Let us eat cake!

Sara and Tura woke me up this morning with a cake and a song, possibly related to my birthday. You know how it feels being woken up by a five-year old stomping on balloons? Fucking adorable, that’s how. The chocolate cake was excellent and so sweet it’ll cause diabetes in fish downstream of the sewage treatment plant.

For once I wasn’t too stressed out about my birthday, and proceeded to have a nice day with Sara at the demonstration against building high-rises on our allotment gardens (annoying GP TV autostart link) after which we drove Anna and Jan to the airport. They were running a tad bit late, and Jan informed me on the peculiarities of Gula Faran en route, seeing as I’d be driving it back. It’s funny that; In driving school I was never taught that if the outside temperature is higher than 30°C the brakes might not take and not to “rev more than 3500 rpm on fifth or it’ll downshift to fourth. Or maybe third.”

I’m not good with travel-induced stress, having missed important flights and trains and hating myself for it, and I was glad of not being at the other end of Jans phone when people already at the airport were calling and wondering where the hell we were. “We’re there!” is such a patent lie in that situation: If we were, you wouldn’t be having that phone call, now would you? My reaction might hark back to being a kid, waiting for my parents to come home from shopping, looking at the clock and dreading it would pass the time when they said they were going to be back. Not that the fears are the same, but time is a recurring theme, is what I’m getting at.

Back home, with only slightly ominous rattling as accompaniment, we had dinner and I manhandled Saras Nintendo. Super Mario Bros is still fun, although the platformer feels so much more limited than I remember it. The breadth and story I imbued it with as a kid isn’t there, replaced by an eagerness to complete the levels and find speed runs and easter eggs. Compared with how boring it feels on an emulator with keyboard, having the joypads indent my palms is all that is required to want to jump over more blocks. I am now looking for a NES.

Music appreciation day in Gothenburg.

Petter has a taste in music. I’m not saying it’s always good, but he is a man of tastes. This taste brought us to the balcony of Henriksberg — a place for unpleasant young people, people who view of the harbor, and those who are there for the bands. We were there to watch the duo Civil Civic from Autralia, and I just noticed a writeup of their experience here: The Civil chronicle #6.

Somehow that blogpost forgot to mention the sauve and strapping young men who bought t-shirts after the excellent show, but perhaps they were thinking of other things. I look fetching in my t-shirt though. I recommend that you go to their MySpace and have a listen. You can buy their albums for any amount, which is neat since they’re a live act and not another guy with a laptop. (I’m not putting down people with laptops, just saying that a band with instruments and amps has more at stake than a midi-keyboard and a pirate copy of Cubase)

They’re an independent band and seem to put a lot of effort into the whole band experience thing which I understand the kids enjoy, as should you.

[audio:https://monocultured.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/01-Less-Unless.mp3|titles=Less Unless|artists=Civil Civic]

Following Civil Civic, an even more party hardy band came on. Their music doesn’t carry well in a non-live setting, but the duo Fucking Werewolf Asso from Gothenburg kicked an excellent amount of arse. A drummer was exacting revenge on his drums for some past transgressions by beating the fuck out of them, and the bespectacled singer with Eraserhead hair stod with hand on hip, spewing awesome into the microphone over chiptune loops. If you get a chance to hear them, I wholeheartedly encourage you to go.

The main act was another local band with a punny name: Fulmakten. It’s a very style-conscious ensamble, and that’s the extent of what they had to offer. They were mimicking Swedish 80’s music so well they sounded like a generic tribute band, and I don’t think that was intentional. What little personality they had was contained in the splendid afro and facial hair of the singer. Then again, if you’re ever organizing a live roleplaying event which takes place thirty years ago on a cruise ship between Sweden and Finland, and are looking for that special blend of blandness, you’ll squeal in delight.

As a side note. With my 32:nd birthday out of the way last Monday, I’m wiser, closer to death, and have an updated list over who will get Christmas cards. Some will regret their lackadaisical approach to important dates.

Happy midsummer celebration, be careful out there!

Closure. Sea-fairing life. Birthday. Bike!

The other day, while helping a friend move out from the apartment he shared with his girlfriend, I was wondering how I would have reasoned about dividing up stuff. It’s never occured to me that stuff like this would come up (which is telling of how experienced I am with relationships) outside of movies where a couple that are breaking up bicker over record collections. Your material possessions don’t so much possess you as they socially glue you to your surroundings; Stuff as interaction manifested relationships in itself, or somesuch.

–I bought this jar of pesto and by God I’m taking it! Oh, and this water heater that you bought only after breaking mine? I’m trashing it by accident, fuck you!

The only thing we trashed was an oven form that I dropped a bed frame on. Ah yes, the spoils of war and love.

Midsummer was spent in the lovely company of friends, and my birthday was spent on a boat with Anna & Jan and an engine that only fired on one cylinder and gave up the ghost next to the industrial dry docks on the shitty side of the river. Improvised team building, as it were. After poking and swearing at the engine for half an hour, we called Janne who was all manly and stuff, actually managing to fix the engine well enough to get us to an emergency port. My contribution to our efforts was limited to sunbathing and being a human fender.

(Before you ask: Yes, I do keep tabs on who forgot my birthday. You are on a passive agressive shit list.)

I’ve spent the past weeks learning how to scuba, working on my Polish tan, doing some freelance web stuff and buying a bike. And even though diving is great fun, I love my bike silly. There are many like it, but this one is mine! I’ve never had a bike this fast and I love me the commuting and silent cruising down dark streets.

True, the first thing that happened was that the front brake gave up on me – unsettling since it’s the only brake – but it’s given me reason to learn about fixing stuff, something I’m usually only good at in theory, or rather “theoretical theory,” meaning I know how to use Google. (which I call “knowledge aquisition” in my CV)

The bike is a frankenstein of different parts put together by Martin, and I posted a description + pictures on Happymtb in order try to identify it. I haven’t received much help in regard to identification, but plenty suggestions on which wheels I could get and how much a paintjob would cost. People I’ve asked seem to lean towards that it’s a French 70’s cheapo bike; Looking at old Peugeot models they have some similar details. If you have any hints, I’d appreciate your input.

Drive driven into drivelling dementia!

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.

Update. Birthday. Göööööö-teeee-booo-oorg!

* I’m back in Gothenburg having worked in Stockholm an estimated 1/150 part of my life. The fruit of my labour: www.arkitekturmuseet.com.

* Birthday coming up, and maybe I should arrange something. Or maybe not. My only idea so far is to take a folding chair downtown and drink gin with strangers. This might change.

* A list of the hundred oldest companies still in existence. Currently it’s a 1300 year old spa in Japan. Read bizaims.com.

* I’m finally taking the plunge to upgrade this blog to 2.5 and will try to roll out with a new theme. If there’s any downtime, well, you wont know unless I’ve told you. And now I have. And now you know.

Living at a distance of 400 kilometers

Being in Stockholm I’m not really taking advantage of the situation. There are so many things to do that one is hard-pressed to choose.

Afrikansk dans
Bird skeleton

Most of my social life is managed at a distance – every three days I Skype with Anna to see what’s up, and I’m staring into the camera at the top of the screen and imagine that I’m still partaking in whatever hijinx they are up to back in Gothenburg.

I visited over the last weekend, helping Hanna to move her tremendous amount of crap valuable items into her apartment. (the roof is, like, 5 metres high!) Good fun was had, and Saturday was spend being exceptionally drunk and giggling like a school girl, while talking about hard AI and wallet design with Pär and Petter.

Skype Mateusz och Anna

One month has passed of my employment, much faster than I had imagined. I am working at the national museum of Architecture in the middle of Stockholm, on a web project about to the history of city planning.

It’s great fun, but I haven’t worked, as in work worked on any long term project since I did that flag burning thing four years ago. I’m not used to it, is all, but it’s progressing.

Here’s a sign of the times – someone demolished a bus-stop using a 17″computer screen. Back in the day, we vandals used stones. It’s like stone-age to technological society in fifteen years time, from a destructive point of view! Progress!

Skärm genom rutan

It was a hoot getting the first paycheck. I visited Albrecht in Karlstad, and only wish that when my 30th birthday rolls around I will behave with equal dignity and class. I still own him a present, but since I’ve spend my first paycheck on debts he’s just gonna have to wait until the end of next month.


For the next couple of weeks I hope to explore the city a bit better. Right now I only find two beer halls and one Chinese restaurant. Haven’t seen any exhibitions, and travelling three hours each day just to commute to the suburbs kills my ability to do anything except sleeping and smoking.

So, in order to cheer me up, you should invite me to meet people at least as fun and charming as I am. And even though my sexdrive has driven into a wall, I have been imagining standing behind someone cupping their breasts. I don’t know why that image has stuck with me, but there you go. If you know of someone who would appreciate being cupped, you know where to turn.

Cupped breasts

And if you want to talk to someone who has had nightmares about programming two days straight, I’m your man as well.

The ‘happy birthday mom’ thingy

The project finished succesfully. One person actually heard my cries for help and emailed me a clip. So thank you very mush Nina, I appreciate it a lot.

As for the rest of you lot who saw this page but didn’t bother helping out: Screw you big time, you slackers.
Internet bridging the gaps between people my ass; More like Internet allowing people unlimited ways of doing a lot and doing nothing

In the end, I had eighty-something videos, but decided to edit it down to fifty (since, you know, it was my moms fiftieth birthday?) and here’s the resulting video. (with which, of course, I created a dvd)

To the people who participated: Thank you very much. It made my mom happy.

Last minute! Bomb ticking! Help me be a good son!

Ok ok, I’m a reasonably good person, and a reasonably good son, although i really really suck at remembering birthdays and so on.
This has proven problematic since my moms 50th birthday is coming up… Which prompted me to create this homepage, which you should check out if you want to save me. Unless I get something nice together my only other options are either to
1) Stop smoking as a gift to my mom
2) Cut my hair as a sacrifice on the altar of ‘looking decent for once’
3) Get a tattoo of my mom

Truth be told, I don’t think number 3 is all that popular, since according to mom only convicts and bikers have tattoos. Anywho. Check it out, and help me the hell out…