Looking back ten years ... In my former life. I wanted to publish books. I wanted to publish a bestseller. I wanted to be hired by the biggest publishing company in this country. I wanted to have exhibitions. I wanted to be a recognized fashion photographer. I wanted to be a published portrait photographer. I wanted to be published in NG. I wanted to write travel articles. I wanted to be a filmmaker. I wanted to be a theater director. I wanted my texts in literary publications. I wanted to make money from my illustration. I wanted my picture-books on shelves. I wanted to make a successful music video. I wanted to shoot nudes. I wanted to interview people. I wanted strangers to come up to me and tell me they are crazy about my work.

Did it all twice over. It really changed absolutely nothing. Nothing. Fuck this country.

Sometimes I wish that my problems were the world's problems. When a wrong is done to me, I want the whole world to acknowledge that and pity me or say 'there, there' or combat on my behalf. For what I believe is proper. Sometimes I pretend I am the queen of the planet. I rule everything and everybody. Of course that's impossible, because this planet's people cannot be ruled, because they are incapable of believing someone wants them to live long and prosper, but ... I pretend I was elected by aliens to represent this planet and try to explain it, interpret the behavior of my species and try to negotiate political and economic benefits from other alien nations. It's the worst job in the world. Ninety percent of the time someone else wants to take my position, not really wanting it or understanding it, just thinking it is better deserved on them. Other 9 percent religious fanatics are trying to kill me. 0,5 percent of the time, I am on televised conferences, explaining WHY I would give someone one third of our sea water in exchange for a cure from a virus that's heading our way to exterminate our greenery. The rest I am simply sending out votes so that the retarded people of this fucked up planet get to vote against things I propose and then I watch them suffer and die out of stupidity. Like: could everyone refrain from rape and wife beating and petty greedy murder for one week, so that when the peace inspectors arrive, they see we're trying? No? Not even an hour?

If a day comes and someone is elected to be the king of this planet, like Dalai Lama or the Pope or something, I dare you to make one single global decision people will agree with, mothefucker, I double dare you!

Some if Vita's collages...

An MC organized Tattoo convention (first half of the pickies)

Post sick

This bug was the funniest thing. I've never been hit that hard with an illness that I can remember. It's taking for ever to get out of it and that's peculiar in itself - like it shifted something in my mood. Of course getting the period right after you've gotten over a stomach bug isn't helping, but ... I've noticed I've been getting into random arguments with retards over the FB, for no reason. I keep writing something completely unimportant, getting replied in awful ways by strangers with zero understanding of anything and then I feel upset about it. And I do this five times a day. The closest, I think, could be the reason, for this odd subconscious masochism, is that it gets my blood really going and in an odd, oddly physical sense, I want to keep the blood circulated. I can't really go out and jog, as it would probably make me sick. It feel not good when I walk. My brain isn't getting enough oxygen and I have a hard time concentrating. Can't really do much of anything. Can't really watch anything either. Stuff feels detached. I ask myself - why would I want to do stuff anyway?

Like I said, being sick is the weirdest thing on morale.

The irony of it all is that I really feel like eating vitamins, apples and oranges and whatnot, but as soon as I do, my potty issues return. If I eat chocolate and carbs, I get to keep it in. Very tricky.

Still a bit sick, but Drej called to confirm the Xmas fair is green-lit, so I started doodling with the dry
crayons :)) It's important not to sneeze.

Gone girl (spoiler heavy)

Holy fuck. What a movie. maybe not the best choice in my queasy condition. I mean, I think Neal Patrick Harris is godawfully gross, but he didn't deserve this. Well, at least the cat survives.

I gotsta admit, I was scared thorough this whole movie. I was afraid thorough the most of Gravity, too, but there at least you feel good about everything at the end. I was scared shitless thorough here. At first I started to really worry this lady was long dead and nobody noticed. Then the movie turns and (it turns three times) I was completely relocated, hat to start to worry anew. Loved it how she got fat and bland. That didn't work either. I always knew she was going to kill her idiot rich groupie, but, aw, man. That was soooo not cool. But that scene, where she returns to her husband, all covered in blood, that was a work of art. And then so on and so forth, until the ugly non-end. There's a scene in it, towards the end, in which the husband sits awake at night, with the cat, staring at the locked door of his room. Scared shitless. I know how he felt. (I mean, watching the movie. Not being married to a complete and total lunatic :D :)