But of course, in whole, it is a horrible experience. This is just a positive side effect, kind of learning the hard way what really matters. My grandfather is feeling better but he is still at the hospital. if everything turns out the way that it should he will be able to go back home within the next couple of days. My grandfather is a truly great and brilliant man. I look up to him in so many ways. He’s a very silent man but when he does speak, you tend to listen.

I owe so much to both my grandfather and my grandmother. More than I will ever be able to pay back. But it’s not really about paying back, it never was and never will be. It’s about appreciating things and gestures and of course about returning gestures. But that is not the same thing as paying back. Making a nice gesture expecting something in return takes away the “nice” in nice gesture.

I almost sound a bit religious. I am not. I don’t believe in religion. At some time in their lives people might need “guidance” or “rules” to live by. Maybe that is a good thing, temporary that is. A lifetime of submission is a waist. Submission is rarely a good thing, most likely never, at least not for a longer period of time. And I am fairly sure that religion has already taken more lives then it will ever save. I might believe there is a God but I will never believe in religion. Somebody ones said that that was a coward way of answering the question “Do you believe in God?”. She was wrong. But she was still worth the song.

I am not afraid of growing old. What scares me and what sometimes make me sad is watching people around you grow older. When you realize that your father is about to turn sixty it scares you, at least it does me. When watching a great actor in an interview fifteen years after the movie you just saw him or her star in, it makes you think. Late in their lives people tend to say that it all flew by so fast. That life is more like the commercial than the movie. Some people wait all their lives to do what they want to do. Time is a weird thing. The more fun you have the faster it flies. Makes one think.

Reflections and reflecting is a good thing, at least that is my opinion. It might make me a more serious person than most. But I would say, that life, is about experiencing. And not only the fun things. After feeling sad you tend to feel a lot better, so much better than when you choose not to face up to something and try to escape the sadness. Sadness tend to hep you grow. Though not trying to escape is of course sometimes very hard. And we all come up short from time to time. But you can’t really escape. You can only pros pone. But sometimes we need to pros pone I suppose. Or maybe we just think that we do. I am not really sure.

Anyway, sadness is experiencing and something good usually comes out of it. This is why I despise the feeling of boredom. This is not experiencing, this is just being. Not “just being” in the inner peace meaning of the phrase. In the emptiness meaning. The only good thing to come out of boredom is the initiative to move beyond the boredom and find the inspiration again. Maybe you need to be bored sometimes in order to find the inspiration again. Either way, I still hate boredom.

I hope my grandfather gets well very soon and that he has a lot of good years left together with my grandmother. I love them both, deeply.

I really need some sleep but I just can’t close my eyes with peace. This is a very bad time for starting over. And I do not want to do that. But I might have to and it is making me quite sad. I still think we got a lot more to give though. So there will be no giving up. But there are just certain things that you can’t control.

Well, maybe you can, but I don’t think you should. Sometimes you just have to let go. The hard part is knowing when those times are. Since, obviously, there are also times when you have to hold on and give all you have not to let go.

How do you know which is which, gotta trust your instincts I suppose. That’s not a very comforting answer though. I am still hoping that things will work out and that none of us will be forced to that kind of decision. There is still time I suppose and at least that, is a good thing. I really hope we can work things out.

The last rehearsals we’ve had have been really good. And the two new songs we have been playing have so much potential. But at the same time there is something lacking, not within the music, but within the band.

It seems like we are moving a part. Should we find our way back together we would be stronger than before. But it’s risky though. I usually have no problems whatsoever with the risk factor, it’s simply not a factor. But there are certain things I suppose. Things that you just don’t want to loose. And when you are facing that, you tend to take the risk factor more seriously.

The Struggle Within is a powerful thing. And it is not easily solved. I would not say that we are that far out right now. But when a thing starts breaking it can break so hard so fast. And I am actually afraid, for the songs, the things we built together. It takes so much time and effort sometimes and though it would be in vain even with a break up, it would be a very sad thing. I think we need to catch that break quite soon. It’s blowing in the wind I suppose, the answer, and you are my friend, are you not?

Growing up there was also boredom of course. But you tend to forget that. We remember strong emotions and boredom is not a strong emotions, it’s just boring and that’s it.

Anyway, on Sundays Jason’s mother came back home and we all went back to our parents houses. A little hungover maybe, but usually not to bad. On Sundays we usually had pizza back home. My father loves family things and he used to gather us all for Sunday dinner. I still love pizza, very much, and I very much miss those family gatherings. Seemed a bit corny back then. Today I know that it is not. And I miss it a lot.

On Monday it was back to school. I never really enjoyed school but I did not dislike it either. Me and Jason and a couple of other friends were all in the same class. Most of us went to the same school. So, school in that way, was a lot of fun.

I had a lot of really weird interests as a kid. One was the stockmarket. And one effect of that was that I did not have to get a summer job until I was 25. Those summers were the best. We just hung out and spent the nights walking around, talking and looking for girls. It was so innocent and those summers where truly unforgettable. This was the time when I was dating Scarlet.

Scarlet was a very rebellious girl and really hot. I’ve always been very lucky with girls. They always liked me for some reason. Scarlet was my highschool sweatheart and we stayed together for a very long time. We are still friends to this day. Scarlet and hear friends was friends with my friends also and we all used to hang out together.Hanging out with your girlfriend and your best friends on a summer in between school can be so amazing and it almost always was.

We used to do all kinds of corny stuff. We used to go to the outdoor swim hall at night, running on top of the covers. And pulling back the covers so we could get in the water. This for some reason, was a lot of fun. One time this guy decided to take a dump in the pool. They had to close down the pool for 2 weeks after that due to sanitary reasons.

We used to buy beers at a gas station that we knew would sell us the stuff even though we were minors. And people had house parties. They always ended in disaster. Usually with the person who had the party getting way to drunk and passed out to early. Soon after that things usually got out of control and the next day the house was a total mess. Once the word got out a lot more people came. It usually ended with total drunkenness and fights. We were pretty good at fighting and we always had each others backs, so there was no real reason to worry. I used to love those house parties I never liked the fighting but when your drunk you’re not always so smart I suppose.

Scarlet used to be at these parties also. And we both got drunk with our friends. We used to fight sometimes when we were drunk. But back then it was nothing serious really. She got kind of clingy though when she was drunk. I never liked clingy girls, I still don’t. So I would get pissed off and tell her to stop. Then she got pissed off and walked away. But then later she would come back or I would apologize. It usually sorted itself out. It was basically all good.

I wrote a song this weekend. I am still working on the lyrics but if I get it right it will be a great song. Maybe one of the best songs I have written. Though you can never know that for sure. It’s not until you rehearse it with the band that you really know. But I have a really good feeling about this one. It’s still nameless, I thought for a while about “Breathless” but I think that might be to corny. Though sometimes you can pull corny off. There’s always a line, the thing is not to cross it. But the closer you get to the line, the better it is. This is very close to the line. Actually this whole chapter is very close to the line. I hope I did not cross it. You can never really know for sure. It’s like writing a great lyric. Then the next day when you read it you realize that it’s all crap. Sometimes it’s the other way around, those lyrics are usually truly great. The reason being that they were really close to the line, but on the right side of it. The line is sometimes further in one direction and you basically never know for sure whether you crossed it or not until the next day. It is a strange but very true fact of writing, to me anyway.

I am publishing these writings just after I have written them. So there will be chapters that are on the wrong side of the line. I think this chapter might be one of those. We’ll know tomorrow, won’t we.

But it is easier this way. It becomes less personal and at the same time more accessible to others. We need things that we can relate to. It provides us comfort. It’s a good thing. It helps knowing that somebody else has experienced what you yourself is going through, it makes you feel less alone. And sometimes it is helpful that somebody else put your emotions into words. This is indeed a very hard thing to do and some people are extremely good at this. And sometimes it is just plain beautiful, like Dylan. It is not always about the story, more often it is the way that the story is told. In some cases it is both. Bob Dylan does this, I think, in a way like nobody else.

So, I don’t believe in being to clear when writing. It is, after all, a feeling that is described and it is also not a history book to read in school. There is a reason why most people, at least sometimes, find school a very dull place. And also, it is sometimes not clear, exactly what the story is about, until a very late stage of the process. As Springsteen said, in VH1 Storytellers, “did I think about all these things when I wrote it – No, but I felt it.” It was kind of a joke also I suppose, but it is sometimes very true. And also, strange. Because once you “got it” it all becomes very clear, almost like a revelation, though not in a very religious way. But the words all get meaning, exact meaning, and you are sometimes amazed that you could actually yourself describe something so spot on. It is still not clear though. This might seem like a contradiction, however, for some reason, it is not.

A quite recent, but good, friend of mine once said that he loves writing or working creatively and lighting cigarettes during the process. Maybe Einstein will not jump out of his grave over this statement, but my friend was very right, because it is the truth. I will return to the growing up years soon, but not right now.

It is actually a very painful experience writing about these years in my life. I am a very sentimental person. And for some reason all the good times that I’ve had becomes somewhat painful to think about in retrospect. I hope this is a “state” that will change over time. However, most of my best work is created because of this state. So, I am not really sure.

I firmly believe in happiness. I am just not very good at it I suppose. I wish I was better, sometimes. I am always striving for something and I can never really relax and just enjoy the present time. There are times of course when I can. But they’re fewer than for most people I think. One example of times when I can really enjoy the moment is when I am on stage. Being on stage, there is only one moment, and that is the present time, and it is beautiful.

The feeling of playing music in front of people is greater than most feelings I have ever experienced. It is, really, all I ever thought it would be. And the feeling afterwards is so rewarding. Which is a little bit weird, since the experience was so positive and not hard. But, then again, it is hard. It is not easy getting up on a stage and sing about your very deepest emotions. Even when it is rock song. It is still very personal and you feel very naked at first. But you also get in to it very fast. And then it starts to feel good, then even better to end with amazing.

Writing is so fulfilling in so many ways. It helps you understand what you are experiencing, good or bad. And putting words on emotions is very helpful but also very hard. But you get better at it the more you try, like mentioned earlier, it’s a process.

It is especially good when you have that nagging feeling inside and you don’t really know why. Putting the pen against the paper really helps with that. It makes the nag go away. When you’re finished, maybe you have not solved anything, I don’t know. But the nagging feeling is not there anymore. I am sure it is the same thing with painting and other forms of art. It’s releasing I suppose. It releases the angst.

Playing and creating music has the same effect. But the best way, to me anyway, is still writing. Loosing yourself in music is beautiful though, and an amazing experience. Playing together with people and without speaking, knowing which direction to go, working as a unit as one, is truly an amazing thing.

As I grew a little older, I met a new friend in school – Jason. We were not that close to begin with but he ended up being one of my very best friends for many years. We grew up together. Today we rarely see eachother. It is a very, very sad thing, loosing touch. As they say, real friends do not grow on trees. It would be so much easier if they did.

Jason was also a jock, just like me, most of us where, basically all of us. But we were not the bullying kind, we were very obnoxious and very cocky, but not mean. That’s an important difference I think. Jason was also a huge music fan. And he was very open about the importance of lyrics. He was also a writer himself. His poetry is at it’s best some of the greatest lines I ever read.

Jason was a very popular guy and he was indeed considered very cool. Thanks to him I slowly began to realize that poetry, not necessarily, had to be geeky stuff. I still kept secret about the shoebox letters though.

Where I come from house parties are very common, especially for teenagers. And we were very lucky. Jason’s mother and father were divorced and Jason lived, for most of the time, with his mother. Jason’s mother usually spent the weekends at her new boyfriend’s. So basically me and my friends all lived at Jason’s place for the weekends. We were watching movies, just hanging out, sometimes getting drunk for no real reason and talked a lot, both drunk and sober. These guys were the most beautiful friends and we basically did everything together for a very long time. We did not really grow apart until almost a decade later. I still miss them, to this day, dearly.

Me and Jason shared a common interest for music. Late one night after getting back from a house party we stayed up, as we usually did, drinking beer “bought” at the local gas station. We were talking about music and girls and friendship. All of us were very open about our feelings, which was very unusual back then, especially amongst guys. And we often had very deep discussions about life as we saw it. This night we talked about music and lyrics, listening to Bruce Springsteen, The River, and also to a local hero with very deep lyrics and depressing songs. Jason told me about his poetry and also read some to me.

I remember this night very well. We were sitting at the kitchen table with an old CD player, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes with a couple of candles lit. Jason read some of his poetry and I remember lightning up a cigarette just to have something to do. I was actually a little bit nervous, because it was all so personal. I remember thinking that he was very talented and I also told him that I liked the poem very much. We continued discussing lyrics and life until the day broke. We were quite drunk by then and the night ended with a hug between friends and Jason getting up to join his girlfriend at the time in bed. I joined the other guys sleeping in the living room. My girlfriend at the time, Scarlet, was not there that night.

Every morning when we woke up the first guy awake put on the coffee and we all gathered, as we woke up, around Jason’s kitchen table. Then we started talking about the night before, who made out with who and so on. It was always very interesting discussions… Jason actually onetime managed to get himself published on the front page of a local newspaper kissing his prom date. This was quite upsetting to his girlfriend at them time. But he still managed to talk himself out of the situation, he always did. We were all pretty good at talking ourselves out of situations, and we needed to, on quite a few occasions. Still, it was all so innocent, and so amazingly beautiful. Those were very precious times and so much of the lyrics I write today are influenced by missing those guys, missing those times. The innocent learning of the growing up years in the suburbs. It can truly be a beautiful exerience. And to me, it really was.

But it was the start of something and that is always interesting I think. Trying to learn something and not giving up is an act worth respect. The worse the result is, the harder it is, and the more respect it is worth. And it took a very long time for me to actually look at these letters for what they really were, lyrics, or more of my first stab at lyrics, but still, lyrics.

Though nobody knew that, at least not the seriousness about it, at this time. It all began with a birthday. No, it actually began earlier. “Began” was a bad choice of words because it really started earlier than that also. But I am going to begin, with a band called The Doors.

So, it all “began” with some weird and not very good “letters” hidden in a shoebox underneath a bed. A copy of something is never really of much good. And this was a very bad copy of something that I never fully could understand and relate to, the poetry of Jim Morrison and the music of The Doors. But I loved it anyway. And with it something began.

Writing is a process. Actually it is more like the last part of a process. Like something surfacing. The truth within the story lays in perception, or actually the memory of the perception, but still in the perception.

The Doors band name originated from a William Blake poem; “If The Doors of Perception were cleansed, every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite”. I’ve read the poem several times but never really grasped the concept of it. And also I found it a little pretentious. I understand a little bit more of it now. It’s still vague, to me anyway, and also still pretentious.  I haven’t thought about this poem in years.

I never liked the pretentious side of The Doors or the pretentious side of anything else for that matter. But the music, I loved.

The thing about perception is that it is different for all of us even if we are experiencing the same event. And also some of us are more perceptive than others. Passion increases perception, boredom kills it. This is true in writing and I guess also in life. To me writing is life. “Writing is life” – that’s not very pretentious. I am also writing a story, containing several chapters, about myself. Well, nobody’s perfect.

I have a cigarette in my mouth. I am not going to light it. I never smoke on the nights before certain days of the week. That’s just the way things are right now. I’ll tell you more about that later. But maybe this night is an exception, I am not sure yet. Wait. It actually is. Yes, it definitely is.

The chapters of this story will come, hopefully once a week. It might be more often but most likely it will be more seldom. I have other things going on to. Not more important, just time consuming. So you have to be patient. Patience is a virtue. I have learned a lot about patience these last couple of years. I still struggle. All of the time.

Real things take time and also a whole lot of patience. But in the end that is the only way to create something really worth paying attention to. You can do it for a million different reasons, but only a few will count. Those reasons might be different for different people but they will always be true in the true meaning of the word true. This story is many things, one of them is true. However, the names, as they say, have been forced to be changed to protect the innocent.

This has been done in many different ways. This is just one way, a part of a way actually. There are many events, some strange and entertaining, some just plain, all important though. Equally important I would like to say, but that just isn’t the case. I could go on for a very long time about that and I will, but not right now. This is, The Making of a Rockstar.