Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

How about some Gorillaz again? With a dose in particular from their to me most memorable album of pre-millennium times. If they had any others.

I don't know about you but these guys always get me in a better mood. Somehow they make angst and melancholy all melodic and... somewhat soothing after all. And around this time I could use a round of this kind.

Ride through, the old and the new, the bold and the few, ride on...

Read on...

Been posting a lot of depressing videos lately. Time for something hopeful!

Though I guess this is a glass half full/half empty kind of video.

Either you see how much you miss in each blink of an eye, or more so how much awesomeness is going on even in that most minuscule amount of time, that repeats itself so many a time throughout every single day!

And compared to that, how much awesomeness doesn't go on all the time your eyes are open?!

It's pretty awesome. Every blink. Pretty awesome.

I dreamt that I was walking up the hillside.

We were visiting this old dude's house. Not that old, hair distinctively grayed - that kind of old - and wandering through his hillside garden.

It seemed to slope into infinity.

The air was hazy and you couldn't see the end of the slope for all the clouds, but the greenery was lush and the hedges, trees and various garden monuments and decorations were plentiful.

It was the kind of garden you'd imagine seeing by a larger castle, but this was just the one man.

He dabbled in natural remedies I think, and was cooking up some kind of concoction in a large cauldron on the lawn, with a boiler beside it, and some smaller pot or similar.

It was boiling ferociously: the bubbles a constant stream as if someone was in each cauldron/kettle/container breathing our air beneath the surface with never-emptying lungs.

It was something for us. I asked about it. Not sure what he answered.

Regarding who the 'us' was I'm not sure about that either. I was walking around and the rest of 'us' weren't anywhere to be seen, as far as I can remember...

Soon after we were walking through the house though - corridors paneled in dark, polished wood - and plenty of people were sitting on benches along the walls.

It felt like a museum, with glassed-in displays of various figures the man had made.

I looked into a little room curiously, full of wooden sculptures and other artistry that followed the walls, and then walked around a corner and... that's all I remember of that particular part of the dream.

Moments earlier I was climbing around in a sunny, dusty attic, and doing I can no longer recall what... but I wasn't a kid. I felt at home anyway. I think I was just exploring. The sunlight hazily falling in and warming.

Moments before that I was in the car, and I think good buddy Andreas was along for the ride, though not sure where we were going. Maybe to Övermorjärv. I'm not sure I saw the sights, just that we were on our way.

Maybe the dream was inspired by this one beautiful house I caught a glimpse of yesterday, looking for potential places to move.

It turned out to be way beyond my budget though. A nice place by a lake... with renovations worth ca 2,500,000 SEK the last few years. O_O

Alrighty then, I don't think I'll be leaving a bid on that...

But it was a - I think - pretty good dream. Hazy albeit the memory now may be.

I'm writing this more for purpose of practice and relaxation than recollection really. Thinking maybe I'd pick up a few more details as I write. Thinking if I just get into the writing I'll feel better about myself today, too. It worked, somewhat.

Now time to jump into some other more overdue dues...

- Bob Axell, inspired by this baggy satchel of thought-provoking act fuel.

(and that's when you hit play again and loop the shit out of ^)

The greater the obstacle, the more glory in overcoming it.