Sunday, July 31, 2011

This is becoming a regular thing.

Another night of drinking, another morning in agony. Well, since I woke up around 2 pm, I guess that I can't call it morning. I had a killer migraine, every muscle in my body was sore, and it felt like someone had hit me over the ribs with a 2 by 4. Can't even remember doing anything justifying this amount of pain. I do remember falling though, which leads me to today's tip:

Do not walk backwards when you're drunk.

So I was hanging with my peeps right, and we decided to get our asses down to our favorite pub. Since the guy we were drinking at lives right in the city it was like a five minute walk or something, not too bad. But me, being in front, had the bright idea to walk backwards so that I could talk with one of my mates. This wouldn't normally be a problem on most streets because they're, you know, flat and not really that hard to walk on. That's the whole idea with streets really, they're made for walking. But some bright guy somewhere had the smart idea of putting up a complete black pole in the middle of the street. Well, me, not taking notice of this wonderfully placed piece of marvel, backed into it and fell, backwards, like a tree. Before I knew it I was lying down on the pavement and asking myself "wtf?" My friends, considerate as they are, asked if I was alright and if I hit my head. But I was more concerned if my white piké had become dirty from the fall. They assured me that it was totally OK. It wasn't.
Pole - 1, Cray - 0
The rest of the night proceeded like a normal night out usually do. We met some old class mates from waaay back in time, I found cutie to talk to, and we drank and laughed until the place closed. Took a cab over to a after party at the girls, drank some more, and made out with the cutie until the girl who owned the place decided to kick us out at around 8 am. Went home. Slept.

Well, like I said, a totally normal night out.

Something else I did today was invent a new fashion. Since my piké was dirty, and it was pretty warm out side, I decided that I could just wear my Palestinian scarf as a makeshift sweater. And I must say, it does the job well. It cover your nipples, albeit not that good, but shows of all the other good parts. And thus the "Cray Shirt" fashion was born. I'm trademarking it tomorrow!

This is what everyone will be wearing  next summer.

Saturday, July 30, 2011


Yeah, so I'm home after drinking hard liquor for two days. And I've had some fun. I've been called Pete Dorothy, a friend tricked me into believing that I suffered from some kind of psychosis, I almost got scared to death by a stuffed toy and more. But before I get into all that, let me start with the tip of the day:

Be careful with how much you drink if you've been working 8 hours in the heat without any real food. Seriously. Before I began this latest bender I had done just that. Was outside in the blistering sun, it was around 30 degrees C (86 F), and all I had to eat was a Billy's pan pizza for the whole day. For you who don't know what this is, I'll tell you. It's a piece of cardboard with some cheese on.
This does not substitute food.
So, understandably, it didn't take much alcohol to get me absolutely shitfaced. I'd estimate the amount to around 8-10 units or so. Anywho, we were sitting at my friend at the time, until we decided that we'd had enough booze, and began walking down town to hit bars. This is also when my memory began to get blurry. Don't remember much of the walk down, except that we found an ugly hat, and that we pretended to call in fake snipers to take people out for some reason. I have no idea why or how it even started.

We got down to the bar at around midnight and proceed to order some beers and just have a good time. And this old guy, and I mean really fucking old guy, started to talk to me. Normally I would've just snubbed him off, because you know, why in the world would I want to talk to someone like that. But this time I decided to be somewhat polite since he was sitting with some pretty hot girls which seemed to be around my age. This turned into trying to suppress my rage when he said that I looked exactly like Pete Dorothy. I guess it's a step up from being called Justin Bieber, but still. I don't know why people always try to piss me off when I go out. 

Don't really remember much more from this night. Turned out that the old guy was just some lonely old guy who happened to sit at the girls. Them girls also turned out to be kinda bitchy. So we moved on. A couple of blackouts later and I was back lying in my friends couch. Trying to make my head stop spinning. 

This was day one. I'd say i had fun on overall. But the first hours of the second day was hell. I'm prone to get migraines after drinking. We'll I'm prone to get migraines all the time really, and I'm heavily medicated against them, but alcohol is one of those extreme triggers. So I was lying there in the couch, my head still spinning, gobbling up pain killers like they were candy. It got a lil' better after noon sometime when I managed to get some food inside me without throwing up. 

Being hungover is a bitch.

Not much happened that day. I went down town again around six to acquire some more alcohol, swing by the tanning salon, and visit the store. Met my sister while I was down there. Offered her a cigarette and took one myself. But, as is always does when you try to light a smoke, the wind started to blow. So I took cover behind a large tree I was standing close to. And that's when I saw it. A huge fucking rat. I released a very manly yell as I saw it, going into a warrior position ready to fight, before I realized that it was a stuffed toy. Eyewitnesses said that my manly yell was more of a girlish scream, but they were probably in chock as well. We will never truly know what happened on that day. Moving on.
That shit is not to be messed with.
Well, after missing the bus a couple of times, I finally got back to my friends apartment, and we resumed the drinking. The plan was to wait for a third guy and then head out. So we drank and talked while watching some good old 24. Didn't really catch much of the show more than Jack Bauer being fucking bad ass. But then, as I was out taking a smoke, my mate decided to play a trick on me. But first, let me tell you about his apartment. It's really fucking small. It's like a room, a hallway, a kitchen and a balcony. And a toilet ofc. Anyways, I was sitting on the balcony, having a smoke, and talking with him. Just chilling. But then, when I got inside, he was nowhere to be found. Figuring he was just visiting the loo, I sat down in the couch waiting for him. And then I heard "Don't sleep." It sounded like it came from right next to me. But there wasn't a soul in the room. So I asked "Dude, where are you?" No response. So I continued watching the show when I heard this gurgling sound. You know like the one from the ghost in the grudge. Freaked me the hell out, so I decided to go looking for him. It didn't take long, because like I said, his place wasn't that big. But he just wasn't there. Decided that he'll probably show himself sometime and went back to the couch. He says "Don't sleep" a second time and I freak the fuck out. I yell "Where the fuck are you?!" while I take another look around the apartment. I even checked so that he wasn't invisible and sitting on the bed. Remember, I was really frigging drunk, it was late at night, and I was seemingly alone in the apartment. I thought that I had gotten
some case of alcoholic delirium or a psychosis or something. So I thought to myself: "Fuck it, I'll just go to sleep, fuck this shit." That's when he said "Don't you know where I am?" and I realized that he had been behind the door this whole fucking time. A good 20 minutes. He came out from behind the door laughing his ass off. Me, relived that I was not crazy, laughed just as hard.

Good times. Well, the third guy came along around 12:30 or something like that, so we decided to just stay home and talk shit the rest of the night. Woke up just as hung over as the day before, slept away most of the day, went home and took a shower. We were going to go for day 3 as well, but then we realized that our bodies were pretty much trashed, so we decided to push it up to tomorrow.

Well, that's my two day bender story. Might have another story for you guys on Sunday. Be well and drink responsibly. 

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

No post today

I'm going to be drinking. No post today.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Old stuff

I've been running a developer web-server for several years now. And everything that gets put on my web-server gets saved. For ever. It's like a reverse Pandora's box. Ok, maybe not exactly reversed since her box was originally made to store things in. And instead of evil I store computer files. In a folder. I'm just going to abandon this metaphor altogether. Anywho, venturing into that said folder is like an instant trip into nostalgia land. I got things in it that dates back to 2003. There's old chat logs, embarrassing pictures, poorly made websites and other things in the same genre. In fact, every time I feel that I've failed with something new I've created, I just browse back to my oldest "hacker"-page and think to myself: "At least it's not as bad as that thing!" This happens more than you'd think.

This is the only note I took in math. Ever.
But the coolest thing about having your own nostalgia folder is that, if you've had it long enough, you'll always find stuff you've completely forgotten about after a while. Like just yesterday, when I was browsing it looking for an old php-code I needed for a project, and I knew that the code was in one of my old files. One of my 8000 php-files. Needless to say I didn't find it. But what I did find was a blog post I made back around 2005. My first blog post ever. It was like finding a long lost treasure. I was overjoyed. Until I read it. Man was I a bad writer back then.

OK, I lied, I also made this one.
I'm now going to post my old blog post per request. It's written in Swedish though, so half of you, according to my stats page, won't be able to read it. But don't feel too bad, you're not really missing much. And I'll be back tomorrow with a new and refreshing post that's gonna be 100% English.

Old Blog Start:


Ännu en dag lider mot sitt slut. Själv sitter jag hemma i en blågul solstol köpt från IKEA framför en sliten compaqlaptop från förra generationen bara väntandes på att något, vad som helst, ska hända medan jag sitter och slöchattar med folk jag aldrig mött.

På TVn visas någon halvtaskig serie knappt värd att kolla på samtidigt som vinden nafsar i gardinen. De sista solstrålarna bleknade från trädtopparnas svajande kronor för bara några minuter sen. Det var kväll.

Timmarna går och jag rör mig endast för att hämta en nerkyld CocaCola från den alldeles för avlägsna kylen eller för att lätta trycket i den gamla porslinskålen. Kan känna hur tråkigheten smyger sig på en, långsam men ändå kraftfullt, som ett smygande rovdjur bara väntandes på att slå till. Det är tur att internet finns ty att endast ha tillgång TV hade nog hjälp föga vid situationer som denna. Men inte ens den oändliga informationen som finns på 'nätet' kan stilla min hunger för intellektuell stimulans. Fast det kanske inte är intellektuell stimulans jag söker, utan den rena motsatsen, social stimulans. Tvivlet på vad jag söker rotade sig snabbt i min kropp. Den verkade trivas där tillsammans med tristessen. Kompletterade varandra.

Tiden fortsatte att flyta fram. Sakta men säkert. Livliga diskutioner föddes och dog om vartannat i de små rummet på internet. Rummens storlek på internet kan jämföras med jordens storlek i universum. Obetydligt för helheten men enormt viktigt för de som residerar där. Anonyma användare som försökte göra sig hörda i etern samtidigt som de strängt förnekar att de är så kallade nördar. Förutom en liten skara som har gett upp allt hopp och erkänner att de är socialt missanpassade. Nästan med stolthet i texten. Jag befinner mig i den första gruppen. Ibland stannar jag upp undertiden jag skriver ett svar och inspekterar min dator, mina händer, och hur de rör sig över tangentbordet som spindlar. Jag formar orden i huvudet sen tar kroppen över. Det är som att mina händer är levande varelser fria från allt.

Har inte sovit ordentligt på flera veckor nu. Det är inte det att jag inte vill. Jag kan känna hur vakenhetens bieffekter sätter klorna i mig, gör ögonen röda och hjärnan seg, men John Blund vägrar att sprida sin sand. Det är möjligt att jag förargat honom med mina försök att nästan desperat hålla mig vaken så länge det möjligtvis går. Ironin i det hela slår mig och jag skrattar lite förnöjt. Jag sneglar mot spritflaskan som står lite längre bort. En flaska Bowmore Cask med smak av malt och ek. Kanske den kan hjälpa mot min insomnia. Jag sträcker mig och greppar flaskan. När jag för den mot glaset som står på bordet brevid datorn så bildas det vakraste ljusspel när ljuset från den dammiga LCD-skärmen skiner genom flaskan med dess röda innehåll. Drycken känns nästan magisk. Som hämtad ur en saga. Efter att ha beundrat dess skönhet ett tag så fortsätter jag att hälla ut en mindre mängd i mitt whiskeyglas av kristall. Vätskan var lite tjockare än vatten, knappt märkbart för ett otränat öga, men för mig flöt den ner i glaset med enorm elegans.

Jag kollar ut genom fönstret. Gatulampan, halvt dold av ett intilligande träd, lyste upp bladverket runt omkring. Det var natt nu. Jag förstår att jag inte kommer få någon sömn inatt heller. Alkoholen förvärrade bara mitt sinnestillstånd. Kunde känna rovdjuret flåsa mig i nacken. Jag gav upp hoppet om John och hittade min svarta mp3-spelare. De vita hörlurarna passade perfekt i mina öron. Jag lutade mig tillbaka i min solstol och lät musiken dränka mina tankar. TVn visade fortfarande något tråkigt program som inte var värt att se.  

Old Blog End:

Well... kinda reminds me about "droppen."

Monday, July 25, 2011


I just finished going through all the blogs I'm following. And since I got a very wide field interests it accumulates to a lot of blogs. It can be anything from anime to zombies and everything in between. Something I've noticed thought, is that there are some huge variances between blogs. Not only what they're about, but how they're written, composed, how often they're updated and so forth. I've come across some blogs that's so well written that it doesn't even matter what it's about. Like one blog I read about tennis. And there is nothing in this world that I find more boring than tennis. But the style, choice of words and the red thread in general was so good that I kept on reading anyway even though a part of me was screaming: "Oh, God, this is worse than watching paint dry, why am I doing this?"

At least I'm not watching tennis!

Then there's the "every day" bloggers. Those guys who just tell you about their day, or something fun that's happened, or something that's important to them. Most often than not these blogs aren't that well written. They got some bad punctuation and their train of thought can be hard to follow sometimes. But I still enjoy reading them. It gives you a glimpse of another person’s life and how they feel about it.

And finally there are the spammers. Those guys who don't even make an effort in producing any content. They just load up their "blogs" with YouTube clips or images without even commenting on them. And don't get me wrong, I have nothing against people who want to share a clip. I've even done this myself, when I was too exhausted and hung over to actually write something, and the title was quite self-explanatory. But I usually try to leave some comment about what I share and why I'm sharing it. But these guys includes about 10-50 pictures, without any text at all, and calls it a day. That's like taking a creative writing class and copy-paste a link to Wikipedia about books. No-one wins. I'd actually be quite mad that they wasted my bandwidth if I had some kind of bandwidth cap or something.

On a related note: Does anyone know how to remove "follow" on deleted blogs? It's been bugging me for a while now. *Resolved*

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Sober again.

To aid my quest to get more interesting stories to put on my blog, I've been drinking for four days now. Much to my dismay, alcohol wasn't the answer I was looking for. Sure, I did have some fun, I did get laid, and I managed to go the whole time without throwing up once. But nothing out of the ordinary happened. I did however find out a couple of things. Like that drinking for this long gives you one hell of an hangover. It feels like I've been hit by a train. A train filled with agony and pain. Okay, it isn't really that bad. It's just that for some reason, every time I drink for these periods of time, every single muscle in my body gets sore. It's like the day after a full body workout but you're also dizzy and got a killer headache. Also, the more I drink, the greener my eyes gets.

And it's watching you sleep.

The thing is that I knew this was gonna happen. I've been drinking like this before. So none of the the "discoveries" was really new to me. Except the eye thing, never noticed that one. I say it was totally worth it though. I did get a few new memories, I got some compliments on my body, we've talked about the good old times and apparently I even got myself a workout somewhere along the way. Looks like I got an half decent post out of it as well.

Either that or I'm still drunk and everything looks good right now.

Saturday, July 23, 2011


Well, as all of you might know, Norway got hit by its biggest attack since WWII yesterday. Over 90 people dead so far. Norway is my neighboring country, which is more similar than different from Sweden, so it feels very close and real. It could have been here.

The thing I've never understood about terrorism is... Well, it's why. The people carrying out the attacks are often intelligent. Just look at this attack on Norway. It took extensive planning and bomb manufacturing. Most people can't even set the clock on their DVD. And since the terrorist have the ability of logical thinking they should know that nothing good never comes out of blowing people up. Terrorists actions does the exact opposite of what they want it to do. People have no sympathy for the terrorists, they don't go thinking "Hey, they blew up a lot of people, maybe they're right." No, people get mad.

Lets just look at america and 9/11. A huge blow against america. But those 3000 tragic deaths lead to a war. A war were around a hundred thousand civilians have been killed on Iraqi soil. So who's the real looser here?

The Norwegians obviously can't go to war against their own country. But the attack will still strengthen the things he was trying to fight. What ever party he voted for will loose members. The party he was fighting will get more votes and more active members.

Yeah... I don't know what more to say. It's just sad.

tl:dr; Terrorism is stupid and never gets them what they want.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Blogging at work

Another day under the same sky. I'm currently sitting here at work, enjoying a partially dimmed sun, and trying to figure out what to do with all my dead time between customers. When getting drunk isn't really an option I don't really know what to do with myself. I considered doing some interpretive dance for a moment before I realized that I have no idea whatsoever what that even is. So I decided that the best course of action was to pull up my iPod, light a cigarette, and write something. But of course I have nothing to write about.

Sometimes I wish i was a professional writer. Those guy seem to have their life cut out for them. I already got the basic laid out for me, if professional writing is anything like it's portrayed in Californication, with the alcohol, women and the constant despair. And I assume it's just like that. But what I don't understand is how they can get their thoughts down on paper so easily. Or in my case, into a first generation iPod. Take that woman who wrote those Harry Potter books. Just one of those books is more than what I've written in a lifetime. And she wrote seven of them. And everyone of them were better than the last. The fact that she was able to write all those books about some annoying, paranoid kid with a scar in his face is just amazing. Kudos to you, woman who I don't remember the name of.

I still try though. And sometimes I get something decent down. Sometimes I get some pseudo-intellectual rambling out that’s barely understandable. But most of the time it's just bad. Take my last post for example. I read it over this morning and I have no idea how I could let that thing go public. It's awful. You could go to a random 14 year old's blog and get some rambling about their new pair of shoes and how they make them feel and you'd still be better off reading that.

But the fact is that most of the things that comes out of my head looks like that. I got a folder full of word-document containing about 100-200 word of nothingness each that will never see the light of day. They be stored on my hard-drive forever. Mocking me.

The thing is that I can't delete them neither. I need them to be there. To remind me how not to write. They are my shame and yet they are the only thing that strives me to become a better writer.

My City - Short Ver.

Västerås. With its 130.000 inhabitants it's the fifth largest city in Sweden. And this is my home.
I've lived in many cities in Sweden. Västerås, Uppsala, Eskilstuna, Kalmar, and some more not really worth mentioning, but I always come back to Västerås. I don't know why, but it's like every time I try to escape, it pulls me back in. In a good way. This is why I'd like to share it with you.

I'm lazy tho, so I'll just share a couple of pics instead. You can Wikipedia the rest.

You see that tall building to the right? Partially hidden behind the bushes. That's "Skrapan". Or "The sky skraper" in english. It's our only building with more than 24 floors. If you've seen that you've seen anything worth seeing in Västerås really.

And this is our highway. The only real way in or out of our city. Deserted. Now you might say: "But Cray, you're obviously just using pictures from deserted city Pripyat's high way and labeling it as your own." This could be the case, but no, this is actually the highway going through Sweden fifth largest city. If you look closely you can even see a car in the distance.

Well, this post turned out quite differently than I had originally imagined. I do like love my city, and I feel like I'm a part of it, but at the same time it makes me depressed as hell.

Oh well, at least it's not as bad as Eskilstuna. Seriously, don't go there, that place is fucked up.

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


Since it's been a long day, it's getting kinda late, I probably got work tomorrow and I'm heavily medicated against my migraine right now I'm going to try to keep this post short. Originally I was going to write some insightful things about Facebook and how makes people behave, including me, but I'll have to save that for another day. Then i got to thinking that'd I share some stuff with you that I really enjoy. But then I realized that I don't want my blog to turn into some kind of link page. But then again, I'm high as a skyscraper and really want to sleep right now. So I'll leave you with some YouTube clips. Because, you know, hell yeah!

This first video is Boards of Canada by Sixtyniner. I stumbled upon this great piece of artwork just a few days ago. The sound is really relaxing and the video for it, which were made by fans, are just beautiful and fits perfectly with the music. A must see for anyone with music taste.

Just to have some contrast to that epic thing we just saw we got another epic video. But this time we got Day[9], or Day[J] as he prefers to be called, explaining why trumpets is a bad idea. I remember laughing so hard that I couldn't breathe the first time I saw this. A must see.

And finally, to wrap things up, I'm going to share with you something that's going to blow your mind. Probably the best artist AND music video in all of 2011! I give to you: Rebecka Blac... naa, just kidding. This is a song that's been with me since 2002. It's not the best song ever and it's in swedish but it's loaded with memories. It's Kent - Dom andra!

Oh, the nostalgia. Well, that's everything for me. I hope what I've written is readable for all you sober people out there. And if not, at least I wasted a couple of minutes of your time. Tune in tomorrow for more awesome stuff which doesn't revolve around stealing content from YouTube!

Monday, July 18, 2011

Nicotine's a bitch

This day sucks. I was about to post just that sentence, because of me being in a bad mood, but I think you guys deserve some back story. This post won't really be as deep and soul touching as most of my other posts. But to hell with that. It's my human right to complain, and if I want to tell the world about my self-destructive behavior, then so be it.

The whole thing really started two days ago. I was hung over like a beast after a late night of drinking so most of the day was wasted on lying on a friend's couch. After several failed attempts to stop myself from throwing up I decided that it was time to go home. A quick glance in the mirror, just to make sure that my looks were still intact, and away I went to a 30 minute walk of shame. At 4 in the afternoon. On a Friday.

The walk home was pretty uneventful, as it always is, but that's really the norm for these kinds of things. No, the things that lead to this day being hell were my thought when I got home. It went something like this:

"Cool, I haven't had a cigarette for almost half a day and I don't feel like smoking. I should try to see how it feels to go several days just like that!"

This must have been the most stupid idea I've had all year. And I've done some stupid stuff. The worst thing is that I didn't even want to quit. I like smoking. I've liked it ever since I started smoking about three years ago. I've never had any of those pesky side effects, like smoke cough or reduced whatever. And studies show that you look at least 10% cooler holding a cigarette. Who am I to argue against science? No, I wanted to see how it felt to go without nicotine without any real reason. That's like shooting yourself in the foot with a gun just to see if it hurts. Stupid.

Let’s fast forward a day. It's five pm and I'm at work. I work at a very service minded job at summer. That is, Ii guard a lawn and sometimes I tend to some customers. And I usually don't have a hard time doing it. Sure, some customers can be quite obnoxious, but mostly it doesn't faze me at all. I fake a smile and exchange their money for goods. But, as I realized today, even the easiest task can make you want to punch someone in the face if you're on day two of nicotine withdrawal. It's hell. I even considered trading an ice cream for a cigarette before I, thankfully, realized how bad that'd would've looked. Especially when the kid was like 12. I really can't understand how people can "quit" several times per year. That must be like self-inflicted torture. Like emos cutting themselves.

When I finally get of work, having managed not to kill a single customer, I come home and find that my adapter has fried, rendering my laptop useless. And when I went to call to see if someone had a replacement I realized that I've forgotten my phone somewhere. So I'm writing this on my iPod, hoping it would calm me down. Totally didn't. So I'm going to go out, find the nearest open place, and buy me a loaf of cigarettes.

If you read about some guy in Sweden beating up some other guy over a pack of smokes tomorrow then you probably know who it was.

P.S: Did I mention that it just started raining?

Saturday, July 16, 2011

A love for dubstep

I usually don't blog about "boring" stuff like music, clothes or about how awesome my perfectly normal day has been. I've never cared much for such blogs so I've always assumed that others didn't as well. This on the other hand has resulted in a blog that gets updated roughly twice a year. And I do believe that an empty blog is just as bad as a boring one. So I'll just share my recently found love for dubstep with you.

First things first. To really enjoy dubstep you need to own a decent sound system. I really wouldn't recommend anything below the price range of $100. If you're using headphones, old "computer speakers" or your in-built laptop sound, just forget it. It'll sound like shit and you'll end up hating it. The reason for this is that dubstep relies on bass. And most cheap sound systems can't handle bass correctly. So it would be like watching Avatar on a black and white TV. It kinda works, you get what the content is about, but most of the things that make it good is lost on you.

Lets say you have a decent sound system then. What now?

Well there isn't much you have to do really. Find a good dubstep song, crank your amplifier up to 11 and have fun. Just don't forget to put the quality to 720/1080 if you're playing the song on youtube.

And if you're unsure where to find good dubstep songs, I'll just leave this here: