Hazy Shade Of Winter


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We’re a couple with ambition. We’re a couple who fight to make it work. We’re a couple who put in the hours, we go to therapy. It’s a matter of responsibility... we want a future. We want well paid jobs, we want sex beyond retirement, respectful kids. We’re a couple who sees beyond the temptations of transgressive behavior. Monogamous people are the real dreamers, the cheating rest are such boring realists. Let me be a dreamer, let me be a dreamer... Jeg dro i terapi og dro mutter’n ned fra pidestalen og fatter’n opp fra grøfta. Jeg dro i terapi og ble virkelig redd av meg selv. Psykologen sa jeg kunne ringe ham midt på natten hvis jeg trengte det. Slam or bail, switch backside tail, frontside rock’n’roll, grind... on the spirit of the times. Fy faen denne låta er bare noe dritt! Pikk, fitte, faen! Jeg fant dette på telefonen etter London-turen: «Jeg kom nettopp tilbake fra Harrods hvor Vetements hadde laget et berg av secondhand klær i vinduet, og et par etasjer opp så jeg en kvinne i niqab kjøpe slutty undertøy». Pule, knulle, sprute jeg trenger nye ting... new stuff... puff-puff-pass, I need fresh merch fast, I need dreams that last, I could use a new past, yeah, give me a new past, just give me a new past! Coins in a roundabout Turds in a roundabout Hunger strike in a roundabout Strip tease in a roundabout Fucked her in a roundabout I love veggie sprouts I’m gonna pour me some stout Before my tongue goes south Sometimes I gotta buy new things Sometimes I gotta have that feeling Dear listener: What is the orgasm rate for middle class office workers versus some other working group in society? What are the links between New Public Management and open relationships? Between hormones, phones, fashion trends? Kafkaesque algorithms shaping your porn preferences. Big data social skills. Like farms, cock block. I buy followers and groceries, there’s bounce in her ovaries. At a party she said “It’s a matter of disliking the likeability of the like” and I told her I’d met the guy who invented the like button—he had a mohawk—we met at at a conference on a tiny island in the Oslo fjord. And why was I there? ’Cause I interviewed Necrobutcher from the black metal band Mayhem in front of start up people Throwing up on whatever they sell Throwing up on the sushi from hell Throwing up on my newest Gazelles Throwing up on a kid’s carousel Throwing up on a hot headed male Throwing up in a taxi to jail Throwing up in a shitty hotel Throwing up in my sleep, shit I got shine—a Mac not a Dell I got feelings, they feel like a spell I got issues, they’re like a cartel I got questions ’cause we used to gel On to you with intent to raise hell On to you with intent to do well On to you to sink deep in your well On to you to fuck till we yell — Yell! Sometimes I gotta buy new things Sometimes I gotta have that feeling I remember the way we used to shine Things fall apart Now we’re running out of time Dad machines-mom machines-dad machines- mom machines-dad machines-former skaters- hardcore kids-graffiti artists on their new shiny electric bike so expensive just call the bank. Call the bank! In front there’s a box for the kids to sit in. For barna. Helmets gliding through the streets, trygg, on their way to kindergarten, school, work... Acne T-shirts in the air, hyttekos-god smak-røde dager... Welfare, dismay, oil and arms led astray, shy and pale, moral toupee, the kids are OK. The kids will grow up with their dads present, with dads taking them to rock concerts and rap shows. Daughters and dads binge watching Mad Men together. This is Scandinavia, where music festivals are greener than jealousy. Where festivals have safe space ambitions beyond space. Where festival goers are white. I saw a relationship crumble to pieces right in front of me to the sound of Solange. Hazy shade of winter, Swedish mid summer. I’ve eaten more Swedish girls than Danish Busted by HPV Saved by HIV Infidelities I can’t unsee 2+1 is more than 3 Feelings are just debris Just fucking chill and disagree Let’s grab a cup of tea And fuck this gibberish! Coffee and starfish Sometimes I gotta buy new things Sometimes I gotta have that feeling I remember the way we used to shine Things fall apart Now we’re running out of time So I’ve been struggling with this concept of like: “What the fuck is wrong with me?” and I kind of have an idea so I’m gonna share it. Ok... so I have like this problem where I just assume that everybody fucking hates me, like, somebody could tell me, like “I literally love you” and I would think “they fucking hate me” like, “they hate me”, you know... This of course... obviously... stems from my, like, childhood whatever, being bullied and shit and just not being sufficient enough for anybody really in my life, or at least me feeling that way, and yeah... and so when I’m going through like time periods of high stress, I go through manic phases where I overcompensate and end up being like actually annoying, and it’s... it’s a problem and I don’t know to stop. So from me to you: I’m sorry if I’m a fucking annoying bitch sometimes because... I dunno... like I annoy the fuck out of myself, and I just can’t imagine what it would be like from the outside looking in, like, I know I’m annoying. I’m sorry. And good God this is not me throwing myself a pity party, like, I am really just trying to explain... I just want to explain myself