MINDFUCK

So. Hi.

I warn you; the level of intelligence in this post isn't exactly striking. This might have something to do with the fact that my subbing Danish grammar teacher is completely insane. No, I'm serious. She litterallly seems like she's drunk. Like... constantly. And I've never met a person, who has such a talent for talking about everything else than the subject of today. I really try... But it's just physically impossible for me to concentrate.

Then there's the fact that we today have an entity of two grammar classes (each of about 2 hours) and then a biology class... And that I am now sitting in the middle of French grammar class, being tortured with sentence analysis for the 198346th time, numbed by the knowledge that I have to stay at school for another two long hours... Without enough money to buy a single cup of coffee... And when I get home, I have to write my English paper, turn it in, pack my bags, and get ready to get up at 5 A-fucking-M tommorow, so that I can fly to the Faroe Islands with my choir.

As far as I know, the Faroe Islands involve sheep, cliffs, storming waves, ice cold air, woolen sweaters, folk dancing, darkness and wind. And puffins. Lots and lots of puffins. Sounds like an awesome way to spend my fall vacation...

Well, to be honest, I'm actually loking forward to it. We're going to be singing nonstop, and performing at our concerts, which are slowly and steadily becoming something in the vicinity of ready. And we're going to be performing with Teitur, which is awesome, obiviously!

And oh, do I need a break from all the stress that comes with school, big assignments, 76 choir rehearsals a week (well... at least 2, plus concerts in the weekends), and minimal time to see my old friends. And what better way to spend this break, than covering myself from top to toe in wool, and socializing with a few puffins and sheep?

Greetings from the second-to-last class of the day... (only two hours left now...)

The Kooks Junk Of The Heart (Happy)


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I Am Blueberry Super Powers

My friend Sebastian came up to me in one of the breaks today, and told me that he had found a band called I Am Blueberry... Which is totally weird. And funny. I've found part of my berry-based family!

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry.

Reversed.

So. Hi.

Björk Virus (Reversed)

 

Johnny's Bird

A story in reverse:

Nagging. Questioning, wondering. Trying to forget. Pushing to the back of my conscience. Eye-brows furrowing. Disgust. Fear. Eyes widening. Intake of breath. Mezmerized scrolling down page. Puzzled expression. Seeing the pictures. Clicking on the website for Johnny's Bird.

I don't really know what to say. That's the thing about the photos from Johnny's Bird. They, for once, leave me quite speachless.

When I first saw them, I had to cover my mouth in some unpronounced emotion. Surprise? Awe? Chock? Fear? Disgust? For some reason, some of the photos from Johnny's Bird disturbed and touched me instensely. It's very seldom I get such a strong reaction from seeing some photographs. The other exception would be the America series done by Jacob Holdt. And this is different too. This is fiction, this is fashion, this isn't real. Or is it?

After a period of about two weeks, I'm finally able to look at them again. Some of them are delicate, fragile, even sweet. Some are dark, mysterious, even scary. And some are just strange. Some are disturbing. And some are pleasing to the eye. But they all have one thing in common:

They all tell a story.

Does photography touch you like this? Or in any way at all?

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry.