For as long as I can remember, the concept of hypersleep has intrigued me. On the one hand, it’s a popular term that has been used generously in science fiction literature and film to explain how humans manage multi-year, interplanetary space travel without literally aging out of existence. By halting the body’s functions entirely, storytellers can conveniently allow both protagonists and antagonists to sleep for months, years, and even decennium and then be reanimated – perhaps looking a little queasy but mostly unblemished and remarkably ready for action.

On the other hand, when I think about it, hypersleep is also kind of like what religious folks must believe will happen to us once we expire. I mean, if heaven is in the heavens, which the name certainly implies, there’s got to be some form of logistics involved in getting there: hypersleep!

Exactly 30 days ago, Charlotte and I sat down to savor a delightful dinner at Hotell Kullaberg in the village of Mölle-by-the-Sea. It was no ordinary Saturday evening; we were celebrating our silver wedding anniversary. Our conversation was adorned with joyful reminiscences of that enchanting day and night, a series of magical memories from two and a half decades ago.

As the coffee arrived, I, in my habitual manner, ordered a Sambuca, the Italian avec adorned with three coffee beans. After our meal, we strolled leisurely along the harbor to the spacious annex that the hotel had reserved for us for the night. Before Charlotte and I went indoors, we sat outside for a while beneath the stars, appreciating the tranquil August evening. We finished the remnants of the bottle we had opened before dinner, just enough for about a glass each.

Since I swallowed those very last, somewhat lackluster drops of Champagne, I’ve abstained entirely from alcohol.

With the exception of 1996, prior to a solo exhibition at Gallery Viking in Gothenburg (Chalmersgatan), when I decided, at the beginning of the year, to remain sober until after my vernissage in November, I haven’t had a dry month since I was 15.

Hm. When I read that last line, it sounds rather dreadful. As if I hadn’t done much else but indulge…

Anyway…

After another summer where alcohol played a somewhat excessive role, it feels healthy to be on the wagon right now. I had no preconceived notions about how this hiatus would unfold; I decided from the outset to take it one day at a time and not project too many scenarios where my occasionally feeble character succumbed to irresistible temptations.

I must admit, however, that the initial weeks were unsteady and sweaty. It wasn’t so much that I missed the taste of beer, wine, or whiskey; I surprisingly managed without any phantom pains in that regard. It was more the vacuum left behind by that seductive euphoria (the release) that alcohol had always so generously offered me, requiring some form of mental withdrawal strategy.

I also felt a bit anxious about how I would navigate our social life without it becoming awkward, forced, or complicated. Dinners and situations where I knew in advance that alcohol would be present or even the focal point. How could I handle such occasions without disappointing anyone, most of all myself?

But it turns out I had underestimated my latent resilience and managed several dinners and gatherings without falling off the wagon or feeling like a bigger oddball than usual.

Temptations crop up everywhere: when I pass a bar in town, people drinking in movies, and particularly when images and clips flash by in my social streams, especially during weekends. The scenes I see all look so enjoyable, and the weakest, seediest version of me immediately wants to end my dry month, throw back a shot of cheap bourbon, and quickly wash it down with a large, ice-cold, and nameless draft beer.

If I have a long-term goal with this ongoing period of sobriety, it’s to eliminate my spontaneous and routine habit of drinking just to reward or indulge myself. I jokingly tell Charlotte that we’ve had a bit too much child-free time since Elle flew the nest.

Physically, I don’t feel a significant difference, but it may arrive. I exercise about the same and feel similarly well in my body. However, I do believe I sleep better, and my mood seems more even. I also experience a different kind of emotional stability, as if I’m steadier in the cockpit and have better visibility. Especially when I am working creatively.

I know that consuming alcohol nearly every day puts extra strain on the body. And now, having recently turned 60, I want to at least try to help (not hinder) this old, slightly worn-out body by reducing the stresses as much as possible.

I really don’t want to pass judgment, advocate, or lecture. The most important thing is that Joakim/Kim benefits from this hiatus and that I’ve come to realize that yes, I have indeed been drinking too often and too casually. The question now is whether I can ever change my rather nonchalant relationship with alcohol and enjoy it in a healthier way. Right now, when I don’t miss it in my life, I’m somewhat doubtful. But… one day at a time, right?

I miss this view. It’s the walkway across Pacific Coast Highway that I would take with my surfboard under my arm to or from surfing in the mornings or evenings when we lived on Idaho Avenue and 2nd Street in Santa Monica back in 2014. I vividly remember how heading back to the apartment after a couple of hours in the waves, carrying a tall longboard and the weight of my thick, soaking wetsuit was exhausting. But I don’t think I ever walked home without glowing of happiness.

Brought my 2019 Macbook Pro to our local Apple store today to see if I could trade it in and buy a new shiny laptop. They offered me about 15% of what I’d paid, but couldn’t or wouldn’t allow me to keep it until my new computer arrived. Why? Policy.

If I kept my old computer in the meantime, Apple wouldn’t or couldn’t guarantee that I would receive the amount I was quoted today. Worse yet, they couldn’t or wouldn’t provide me with a reasonable delivery date, which meant I could be without a laptop for several weeks.

I’ve been a customer of Apple for a quarter century. At times our relationship has been contentious and as I grow older, I see beyond the smoke and mirrors and the company’s legendary distortion field. Nowadays, I even hesitate to visit an Apple Store. The experience is just too superficial and though beautifully camouflaged, it’s all about sales, sales, and more sales. None of the sales folks I’ve spoken to in recent years know much about real-world creativity and can’t provide anything but well-rehearsed clichés from the company’s sales manual.

Back in the day, when Apple computers were more or less reserved for creative types, there was an unspoken alliance, and most of us who used their machines followed the company’s progress carefully and prayed that Apple would survive. If for no other reason, than so that we wouldn’t be forced to use an erratically behaving mouse connected to a dreadfully dreary PC running the clunky Windows operating system. If I had to take a guess, I’d say our company has spent at least SEK600-700k on Apple stuff over the years.

Yeah, I’m clearly still pissed off about my effing option key conundrum. I even told today’s rep about how Apple wants to charge me SEK9000 to repair said key (one of the keyboard’s 78 keys!). He just smiled without openly admitting the absurdity of such a ridiculous fee. The environmental implications of having to replace the entire keyboard, the aluminum keyboard plate, and the battery because of a single, plastic key is certainly solid evidence that Apple is just as cynical about the environment as every other corporation. The company’s PR is just much better at being ostentatiously disingenuous.

Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the option key isn’t made out of simple plastic after all. Perhaps it’s actually made from an amalgamation of unicorn tears and gold. That might explain things…

I’m honored to have once again been invited to exhibit my art during Malmö’s annual Gallery Weekend September 22-24 at what is arguably the event’s most beautiful venue, the grand exhibit hall at the former City Hall (Rådhuset).

This year, I’ll be showing three rather large acrylic paintings on canvas. I hope to see you there! ‍

#gallerihelg #artforlife #paintings #malmöartscene #art #artist #acrylicpainting #creativityeveryday
#malmögallerihelg2023

I’ve been swimming a lot while here in Greece. Not so much in the ocean, though I’ve done that too. I’ve been swimming laps in the above 25m pool which is nearest our room and dedicated to exercise and not for playing in. I breastswim in one direction and crawl on the return.

In 2019, I spent a couple of months lap swimming in the early mornings at a nice sports club in Da Nang, Vietnam. Like back then, during this morning’s 1000m swim, I sometimes lost track of my laps and probably added at least an additional 100m to my original goal. Which is perfectly fine. But I think I need to invest in a lap counting watch of some kind.