Wai? Because we love you!

Linda and I are in Waikiki. Just the name itself sounds so exotic. People say it is like a cross between Tokyo and Miami Beach. I think that’s an accurate description.

We are staying in a penthouse suite on the 44th floor of the Island Colony about 4 blocks from the beach. Our room has a double bed, a sofa bed couch, a kitchenette, a lanai, and a small bathroom. The key is of course the lanai where we spend most of our time and from whence I write this edition of Swedish Sloth.

Ideas flood my head. I am getting vain in my mid 30’s. I think maybe if I post pictures of naked Swedish girls at the top of my posts I might get more readers. I think I will try that. But not now. I am filled with peace. I am drinking a mai-tai and munching occasionally on some macadamia nuts. Blonde on Blonde is on the stereo. It’s almost 80 degrees Fahrenheit outside now at 8:00 pm.

Waikiki is different. In my Jungian mind I have identified three major distinct archetypes strolling the shores around here not counting the individuals:

1. The Japanese Hipster
2. The Fat American Tourist
3. The Surfer

Almost everyone can be put in one of these 3 categories. I am hopefully one of the individuals and not one of the Fat American Tourists. Truthfully, I have never fit into a category in my life except maybe the Dipsomaniacal Sloth category. Fuck me. I like to think I belong on the fringe. I feel like more like an artist than an alcoholic.

The Japanese Hipsters are the best. I want to hang out with them so badly. They walk around mostly at night with their fancy coifs and their designer threads. There is almost always one boy and one girl. Occassioanlly they travel in groups. They look like dolls, they are so thin and perfect looking. The boys are dressed in fashionable clothes with trimmed goatees and smart sunglasses. The girls are equally decked out in flower pattern French cut dresses and high heels, although they look a little confused as to the point of it all. The boys seem more sure they are doing the right thing.

But where do they go and what do they do? I want to follow one around and find out. That is my mission for the next week. I don’t think they go out drinking… my guess is that they just prance around for a few hours and then go home and go to bed. Me I don’t see the point of going out without stopping by at least one pub. I must be old-fashioned.

Sweden? The idea behind this blog is not to extol the virtues of the Hawaiian Islands but rather to explain the perspectives of an American moving to Sweden. And that’s not an original idea, as it’s already being done quite well by Francis Strand. But of course perspective is perspective. I am not a gay American man married to a Swedish man. I am the American living embodiment of Sloth living with a Swedish woman. And Sloth is a sin, according to that prick we refer to as the Judeao-Christian God.

Being gay is not even a sin according to any Bible passage I've ever read. It's just the gay self-negating hypocritical preachers who gay bash. Sodom was a city of vice, but it never mentions actual butt-fucking in the Bible. In all the Bible School classes I was forced into attending as a child, I have never read one thing about not being gay in the Ten Commandments. Sloth however is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Oh, how I long for the day when I can no longer separate myself from the sin in which I live.

Long live Sloth in Hawaii!

Bye Bye North America

Today is our last day in North America. I feel the Mayor of Seattle should be calling me and urging me not to go... that I am too valuable to the community. But of course that is ridiculous. I have been drunk since Friday at noon and it's Sunday today. Even poor Linda is hungover and the codeines are out of the bottle and into our mouths. We washed them down with the morning coffee.

Last night we went to George and Dragon with some non-work friends.... thanks for coming out! Ralph, Marky, Derek, Christiana, Richard, Tracy, and Craig. I will miss you all. Don't join the military or anything, even if you lose your jobs.

When you're a struggling writer, a random unsolicited note from a reader can really make even the worst hangover feel like a buzz... check this one out I got today:

"the rex club is the sex club was one of the best short stories i've ever read! seriously, it was phenomenally cool, and i just wanna say well done."
- shahid

Wow. And tomorrow it's a month in Hawaii. Life is good sometimes.

Write as Rain

Well I've been on the sauce again. Not really again, since I never really stopped in the first place. Last night Linda called me an alcoholic when she caught me drinking the Jack Daniels out of the bottle again. I told her it was rock and roll but she reminded me I'm not a musician.

Tonight the Jack Daniels is gone so I bought some Vincent Van Gogh Dutch Chocolate Vodka. It's worth every penny of the 30 bucks it costs. I highly recommend checking it out if you live near any nice liquor stores that might carry it. It beats the other chocolate vodkas out there hands down.

It's funny as a kid I never drank hard alcohol straight. I used to swear it tasted like poison. Now it's what I enjoy most. I guess I really am becoming a fucking writer.

Speaking of writing, I passed a couple milestones this week. For one, I submitted over 200 corrections (typos) of my first novel The Ultimate Space Hit to Wasteland Press (thank you Linda for finding them) and I got back the updated books. I gave it to a friend who read it in two days and told me they LOVED it. That makes me feel so good.

Also, I surpassed 50,000 words on my second novel, The Living Dead Don't Get a Holiday. That one is only really supposed to be about that long... so it feels good to be breezing past that predefined limit. I may end up with another 20,000 words at this point. I hope to finish / edit it in Hawaii next month.

That's right Hawaii. A lot has changed since the last episode. I sold our car for our full asking price, and nearly everything in the apartment is slated to sell next weekend before we head out of here. Linda wants to spend her 30th birthday in Hawaii. Who could fucking blame her? Not me. We don't have a place to stay yet but that's trivial. We are trying to rent a condo but we might end up in some cheap tourist hotels and visit a different island every week.

Oh finally... I was reading the NME and tonight Shaun Ryder and Bez are spinning in the club that was approximately 100 meters from my front door when I lived in London. Just to think of them there... walking down the same street and seeing the same things as I did gives me chills. Bez is a fantastic writer, waster, and dancer. Shaun Ryder is a pure fucking genius. Enough blogging for now. Now its time for the Killers and some more chocolate vodka.

Lazy Twatting Bastard Me

Okay Linda and I are leaving our apartment for the big move in two weeks and we haven't even begun to sell our stuff yet.

We have of course planned our trip to Hawaii very carefully. But now we might decide to go to Peru instead. Peru has all those cool Inca ruins and there are less bloody Americans there. But our main concern is that the drinks might cost too much. Peru is more third world and thus we can expect to get dollar beers wherever we go.

The alcohol price factor reminds me of the weekend trips Kyle and I used to take from our University days in Paris. We had spare Eurail tickets left over from the summer, and very limited funds. Every couple of weeks, we broke out the tattered collection of pages that remained from our Let's Go Europe book and researched where the beer was cheapest. Germany always won. So we would head East for a couple nights of drinking out in the beer halls. We hit Munich three times. In our defense, we also got to Salzberg, Austria once.

The preparation for moving is going extremely badly. If we don't get on the mf right away, we have to THROW EVERYTHING WE OWN AWAY. I guess that's okay. It's what I normally do when I move overseas. Every time I go I think I'm never coming back. This time its probably true.

The good news is, we still have saved up enough money to be alright. Two working people with no kids or Class A drug habits can do quite well in The States. We live downtown Seattle, eat out all the time, own a car, cable tv, broadband Internet access, and all that jazz.

The only question remaining is: What the fuck am I going to do in Stockholm for work besides write this blog and finish my second novel? I don't know. Fuck it. I'll figure something out. Teach English and start a mail order business to make money in the long term. Maybe open a bar.

Every country I have been to so far has a couple things that are amazingly cheap. In Germany its lager and sausages. In France, its bread, wine, and stinky soft cheese. In Spain it's tapas and sangria. In England its pints and chips. I am still trying to find out what's cheap in Sweden. . . I think its knäckebröd (crispy bread) and bulk candy. At least that's better than America, where its fast food and ammunition.

17 days to go. . .

Last American Month

The best parts in life are all in the anticipation and the waiting. Every day feels like Electric Iced Tea Christmas. One of the extra special things this time, because I have left the USA before, is that I know I won't have to come back ever again. And when I do come back, it will be as a tourist.

Everything is pretty much sorted right now for an on-time departure. I have received a PERMANENT residence card in Sweden. I have informed my business partner, Mark, that my last day is February 28th. Linda and I have found temporary lodging in Stockholm. She has also told her boss she is quitting. I got my teeth cleaned and cavities filled... and will hopefully schedule a health check-up imminently while I still have insurance. I even made a list of everything we need to sell before we go.

I had a deep cleaning at the dentist today and 3 cavities filled. It was my first trip to the dentist in years. The pain is still shooting through my mouth as I write this and I cannot wait to go home and pop some codeines and drink a few high balls.

Linda is busy studying the Let's Go Hawaii book in order to plan a vacation in Hawaii before the trip to Stockholm. We both love to lie on the beach, read, and go out at night so we should really have a good time in Waikiki which everyone who has been to Hawaii describes as a cheesy tourist place.

If most Americans hate it, then I am sure I will like it just fine. The rooms are cheap, the flight is cheap, the beach is three blocks away and I can write all morning and drink all evening. What's not to like about that?

People say that Kauai is the most remote and naturally beautiful island, so maybe Linda and I will day trek over there to see a remaining lush paradise that man hasn't destroyed yet.

This weekend is the Super Bowl. Go Eagles. The last time I remember the Eagles in the Super Bowl, I was like 10 years old. Ron Jaworski was the QB. The Eagles lost. My grandfather was upset. I wasn't. I was rooting for the Raiders. I never rooted for the home team. I was always with the visitors.

My grandfather is still alive and kicking it. He can't understand why I would emigrate to Sweden. Most of my friends think its pretty cool.

This year I am rooting for my grandfather's team, The Philadephia Eagles. Pennsylvania people may be farmerish, and small-minded, but New England people are some of the most annoying people in the world.