n/a

what's going on

i forgot to say that i'm here ( dyngan.se/ida ). in swedish though.

but still here sometimes.
tricky slacky is my big big love.

guess who

As always: I blog therefore I am

No words of absence

The red wine takes me back, without the blog I never seem to even finish my 375 ml bottles, not even in two days

Which is bad,
I mean the 375 ml bottles are the reasons why I don't dance in clubs at the moment

Not that I go to clubs,
but when I do I don't dance and it has got to do with the 375 ml bottles

youth is nothing - and listen I say nothing because I mean nothing - without their blogs. I think it's important to have that gut spilling dimension of your outer persona. Tell them about that eating disorder! About that heart in pieces! There is no room for secrets in 2008. I'm sorry. If you're an expresser you need to express. I express therefore I am.

Tea problems

Tired! But my stress feels much more manageable in the morning. I'm under the duvet, my hair is wet and I'm watching Danish news on the television while drinking ginger tea. I can't even begin to express my disappointment of the tea. I have, ever since I one day couldn't locate my favourite tea anymore (Dalgety Caribbean ginger & honey tea found in a random offie in Roman Road), tried to find it again, or at least locate anything slightly similiar. Every time I've failed miserably. I want it to burn inside my throat. I want only skilled ginger persons to be able to drink it. I told the lady in the tea shop this. Burn, I told her. Not some Lipton weak excuse of a tea. Nah. She promised me and sold me a paper bag of tea. And you know what? Deep disappointment. Even when I boil the water with fresh ginger, still it doesn't burn my throat at all. Is it too much to ask for? Some strong shit in the morning when I need to be in a good mood for working my ass off?

BTW
H is in Paris again. It makes me lose my will to sleep in the morning.

this has been in my drafts folder forever...

I often sound just a tad to negative in my blog. London was amazing. Just because it makes my heart weep of sadness, it doesn't mean it wasn't a great trip. This is proof:



Here we go again


Natural History Museum was sunny for fashion week


Bloomsbury aswell.


I was in need of coffee. And indulgence. And, when in motion, why don't throw in some decadence? South Kensington, lovely rasberry cake and cappuccino from Patisserie Valerie (only take away, folks, only take away!), stairs outside the V&A. Notice that my coat is beside me! It was one of those moments when I couldn't help but texting mom with stuff like "London is beautiful in the sunshine" and "sometimes i'm happy being alive". Just me and coffee and cake. That's all I need sometimes.

(Later that day I had to text my dad saying "I have the best job in the world. All the shops are closing in an hour, but still I rather sit in a pub and write my heart out than go buy something before i leave" he replied that he was almost sure he knew exactly how I was feeling.)


(my official purpose for the trip was work. but as you know i'm a master of mixing work with pleasure)(as i hinted earlier: work is pleasure)



Jens Laugesen



House of Holland


Omi and me.

shorts gardens

I've been in L.
Coming back from London makes things like making the dishes or the bed seem pretty useless. Making the dishes never seemed like a problem when living in L. I wonder why.

Coming to the city, after a half year gap, made the city's changes appear as quite revolutionary. You know, like Virgin Megastore was gone. Cafe Boheme was under construction. Koh Samui had lost Balenciaga. You know. Things like that. It appeared like explosions in front of my eyes. POW POW POW. And then the worst came

Suburb
was gone.

Things happen? And you have no time to prepare? They just happen and suddenly you're standing on that street, damn Shorts Gardens, moping, wondering where your favourite cafe, all time, all categories, is? I'm talking about myself. About that DAMN Benefit that had opened in the space where I used to spend at least hour every single day. It's where I wrote my first review. It's were I cried over skype. It's where I couldn't drink my coffee because I was hungover. It was where I knew I didn't miss anything anymore.

And I was standing there. And I looked across the street where there used to be a clothing store where this blonde haired guy used to work that too used to go Suburb. The store was gone. The guy was gone. But most of all: Suburb was gone. Not even left a monument of memorial behind. Just a fucking make up store.

Oh, how I hate living on memories. Nostalgia is for old people or for people who wished they really lived in the nineties.

I'm back now. Didn't mean to make myself angry. It's Sunday, I'm on the couch. Worrying about dishes and dust on the floor. Restless.

no content as usual

CAR. TRAIN. BOAT. WALK. Man my bags were heavy. I had to stop several times just to rest my arms. That made me realise that it's spring.

I'm home now. Exhausted. Sleepy. A bit moody. I have to confess being a bit moody yes. I'm resting my head against the wall in my bed (am under the duvet) and I have to do piles of work before I can start unpacking my stuff, try to steal some washing machine time in the basement, pack, make dinner, and then, rest. Rest so I can get well before going to London tomorrow morning.

Horizontally.

Is
what
I
want
to
be

(Being sick allows me to be weak and moody. It's a safe card any day.)
(I like it really. I can sit with my head in my hands in a restaurant and blame it on being sick.)

cph craze

I'm blogging from fashion week in Copenhagen, so if you want some blogging action check the Dygnet Runt blog.

roll the dice.

I'm waiting! In bed! I just had a shower and now I'm drinking tea!
(All of my posts has something to do with beds apparently. Oh, shrink, tell me why)

H is at cold train station now. Hungry cold angry. But soon I won't have to worry about nightmares. Soon he won't have to worry about not having someone to Bridget Jones-stare at him when wakes up.

the science of sleep

When H left for Paris I couldn't sleep. I had to watch a complete disc of Scrubs to even become tired, but when I fell asleep I starting having nightmares so I kept waking up, kept sweating, being afraid of the dark and in the morning I was exhausted. So, today, when I finally managed to sleep without nightmares (oh well, I had one dream where I worked at a big Swedish phone company, which was kind of a nightmare) I woke up feeling great. Sunny when I walked to the shop (which I was babysitting for H), I walked past the harbour, bought my cheapo Sandy's latte and it wasn't even too hot.

Also, my friend told me how she at the moment had problems with watching movies or listening to music that "meant" something. How she'd instead started to listen to all this cheerful English pop, where the biggest troubles was about money. Like Hard-Fi and Razorlight. On the bus home. So it wouldn't mean something.
Last night I completely understood how she felt.
I went to the video rental place after work and bought candy while I was hungry (=a lot) and wanted to rent a movie that meant something. I ended up with "Half Nelson", and when I got home, had dressed in pjs and had dinner in the sofa, I started to watch and I couldn't stop crying. I cried all the way through it. I rented it because I wanted to feel BETTER, not to feel like the world was crashing (inside of me)(on top of me)(and everywhere else). I longed for it to be over. Then I watched more Scrubs. And felt better. More empty, but better.

Ida is I wanna go home

I'm in a pretty useless mood today. The only thing I want to do is catch the train back home and jump into bed. Eat goat cheese and honey and walnuts and tomato soup in bed. Watch "Juno", eat candy. Wear PJs. Drink Diet Coke. Sleep as soon as I want to sleep. So that's what I'm going to do. In 2 hours and 20 mins.

This week so far:


semlor


h + l


half a pound coffee


train window


not much nail polish


train window

I bet you think this song is about you

Pyjamas + beer is the best match

R.I.P One Week To Live Magazine

Half an hour ago I started biting my nails again. I feel kind of like I did when I was 13 and wore eyeliner, my hair was even blonder and I drew on my shoes. Like that. The good thing is that I can wear Black Satin nail polish again (I only like it on short nails). Before I was thinking about dark nails for summer. It such a brilliant look. Frills, transparacy, flowers, sheer, pastel, white, whiter, but grey, turquoise and then short ugly dark nails. Not that it's summer. But you have no choice but to think about it.

Nails was not what I was going to talk about. Maybe just biting them. Well. An email from One Week To Live just popped up in my Gmail, announcing that "After 108 issues of One Week To Live we have made the decision to cease publishing. As a small startup with limited means we have grown the magazine as far as possible on an independent basis – after failing to secure additional finance to continue with the current digital version we have made the decision to now close the business."

It's a long time since I worked for them for the last time. Due to natural causes: OWTL is London. London life. Living in London. Being alive in London. And I'm not in london am I.
(and nowadays I discovered that getting paid for work is kind of nice)

It makes me sad to think about not being able to pick up an OWTL at Boxfresh for reading at Suburb with a skinny latte on my lunchbreak planning my clubbing week. I really liked OWTL. I liked its aim, and I liked the result. All the ibiza DJs and the horrendous photos aside, I liked it. I liked that it was completely unpretentious and I liked that it was a safe way of knowing that London was alive.

Nowadays I often catch myself missing that clubbing guide. That thourough night life planner. No need for endless googling, or being up to date, or even having up to date friends. Just that unattractive lovely little paper.

I'll miss you, just like I miss LDN

Things I don't like with the new year

- That my Flickr pro account runs out
- That my phone insurance runs out
- That I will have to start paying back my student loan
- That I will turn 22 (still without a published novel)
- That my computer probably will break
- That I will get old and fat and hungover

gla gla gla glamorous

I like the moments that point out how not glamorous my life really is. Like Ping!. Ping! as in the microwave telling me that the reheating of my latte is done. Reheating of coffee that I bought for £1 in Helsingborg and carried on the train and still had something left to reheat in Lund. "Sometimes I get that not so fresh feeling" and sometimes I wonder why I drink coffee so slowly and sometimes I wonder why I keep quoting my favourite movies from years and year a go

i miss blogging in swedish

one step forward two steps back

snow

Kudos to me for not going out because I had loads of work to do. Kudos to me for still being awake working even though it's past midnight. Woho.

A couple of hours ago I looked out of the window and the streets and the roof of the cars were all white of snow and I had no one to tell. But then my mom came around for truffels, mazarines and a glass of wine and then I walked her in the snow for a bit.

At the moment I'm streaming a week old radio programmes while writing my fingers sore. There are only two radio shows I can handle at the moment, that's why I'm streaming. P1 Stil and P3 Soul.

la moustache

This is kinda hot:



and this, (even though it's weird):



It's a moustache umbrella! Lovely!

In between calendars

My only plan for the day was making croissants and having a snoozy breakfast with coffee and magazines with H, but we both overslept so he had to run off and there I was Planless and Breakfastless. So I'm going to a museum (Louisiana) in Denmark instead of zombying around the flat. Lonely walks and art. Yeah. My lonely day safe card. It isn't the same without Tate though. Tate Modern is definitely one of the top things I miss.

couch surfing

I'm on the couch. I've had pizza and a beer and I'm home alone. I started looking for wardrobes online (situated in this area, I'm not talking about ebaying home a freakishly expensive heavenly wardrobe from Montana, just an antique beauty from like Höör.). But they are all completely ugly. There are no beauty wardrobes willingly to be sold. Anyway, so I threw in the towel, as usual, and switched hunting theme from furniture to animals. That went much better.

NYE resolutions..

NEXT YEAR I WILL:

- cut my hair to shoulder length (it will look like a H&M-commercial, clean, healthy but not very glamorous)
- go to nyc
- try to retreive some kind of social life (that means get drunk in other ways than just at home with red wine)
- move
- complete the NaNoWriMo-challenge

always on the run

OH darlingest of darlings. I wanted to say something like: If I don't find these I will take a spirutal trip somewhere, by myself, like on a train, but I don't know if I can commit to that plan, so no. Don't know if a spiritual trip is the right thing for me right now, but I did go to the cinema last night to see "The Darjeeling Limited". Which was nice. It was raining when we left the cinema. And I love how watching a movie at cinema can completely mess with my head. STILL mess with my head. Maybe more than it used to. It's 2007 and going to the movies can make me a) melancholic, b) inspired off my head or c) just plain happy. So last night was the Wes Anderson Boyfriend Test (KIDDING) and eating nuts and eye massage. Ah, eye massage.

I finally ordered a new digicam after I dropped the other one on the floor and broke it in a million pieces. When I have received the new one I promise to become mad inspired and a monster blogger. Picture blogger. Promise promise.

sometimes I think that my biggest love wasn't a person

ALL I WANT 4 XMAS IS EVERYTHING

At the moment I'm doing a job which involves research in the shape of watching the cheesiest Christmas movies under the moon, with focus on the endings. Which really should make me weepy sentimental and yeah it has but I'm guessing it's got more to do with the glass of red wine that is empty in front of me. Weepy, in the good sense. The dark walk home listening to cheesy Wiley songs way. And about the glass. I don't know why I feel it needs an explanation, it doesn't, nah it doesn't, but anyway. I've been working harder than ever in a long time and the other night I was waiting for the train home late late and even though espresso house was open I was like NAH I don't want no latte no sirup no tea, so I went to O'learys and sat down in a corner with a bloody mary and felt good because it's nice to have worked too long, hard and strong. And get the reward of hard liqour and lonesomeness. And the work hard hard dead hard, it doesn't feel like a common feature of mine, if you know what I mean. That's why I like it. Because it always feels quite temporary. And even if I've forsefed myself XMAS-movies for work it doesn't feel like it's XMAS because I haven't had time to even reflect on the fact that it, soon, is. And I'm no XMAS-hater, FOR THE RECORD; I like it a lot lot lot. OH and this has nothing to do with the glass in front of me. Damn I'm messy. I'm gonna go buy groceries now.

friday night feels like i was hollow inside on this night

Alrighty, friends. It's Friday night. It's past midnight. I'm working (can't even see then end of the work I have to finish before crashing into bed). I'm drinking: red wine (just a glass I sweat, for the record: i bought 375 ml bottle), coffee AND diet coke, while eating chocolate and a mazarine bun. Top of the world, y'all. Top of the world.



P.s. I never posted a RIP Pimp C post. I know. Blogger was RIGHT THERE, but it's unfair to post RIP-posts when I'm not a regular poster anymore. You know? I don't know. Eh. No. Anyway. RIP Pimp C.

you watch too many film

i'm on the floor wearing stockings and I love this flat with my entire bloody little heart, mostly because it's december, because it's dark, because it's like a cocoon, i've always loved cocoons, i want to write a novel about a girl in a cocoon. or a boy. (i don't know the details yet)

i feel like not spending the last (yes, it's not even six and i'm already thinking of throwing in the towel of the day..) hours of the day working, but watching movies, so that's what i'm going to do. and have dinner. and not use any caps. so i'm off to the rental place now. yes, i do rent movies. i do. i love paying money for things i might as well could be stealing or streaming somewhere. i love standing in the rental place PICKING. and worth mentioning is that i have a pretty useless mind of decisions, so it always takes me for-evah. literally forever. it was much easier back in bloomsbury where i for a period of time rented sex and the city-episodes daily. one disc/4 episodes a day/£1. i must i admit i miss doing it. having dinner with carrie/samantha/miranda/charlotte in bed. being tired but happy.

antwerp and back again

(from yesterday. i forgot to publish before i slammed my lappie shut and left the flat)

Because it's December it's officially allowed to start the excessive consumption and burning of candles and eating of chocolate. Things I do all around the clock, the year, and back again, but now it's allowed.

Antwerp was great but I'm afraid "great" does not have enough syllables and I don't have enough time to explain just what I mean about "great". What I do have time for, is to post just a few pictures, that might say a bit more.

I'm off to Malmö now (after finishing my diet coke and completed a shower plus the getting dressedness, ah but this sofa, and this christmassy flat, ah it's so, oh, hard, to, eh leave, for windy train rides, but I will, I swear, I will). I'm off to drink a beer. Maybe two.








I miss Dries and Ann and Veronique and Bernard already.

Dries & co

We're going to Antwerp now.

See you in three days when I'm flat broke

forevah

i stick my index finger in the air

OK,
I dropped my compact camera on the floor and it broke and people ask me about insurance and I just look at them, like LOOK at them. It's from 2002. I don't have insurance. So, just when I was about to buy a pretty system camera (yes, see picture), I suddenly get a need for a new basic camera. A basic camera that can live in my hand bag. Basic needs. I hate basic needs. I like extravagant needs. Like system cameras I do not know how to use.

And then
and then

I just closed the door on my finger. My right index finger. Why is it always the right? The index finger? It's blue, swollen, warm. Not the way I prefer it.

I really am happy, if someone claims I sound bitter, it's just an illusion.

On Sunday I'm going to Antwerpen with Hannes.
yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

ALL I WANT FOR XMAS pt1

Oh deer. This is [one of] the reasons why I can't stress the beginning of christmas enough.

Things I don't understand pt.1

I can't, with my wildest imagination, understand why no one has ever give me that for my birthday! I drink a lot of coffee and damnit do I drink it slow! And damnit is it always cold when I get to the end!

A train to train-wreck town

the birthday syndrome

working from home

The last couple of weeks I have been going to the library to work, but the other day a weird man sat down next to me. He wore really dirty clothes, a thin t-shirt which showed his nipples and chest hair. He opened his bag and took a SPONGE and started to CLEAN the table we were sitting at. Humming loudly at the same time. Then he started to pile things (needle, thread, receipts, scissors) in front of him. And food. Weird food. A lot of food. While humming. And somehow, I don't know why, I lost my concentration. So I decided to start working from home for a bit. So now I'm back in the kitchen again.

Yesterday the plumber slash lock man came by and I couldn't help feeling exactly like Jeremy in Peep show, when a handyman comes to fix the bathroom door and he's like: "He probably thinks I'm a slacker, to him it probably looks like I've done literally nothing since lunch. Well, the washing up isn't nothing mate, and I'm gonna be doing that any bloody minute now."

Other than that, I've started to recognise the dogs that have their daily walks down the street. Is that good or bad?

so what if you flip a couple of words

I'm working at home today. I'm doing about a thousand (4) things at the same time. AND I do it quite unefficiently. I wish I was a smoker so I could take smoking breaks. When we did days and days of project writing back at uni ("back at uni".. what am I trying to be? British?) I used to have chuzzle breaks when my group mates had ciggies in the window. But to even contemplate Chuzzle right now is dangerous. DA-hang-e-rousss