A while ago when I was hungry at work I searched the kitchen for food and found a old package of bread hidden on the shelf. Looked like new. No mold. No weird smell. BUT, it had expired somewhere in the middle of december!  I've had more encounters with food that's been way to old but hasn't smelled or looked bad. I wonder what dark secrets they're putting in to make it last...

I really worked my ass of this weekend with the trash can design for the Coachella festival competition. I sacrifised both my friday and my whole saturday to get it done in time. I even slept at the office!
I sent them my submission 11.59pm on Febuary 20th. One minute before deadline, but still on the right side.

Today Coachella replied, telling me that they'd already closed the compeition at the time I handed in my design.
Feels really sad right now. Sended them an email with a screen capture of my inbox explaining the situation and showing them that I was on the right side.

Hopefully they change their mind. Otherwise - I'll grab some sorrow quenching beers.

Anyway, here's my submission:

The air condition sounded like a monkey playing that drum set.

It's Saturday morning. The time is 6 am. I'm back at the Mekanism office. I was here 2 hours ago, working late. Trying to finish a project with Maja to win tickets for the Coachella festival. Around 3am Johan came by from a party, pretty drunk, and borrowed my keys because he had forgotten his own in our apartment. Before 4am Maja left the building. I checked google maps to find a connection home, and I followed it's advice to take the subway. Went to the subway, but no train ever came. Started to walk up the street trying to catch a bus, but no bus came either. Looked for cabs, but there wasn't a cab as far as my eyes could see. So I decided to walk home. Took me 40 minutes. When I finally arrived at the front door to our house I called Johan to make him come down and open for me. I called him over and over and over again, but he was probably to past out to hear the phone. Tried to scream at him the loudest I could from the sidewalk without waking the neighbors, but no response. Called Maja, but her phone was not on. Well... So I decided to take a cab back to work. So, here I am, at the desk I've been spending the last 20 hours. Life could have been better, but it could also have been worse. I could have slept on street. Now I actually found an air mattress and a sleeping bag. Not that bad actually. Gonna try to catch a few hours of sleep in the editing room, accompanied by the loudest fan in history. Goodnight.

Sometimes you stumble upon songs that's so overwhelmingly powerful that they make Chuck Norris look like a silly little worm, songs that feels like they're describing the most powerful, dramatic and adrenaline filled moments in life. If I would've rushed the shores of Normandie on D Day, been Neo in the "Lobby Scene" in The Matrix or rushed onto the field in a Super Bowl Final - the odds are now pretty high I would've chosen to be accompanied by this bombastic anthem:

I'm back at the office in San Fran after a long weekend down in Los Angeles, visiting our class mates Sean and Sebastian. Like Eagles of Death Metal sings: "I really wanna be in LA". There's definitely something magic about that city. Or, at least some parts of it. When I visit Venice, Santa Monica or Malibu it reminds me of why I started to look for internships there in the first place. Surf, beautiful weather, palm trees, great shopping, awesome music . It just feels right. It's like they and I are ment to be. Even downtown (where Sean & Sebbe lives) was better this time around. It seems like they've been cleaning it up a litle bit since I was there in 2008. Now it feels less shady and more welcoming. Still you can't get away from the fact that you need to have a car to get around the city. The public transport is almost non-existent. And the freeways can be packed, even if they have 4-6 lanes. It took us 1,5 hour to get from downtown to Malibu, which of course sucks balls if you're living in downtown and the weather is hot.



Overall I would say that San Francisco is a better city. Colder, but more tangible & less hysterical. Los Angeles is more segregated and there's a overall feeling that everyone wants to be the biggest, the richest and the best. It's more about the looks, the cars, the music, the cribs. It's lika a race. But I must say that I'm dreaming of moving to the LA coast someday. Have a small tree house down at the beach, grab my surfboard every morning and just jump into the clear blue ocean. Work a few hours during the day and then grab a beer on my front porch, watching the sunset.

More material from the trip is on the way. So stay tuned.

Songwise this year couldn't have got a better start.

Three good examples:

The Tallest Man On Earth - King of Spain
This swedish singer songwriter (Kristian Matsson from Dalarna) definitely deserves more time in the spotlight. With only his voice and his guitar he creates some truly powerful and emotional songs. Bob Dyllan would be jealous. King of Spain just makes me wanna jump in a car and escape down a deserted highway, leave the  past behind and aim for the horizon. Cry a little bit, smile a little bit. There's strong feelings all over it.




Surfer Blood - Swim
The riff, oh the riff! This years catchiest one so far, for sure. Reverb is popular these days, but when it's used in the right way, like in this case, I'm not complaining. In combination with the crisp guitars it creates a new dimension to the sound, lifting this song up to the very heights of powerful awesomeness.




The Soft Pack - C'mon
Another indie rock band on the allready packed music scene. Yep! But when they're making songs like this one I can't get enough. A great energizer that makes me wanna run run run!

This was posted at Mekanism's rumour blog last night, after a wet visit to the Golden Gate Park's aquarium.

...but it slipped out of my hand.

The mannequins are my only companions.

Let's try to make that Skype call soon!
Peace and love from San Fran!

And after digging around in the archive I found this old lovely mastepiece:

My dad & Jim's dad in American Pie

Apart from the extraordinary drama series Friday Night Lights and a short attempt to review one of the NFL games (played 10 minuites and then returned it) I can't say I've had a close relationship with American football. Allthough the amount of rules has scared me off I've definitely wanted to learn more about it. The sport seemed like one of the most interesting sport in the world. Action packed like the movie 300 and tactical as hell. Tonight the time had finally come, the time for SUPER BOWL!!! We went home to Johans band members (they're having a punk band & Johan's the drummer) place where around 25 people had gathered around a small (for being american) television to watch the NFL championship between New Orleans Saints and Indianapolis Colts.



Every year millions and millions of people gather to watch the championship game of their lands far most popular sport, or to laugh their asses of to some of the hilarious and crazy expensive commercials that's beeing aired on every short break. Every spot costs around 3 million USD! They put so much money into these commercials that it's the lands second biggest income recource, after warfare. If some evil hacker would kill the podcast, both the american government and the american people would be as revengeful as when the planes crashed into World Trade Centre. Fo sho!

Nough said, it was a great first game to watch! Thrilling, shifting, exciting. Saints started weak but managed to turn the game to a well deserved victory. I sat next to a butcher (he had a trucker moustache and trucker hat) who explained the rules every time I had a question. So now I think I would actually be able to watch a game without feeling completely lost.

American level up!

The quality of my english goes up and down all the time. It's the best after 1-2 beers, but it's been extremly bad the past week. I've been mumbling and I've had a hard time finding the right words. Making me feel stupid and retarded. I blame it on the lack of sleep and exercise lately. And the air is terrible down here at the first floor of the office. And it's dark. Starting to feel like a trapped bat who's been hanging upside down for a while. Not the most creative environment, and bad for me now when I've got an exciting brief and need to be sharp.

But hey, an action packed weekend coming up. Party tonight, concert tomorrow and Super Bowl on sunday!
Let's hope it's refreshing.

It's been on repeat for three days straight and it's sweaping me away every damn time.
In fact, it's been a while since I became this addicted to a song.
Beach House's new album Teen Dream is already qualified for my Best of 2010-list.
It's sweepy and slow, but never sleepy. It's dreamy, vibrant, warm and beautiful.
I can't stop listening to it!
EPIC!

Here in the states, every single toilet visit with destination number two easily becomes a tactical battlefield. For some unexplained reason every toilet I've been to so far in this country is a poor excuse for a toilet. Thin walls and spaces between the floor and the walls don't really lower the sound you oftenly want to keep to yourself.



When you're about to take a dump and someone else jumps into the booth next to you, that's when the game begins.
The game of battle shits!

Who will start first?
Do I dare to start?
Will I sound?
Who will sound the most?
Should I wait for him to start and try to hide my sound in his sound?
Should I wait until he's done and start when he's flushing the toilet?

To hear another person take a dump right next to you feels more intimidating than hearing someone having sex.

And you can always see the other persons shoes.
You wonder - Who is that guy?
Just to try to find the person who sat next to you by trying to recognize his shoes becomes a game itself, especially at work.

It's like their made the toilets to make you feel uncomfortable.  How can Americans who's usually very aware of their privacy, tolerate this? 

Wish me luck, cause now I need to go.

Finally Johan & Johan have their own apartment! Allthough it's a little bit too small for two people and allthough a car filled street runs right outside the window, it's a very sweet studio flat that feels more European than American. No broadlooms here!

L.A, the lovely guy who we're renting from left a bunch of fun bonuses before he moved to NYC.
Guitar! Turn table! Stereo! LP's! And a lot of various necessary things we now don't need to buy.

I had a good night sleep the first night even if Johan #2 stole all the sheet.

Things have really started to happening over here. Last week included three parties, lots of new phone numbers and more work on my shoulders. I have two deadlines coming up in the beginning of this week. I even needed to step in today to finish some work. Not the funniest way to spend a day when the sun is shining outside and you're hung over from last nights wine soaked party. But hey, at least I got some sun yesterda. Awesome weather and a trip to the beautiful Marina area.



Friday was interesting indeed. Goodbye party at work. Two people became "freelancers" (The kind way to firing someone). Mekanism sure knows how to party. Starting at 4 pm, with a bartender who made awesome Maragaritas. Then the kegs arrived and people started performing keg stands. At this point the only contact I've had with a keg was via high school movies. To see one IRL really felt TRUE AMERICAN.



One CEO after another stepped forward to be lifted upside down and get beer poored down (or up) their throats. Just before I left, my creative director draged the keg into the elevator. And as the elevator went down he shouted "ELEVATOR KEG STAND!" and performed a kegstand, in the elevator. CRAZY SHIT! Then they all went into the sound room, going berzerk on the drum set and the guitars. Didn't sound that bad actually.

For me the night also ended with music. Just before I left Sweden I found a band called Hard Girls, which released an awesome EP last year. This night they played in Oakland, at a place called The Hive, so I descided to take the train there. When I arrived at the right adress, this is what I saw:



Could this be right? A gig in a house?

Three smoking dudes welcomed me. And yep, this was the right place! The people in the house is making room in the basement (someones bedroom) for small bands who's touring. The shows are all free and you are welcome into the house. To see a really good band perform in a 20 square meter large room in someones basement with an audience of 30 people sure is an awesome and unique experience. After the gig I ended up talking to the band for an hour or so. Really fun guys who's got some great potential. They've allready warmed up for big punk bands like Against Me! and is starting to get a lot of publicity and good reviews in media.

Good luck guys! Nice meeting ya!