When photographing someones disclosed loins at a nightclub at 2.0m AM dressed in a balllgown.. you know your fabulous dreams of New York are not far away.

Photographed at Trädgården Friday & Satuday, it was fun but alot more work than people realize. I’m totally finished and got a cold. It’s gonna be another great week of feeling like shit every day at the bank, but what’s a girl to do right? Gotta pay my mortages..

Friday:

Saturday:

Well after going to the giant foodcourt 15 minutes before closing and buying the last single-wrapped grilled chicken leg, one portion potato sallad and small juice (actually needed catfood too but that wasn’t going to happen) and carrying it home in the rain, I have been downloading 69 Eyes albums and played airdrums, airguitar etc for about five hours. Homework? Bookeeping of my business? Cleaning of my 1,7 million kr apartment? Writing back to one out of two people who talk to me? Building my website? Sending photoideas to my agent? Nothing is as important as sitting for hours singing “kick the chair right down under me” and googling a guy in leather sandals.

It (obviously) doesn’t bother me that I am not “efficient” because I know I always do what I have to do, it’s like a gut feeling. I know I’ll never drive myself crazy or become homeless or starve the cat or anything like that. I also know there are some things people expect you to take care of, like personal hygiene, presentable behavior amongst people, finishing what you started etc none of which are needed for your survival.
I do what is on the verge of necessary and outside of that, whatever I want. I don’t know how to live my life in any other way, but it really sucks when you have 7 day weeks and people are like calling you all the time about stuff you said you would do that you are NEVAR going to take care of but probably said you would so you could go home at the time and do something more important, like scratch your leg with your other legs really long toenails.

At times (read right now) it really sucks when there are a million things you should be doing, all of which suck. I know its part of real life on an intellectual level, but on an emotional one I don’t. I am out of creepholes right now and am avoiding to do whatever I can. It’s all piling up and turning into rotten shit inside my head. Because it doesn’t actually exist to anyone else or in the world, just in my head.
I’m exhausted and growing more and more tired of everything. I can barley enjoy the things I like anymore because of stupid shit clogging up my days and ugly (mostly on the inside) people everywhere bossing me around.

All joking aside, I need a permanent vacation to a place where the expectations I’ve collected over the years don’t exist. Finland, Hell, Las Vegas..?

I was working Friday night at a club called Soup which turned out to be a virtual potpurri of people I hate. A psychopath that has several times threatened to kill me (female), a poser-idiot from my past and random shit-for-brains people made it an unusually bizarre and uncomfterable night. Makes you realize how amazing it is that there actually exists people out there you can call friends (ok like two people).
I just put on the mature face and ignored everyone instead of having any Ricky Lake styled confrontations (”WHY DID YOU THREATEN TO RUN ME OVER WITH A CAR!!!!!” etc). I came to the thing looking like a mix between Kat Von D, Dita Von Teese and John Candy (John Von Candy?) so it wasn’t as easy to ignore me, but possible, so the ghosts of Korenivski-past did for the most part except for the occaisonal “I’m skinnier than you/I’m cooler than you/I’m here with all my friends” looks, but I can live with that.

Overweight and wearing crazy wigs? Yes, I’m turning into Britney Spears.

I had never heard of the place before I was asked to work there so I looked it up and on it’s website it said that the name stands for Soul and Pop = Soup and that the club is an alternative to the “electronic clubs” in stockholm and I was like.. dude I like the electronic clubs, that’s where I always go hahaha. So I have enough Britpop for a lifetime now thanks, everyone who wears hats and makes mixtapes, stay the fuck away from me.
The smaller Soul-dancefloor was awesome though, people in highwasted jeans and chequers shirts dancing bizarrly to ancient music, it made me feel like I was in a Vincent Gallo or any 70-ties movie. I’m using some of the photos for the upcoming photoissue of Vicemagazine, if they like them. If not I’ll just get naked and run through the streets and get Jenin to take photos of it.

Very evidently, I don’t have any going out friends. I rarley go out unless I’m working because I’m so busy during the weeks I’d rather sleep, but still. If I go out it takes about half an hour before I’m pissed that I came by myself and unless I’m breaking peoples noses on the dancefloor, I’m brooding around like a russian serial killer waiting for my next club-kid to eat of and deposit in my freezer, which is ALWAYS a good look. It gets better again after a while but then when random losers start tailing me and asking me where I bought my clothes, where I live I get pissed off again. When you go out looking like me a shield toward other people is appreciated, on the verge of necessary.

I was taking my pathetic 15 minutes walk today and couldn’t help but wish Lina lived here, or at least came to visit once a week or something. We could pretend we’re forgein (well she really is but I can pretend) and smoke inside clubs, get thrown out, steal burgers and run through the streets in the rain. Dumb, gay and totally awesome behavior for sure!

An eternal homage to my Dostoevsky-friends who help me figure out the abysses of pain that is existance in this world.. but sometimes you just need someone who will color-coordinate their outfit to you and run around in the middle of the night yelling in German. Not that my overworked physique will allow it, but anyway. Walk in a tempered pace in the middle of the night yelling in German then..

Uh. Here’s, for no reason, a picture of me and my dad outside of church.. on SUNDAY.. morning last week.

I’m all over the place - the studio - work- school- apartment - church!- ALL the time and looking like Beethovens and Marilyn Monroes long lost daughter. Don’t you just love it?

My mom called to confirm that we’re going to church on Sunday (before I have to go work at the studio for 8 hours, great day). I told her I don’t think I’ll survive my coming week. I have to shoot photos at 12 nightclubs between Monday-Wednesday for a magazine nighttime, work 8.30-17.30 at the bank daytime; I have three doctors appointments for my constant infections and back and two classes att school. Thursday is only fulltime job.
I said I don’t think I’ll make it and she said “yes you will.” That’s it, “yes you will.” That’s my mom for you, pushing me further down the hole. But I need it. I know that right now I’m operating (my evergrowing frame) strictly on willpower. My body quit on me a long time ago and the only reason I get up in the morning is because I want this so bad. I want to be the best. Better than everyone. Epic.

I feel like a modern Daniel Plainview, toiling away at the the lowest ends of society, playing the players game to make it and ending up alone and hating everyone from the years at the very bottom seeing things and people for what they really are. Working amongst them just to have enough money to be rid of them.

But I don’t care. Day and night or whatever it takes.

Come see me in five years at my penthouse, at Rolling Stone or at any place you can’t afford more than once.

Kvinna växte fast på toalettstolen

Bra att galna tanten som sitter fast i toalettstolen har en pojkvän och inte jag.

F.ö har jag idag kissat på mig, kommit för sent, fått skäll och svimmat.. och hon är inte ens 11.00. Systemet på lunchen?