Islands of Stocholm being debased by S.l.u.g

I finally threw off the strangling shackles of the tiny town of Uppsala yesterday and took a train to Stockholm. A place which is an actual city, not a lying tiny town hiding behind its Cathedral and University for undeserved status.


Men


Leylla was being an excellent guide today as well as providing some tasty eye candy for me later in the evening. However, I was unable to sample My rightful treat later on as silly little men kept buzzing around her like flies round an open, meditarranean bin containing fizzy drink, banana peel and rotting road kill.

Their level of techniques of attracting a woman were about on par with that of a fly. Any man who actually has some sort of a technique to get women is an instant failure and a joke anyway. They have a set chat up line or phrases and then simply act like a sales man, playing the numbers game. However many doors you knock on, someone's bound to let you in.

They don't see women as real people, someone who you can actualy make a connection with on any personal level. They just see meat that they can stick their meat into.


Culture


We went to the culture centre and this I enjoyed. The photo exhibition of American life, culture from the 60s onwards was inciteful and at times interesting. I remember a very young negro child from Mississippi looking very dapper and stylish in his little suit jacket. aww.

The photos of july 4th were especially humourous. Idotic, ignorant patriotic Americans with their flags, stars and stripes shirts and brandishing their weak, disgusting American lager.
Oh my!
Yes, any display of patriotism worldwide is both disgusting and amusing at the same time. The Americans have developed a special, sickening mastery of this truly bizarre mentality though and when the whole pack of these beasts have an actual holiday to indulge in their irrational fantasies it is really a sight to behold.

The other exhibition focussed on handbags and various displays of sculpted examples. There were some very nice handbags, I cannot deny that. I remember a green, waxy one with a grenade in it as well as a big red telephone bag that could actually be plugged in. They managed to contain their pretentious, arty bull shit justification for their handbags and their innate necessity to a woman's being to just one board of text and I commend them for this also.

I must also commend the catering staff at the centre as well. They left a trolley in the hall with a half bottle of red wine situated on the bottom shelf of which I helped myself to 2 full glasses. The wine was of a medium standard which impressed me. Red wine is one of the higher forms of a very low pleasure, alcohol, and it was a shame I had to down it quickly like it was a bottle of low-grade vodka that had to be guzzled down on a visit to the Vodka wall.


Old town



The old town of Stockholm is fucking mint! Walking around the little alleys and past the beautiful buildings is really a boost for the spirit. Some building are grand, but not to the point of disgusting opulence. I wish I had a cmera so that I could have taken photos for.

soon.....soon

Some stupid fucking FITTA (cunt) decided to build a new town in the place of the old one? In the square by the culture centre the buildings are grey and depressing. What the fuck is that huge bank building? The Mercedes building?
Pretty.... dicks.

Whilst there we wandered into a mental gallery. The artists were all handicapped. Some of it was child like and innocent, there were some paitings worthy of buying. This is a worthy cause I feel. We also went to the modern museum and it was shit. Some rubbish exhibition by some stupid artist called Dick Bengston. "He wowwed the critics by putting unusual objects in his paintings, such as swastikas" This guy was so controversial and would paint a swastika in the corner of some of his pointless painting.
You little shocker you.
This is the kind of tripe that makes me dislike art, bringing out all the "art people" who use fancy art terminology which makes them knowledgable, apparently.


Atmosphere - Debaser


Debaser is a very nice little club actually. It is sort of half dingey and half nice and manages to pull this off well. They had arty, gig posters from bands like "And you will know us by the trail of dead" and "Queens of the stone age" which was pleasing.

The actual canvas art on the wall was kind of tacky, but it wasn't horribly bad and I will fogive them because it did brighten the place up and they had to go for some kind of middle of the road, easy to produce, most people think looks ok kind of deal.

The dj was fucking shite. He was playing the kind of tunes you'd hear in Rock world in Manchester at about 3 in the morning on a friday all nighter when only the pill people are left and want to dance, except rock world play better songs and rock world is kind of shite. Brother Ali came on and started praising this prick. Brother Ali is a waste of time, boring and is only famous because he is an albino.

Considering the cailbre of atmosphere this was a good gig for him. On the whole the gig was ok. He cleverly employed the use of a live band to perform his rhymes over the top and this added a new element, not heard on record and was therefore interesting. Had he performed alone with a dj or just a cd player this gig would have been a disaster, Slug isn't strong enough to perform on his own. I recognised many tunes and I began to get excited by about 3 of them. I was never bored at any point during the gig and give him credit for this. I am glad I Saw him though because like so many performers out there he is an artist that has peaked and is now simply sinking lower and lower with every new release into a world of shit. The fact that he is releasing demos and rarities backs up this fact.

Out of the 4 hip hop gigs I have now seen - Alternative/post, not the gangsta shit you hear all the time- this ranks at number 4, but it still was quite good. Atmosphere is just white trash, though one with a sensitive side and who sometimes is capable of occasionaly phrases of wisdom and insight. He is a 15 year old spotty adolsecent compared to Sage Francis, sole and to a lesser extent Buck 65 who are pioneering, Herculean giants of the genre and piss all over him from cirrus clouds.

I know that the crowd at this gig was better than the one that will be at the roadhouse in Manchester. There was an even mix of sexes here, no cocky dicks but no out and out geeks either.

I have to go now....