heaven holds a place for those who pray

I should be busy taking pictures (those boring tasks you need to do when you're
applying to art schools) but instead I find myself staying awake far too long
and drafting disco deers and other stupid stuff to my sketchbook. The deadline is
coming closer and closer and slowly killing my vision of myself next autumn; dressed
in black head to toe and going to some fancy art school among the snobbish hipster kids.
Too bad.


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My dad beat me 'cause mine said "mother"

Fuck all the snobbish art schools. This one may be crappy, but this is what I want to learn.
Any of you guys want a tattoo?


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YOU MAY HIDE IF I WAS CLOSER BUT I'M FAR AWAY

My favourite 25-inch jeans - boy. Isn't he beautiful? @ Sthlm 2009.


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YOU'RE NOT NINETEEN FOREVER SO PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER

Gotta love these hotel after parties. Even though you can't remember a lot (you only know you were eating pancakes for
breakfast among the other hotel guests cause you were told so) and especially if ambulance men wake you up from the corridor floor.


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Where the hell do the days go there's another one sneaking away

and I don't like to think about the next one




Old favorites on film. Crappy b&w, skinny boys, quiet hotel corridors at night, having afternoon tea with plaster cast dudes.
What's not to love? (Oh, by the way - did you notice, no cigarettes in this post!)


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AND I MIGHT SING, "OH BURY ME"

I tell you: when you start drawing on empty cigarette packs, you should definitely do something with your so called life.
Especially if your poor blog is turning into a fucking L&M advertisement.


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CUT OFF THE BALL, CHAIN AND THE ROPES AROUND MY FEET

Having an existential angst, a creative block & craving for a cigarette.
All I've got to say is fuck you Jonathan from Spotify. Pretty sad, huh?


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