I have no pictures of the weekend before midsummer because my skills failed me. Or in more practical terms: I relaxed the crap out of myself and couldn’t be arsed to take pictures. Sara, I and Petter left for the countryside for a couple of days, staying at his cottage an hour north of Gothenburg. I slept until late noon, had a breakfast consisting of more than oats, and then sat with a coffee on the porch, forcing my way through the shittier parts of the Nights Dawn trilogy.

The whole experience was such a sensory overload of idyllic post-card super-reality it had me giggling. It’s difficult to take such an experience seriously. It’s not only that I’m slightly high-strung and can’t really relax properly, but also because reading a book for five hours straight is something so unproblematic by body doesn’t know what to do with itself. This hasn’t happened since I was a teenager, and since then relaxing into a book has been rather more difficult.

Had Bambi showed up and fallen asleed in my lap it wouldn’t have made the place and experience any less extreme. This kind of existence is what is allured to when advertising a product which is supposed to appeal to a sense of Sweden. Only the hangover on Sunday reminded me of home, but even that was soothed by wind, water and dozing off on the porch.

Apparently, my cracking knuckles found their way into Saras snoozing. I would make for a really poor ninja, but we knew that already. Polish people aren’t ninjas, we dress in fur hats and kill people from horseback. Failing that, we charm our friends into helping us in the garden.

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Shortly after a ninja tried to kill the princess of Sweden, I and Petter visited Tobias. As it turns out, there’s not all that much being offered in ways of entertainment in Trollhättan, so all too much money was spent on drinks in hotel bars and such. We were good and tight when we finally stumbled back to his place and fell asleep in front of burning cars in Grand Theft Auto 4. It’s what I believe is called a guys night out except that none of us contracted syphilis.

I’m infatuated with the time lapse function of my IXUS 70, and will use it until it’s just not fun any more.

We discussed how to best remedy the climate change and global warming and such, resolute to have an email with a solution ready to send of to the UN the next day. We might have to revise our Stalinistic suggestions a bit before going public.

I think we sort of decided to go sailing in a couple of weeks time, and in a vulnerable moment I brandied about the idea of foregoing cigarettes during the cruise. Should we go through with this, it’s not certain that all of those setting out on the trip will return. Imagine something between Lord of the flies and Deliverance, sans banjos.

I’ve been nursing a hangover all day, and had plenty of white rice for brunchinner. For some reason I’ve been reading about different kinds of bows and arrowheads the past hour. If you are a hunting person and wish to buy blunting or shredding implements, you’re in luck: www.bowtechproshop.com.


Yesterday a few nice people celebrated Petters coming of age. Or even-further aging, if you prefer, since 33 isn’t really a milestone as these things go. Yay for Petter, for he is a jolly good fellow.

I got into a sour mood at the end because people were doing the “territorial pissing dance” and elbowing me. Either I find a party where people are polite and don’t dance only to pick someone up, or I stop dancing. Or I drink less – drinking makes Mateusz annoyed and grumpy, like an old person who is annoyed and grumpy.

I’m not certain if I should keep on Twittering. Sooner or later someone will take those messages seriously and come knocking on my door.

Montage of Pär & Petter

I wake up to a kernel panik on my computer, and the drive is making desperate sounds; it wispers “Kill me, kiiiiiill me”. Three hours and a lot of worry later I’m one drive short short of a raid, but ought to be up to speed soon since I actually have a backup of the more important stuff. It’s a drag though. I had just gotten a few good documentaries that I was looking forward to.

Wet asphalt put through some sort of Photoshop \"filter\"

There’s a quiz I’m going to. Wont be able to answer any question, but maybe doghairs are good things.