For my 10th birtday, back in 1977, I got a tape recorder. While I was at school my brother Stefan and our cousin Tomas recorded this rendition of “Happy Birthday”, so now on Stefan’s 39th birthday, I’m sending it back. Happy birthday, bro!
I always considered myself an early learner, so it’s somewhat belated to try mobile blogging. Anyways, here it is, a first, from the Stockholm train. Now, book and java:
That was summer.
Well, considering stuff, I should probably take this page down, or retire it like I’ve done earlier reincarnations. I feel I have very little to say these days and my writing lust is all but gone. The only thing I seem to be able to do in text these days is chatting, commenting and writing work related e-mail. I don’t even write private e-mail beyond the “Hi, of course I’ll come to your party” or “First you have to install Applejack and start in single user mode” variety. As I’ve said before: what the fuck happened to my writing aspirations? What happened to the joy I felt in composing long long letters/emails? What happened to those constant writing impulses I used to get back in the Pitas days, when I wrote a post whenever I was irritated/happy/drunk/content/fed up/shocked/awed? It can’t be “Age,” can it? Can it?
If I stop writing “tweets” and facebook statii I’d possibly feel the urge again. Har-de-har.
MartinFridaStefan, originally uploaded by mrpig.
This was childhood.
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