This damned nomination is making me a bit crazy, sitting just behind my chair where I can't see it and staring at the back of my head, snickering under its breath and casting voodoo spells. I'm trying to ignore it, but I can't, so I may as well acknowledge it and mention at least two people - Tinka and Mig - who should be on that list in my place. They're my writing idols. Not to mention any number of people on the links at left, too many to list. So go, read what they have to say.



The Swedish word for the day is självklart. It means obviously.



- by Francis S.

Have you ever played 1000 blank white cards? When I first read about it, I knew it was a game for me. So, I made everyone play it on New Year's Eve. Me, the American editor, the guy from the Goethe Institute, the South African publicist and 20 Swedes.



The basic rule of the game is that there are no rules. You get blank cards, you write what you want on them. Like for instance:



Obsessed with elves - at least you're not a plushie. Minus 100 points

It's pleather - plus 200 points

Traffic jam - everyone hit the person on their left.

Traytables in their full upright and locked positions - minus 100 points if you're allergic to nuts.

Leopold von Sacher-Masoch - pinch yourself for 500 points.

Subscription to Playboy - but you read it for the high-quality writing. Minus 500 points.

Morning woody - plus 200 points all men. Women discard a card and draw a new one.

Nose candy - Everyone stick their little finger up their noses. Plus 500 to the deepest nostril.

Old fudge - Do you dare to eat it? It's a month and a half old... all players stand together in the bathroom.



The playing took a strange turn when the actress, who had been extremely drunk already when she had arrived at the party, got a little too enthusiastic when someone played the card that read Strip mall - everyone take off an article of clothing.



The Swedish word for the day is kortspelare. It means cardplayer.



- by Francis S.

When I was a kid, my father had rather peculiar tastes for someone of his background (an Iowa farmer's son) and education (an electrical engineer). He introduced us to "Monty Python's Flying Circus" when I was 13, and was addicted to the original bizarre night-time soap opera black comedy: "Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman."



My father also loved Ingmar Bergman films, something my brothers and I never took to. Since then, I've learned to appreciate Bergman, although I couldn't go so far as to say I've enjoyed watching Cries and Whispers and Persona and Fanny and Alexander, but I know in my bones that he's about as good as it gets.



Now, here I am living in Sweden and I can, more or less, understand Swedish and if I wanted, I could go see one of the great plays of modern times as directed by one of the greatest directors of our age in a grand theater. Which I did last night, with the husband, and A., the assistant director, and her fiancé C., the fashion photographer, and P. and E., the parents of the friends from London - a complicated bunch of initials, but a choice bunch in real life, every last one of them. It was our treat, a present. My father will be so jealous when I tell him.



The play was superb - a straightforward staging without gimmicks, meaning that the actors must carry it off themselves through brute strength of will, which they did, unmannered and thoughtful and grand.



As I've gotten old, I weep so easily at movies. And at the end of plays, apparently. How embarrassing.



The second Swedish word for the day is gengångare, which was translated as ghosts in the original translation of Ibsen's play. However, it is apparently very inexact, and there doesn't seem to be a good English word for someone-who-haunts-you, which is what everyone seemed to agree that gengångare means.



- by Francis S.

Holy mother of god, father of god, little brother of god and second cousin once-removed of god. I guess people do want to learn Swedish the hard way: This site was nominated for "Best European Blog" in the Bloggies 2003.



The Swedish word for the day is skitbra. It means shit-good, in the best possible way.



- by Francis S., almost in too much shock to thank everyone

I'm a coward, and I'm lazy. Oh, and I'm jealous, too, because heterosexualists have it so easy when it comes to kissing. It becomes such a production if I want to kiss my husband in public, or hold hands with him. It's instantly a statement to everyone in the vicinity, and I don't want to make a statement to anyone but him. Yet I know it will never change if homosexualists like myself don't bother to kiss each other in public precisely because it is a statement.



I'm just a coward, and lazy and I think the whole thing kind of stinks.



On the other hand, at least I'm not likely to end up in prison anymore just for my homosexualist tendencies. That is, if I stay out of Texas.



The Swedish words for the day are skratt and gråt. They mean laugh and cry.



- by Francis S.

I live in a social world full of photographers and popstars and football players and television personalities and stage actors and ballet dancers and more than an average share of ex-models. All of them with a modicum of fame here in tiny Sweden.



Yet, I was still surprised to find that my friend, I., one of the aforementioned ex-models, toured for four months in 1998, singing with David Byrne.



I loved the Talking Heads in the late '70s and '80s - I know most of their songs, owned most of their albums back when vinyl was pretty much the only choice. They are the only rock group I ever listened to over a long period of time with anything close to fervor. I thought they were the shit. Still do, sort of, as far as rock and roll and shit goes.



So, the important question was, was David Byrne an asshole?



I., the ex-model, answered: "What do you think?"



The Swedish word for the day is speciell. It means special in the same way the English word is used, although it is used most often to describe someone who is difficult, strange, unpleasant to deal with.



- by Francis S.

Last night, we went and saw Gangs of New York, which is apparently un-American, perhaps because it is about not guns, but knives. Knives and Daniel Day-Lewis chewing up enough scenery to cover his lifetime roughage needs. Still, I'd take it over The Patriot any day.



A., the assistant director, brought along her great aunt who lives in the far north of Sweden and who hadn't seen a movie in 50 years.



It wasn't, in hindsight, perhaps the best movie to see after 50 years of non-movie going. The great aunt seemed to be in shock at the end of the movie. "Next time," A. said, "it should be a romantic comedy."



Some solace.



The Swedish word for the day is blodig. It means bloody.



- by Francis S.