popping down.

tonight i will experience a little something special. down down down below. more to follow...

throb and swoon.

alien alien is a sideproject of rodion and hugo sanchez, casiotone and italo house masterminds. their ep came out already over a year ago, but somehow i missed it.

its b-side is a low, sleazy and lazy sort of a tune that can fill the dance floor at the very late hours, get an afterparty going towards the execution of ideas that make people blush in the morning (or late afternoon) or just the perfect sunday morning workout song.

the video reminds me of early mornings in nyc after a queer warehouse party in a derelict space somewhere in the meatpacking district or just walking home through the desolate streets of brooklyn 5 am... the boys in the video – fierce.

echoes of a life elsewhere.

since my writing tends to be more sporadic than i intended, there are other ways to know what i am up to.

first, there's instagram. you can find a link on the right column. follow, if you wish.

fake lashes in the tram on a monday morning. tagged #roadkill in my instagram.

second, my best friend started a blog a few months ago. she is a globetrotter, a foodie and mingles naturally in the art world. although differently emphasized than mine and often both more mainstream and more upscale, her insights, recommendations and gossip are definitely worth getting familiar with – so follow her at svårt att säga nej (in english despite the swedish title). and quite often i am hanging along with her since we travel, dine, booze, dance and get into all sorts of shenanigans together.

saved by sustenance.

moments with friends become all the more precious the more fragile your foundation is.

i have been allowed to sit silently, forget what i just said, change the topic, mumble inexplicably, and everything and anything that can be expected from someone barely solid.

most importantly i have eaten with friends.

sharing a meal is an intimate gesture, a kindness that requires very little but nourishes by filling whatever gaping holes require a fix for another day. sometimes that little makes a tremendous difference.

even before i uttered words of finalization to anyone, my somber being was unquestionably welcomed at communal tables. after it all poured out, i was handed a piece of bread to nibble to sooth me.

one of the people who has always cleared a place for me in her table is hanna. we do not know each other well enough to be in tune with whatever goes on in either of our lives, but there's warmth and caring extended in our sporadic catchup meetings.

in addition to a glowing presence, hanna loves her food passionately. talking about it, sharing it, getting excited about it, talking about it a little more.

now she has shared her passion in a book written with her husband. approachable, easygoing and flavorful recipes – just like the people behind them.

shared. chanterelle and aubergine pasta at maxill. 

alone. avocado pasta at my new home.

safkaa is out and available in bookstores and online.

new horizons.

my morning view has changed.

not only did i let go of a life once so stabile and precious, i had to abandon the neighborhood i so dearly loved.

had to? well, no. not exactly.

i was offered a rope and i jumped: my sister's other apartment was free and she suggested i take it. a natural leap towards something familiar in a novel environment.

it's a view of lush green with fall foliage just creeping in, open skies and a landmark that seems almost like a beacon to guide me towards the new.

i guess this means my neighborhood recommendations also need a new chapter. ok then.