Goodbye 2006. Hello 2007!

(Obviously, the picture was added after midnight, I'm on the roof of my cousins house in Ekhagen, Jönköping) It’s about 2 hours left of 2006 and what can I say? It’s been an incredible year. I have toured the gigantic continent of North America. I have finally gotten my grades up so I can attend University studies if I want to in the future. I’ve met the woman of my dreams, a couple of times. I’ve bought the most incredible camera I’ve ever owned (Nikon D80). I’ve had a girlfriend, I’ve been dumped, I’ve had the best sex in my life and I’ve had such a good year that my meditation and contemplation regarding the passed year, that I always do on new years eve has been without tears, anxiety or any negative emotions.

That's the most surprising part, that I feel so at ease and so complete… probably for the first time in my life. I’ve done so much and experienced so many things this year and I’ve lived this year without compromises, simply doing whatever the fuck I wanted.

So, of course I have to give you a best of 2006. The award for most memorable moment of 2006 goes to… THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE! Me and Jilbert were in the car, driving up the hills to go across the bridge, and when I saw it… oh my God. I just wanted to cry. The Golden Gate became a symbol for my success, a validation of all my hard work to get to USA and to do the tour. It became a monument, declaring my victory over life and what other people have dictated my life to be about. It was a huge middle finger saying FUCK YOU to everyone who doubted me, to everyone who questioned me and to everyone who have tried to keep me down. It was a cradle which I returned to often during my stay in the US. It was my temple. I used to go down to the beach and just stare at it, listening to the waves giving me applause for my triumph over my predetermined destiny.

Thank you everyone for taking part of my adventures this year through this blog. Thank you for supporting me and dropping me emails and comments. This blog has had about 1500 visitors every month during my tour and about 500 each month before and after the tour. Thank you each and every one of you, it means a lot to me that you actually spend your time reading my thoughts. Love Questions Perspective and this is me, Emil Brikha signing off for the year of 2006. Much love.

I’m too ugly to dance with.

No I’m not, off course I’m not… am I? Okay look. Yesterday me, my cousin and his friend were out clubbing. Oh, a word of advice… Don’t do absinth shots! Anyway, we were getting the mood and hit the dance floor like three excited monkeys and started to dance, joking around and just having some fun. Last time I was out dancing it was in Modesto with my cousins and I was all over the place, dancing with everyone and everything. You know, just having some good, clean and very sweaty fun.

So, back to yesterday night, there were a lot of nice and fresh ladies, dancing in groups. So we started to dance with different chicks from different groups on the dance floor. Here’s where it gets interesting. I dance very respectfully, you know, no grabbing, no backhumping and shit like that. When I’ve danced with someone for a long time, at the very most I put a hand on my dance partners hip just to be able to read her moves and move with. her but hey that’s the base of all dancing.

So, back to yesterday night, again. It didn’t matter if I approached a blond, brunette, Swede, Assyrian, tall, short, fat or skinny, everyone kept rejecting me… and in a very disrespectful way. So I look around. My cousin is dancing with someone, and I mean really close, you know, doggy style. His friend is doing the same thing and me? I’m dancing with… my t-shirt. Mind you, both my cousin Ilbra and his friend Ali are very good looking tall guys so I can’t blame them for having it easier with the ladies but I’m as good a dancer as anyone but like I said, I was dancing with… my t-shirt!

I came to the realisation, the bitter realisation that dancefloors are pretty much a gateway to getting laid. My conclusion was that people only want to dance with you if they want to fuck with you and if they don’t want to fuck with you, they don’t want to dance with you. Okay, it sounds like I’m beating myself up about the way I look, it’s not that. I’m fine with the fact that I’m short, chubby and have an Eiffel tower nose, that’s fine. But come on, I’m a pretty good dancer, I’m a funny and nice guy and I’m never disrespectful, I’m not the grabbing kind of pushy guys. I even fucking smell good! Ha ha. What the hell! 3 hours on the dancefloor and without exaggerating not one, NOT ONE woman would dance with me. Yes, this is where you feel sorry for me and email me, telling me that YOU would dance with me ;)

I’ll give you an example. Me and Ali were dancing and two chicks were dancing next to us. So, we were kind of dancing with them, well, I didn’t pay that much attention to them. Ali starts to dance with one of them, leaving me and this chicks friend dancing to the backs of them. So I move around and kind of dance with the other one, still really not paying that much attention to her… until she takes 5 steps away from me. I’m like, ehm… well, maybe there was some glass or something on the floor. Ali makes a move on the chick he was dancing with and by now they are doggy style dancing really close, grinding. I try to act respectful, keeping the other girl company, so I turn to her, still on a ehm, what… 1 metre distance. She looks at me and goes and stands on the other side of her friend and Ali. I felt offended by this so I simply walked up to her and with my best Jim Carrey impression I said: “This is a daaaaancefloor, I am daaaancing… you know? Daaancing!”. She looked at me embarrassed, realising what an ass she was. I just turned around and left Ali and her friend dancing, and herself, dancing by herself. And me? I continued dancing, by myself.

No one can change the world.

You can only change yourself, and when you do, the world changes with you. I’ve been feeling really down these past days. The weekend was great but reality caught up with me on Sunday evening. I’m so tired, exhausted and just unmotivated. I put my heart and soul into promotion, PR, trying to get places, book shows, do interviews and stuff like that. It takes so much confidence to do that, to constantly convince yourself that what you are doing is good, that everyone should write about me, talk about me and air me. Well, here’s a newsflash, it’s hard work!

SVT, TV4, Metro, City, DN, P3, P1… no one gives a shit, no one returns my calls and emails and it’s getting under my skin, making me doubt myself and my talent. Add people’s cocky behaviour online, negative comments and shit like that. It sucks the life and joy out of you. I need a agent who can do all this for me. So, any agents anywhere?

Well, I was just sitting on the subway, wallowing in self pity and I just remembered that I had a Daim (chocolate) in my pocket. As I pushed my hand deep into my jacket pocket I made eye contact with a older woman who was sitting opposite me, she heard the paper of the candy. I smiled and she smiled back as I took a bite out of the chocolate. A couple of seconds passed by and I noticed she was looking at me, so I looked up and smiled at her again, this time offering her some of my chocolate. She started to giggle and declined politely, saying she had already eaten. I nodded my head and said, very well and got off the train at the next stop.

I have felt like crap these days and this old woman, this stranger turned everything around just by confirming my existence, by responding to my eye contact and by interacting with my smile. All of this, simply because I smiled at her first. The moral of the story is that you can beat yourself senseless about whatever is going on in your life. You can even feel that all the work you put in doesn’t result in anything. But all you have to do is to smile, to change, to let someone in and your mood changes, the way you look changes and the way you write changes and hopefully, a old woman goes home with a big smile to and continues to spread that light. I changed myself, I changed the world :)

At PUNKTmedis with Emil Jensen

I was the warm up act for Emil Jensen tonight at PUNKTmedis in Stockholm. He is truly an incredible poet and musician. I had no idea he was so good at playing the piano! If you want to see more of the pcitures I took, please visit my picture gallery: http://www.lqp.se/photogallery

I know it’s been a while since I wrote here but I really don’t have much to say. I’m just doing promotion for my shows, my cd and my video and trying to find a place to stay for the night. Right now I’m borrowing my brother’s apartment while he’s in New York.

Kristin is finally coming tomorrow and I’m so excited I can barely think about it without bursting in to a Fat boy slim video dance. Oh, I wrote my first poem about my mother today. I actually performed it at the show tonight. I think people liked it, couldn’t be sure hehe. Anyway, I’d like to share it with you so, here it is.

Det tog 19 år innan jag förstod det där med gula fläckar på toalettstolen.

Det tog 19 år innan jag förstod det där med dammtussar under soffan.

Det tog 19 år innan jag förstod hur snabbt tallrikar blir smutsiga och behöver diskas.

Min mor, min städerska, min hushållerska.
min kokerska, min servitris.

Min mor, min bästa vän, min inspiration.
Min motvikt, min tröst.

Min mor har burit människors brister innanför bristningarna på sin mage.
Hon har burit trista minnen efter tvister för att hennes män varken haft ryggrad eller krage.

Min mor sträckte ut armarna för att omfamna världen men korsfästes istället.

Hon har törstiga parasiter som slickar blod från hennes genomborrade händer.

Och där hänger hon, med parasiter som aldrig mättas, med sår som aldrig läks.

Jag var 19 år när jag flyttade hemifrån och förstod först inte varför det blev gula fläckar på toalettstolen så snabbt. Att dammtussarna dök upp trodde jag berodde på att luften i Göteborg bara var smutsigare. Disken hade jag ingen förklaring till, så jag köpte ett 18 delars set på IKEA och hoppades att det skulle hjälpa.

Den största lögnen min mor någonsin yttrat är tystnad och acceptans.

Det största sveket min mor har begått är förlåtelsen hon gett andra.

Det säkraste löftet hon gett finns i hennes ögon.

Den finaste gåvan hon ger är sitt hjärta.

Hon har gett mig en ren toalett och mat på bordet varje dag.
Hon har sett mig begå misstag men aldrig sagt: vad var det jag sa?

Hon har gett mig liv. Hon har gett mig sitt liv.
Hon har gett mig budskapet att göra allt i kärlekens namn.
Och jag tror henne för jag föddes ur kärlekens famn
Och jag blev en kärleksfull man först när kärleken fann
sin väg in i mitt hjärta och jag erkände mig besegrad när kärleken vann.

Min mor har gett sitt liv för sina två söners lycka.
Min bror konsumerades av hat
och jag växte upp med rädslan för vad han skulle tycka.
Min mor har blivit styckad och kluvits av livets yxa.
Och jag har lärt mig av hennes misstag
men kommer sprida ljuset av hennes kärlek som en lykta.

Efter all skit hon har fått ta och allt elände hon har genomlidit kan man ställa sig frågan om det var värt det. Jag frågar henne detta, speciellt dagar då hon mår för dåligt för att ens kunna stå upp. Hon ler sitt, haltande leende, brutet av smärtan i ben, leder och muskler och svarar:

- Du, är ju min son.

Back in Sweden, back in the dark.

Okay, so I didn’t die on the flight back to Sweden but I already feel parts of me numbing, falling asleep. It’s so dark, for so long. Compared to San Francisco it’s basically the same weather, 10 degrees Celsius. But in SF it’s light at least until 5 or 6 pm and it gets light at about 7 am. I understand this now, it’s the darkness that’s killing me. Another annoying thing is the sand they drop on the streets, making every step uneven, making shoes look like crap, making a nice afternoon walk suck really bad.

So, enough of the negativity. It’s been great seeing my family again and last night I was at a very dear friends house and she had her friends over for a chips and dip evening. It was so nice, laid back and an awesome way to ease back into the mood and language of Sweden. Right now I’m working hard to score gigs, do promotion and try to get out there. It’s always hard here, to be noticed and taken seriously. I do my best though. Right now I’m just tired, bored and it’s dark outside, off course and Swedish TV is showing a documentary about Fidel Castro. I noticed the guy is wearing Nike shoes. Good job, communist.