A few years ago I used to share an ipod without a screen to see the name of the song with my mother. (For the record, her english skills at that time were really really poor.) We listened to quite diferent artists. For example, I had songs of Queen and Abba, she had Frida Kahlo’s and Tiger lillies’s.
One day while riding the bus home I absentmindedly let one of moms songs play on without skipping it like I usually do. After some time the crowd in the bus gets too loud to hear the music, so I turn the volume up and finally notice, that instead of ‘Master Baton, Jimmy’, the band had been singing ‘Masturbating Jimmy’ all along. I skip to the next song, it’s a ballad named “She’s a whore”. You can imagine the rest of the repertoire.
I get home, ask my mother if she knew what she had been listening to and translate the song on the spot afther a negative answer. I thouht the words in Tiger lillies songs were somehow dirty, that my mother was decieved both by the band and the friend who showed her their creations, cus she didn’t know the language. She just shugged and smiled as I voiced my opinion. ‘It’s sometimes really relaxing to not know everything. To listen and not understand, to not even try to do so.’ she said,’ And sometimes it’s just relaxing to listen to some dirty sounding songs.’










fun fact: If you separate the 4 and the 2 making them different numbers. Then translate them into Japanese  shi, and ni. Then put the words together, shini, it means death (shini-gami = god of death). So knowing that

The answer to the ultimate question… of life, the universe, and everything is…


That fact is not fun.

Well, the number 4 in Japanese can also be translated to Yon. So if we have the words Yon and Ni and then put them together, it is yonni, which translates to nothing (as far as i know) in Japanese, however, in Sanskrit, it means vagina. 

So therefore, the answer to the ultimate question….of life, the universe, and everything is…


Life comes from the vagina only to be later greeted by death.


i just hit myself in the face my phone

Not so fun fact: Douglas Adams actually states that 42 was a random number that he picked off the top of his head and had no hidden, deeper meanings.

It was a joke. It had to be a number, an ordinary, smallish number, and I chose that one….I sat at my desk, stared into the garden and thought ‘42 will do’. I typed it out. End of story.” - Douglas Adams

That’s the beauty in it.








Pretty much





just fucking draw. don’t compare yourself to other people, don’t stop because you drew a lot last tuesday and you haven’t visibly improved. it takes time, effort, and a lot of perseverance. besides, no matter how “bad” you think you are, there’s still gonna be someone who thinks the stuff you produce is the best goddamn thing they’ve ever seen in their entire life. the artist you were five years ago would have their mind fucking blown by the artist you are today. so just draw a fuckton, because every new thing you draw is one drawing better than you were before.

What I hate about having an insulin pomp to help me deal with my diabetes is that every other time I stick a needle to my side or belly something goes wrong and IT HURTS LIKE HELL.
Like the whole process of stabbing yourself with 6 mm of medical steel is not enough. At first, I try to do it a few times unsuccessfully, I’m swearing in every language I know,there are tears in my eyes, it’s already hard to see what I’m doing and when everythings finally over, the pain starts. Perhaps I hit a nerve or something, it’s nothing unusual. I try to wait, maybe it will end soon, but no luck. Twenty minutes later it still hurts, so I limp downstairs to start everything all over again by pulling out the needle, finding a new one and again trying to stick this one painlessly. Another fifteen minutes and I can finally go to sleep, but the minature hole the first needle left still hurts.
So all in all, every two to three days I spend from roufly two to forty minutes standing in the midlle of a room crying trying to shove a needle to my flesh, because othervise I wouldn’t get my medication, witch is realy “hormone terapy”. That’s one of the reasons I laugh istericaly when someone mentones that diabetes isn’t an ilness, but rather a stile of life.
Also, I envy those who use plastic needles(and that would be around 95% of people I know that use insulin pomps), cus they hurt less and have special “guns” to thurst the needle in. And I can’t use those as my body just rejects them. Plus, every time I stick a needle to my belly and start laughing, I can feel it and it’s so uncomfortable, sometimes even painfull. Feeling a needle in your own flesh. And I laugh every single time.