I mattered. I wouldnt be missed, ignored or forgotten.

None of the main ingredients to my life are present now so am i really alive or is this place my tomb?

Btw, i have spent all nights, hour after hour playing Sherwood Dungeon and Rune Scape and it´s easy to feel how unsound it is.

In the absence of a real life i´ll have to take what i get.

They say “you can never go back” and i do believe that it is so.

Beautiful one:

You spirit.

Beautiful and original one!

Sitting there contemplating, what thought, what emotion, what part of self shall i grant them next?


Will they be worthy?

Will they sacrifice in turn?

Will they comprehend the sacrament of sharing enough to be as open as i have been?

Will they stand before the altar in in realisation that i am but a mirror image of them?

A person daring to open before persons?


I know every thing about the future.

It was yesterday.

Whoever is walking around in my skin isnt me.

I was thinking of not writing here when i was in a dark mood but, hey, my blog = my crap.

I dont expect anyone to read anything they dont find remotely interesting.

So, for the third time i take the medieval carriage they call train here, into Jönköping.

Yet again to no avail.

Yet again someone, far more successful than me for some reason that must be among the greater cosmic mysteries, behaves like a retard and the whole poop land at my lap.

Perhaps i should form my own little gang of people with dwarfed lives:






Simply .

And me, Left behindy.

Dreams and hopes are not only far away for me, they arent at all. I am in some phantom zone dream state outside of time and space, and life goes on without me….somewhere else.

I´m no longer sure it would make a difference if i moved.

I´m no longer me anyway.

Just someone pretending to be be me but not quite making it.

Scripto ergo sum – i post, therefore i am

Isolation in this place makes a strech of the imagination far from required should i try to convince myself that i do in fact not exist.

From party animal with morals that would make a porn star appear like a friar to hermit, a recluse living in the company of his memories.

If you are locked in long enough you will eventually come to see your cell as your refuge.

My former friends have convinced me that if i do indeed  exist, i do so as the invisible man.