Alas,
despite my attempt to finish the first part of my new sequel "To be continued...", I simply do not have the time to do so before chritsmas or newyear. I am a persistent cliffhanger....

Anyhow: have a good one.

TO BE CONTINUED part 2

I walk into the nearest cafe. The chair seems to low, I almost sink into it. Order a round of chilli con carne and ask the waiter to cook it up with some dark chocolate, a squirt of lime and to serve it with bread and a beer. The cafe is filled to burst. I wait more than 30 minutes for the food to be served. I notice the girl sitting a the table next to me drinking indecisive from the a cup of cappucino. She has a servere handicap. To fingers at her left hand makes it out for one and ends in a big nail. Her face, her eyes, all out of proportions. A dark and heavy wintercoat is covering her skinny body. A sommerdress, torn and dirty, creeps out from under her coat. Silvercolored shoes and white socks and a dandruff way round the collar of her coat.
Between our table a german sheppard is lying, tied to a table, calm and behaved, it belongs to two other women at the next table to ours. She seems nervous about the dogs, talks in broken sentences about fear, a mumble more than words.
"Dont worry" the owner of the dog tells her. "You know its supersweet...."
The owner talks on to her friend at their table about another friend of hers who traveled to Jylland over the weekend with her membershipcard for TanStudio, and that shes really annoyed about it including the fact, that she had gone there - to fucking Jylland, with her ex boy friend, even though she just two days ago had him over for brunch.
My chilli is served. I eat it slowly. The dog is quiet, calm, but the girl with the cappucino is frozen stiff at her table. She is clearly afraid of dogs, and the friends at the third table knows it, they know her. They know her, and she trust them blind to help her.
Halfway through the chilli I pause to have a smoke. I break a piece og bread and secretly I feed it to the dog. Another piece of bread I smear in butter, put five whole jalapenos, break the bread, making a small sandwich. The dog eats the first bite in one go. Unnoticed I tease it with the second piece with the chilli, then pause and then go again. I let the bread fall to the floor and with my foot I push it in reach for the dog. It swallows the bread aggresively.

tonight,
at "notes of a second rate poet" I will, following the context of "why this ...doenst love big business" and the somewhat more unfortunate attempt "the anthropology of cars" launch a new attempt called: TO BE CONTINUED...

Alas, here we go:

TO BE CONTINUED part 1:

November, december, january gone. But the nights hangs in. One on top of the other, next to each other. Hand in hand they come, only divided by day.

I wait for her in newly fallen snow. Its very cold. Its dark. I stand next to a big bubbly recycle container for used bottles. Four men, all walking a dog seems to have a rendez-vous at the container. The upscale dresscode do not fit the energy they put in to slamming the bottles down the container. But it fis the neighbourhood. I doubt it if I do. The sound of broken class stresses me. I am waiting and I am stressed out.

She is not coming.

(to erase any doubt, this is where it is "to be continued...")

sweet. one word there for the work of jenny holzer

http://mfx.dasburo.com/art/truisms.html

today,
driving home from Randers just around sundown, the sky was lit up by orange and blue frost clear colours. About 5 miles from Viborg I noticed what could look like a big mushroom sky towering over Viborg, which led me to associate:
Well, that was it. The city is gone and I was glad. Somebody had made the choice for me: staying is not an option. The choice had no consequenses pointing back at my rationals.

I, the lucky sperm.

yesterday, working at the studio
I had a sms from a friend in Copenhagen. He wrote that he had just been out shopping when he saw this written on a wall:

EAT MORE MONEY.

I found that pretty haha funny and it made me think of the heydays working with Lennard making visuals for seniorrockers SPOKE.
We had among hours of films, what we called three minutes of animated "textfilm". One of the texts stated:

DEMOCRACY EVENTUALLY DOENST FEED YOU ENOUGH, AND IF IT DOES ITS BECAUSE EATING IS THE ROOT OF DEMOCRACY.

I answered my friend with the same statement, pointing out that he should not forget going for the root can be a mindblowing pleasure.
Which eventually led me to paint a new pix stating in bold 3 inch letters in my mothertongue, danish, the language I control, the thing that makes me worthy, my mental legs and intellectual arms, the power rest in me, not to embrace, but to strangle...well. The new painting?

fuck it, I just want to get shitfaced with jakob ejersbo and lennard grahn.

wrouf.

http://www.colliehunden.dk/

m odernity e nds t oday a nd s tarts t omorrow a nd e nds

l evel u nder sanity t reating o ngoing j okes e nd k now t he
e verlasting s occulent c unts a pes p ursue e verything g o o n a nything t rue

v ery e gomaniac s uite t ransforming e verything r ight b ut e venso r ightfully g one

God, I miss The State.

SOME WIILL BE PUNISHED AND SOME WILL BE EXSCUSED!!!

SØREN KRARUP:
...AND BEFORE AND AFTER YOU ARE DEAD I WILL ATTACH ELETRIC WIRES TO YOUR TESTICLES FORCE A BULP DOWN YOUR MOUTH AND USE YOU AS A CHRISTMASTREE....

Again, Søren Krarup in DEADLINE (DR2) on friday night and in fridays papers was send up front to defend the danih goverments newest move. A total devaluation of the diagnosis POST TRAUMATIC STRESS which useually occurs after years of torture. PTS can among other things result in serious lerningdisabilities, and it has shown to be the case in Denmark. It has been really hard on these individualls to learn to s p e a k danish, which is a demand to get danish citizinship.
Søren Krarup and his siblings however, do not a c c e p t the consequenses of PST, and will not pass on danishsships to victims with PST who can not speak danish....yet. No, Krarup says, the citizenship is to be considered a gift (!), you have to be w o r th y..., he says. What makes HIM fucking worthy is a puzzle to me!

sorry, im crying here, but can noone stop that man and his DAnish Peoples PArty. We are how far from fascism, not only in the US, but here in our ugly little pond too?
I cant fuckin believe it. And I cant wait to read the papers today expecting there is someone outthere with the abililty to cut Krarup down and fire me up with arguments and rationals for not doing anything more drastic.
But you are pushing me Krarup, hard. And I really hate that.

http://www.nomos-dk.dk/skraep/krarup-bio.htm

WELFARE?

Ive had it with welfare. These days, after the danish WelfareCommision handed in their paper on the future of DK and DK welfare, a slight panic have surfaced, understandably. But what really gets to me, is the fact that socalled experts the media drags out to relate to the work of the WelfareCommision, only relate to one issue: economics. And as I sated in an ealier posting: Its Still The Economy Stupid, I now refrase it to: Its Only Economy Fuckface!!!! Economy and social darwisnism.

The future is set with only room enough for a few winners of which you can say that they are inexpendaple, and: A human is only of use for other humans, as long as he or she serve the purpose of consuming, and the social thrashcan, the natural endgoal for the outcasts and the subhumans and the new underclass, is the natural endgoal for those who doesnt fit the tapestry, who asks question or raise a fight against exploitation. Thus: Survival is the mere core of human coexsistense and survival basicly revolves around surviving the others, and thus welfare is a matter of survival, and nolonger something you should expect to be a common good. The basic democratic principle of "the strong shields the less fortunate" has been wiped of the blackboard.
And so it is: unity is an illusion, equality likewise: Brotherhood and freedom I do not need to mention it.

So tell it like it fucking is: Its Ony The Economy you fucking looser.

oops, forgot this link to some great fractal-shots. tune in...

http://sprott.physics.wisc.edu/fractals/collect/1998/

a tough day at the st st studio. an ongoing battle between discipline and s.o.c. well fuck it, its all part of the proces.

a comrate situation
http://heddley.com/edd/2002/03/27/line-020.jpg

today,
a little quote to kick of your day. Trying to conceptualize my newest paintings and artsiefartzy attemps to disclose unfortunate consequenses of religion and capitalism, I stumpled upon this amazing book from 1975.
Though written in 1975 by american anthropologist Marvin Harris it offers a good many solutions and answers to the perplexing question of why people behave the way they do. The titel however"Cows, Pigs and Wars and Witches - The Riddles of Culture", caught my eye before the actual content.

Harris writes:

"Ignorance, fear and conflict are the basic elements og everyday conscoiusness. From these elements, arts and poltics fashion that collective dreamwork whose function it is to prevent people from understanding what their social life is alle about."

http://grids.jonmattox.com/people/harris.html

Over the weekend,
I attended the same special event Lennard mentioned yesterday at his blog at http://www.lennardgrahn.dk/. Not only did we attend the same event we are also running teammates over the last three years.
Allthough, in this duration, with only one noted victory, we are, what some would say the Onthologist of the mob. In other words, the rest of the mob are moons around us.

One thing stood out during this years Grand Pop Quiz. From the usual 40 sq. feet reality of popmaster Puttes Copenhagen crip, we had, by the means of St. Sigurts persistent work, moved the event to more tranquile settings in Lumsås - as told.

And it was indeed a weekend to rember. Though we lost again, perticularly cheered by the fact that BOBO did contribute to his team not winning either, it was a very mature and conflictfree weekend. Walks and memory in the sand, soccer on the beach, excessive amounts of dope and booze and everything with it, mysterious lights in the sand and so on and on and on.

I was the last man to leave the house on sunday night. Two hours after everyone had left I got up to leave, disconnect the power and hide the key. Everythting pitch black, silent and cold, nonetheless: But never I say, never, have I felt this mantra so hard:

You can be lonely but you are never alone.

o jikes....december come. allright then - light me up like a chritsmas tree and I ll burn out before I fade away.
Exited though, as I this weekend will travel to the danish village of LUMSÅS, famed in the 80s for being hit by an stray stinger missile which blew away 5 or 6 sommerhouses...well, thats were I am headed to meet up with 10 friends to drink, dub and compete in this years GrandPopQuiz 05, hosted by Putte- I strongly expect to take home the tacky trophee...again.