Xandria – Eversleeping

Yesterday I heard this magnificent song. It’s so incredibly wonderful and sad. I love the lyrics and especially the chorus. Excellent singer…

Link to the song on YouTube

Once I travelled 7 seas to find my love
And once I sang 700 songs
Well, maybe I still have to walk 7000 miles
Until I find the one that I belong

I will rest my head side by side
To the one that stays in the night
I will lose my breath in my last words of sorrow
And whatever comes will come soon
Dying I will pray to the moon
That there once will be a better tomorrow

Once I crossed 7 rivers to find my love
And once, for 7 years, I forgot my name
Well, if I have to I will die 7 deaths just to lie
In the arms of my eversleeping aim

I dreamt last night that he came to me
He said: "My love, why do you cry?"
For now it won't be long any more
Until in my cold grave we will lie
Until in my cold grave we will lie

Jonas Gardell – Jenny

Yesterday I finished the novel ”Jenny” by Swedish author Jonas Gardell. The book is the third and final instalment of his series about Juha Lindström, Gardell’s alter ego, and his childhood. The story is the continuing of ”En Komikers Uppväxt” (The Grow of a Comedian) and ”Ett UFO Gör Entré” (An Alien’s Entry), and is about how Juha 25 years later receives a letter from Jenny, a classmate of his, in which she explains what really happened to her the last night in ninth grade, on which he never showed up.

The story is sad, but just as the other books in the series it’s perfectly excellently written. I love it.

The American Dream

I had a dream.

I was in America (I live in Sweden) and walking on a town square, I met two bag robbers. I had a baby carriage with my two guitars and my bag in it. While one of the bag robbers talked to me, the other tried to steal my things. Since I understood he was a bag robber, I shielded them all – but forgot one of the guitars (my favorite). He ran away with the guitar, and when I ran after him, the other guy stole my other things. For some reason, I suddenly had the stolen guitar in my hands (don’t know how), and ran away to the edge of the square. There, I met a girl who I asked to call 911 while I ran towards my stuff to get them back. When I was standing by them, I realised that I was surrounded by maffia guys, all of them holding guns aiming eachother. I had to duck to avoid the bullets, but then someone screamed ”Hey, let’s take him instead!” and all of them shot at me. I ran away on the same time as the police came, and while the others were hunting the criminals, I told one of the polices, ”It’s obvious that I’m in America, no-one would ever shoot a friend in Sweden.”

I’m weird.


A few days ago, I read Stephen King’s short story entitled 1408, about a haunted hotel room (room 1408, duh) that is visited by an writer of horror books.

It’s great! The film based upon the short story premiered in the fall of October here in Sweden, and I’m going to see it on cinema some time this week. It seems really great. I recommend the short story to everyone, it is included in King’s short story collection Everything’s Eventual: 14 Dark Tales.

The End

Another poem. Has nothing to do with my life at the moment right now, though. So god damn it, don’t get it wrong.
Why are you so turned away from me?
Why is the window opened tonight,
and why are you not saying a word?

Why aren’t the stars as bright as before?
Why is the sky grey, not black,
and why are you leaving me?