Bjorn-Lilleris

A week ago I passed the month mark of being homeless, and now I'm on the fifth week - officially at least, because in truth I left the apartment a couple of days before I had to. I wasn't much up to sleeping in a cold, empty, memory-filled apartment. But never mind that bit. 

I'm tired. Constantly. The last couple of weeks I've had a mattress behind a bookshelve in the apartment of a couple of friends I have. Magnus and Ditte. He works in Næstved as a highschool teacher and has 2½ hours to work in his car ever single day, thus we get up at 6 in the morning. But that's not why I'm tired. In the meantime I'm making use of the 'excellent' danish security system (I'll get into the faults and more later/some other time/not at all), hence I'm sitting on my bum in a way too light room with a bunch of other NEETs searching the interwebs for steady employment and somewhere to live - but no matter how many time I hit the infuriating and becursed f5 button, it doesn't make jobs or apartments appear faster. I tried this, I broke the key. But that's not why I'm tired. When I'm not doing that I'm... no. This is what my life has been reduced to. Sure - I get on the wicked webs of the intertubes, I do play some games once in a while (cheap netcafés are the bomb!) and go out - but there's a rugged edge to everything. Temper has shortened, there's a long way to a genuine smile (facades are easy, putting down the mask is hard) and I've also been lucky enough to lay my hands on a working, good, laptop so I can use photoshop and my camera again - but I don't.

Why not? Because there's too much rugged to my edge. My nerves are getting raw from not having anything akin to privacy (bitch about not getting enough privacy when living at home or with your significant otter/roommate - try living of and by other people's virtues), I can't rest properly and I always have to think, actively, "have I outstayed our friendship". I still work at the publishers, though hardly enough to support myself in the even I find somewhere I can live and have to pay rent, and quite frankly that's the only place I can go to relax on my own. How sad is that? In a concrete basement filled with unpacked books beneath a huge university I havn't been part of in more than a year... I havn't slept down there... yet. 

On the plus side. For the first time in years I've been able to go to bed, close my eyes and just wait until I fall asleep - instead of reading myself into stupor in fear of my own thoughts. 

There's actually nothing new to tell. I'm still sleeping around where I'm able, where people've space and time for me. I'm able to pay for myself though - at least for the food and smokes and other small necessities, and I'd be lying if I said that I was in a very bad situation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not 'good', but it could be worse. Much worse. 

However, as much as I'd like, I don't pick up my camera as often now - it has been packed in my essentials bag, but my phone is easier accessible and I don't have ready access to a computer with the proper software for photo editing. But untill I get back into that, you can always follow me on instagram - because I still do take pictures, but they're somewhat of a world apart from my work in here:

instagram.com/bjornlilleris

And I'm reallyreally tired. Like. Really tired.

So here's the deal; from tuesday next week (19/8 2014) I won't have an apartment anymore. And while that brings a lot of complications, to put it mildly, it also means that my submissions and work in here are possibly going to be quite halted for a bit. 

My father has allowed me to set up my computer and workstation at his apartment, which also means that I'll be able to do prints from time to time, but I won't have access to it on a regular basis. So bear with me please

i am going to clean up my galleries in here to reflect my current work instead of my progression - though some might say it's a shame, I hold that I need to do it to keep my focus So just a heads up - a lot of my older photos are going to disappear.

My creativity is coming back to me. I think that somehow that cliché about being artsy and in emotional turmoil might be fitting here. Except that I'm not as much in turmoil as on a placid sea with the kraken og wtfshouldido lurking just beneath the beautiful waves.