Friday, October 29, 2010

Barf.


Empire strikes back is thirty. Back to the Future is twenty-five. Time sure Mcflys.

In case you are wondering, yes I do have an excellent sense of humor.

Here is my birthday gift to you Star Wars trilogy. It's in the form of a confession/apology. " Dear Empire Strikes Back, I'm really sorry I saw Spaceballs before I saw Star Wars." and while I'm at it. " Dear Spaceballs, I'm sorry I didn't get most of the references since I hadn't seen Star Wars and was young and stupid. And I'm also sorry that I think you've aged very badly and I will never rent you again at a video store." And the last one: " Hello Back to the Future. Happy Birthday. Your gift was the lousy Mcfly joke I said earlier."

Speaking of videos. I would really love it if someone made me a beautiful cake and brought it to my house and we would eat it while watching some lovely movie, preferably a comedy. It wouldn't hurt if it didn't have Ben Stiller or Jennifer Aniston in it...aaand wasn't a sequel. Oh and the cake would have to be wheat-free since I'm allergic and have done my share of projectile vomiting today.

I woke up, walked into the bathroom and raised some hell. It was epic, almost fun. The projectile part makes it so much more interesting than the boring old way of throwing up.

I think I've said enough today. My brain is a bit wonky.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Coincidence or religous experience?

I just had to add this. I found Harry Belafonte and the Muppets in a neat little Youtube package. I think I have to say that I'm really in favor of this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AjovHGK-TA

Yay, boo, yay!


Enough gloom and old habits. Life is like a box of muppets.... and.. ehh..fudge it. The weather is shit and winter is lurking around the corner. I need an island in the sun. Ooh, which reminds me, I had forgotten about the existence of Harry Belafonte. I'm going to find him on the internet and make him make me happy.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Pets and Sunday TV.


Today I went to two birthday parties. One of them was for my friend's kid and the other one was for my sister's cat. My sister, by the way, has a boyfriend and two children. She even owns a house. I'm not bragging about how startlingly normal my sister is, I'm trying to explain that she is not your everyday cat-lady. But boy does she love that animal. I can't blame her though. It really is a nice cat. I've never had a pet so I don't know what it feels like to love your pet unconditionally... No wait, that's a lie. I owned a guinea pig when I was nineteen. But he was old when I got him and he was neurotic and depressed and we never got along. I ended up setting him free on a grassy hill where all the bunnies and lost pets of Reykjavík live. I know it sounds nuts but he looked at me when I released him into the "wild" and I swear that he had a thankful expression on his face. I never felt bad about this until I told my friend about it and he told me I was an evil animal molester. I thought I was being the exact opposite.

Welps, on to other things. My boyfriend and I had a TV dilemma this evening. He suggested watching Home Alone or E.T.. But I have a strict No Home Alone before Christmas policy and I saw E.T. when I was too young to see it. So naturally I have an E.T. shaped scar on my soul and will never watch it again. I obviously voted against these two movies being watched.
I suggested watching some Louie or The Simpsons but that wasn't well received. So what to do? The answer to that ended up being: Watch Top Gun.
I've never seen it before. I'm watching it with one eye. It is not really doing anything for me. But I have to admit that Tom Cruise has never been the same for me since he went all Scientology on his own arse. It just bothers the Cocktail out of me. Hell, it bothers the Rainman out of me.
Euch, now the pilot(who's name I haven't bothered to learn) is having sex with the instructor woman (also with a name I haven't bothered to learn). I bet this movie does not pass the Bechdel test. What was all the ruckus about? This movie is rubbish. I want to puke.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Holy smokes.


Now I'm running out of drawings to upload. I have to go to the studio soon and scan more. Last week made me crash and burn so I haven't worked that much this week. I have however played a few nice computer games. My nerd of a boyfriend (nerd is positive in my mind, mainly because I'm also a nerd) jailbroke my ipod so now I have a thiefpod and can download games like a nine year old on speed.
Unfortunately for the practical working part of my brain, I've also been getting reaquainted with Facebook. That combined with the computer games is pretty deadly for me. I don't know why I'm behaving like I've got time to spend. I really haven't. I try not to play games when we are not on tour. But I'm a junkie and that's what junkies do. They fail and fall and obsessively do things that are not good for them.
I'm so obsessive about my habits that I really don't know how I managed to quit smoking cigarettes. I smoked from 1996 until 2009. With the exception of one year that I managed to stay off them. That makes twelve years in total and I'm not even that old. Towards the end of my habit I was smoking more than 20 a day.

The first thing I did when I woke up was to smoke. If I couldn't smoke indoors I walked many flights of stairs if I had to. Now matter which season or how the weather was, I had a cigarette outside. I remember not feeling my own fingers because of the cold winter wind but that didn't stop me. I once had to wait a few hours at an airport without a smoking area. I actually went three times through the security check just because I had to go out to smoke.

I lied to my parents for them, I lied to people I worked with. I did everything I could to smoke in peace. I actually thought it was a violation on human rights to ban smoking indoors. It went so far that I thought cigarettes were the only thing in the world that I could rely on.
I hated the commercial "I would walk a mile for Camel" because I knew that I actually would. I would have walked miles and miles for a single stupid paper cylinder filled with shriveled leaves and nylon fibers.

One day in march 2009 my sister opened a bar and asked me and the band to play at the opening. We did and afterward I started drinking and smoking heavily. When I woke up the day after I paid my dues to the gods of alcohol and hangovers by suffering and feeling lousy all day. That day something remarkable happened. I couldn't smoke or think about smoking. It made me feel sick. Same thing happened the day after. This went on for a while and then when I started longing for cigarettes I decided to wait one more day. This day turned into weeks and months and now there is more than one and a half year that I haven't smoked. The strangest part about this all is that now I feel like I have never smoked. I accidentally brainwashed myself.
I'm not a fan of washing brains but now I've managed to free myself from various things. Here are examples:

Guilt towards my parents
Guilt for spending money unwisely
Guilt for not going to the doctor or dentist because I was afraid that they would tell me that there was something horribly wrong with my health and then call me white trash.

Here are some benefits I've enjoyed after quitting:
Now I can travel without losing my temper from nicotine withdrawal.
I can work with children without thinking bad things about them.
I can visit my family without going bananas and wanting to go home as soon as I enter my parent's apartment.
When I get sick I just get sick. I don't feel like I made myself sick.

I think that the feeling of being brainwashed is because the first time I tried to quit smoking for a year it was really hard work. I got very confused. I hadn't dealt with anything without cigarettes since I was very young so all emotions were tangled with the tobacco. I remember crying a lot that year. It was a strange time. Full of unnecessary sorrow. It really felt like loosing your best friend.
This time around it was nothing like that and after a while I even thought it was strange to see photos of myself with a cigarette. Like it never happened. I'm not sure if I'm off the hook yet. Maybe the little junkie is waiting for me to relax and then it will hand me a cigarette. I hope I will see it coming and snap it's little hand in two.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Birds with twigs.


Deep down from the bottom of my heart I used to wish that I was small and ladylike. I always wanted to be one of those girls that slide around with birdlike bones and pale complexion and wrists like tiny twigs. Basically I've always wanted to have the appearance of a woman that's about to die from some disease. Tuberculosis would have been satisfactory. Heroin addiction even better.
Well, I'm not. I'm a big-boned Scandinavian with sturdy troll calves and horse-like hair. During the summer my face gets tanned like nobody's business and in winter my cheeks go rosy if someone mentions oxygen.
I once did the mistake of trying to buy clothes in Paris. I ended up trashing about in the changing room, looking like The Incredible Hulk. I can´t say that I felt at home in the land of the horribly petite women.

As I get older I get used to the fact that I'm not one of those bird women.
Nowadays I try to like myself the way I am. It's sometimes hard work since the world seems to focus on making girls feeling ugly and miserable. (Ok, now I'm almost close to the original point I had when I decided to write this post).

Here goes: Just as I'm about to accept that I'm allright and that I actually do look like I girl, something terrible happens.
It has been brought to my attention that I..... snore. I've been in denial for sometime now but after the seventy millionth time my boyfriend jabbed me in the ribs for snoring and keeping him awake, I had to do something about it. That's why a few days ago I lurched to the pharmacy and asked for snore medicine. It was a humiliating moment when I dragged myself on my troll legs to the counter and asked some young pharmacist for Snoreeze. A Medicine made for sailors and grizzly bears.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Robotripping.


Ok, all is well. Now I'm slightly ill. Sick but happy. This Airwaves was around ten times more fun than last year. I think I screamed myself sick.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Reykjavík! the band.


My dear friends in Reykjavík! just released an EP called Cats. It's super rare. Haukur from Reykjavík! called me during the already overflowingly stressful Airwaves week. Here is a recording from the telephone conversation, listen:

Haukur!: Hey Lóa. How are you doing? (He always asks how you are doing because he is polite like that.)
Me: Fine. Whhhyyy? (With a skeptical tone in my voice.)
Haukur!: Just wanted to see how you are doing.....yeah so..ok I know you are a bit busy but could you possibly do me a favor?
Me: Hmm. I might.(Sweating on my upper lip, shedding 300 grams of hair from my head.)
Haukur!: Say, do you happen to have a black and white drawing of a cat?
Lóa: I sure do.

Then I used my non-existing photoshop skills to create this album cover. I realize that it is not a black and white drawing of a cat. It's two old ladies chatting away by their ice-cream wagon, in color. But there is a cat on top. I like the cat tattoos. It was actually the only drawing of a cat that I had. Haukur! and pals needed it immediately. I had no time, but I love the beautiful boys in Reykjavík! aaand I have a slight problem with saying no. I completely misunderstood the name of the EP though. I thought it was "Super rare "Cats"". I recommend to say it out loud. For your health.

I think "Internet" is a swell name for a song.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Good job.


This here is my pal Karlamagnús. I made him for an exhibition and ended up not exhibiting him because his green color didn't go with the brown and the white of all the other things that were around him. Karlamagnús is somewhat pissed but he is so repressed that he doesn't shout at me. He just stares and forgets to blink.
This week has been incredibly hectic and crazy. So far I've played six of my seven shows for Airwaves festival, had oodles of alcohol and danced and talked loudly. This morning I woke up in our sofa in a red dress and my hair looks like someone was sitting on my head yesterday and using it as a swiveling chair.
I've been having so much fun but I actually managed to feel guilty about not writing on my blog. I think something went seriously wrong in my upbringing. I'm always feeling guilty about one thing or another. Maybe I should turn myself in at the Vatican and yell at the poop.. pope: " YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS, TURN ME INTO A CATHOLIC!" I hate seeing my perfectly usable guilt not being used for something(I decided to include my strange pope typo in the sentence for obvious reasons). I'm not a religious person and I don't know what it feels like. I've always imagined that it feels like guilt. That's at least what I think the religious sisters of my grandmother were trying to do, make me feel guilty about stuff. It worked splendidly.
Splendiddedlydoodedly.
Update: Now I feel guilty for accidentally calling the pope, poop and saying my grandmother's sisters were mean, on the internet. I should get the catholic medal of honor.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Prins Póló.


Hmm it seems that all the boiling stress I've been experiencing was not for the week as a whole but only for the night tonight. We the Prinspólians in the band Prinspóló had a general rehearsal tonight. It was the first time we played in front of an audience of more than one person. I swooned slightly over the keyboard before playing.

At first it almost felt like when I was twelve and played the piano at a Christmas show in my music school. My palms were sweatier than my fat cousin at an all-you-can-eat-restaurant. There I was, up on stage in front of all the other kids and all the parents, trying to play some menuet but my mind kept going blank. Not only that but my fingers couldn't stop sliding clumsily in their own juices all over the ivory. The only thing I could think about was "I'm probably the oldest kid in here. The others are all some Suzuki wunderkinder and I'm screwing this up." It was the last time I wanted to play music infront of anyone.

All childhood trauma aside, the night was great and Prinspóló is playing again tomorrow. With less fingersweat. That's a promise...almost.

Monday, October 11, 2010

My monkeys, my memories.


I found this drawing today. It came in a box I've been dreading to open and go through. Whenever I open an old box, and believe me when I say I have many of those, there is always something I find that sends me, headfirst, down the elevator shaft of my memories. It's not good for a nostalgic sentimental stud like me. This drawing is a double whammy. It both sent me down the lane by being found and then when I read the text on the drawing, it did it again. I've hidden my phone so I won't call my dad and, with a quivering voice, thank him for giving me a toy in the eighties. I think he would not appreciate it. He's probably doing something very unsentimental at the moment. Reading a newspaper or sending an email. Maybe eating a piece of toast. You never know.

The sweet stench of Fall.


Here you can see Mister and Ms. Autumn. They are pretty happy about their giant squash. Not that they would ever brag about it. Speaking of autumn. Iceland Airwaves festival is approaching fast. I can smell it and it smells nice. The Gore-tex tourists have retreated and the tight pants and sunglasses have arrived. I think the average age of Reykjavik actually goes down at least 20 years by the arrival of the mostly young music lovers.

I don't care if I'll get ulcer from the stress. I'm excited beyond my vocabulary.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

From trashes to trashes.


Today I made a startling discovery. As I was wading through the piles of junk in our apartment I suddenly realized what was wrong. We didn't have a junk drawer. When I was growing up there was always a drawer in the kitchen that contained everything that didn't belong anywhere else. Matches, a piece of string, a button with the name of a soda drink that used to be new but got canceled because nobody liked it, communist lapel pin since my parents were young with long hair, glue, broken glasses from some grandparent. Useful stuff and also weird useless objects my mother couldn't bring herself to throw away. I loved this drawer and rummaged through it frequently.
Now I have one of my own. I am very happy with it. It took me six minutes to fill it with all the homeless things that have been lying around the apartment for months and have been slowly driving me towards insanity. I think I've solved all my problems for ever and evah evah.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Saturday.


Saturday turned out to be lovely. I found some little things for my cabinet of random shit at Kolaportið fleamarket. I've been working on the cabinet for a while. At the market I found a tiny lead typewriter, miniature coffee grinder also made out of lead, 2 mini native Americans, a small cowboy and a really nice plastic totem pole. I bought it from a kooky lady. As I was paying, she told me I could pick out two more toys for free. She seemed excited about it and talked to me like we were in a club together. I guess it means that I'm also a kooky lady and she knew about it even if I didn't. Maybe I'll be invited one day to a tea ceremony with all the strange ladies and their leader will give me a handsewn and laminated membership card. There I would sit smiling among the crazy cat ladies and purple haired women with big glasses,

The evening was spent in the company of my eight year old niece. We played four kind of games, Mikado, Black Peter, Go fish and a board game called Ticket to ride. My niece is a very clever kid and it's always a pleasure to watch her win, or lose for that matter. She get's very angry but only for a short period of time. Then it's back to games and fun. I don't let her win because she can beat me all by herself. We ate candy and the loser of each game got a violet dot on her nose. Lovely.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Weekendra.


Before the weekend takes over. Here are two old ladies chatting. I hope Saturday will be lovely.

Hairdoctor.


Last night there was a listening/release party for this album. I did the artwork and my boyfriend made the music with the hairdresser Jón.

There was a magical vodka bottle on the table at the party that kept filling up with more vodka. I had to sit on my hands to prevent any shitfacedness. The coming week is going to be very heavy. I'm playing 7 shows and also putting up an exhibition. Being hungover is not an option. When I'm hungover the creature in my brain wakes up and attacks. Classic ponderings from the creature are for instance: " Do you think that you are good enough to do this?", "I'm pretty sure everyone in here hates you","No one will show up." & " Did I mention how stupid you look today." It's pretty awful.

Owls.


This is a page from a children book I'm illustrating for my friend. I really like the story and love doing the drawings. There is a slight style problem but I'll get over it. It's just a matter of deciding.
I've actually decided not to use this owl drawing. I'm making a new one with owls that are not as scatterbrained. I think there are too many kinds of owls on this one. I still like the drawing. It's nice in a weird sort of way.

Illustration Friday, finally.


I participated in Illustration Friday for the first time this week. This is my entry for Beneath. I made it for Grapevine but I thought it went well with the theme for this week´s IF.
Two years ago I found a link to Illustration Friday on a blog. "I'm always going to participate." I said to myself. Yesterday when I was submitting my first IF drawing ever I realized that I was incredibly shy about it. Which is strange because compared to most illustrators I'm annoyingly extrovert and loud. On the other hand, if you'd compere me to an actor I'd be like a whispering corpse, hiding in the wallpaper.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

More stuff.


Remember the time I met Simon Amstell and patted him on the head like a lunatic? Well, I do. The flashbacks from the event are awful.
If I had been a teenager blood might have been spilled. My own blood that is. Most likely from a pimple on my face.. eh.. yes well anyway..drama.
I decided to do the right thing and wrote a letter to some email I found on a Simon Amstell website. I was contemplating on offering mister Amstell to be his lifelong fag hag companion and slave but I decided that sending an email after patting him on the head would be loony enough.

7.oct. 2010 part III

Today I got to experience a first, there seems to be an endless amount of "firsts" in the universe. I decided to put a header on my blog. I'm a technical dinosaur. I've actually been a Blogosaurus on and off for at least 8 years and this is the first time I've done my own header. Sometimes I think I'm an old man in a young woman's body. Let's talk about prunes and stools shall we? Or we could discuss the stranger in your mother's bed.

7.oct. 2010 part II


This is an illustration for an article about the economic crash in Iceland. Specifically on how we built new banks on top of the old banks. How did we do it? With brand new names of course. Pretty nifty no? I'm illustrating series of articles for a guy called Egill Helgason. He writes about politics in a newspaper called Grapevine. The newspaper is all in English. Egill also has a tv show called Silfur Egils where people from different parties or those who have different viewpoints come and argue. Even I watch it and I'm a sort of a newsophobe.

7.oct.2010

Now to start my long awaited illustration journal. It's actually not about my life, not yet anyway. It's a... ehh.. loads of drawings I've done.