The Neglect, The Trials and The Gains

It's a story of Neglect, the one of this beloved and acclaimed blog. Don't you think I don't feel this, I am full of shame. Sometimes I find myself in front of mirrors, staring at all that emptiness that is me. How I am just that. Empty. An empty shell of broken promises and Fireball. I sometimes ask that smug, pink-haired person staring back at me, why? I constantly build you up, dear readers, fans and celebs. I produce glorious heads in bags one weekend, to simply let you sit there in the darkness, the empty echo of the fantastic past staring at you from the void. I don't have an answer, but there is this one thing I keep telling myself over and over. It's a mantra of sorts. I use it every time I think about taking the window-exit out of my own god forsaken freezer of an existence, and that is quite often I dare say. It goes like this:

Summer will be here.

And it will! This is a promise I can keep. Just hang in there, because with summer comes so much more than green things and sunshine. With summer comes life worth living. And party, heads and bags. And to celebrate that fantastic statement (yes you may quote me, I know I'm pretty "out there") I have this for you. Heads. In. Bags.

They had purple lasers and copper cups

It all went down at Fotografiska this Saturday. I brought the Bag, and magic happened. Magic!

The memory of memory loss

It was a Friday, like any Friday really. The end of the working week, the start of what could possibly be a relaxing weekend. Yes, to relax, to not think about work (hah!) and to just.... enjoy life. To just stop and smell the flowers, listen to the birds, ponder at the never ending light blue skies of the north of the northern hemisphere.

Then I had a corona. You know, when you feel like you really deserve it. Just the one. One beer, that's FINE, right? And then, just before leaving work I downed a glass of fireball.

I went home to Tatters and mine to find that our combined stash of booze exceeded anything we've ever seen on a weekend planned for two people in a small flat. Surely, the only right thing to do was to drink it? Well the Rosé wine anyway. And then the bottle of Fireball, it was right there in the freezer. All cold and stuff. So, we had to bring it in my bag. Anyone could see that.

KGB. Static noise. Fireball. Static noise. Strand. Static noise. Niklas's. Saturday morning.
And then, after finding mr Tatters, like the real grown-ups we are, we went to Trädgården.