note: the travel section has been partially updated and the photo section is still in a pause phase but there's more coming. This smart lo-fi design is almost entirely ripped off from caterina fake's website. (6.14.00) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . home copenhagen guide 2005 (old) film reviews 2006 film clip of the week flickr last.fm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . where am I? at the moment: los angeles. recently: big sur, san francisco, palm springs. next trips? san francisco, copenhagen, norway. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . the mix? music: go here for now. film: see review. also see adventures in film (anecdotes). reading: *disgrace by j.m. coetzee. art: *on the back burner. next gigs? *production designing a feature film to shoot in southern france, paris and copenhagen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . sites of friends (alas some of the links are kaput - sorry): natascha thiara rydvald marc fluri pod caterina.net blue foundation the tremolo beer gut you are here alexandra tydings the land of steve (guru#1) nathan's world (guru #2) robert glick (guru #3) megan bumblee b (spot guru) molotov cocktail duo (hoodoo gurus) jens & sebastian sabina's venture thomas fleurquin (mr. copenhagen) hustler of culture (ms. los angeles) birgit richter fotografie mats stenberg fc mono design-rodenberg ingen frygt jacob kusk lollopard ariane anton lækker champagne keats ivan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . archive: warning: these have not been retroactively designed for navigational purposes. You may have to rely on the "back" button to navigate. may 2008 april - june 2007 january - march 2007 november - december 2006 october 2006 august - september 2006 may - july 2006 april 2006 march 2006 jan - feb 2006 oct - dec 2005 august - sept 2005 june - july 2005 april - may 2005 march 2005 jan 2005 - feb 2005 nov 2004 - dec 2004 may - oct 2004 april 2004 march 2004 january - february 2004 august - december 2003 june - july 2003 february 2003 - may 2003 january 2003 december 2002 november 2002 september 2002 august 2002 july 2002 june 2002 may 2002 april 2002 march 2002 february 2002 - december 2001   Copyright 2008 christian svanes kolding something that is always handy. and let us not forget, that with this, comes that. something about the danish language can be found here, several things.     more mindless stuff about christian svanes kolding.

wednesday, june 18, 2008 - los angeles (venice) life is beautiful last night, i had an opportunity to preview the debut solo exhibit of mr. brainwash, held in hollywood at the former cbs production studios.   the highly derivative, self-deprecating work consists of sculptures, paintings, frescoes, silkscreens and set constructions, but it should really be seen as a very expansive installation piece. truly impressive, if for nothing else just by virtue of its sheer volume, but the skillful level of mimicry on hand, with its sly sense of humour, is also noteworthy.   the work could be described as a physical universe that is populated with easily recognized icons of pop art that have been remixed, recycled and recreated through the mischievous eyes of a street artist, as if one has opened up an art history volume only to discover that it has been given a very playful and thorough once-over by the designers of the video game grand theft auto.   there’s a large set construction that quickly brings edward hopper’s painting, nighthawks, to mind (and perhaps unintentionally, the photography of miriam backström) yet the exterior walls have been spray painted with graffiti, the chairs inside have been turned over and the space has clearly been converted into a wasteland. a paint-splattered police squad car is parked outside, emergency lights flashing. the scene presents itself as an abandoned urban space, riffing on a collection of dystopian views of the american city that in the late hours of night would be populated by skateboarders, street thugs, and vaguely sinister comic book characters.   mr. brainwash, also known as mbw, casts a wide net in his romp through the catalog of pop art icons. here’s your reference to rauschenberg, here’s your warhol, your rosenquist, here’s the signature work by robert indiana, replacing the word LOVE with PUNK.    he makes his weapon of choice very clear: beyond the barely opened door to a vault, one spies a golden arsenal of cans of spray paint, safely stacked behind the security bars, their numbers seem to stretch onwards to infinity.   but the make-over treatment does not stop with pop art, mr. brainwash stomps through the fields of dutch masters, reworking pastoral landscapes into garbage-strewn, graffiti-ridden playgrounds, though it may be lost on some americans that many rural roads in europe actually look like this – that is, these days an ancient mill seen at the terminus of a cobblestone country lane is likely to be surrounded by the pockmarked walls that are covered with graffiti as depicted in mr. brainwash’s re-interpretation.   portraiture from the dutch golden age and the italian renaissance have also been reworked. among others, batman, hannibal lecter and run dmc make appearances in paintings, while mr. brainwash adds a can of spray paint or a table tennis paddle to riffs on the renaissance.   looking years ahead to a day when one will reflect upon this outburst of productivity, one wonders if the work will remain relevant. surely, the set pieces, making their debuts in the city known for its false fronts, offers an interesting commentary on the cultural values of make-believe and the hollywood treatment, questioning its displaced nostalgia not only for the original work that it references but also for the hollywood/america that likely never existed.   but what about the very topical references to the tabloid stars and political figures of the day (ranging from, among others, britney spears to barack obama, hillary clinton, john mccain)? will they age gracefully? already given a mocking reception (by virtue of the warhol/banksy filter that references works to queen elizabeth and elizabeth taylor), they were likely never intended to be received with dignity, and one suspects that, after the hype, banter and inflated sales, these particular works will fade into the darkened abyss of forgotten cliché.   perhaps the most interesting pieces are those sculptural works that use books as their central motif. the library and book repository have been transformed into piles of literary garbage. a mountain is made out of cast-away thrift store books, with an apple laptop standing triumphantly on its peak. in another work, the books have been repurposed so that they form the walls of a room. they don’t sit on shelves, orderly lining the walls of the room, they are the walls, chaotically fastened, stuffed, or smashed into place, pages splayed open in some cases, and in other places their spines have been battered and bent, suggesting that the books themselves are useful only as a physical object. their contents are no longer needed and therefore their inherent knowledge and wisdom is likely lost in its transformed environment.   as for the origins of mr. brainwash, some say that the real person behind this work is the notorious banksy. certainly, there’s a lot of similarity between the two – and if it turns out to be bansky, then good for him: he has created another spectacle. if not, then the mysteriously roguish (though carefully constructed) persona of mr. brainwash owes him a huge debt.   links: the show itself my pictures from the private reception. 08:55 AM   friday, may 10, 2008 - san francisco from the drop-off point at 50th street and monroe, the spot from which our friends drove onwards to the artists’ parking lot, we still had a 2.5 mile trek along the perimeter of the compound before making our way in through the main entrance.   standing in line, waiting to be frisked, one could hear the reverb of the guitars playing on the main stage. the raconteurs, it sounds like the raconteurs.   perhaps i regretted not arriving at the venue sooner, so that i could catch several acts that performed earlier in the day, but the experience of walking onto the grass of the polo field as the sun sets brings out the majestic qualities of the environment. the nearby san jacinto mountains are reduced to serrated violet-hued silhouettes, the air cools, the fan palms sway, objects are incandescent in the twilight, even the skin glows.   there are thousands upon thousands of people milling about, moving from one stage to another. we are not at burning man. nor are we witnessing a stadium concert. it’s somewhere in between. white marquees tents with jutting peaks form villages along the sides of the field, and there are smaller tents in the middle of the grounds. there are massive towers of speakers and amplifiers, and placed throughout the venue are large works of installation art.   it’s a carnival, like the millions of carnivals that precede us, the carnivals that go back a thousand years, further back. it brings us together. we trade our wares, we swap stories, eyes meet as we sit by the campfire, by the burning light, we beat our drums and listen to the songs of others. this is no different.   a thousand clans, a thousand tribes, convene in this place, each with their own sense of hierarchy and their own distinctive markings. and then there are the rare free radicals bouncing off the walls.   some of our friends have backstage passes and v.i.p. wristbands, granting them access to the areas that hide behind the chain linked fences which are covered in green vinyl.  i’m happy to be out amongst the proletariat, the ignorant and the unsanctioned.   while making our way to one of the smaller venues, we pass a wrought iron sunflower sculpture that spits fire. we find aphex twin in the middle of a set. it’s not a rave, it’s not really a party, but there is ritual involved. an audition of sorts. it’s mutual – the festival goers perform for the performer, and, in turn, richard d. james performs for them. a troubadour for the troubadours.  . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    there was a time when i couldn’t do anything by myself without listening to the verve’s two signature works, northern soul and urban hymns. these albums had a sound that contained a self-indulgent, melancholy-infused frustration to their slightly bipolar rebellious streak that appealed to the pathetically restrained kid in me – a kid who was just out of school and looking for an honest way forward.   before he started his barefoot dance onto a path towards drug-free self-realisation through world peace and groovy beats, richard ashcroft penned songs that were poetic and angry, that youthful urgency forming a woozy push and pull that i had a hard time turning away from.   there they were again, the verve on stage on friday night at coachella. long after sunset, as the lights turned for a moment on the audience while a propeller plane flew overhead, its fuselage and wings converted into a shimmering billboard that evoked a sight from blade runner, richard ashcroft grabbed the microphone and started to sing.   they were not masterful but it was good to see them. i welcomed the opportunity to shout along to their music again.   long after the roadies for portishead had packed their gear and prince had outstayed his final note, on a saturday night heading into sunday morning, we stood outside the palm springs museum of art waiting to be picked up by a shuttle bus.   it is an odd experience, standing in line to be ushered to a secret location so that we can attend an “exclusive” invite-only event. actually, it’s pretty stupid. this is not how the ‘party elite’ do things in copenhagen and berlin and it goes against a lot of the things that are important to me.   but we are in california now and apparently, you can’t throw a decent party without making it invite-only and then restricting the list to young celebrities of the day and the industry types who want to socialize with them (or at least be near them). then there are the likes of myself (and a few others in our gang of friends), who find themselves populating the outskirts of this particular subculture.   the party was noisy and well attended. no complaints here. it almost felt european. there was dancing, there was music: pedro winter (busy p), whom i recognized from the copenhagen daze, worked the turntables. there was a lovely pool gleaming in the electric chill of the desert air, and most amusingly, the party took place in frank sinatra’s former home. amazing.   apparently, sia furler was among the 200 people loitering about – though i failed to see her, as i also didn’t see m.i.a. (though the dj played paper planes)… it was impossible to miss the shrill-voiced chloe sevigny (who evidently suffers from a staring problem) and the equally shrill behavior of the party’s host, jeremy scott, who pranced around in red spandex bicycle shorts, shirtless beneath a matching bathrobe, his gaunt cranium topped by a dark military squadron leader cap, while he launched himself onto white leather couches and glass coffee tables. thanks for throwing the party, jeremy, but it’s hard to think of you as a bad boy while you perform for the rest of us. jeremy scott wouldn’t just grab your attention, he’d kick at your ankles until you looked his way, making sure you get a good look at one of his emaciated legs perched suggestively on a table.   all for show, one presumes, and it’s just as well. one should not express ingratitude for the generosity of the host and his sponsors, adidas and belvedere vodka – which were in abundant supply. it was brought to my attention that some guy from fight of the concordes was milling about but i wouldn’t have recognized him or anyone else who was young and famous, even if i was sharing one of the many cocktails of the evening with them.   i did recognize anouck lepere, she of the hugo boss deep red campaign, the lean and tall fashion model with the remarkable cheekbones and equally noteworthy eyebrows. i think she changed her wardrobe three or four times during the three hours that i was at the party.   as the evening drew to a close, while waiting for the return shuttle bus, we did forward rolls on the grassy lawn beneath the cool night sky. i watched jane perform a triple roll that landed her in the gutter. she grabbed her shoulder and groaned. moments later we all got back on the bus. 18:50 PM   sunday, july 22, 2007 - los angeles (venice) an evening amongst the dead   the queue in front of the cemetery is populated by tribes from a grand variety of stripes: thirtysomething year-olds in sandals carrying foldable beach-chairs; goth-punk cholitas with strutting hair, and tattoos crawling out from behind their t-shirts onto to their necks; bohemian girls with lopsided hair and hoop earrings; older boys from west hollywood in their polo shirts (collars down), mirror shades and crew cuts, rooting around for a bottle opener that's buried in their shopping bag from whole foods; younger boys from laguna beach in their polo shirts (collars up), floppy mid-eighties hair and vintage raybans, no bag, just a six pack of pabst blue ribbon; dignified couples of retirement age carrying picnic baskets, reusable bags from trader joe’s and oversized wooden salad bowls; ex-new yorkers straining to look casual while succeeding all the same in maintaining an air of nonchalance; rock and roll roadies lugging large coolers and drinking cans of beer; new media types – designers, filmmakers, illustrators – conservatively dressed in prada sneakers, smoking cigarettes while passing around a bottle of prosecco; surfers (men and women) with their puka shell necklaces and terry cloth headbands sharing a box of take-out pizza; folks from the midwest with their corn-fed thighs exposed beneath khaki shorts and their big arms popping out from their plaid button down shirts; the kids from silver lake in their tight black jeans and striped shirts; the married couples from malibu, sunbleached hair, sunburned noses, athletic shades, a bit stressed from fighting the traffic; a family from monterey park from grandmother to toddler; ex professional skateboarders who’ve just come in from a gallery reception in chinatown.   i’m amazed by the turn-out, the richness in diversity, and what has been described above merely scratches the surface.   the line is long yet there is nothing to suggest impatience. many people sit instead of stand, resting on the grass beneath their feet, sampling from whatever snacks they may have brought along.   at seven-thirty, the gates are thrown open, and the line starts to move. ten dollars gets you in, and from there it’s a ten minute walk along narrow avenues of tombstones, mausoleums, obelisks and other memorials.   surrounded by the masses, we reach an open lawn and quickly stake out a spot, spreading out our picnic blanket.   some people have brought small card tables, now dressed with tablecloths and candles.   there’s a tent parked to the side of a large white wall (the side of a mausoleum) beneath its pitched roof are two turntables and a dj. we hear the music.   the sun descends, the palm trees stand out in the twilight.   a helicopter buzzes by overhead.   at nine, the music fades, and an image flickers on the large white wall.   some people start to clap, and then the film starts.   we’re here to see suspiria, a horror film that is part of the summer screenings at the hollywood forever cemetery. welcome to l.a.   events like these are one of the many things that i love about this town. it’s encouraging and exciting to see such a great variety of people. it’s lovely to sit outside beneath the stars, watching a schlocky piece of eighties pop art with a cult following. i want to do more of this.   so, now that i am mentally preparing to leave los angeles again, in order to return to copenhagen so that i can make this feature film, i think about the other things that i want to do more of, the things that i want to embark upon when i return here in november.   *more art gallery visits and receptions, and book readings too. i haven’t had enough of this and i feel that i barely experienced any of it. there are so many galleries, including culver city and chinatown, and i noticed that the hammer museum often hosts readings.   *buy a surf board (8’6” or perhaps a bit bigger), an autumn wet suit, and spend more time with adriana in the water (and the dolphins, the sea lions and the seals as well).   *play tennis at night.   *more hikes in the natural environments around los angeles, including griffith park.   *ride my bike from venice to pico rivera.   *take a course at santa monica community college – reintroduce myself to french or spanish or a course in something like 3D animation or a survey course in marine ecology or an intro to electrical engineering so that i can learn how to manipulate motherboards and microchips.   *volunteer for an agency that helps the homeless, or start an initiative that provides some sort of direct interaction and assistance to the homeless.   *find more cinemas like the nu art cinema on wilshire. i really enjoyed spending time there and i want to do more of that.   *shoot a short film that is specific to my los angeles experience. what is the essence of this experience?   *explore what the local theatres have to offer – not just in hollywood but also the small community theatres in venice.   *snowboard.   *spend more time along the los angeles river.   *go to joshua tree again.   *go back to big sur. spend a few nights outside but spend one night at deetjen’s inn.   *go to coachella for the music festival (with backstage passes) and book a small house in palm springs for the event.   *keep going for twilight walks/runs along the beach as well as the bungalow-lined walking streets in venice.   *more architectural explorations – follow souris lead and organise or participate in custom guided tours of homes and spaces.   *host a rooftop cocktail party.   *make a moveable, interactive art project.   *visit san francisco more often, and portland too. and be sure to go to asia now that you are going to be using los angeles as a base of operations.   *new year’s in troncones, mexico?   *ride my mountain bike from venice to northern malibu (county line).   *buy an earthquake kit.   *spend one night sleeping on the terrace at ray and linda’s house by pescador beach in malibu – the terrace that is perched on the cliff overlooking the pacific ocean.   *go with adriana at least once every two weeks to shima on abbott kinney; arrive early at six p.m., order only a few items, and savour that experience.   *buy tickets for some of the many different film festivals in los angeles.   *submit a film to one of the l.a. based film festivals (and remember to submit a film to the atlantic film festival in nova scotia).   *host dinner parties for friends more often.   *drink less coffee while living in los angeles.   *hear live music at the troubadour, the wiltern, the knitting factory west, and find a small venue where the live music is good. check out warszawa again on a saturday night.   *swim in the ocean more often.   *borrow megan’s sea kayak and take it out for a spin.   *improve my skills in riding adriana’s skate board.   *remember to be grateful for having an opportunity to live in los angeles.   *make a project that involves friends. start with something humble, and if it succeeds, go for something more ambitious.   *put aside resources so that i can find a permanent home to share with adriana here in venice. 11:32 AM friday, july 20, 2007 - los angeles (venice) becoming unstuck   i find myself faced with feelings of increased frustration over the manner in which the friends in my los angeles-based social circles interact, and i don’t know how to deal with this.   i’m a bit perplexed and dismayed, but most of all, i feel a growing sense of alienation from these friends. it is not them, it’s me. or is it?   today, i had lunch with a group of friends who routinely meet for friday lunches, and i found myself withdrawing from the conversation, out of an inability to understand many of the cultural references, but ultimately out of a lack of interest. the subject matter of many of the discussions felt very topical and banal, and i felt that i could not relate to many of the people at the table.   i recognize that this is not good.   i am fortunate that many of my friends here in venice and los angeles are intelligent, engaged individuals. they are generous, optimistic, and often quick to offer praise and positive reinforcement. this certainly pertains as well to the group of people at the lunchtime discussion. these friends of mine have soul and they care about what they do. so, why am i not able to cross this divide and engage in satisfying conversations with them?   months ago, a friend of mine from this group advised me that ”you have to be fast in order to keep up with us, because we move at a thousand miles a minute.”   speed is not the relevant issue. it’s not that i am not able to keep up. it comes down to substance.   these conversations do move very quickly, from one mouth to the other, but what concerns me is that i can’t relate to the conversations whose subject matter includes tabloid personalities or television shows or the perceived worth of designer denim or the merits of a recent party hosted by a los angeles celebrity. i cannot revel in how much people earn or how well-connected and important they are perceived to be: it all means nothing to me.   more importantly, the speed of conversation points to something that i’ve noted several times before: in los angeles, as compared to what i am used to in copenhagen, daily discourse is delivered in a very agitated state. agitation has nothing to do with velocity, it is more like noise, and like many things in los angeles, conversations over here are frequently very noisy. it’s hard to know what people are really trying to say to each other, because meaning is often buried beneath layers of cultural noise, a dash of hype, and a self-indulgent need for attention. there are often many speakers in one conversation who compete with each other for the right to dictate (or curate) the current conversation, or so it appears, and at times, i want to enter the fray but, truth be told, i find it beneath me to have to shout in order to be heard. one should not have to holler over others people’s hollering in order to gain their attention. i wonder sometimes if people here believe that if you don’t shout, then that means that you have nothing worth saying. i know that this is not really the case, but there are times when one really begins to doubt that.   i know that my friends in los angeles are intelligent, searching individuals, but i can’t figure out what they are saying, and i can’t figure out how to reach out to them. thus, i feel that i can’t relate to them and i start to withdraw towards silence. then, melancholia sets in.   yeah, i say to myself, they are smart, clever, well-connected, many of them work on very interesting projects, many work in the arts or visual media, and almost all of them work extremely hard at what they do. they deserve any success that they strive for and the rewards that emerge from that hard work. i am inspired by the diligence of my friends, their motivation, their know-how and their can-do attitudes.   but i am starved for substance, delivered without noise.   after watching la dolce vita yet another time last night, a part of me fears that i will one day feel like the film’s anti-hero: caught up in a cultural circus that is devoid of depth, he has come so far away from what he once aspired to be, socializing with people that he despises and barely relates to; by the film’s conclusion, betrayed by his cowardly mistakes and let down by his own lack of resolve, he sets out to ruin himself by destroying his social network, but he even fails at that, succeeding only in making an ass of himself. he then finds himself at the beach, staring across an imposing divide in the sand towards a symbol of his youth and the ambitions and values that he once held dear; and even so, he cannot recognize its meaning nor its significance. he shrugs and walks away. i don’t want to become that.   i want to get at the truth of the issues; to find relevance in these daily tasks, these small conversations, these lunchtime meetings. it’s not that every conversation must manifest itself as a grave discourse on humanity; but i do want to be able to relate to my friends in their daily lives, and i do want some humble kernel of truth to emerge from every conversation. i want that bond between new friends here in los angeles to be strengthened, for it is that shared bond that creates substance and worth. in the mean time, i can only concentrate on what i know how to do. i know how to work, so it's my work that should lead me forward. 15:46 PM wednesday, july 11, 2007 - los angeles (venice) i’m addicted to things that keep me far away from the truth. and when the truth beckons, i’m not sure i can recognise it. if i do, i reach for my creature comforts more often than i turn to face it.   there’s the morning coffee, the afternoon coffee, this caffeine pumping through my thoughts, feeding the habits of distraction and procrastination; the other rituals, sugar intake, alcohol intake, data intake; the preoccupation with obtaining a greater depth of knowledge, facts gathering, the vaguely specific effort to retrieve a distant memory.   the truth comes like a sound through the morning mist, it comes in the suspended space of very few seconds and is often gone again. there’s an effort hold on, to use its strength to embolden me, but i often let go, willingly.   the truth comes sometimes, forcing me to stop. but most days pass in the calm of my insular toil without a moment of truth, and these are wasted hours, wasted days, wasted years. 09:58 AM tuesday, july 10, 2007 - los angeles (venice) highlights of petty thoughts over the last ten days:   drinking coffee, eating norwegian chocolate (firkløver) after talking with danish consulate here in los angeles... 11:03 AM July 10, 2007 venice   stressing about green card application - imagining all the things that can go wrong. meanwhile, i am making pickles, ie. cucumber salad. 11:18 PM July 09, 2007 venice   just got back after spending 3 hours at the u.s. immigration services in downtown los angeles. status quo: have to go back 2 more times. 03:31 PM July 09, 2007 venice   today is the birthday of someone i once knew. 09:03 AM July 09, 2007 venice   laying low at the outdoor patio of warszawa on lincoln blvd, listening to dj's and saturday night chatter. 12:17 AM July 08, 2007 santa monica   july fourth was spent off-line with adriana, surfing in the morning, afternoon nap, social engagements, then watched the marina fireworks. 09:13 AM July 05, 2007 venice   a sublime moment right now: krcw - this mortal coil's song to the siren, the dusk, the ephemeral blue hour, that moment of loss and joy. 08:54 PM July 03, 2007 venice   finished filing my taxes for denmark - with 7 hours to spare before the deadline. and now, sleep! 11:28 PM July 01, 2007 venice   after experiencing last night's 'sound of music' sing-a-long performance, i'm thinking of renaming my band "gloomy pussy." 11:31 AM July 01, 2007 venice   note to self: anecdote re: funeral, act of pall-bearing... would it have been uncouth to have put on padded leather carpenter's gloves? 09:09 AM July 01, 2007 venice 14:11 PM saturday, june 30, 2007 - los angeles (venice) a highlight of petty thoughts over the last week: outside my window, a man loads a heavy box into his car while talking to his chihuahua, "senior," he says (not señor), "come here.... stay!" ... 10:56 AM June 29, 2007 los angeles   walking by the ain houses in mar vista, i met a homeless man. i gave him $10. to be homeless in america is a desperate, kafkaesque folly. 09:11 AM June 29, 2007 los angeles   finished filing form I-90, application to renew my damn green card... grrrr followed by relief. 07:19 PM June 27, 2007 los angeles   after a bike ride in the brisk midmorning sea air and sunshine, i am experiencing a strangely euphoric feeling from being back in venice. 11:41 AM June 25, 2007 los angeles   it's five in the morning in los angeles, i'm awake with the jet lag... 05:02 AM June 24, 2007 los angeles   you know u are in LA when amongst the signs held by drivers waiting in the arrivals hall at LAX, there's a sign for "pitt jolie." 09:25 PM June 23, 2007 los angeles   stayed out all night with my brothers. now, four in the morning, i walk past the 500 year old parliament, on my way home. 07:01 PM June 22, 2007 copenhagen funeral over, now at wake, drinking beer and about to eat. it's been a surreal day. 08:43 AM June 22, 2007 copenhagen   it rains again in copenhagen. summer rain. warm rain. the kind of rain that arrives with a breeze through the open window.   03:07 PM June 21, 2007 copenhagen   family starts to arrive today, for tomorrow's funeral. in the mean time, coffee is consumed.   12:38 AM June 21, 2007 copenhagen   late in the evening, it's warm and the summer storm has just arrived - open the window to allow the sound of falling rain fill the bedroom. 04:18 PM June 20, 2007 copenhagen   an evening in christianshavn concludes after discussions re: hirsute men, women with whiskers, stuttering moaners and the circus life. 03:23 PM June 20, 2007 copenhagen   suffering from the usual afternoon fit of narcolepsy... 07:17 AM June 20, 2007 copenhagen 22:53 PM       <--- continued in the archives.... see menu to left.