When You Burn A Forest Part 8/Åtte

It seemed we were speeding like hell. Taking turns through the forest, weaving around dizzying roads at night through the snow. It was coming down in massive flakes: the kind that make the best snowballs. I could see nothing but the faint glow of the moonlight peeking through the trees with help of the headlights. A full bus. Packed to the rafters with people all bound for either Göteborg or further north. The driver had an obvious grudge with destination times, because it always seemed we were early and had a solid disregard for our lives. Fumbling around with my passport, I was nervous. It had nothing to do with the fact we had left our home. Nor did it bother me we were in Sweden. I had been there many times before. I love Sweden. It is a magical place. We were having our engagement party and I was to meet the entire crew. Everyone had been so lovely and maternal, but this was to be the proverbial “whole enchilada.” JØSS!!! Don’t get me wrong I was excited as hell but, my mind was spinning. It was if I had been handed a piece of that “Super Brain Panic” chewing gum. So many thoughts. Would they enjoy the filthy immigrant? To give them credit I knew they would but still you have some doubt. Especially the bigger a crowd, the more than likely maybe one person wouldn’t dig your style. I was just a gypsy boy with a bad haircut who was fed Hardcore punk rock and crust all his life, and learned to shower only 8 years ago. I am a social butterfly though so whatever. Sorry you’re trailing off, and did I catch a 9‘er in there?

The journey began a slow psychosis. Spacing out in exhaustion, I started to think about how far I had come to get to this point. This was a far cry from my past life. It was a total 180 degrees from then. I was shitting rainbows happy now, but there must be a look back many years at a sliver of my background.

Depression had a firm grasp on my daily life and choked me further in my routine. Although I had a reasonably successful job and I was residing in a huge house, a fervent detestation of my overall life drove me to commit distasteful acts regularly. Nothing terribly bad, but if I hadn’t’t had such understanding and true friends, I would have been beaten a few times. There was no need for that because I was beating myself on a daily basis. Maybe it was the monotony of my life and occupation? Maybe it was being involved in a rapidly downward-spiraling relationship? Really, so many questions could be asked. The simple truth was my mind had grown so stagnant that my blood began to putrefy and my soul was decaying. Not entirely though, as I had my moments of clarity and my honestly good intentions in everything I engaged in. Bits and pieces of creativity also peeked their head out once in a while in the form of writing and a DJ internship at a local radio station. Those were my happy things that saved me from complete self destruction. Ironically the DJ pseudonym I had adopted was DJ Kæreste A. Otherwise then those two ventures along with occasionally playing music with friends and foosball, that was it. I blame Hardcore Punk Rock. Ha ha. No, I do not. I accept full responsibility for my actions then. Surprisingly, I hadn’t fire bombed anywhere.

My one true love at the time was traveling. That hunger and thirst for me could never be quenched. After dutifully paying my taxes every year, a plane ticket was joyfully purchased with my yearly refund. Living on the cusp of poverty had it’s perks. I made too much money for food stamps but there was always a pot of gold at the end of the “shit rainbow.” Looking forward to getting out for a few weeks over New Year’s was always on my mind. It was a spring board to provide much needed motivation for the coming year. As it always turned out though reality would play it’s cruel tricks and I would find my self burying a friend or two or three, or I would end up in court. Yuck. That usually happened after the year was half over, so the first half of those years were spent fairly upbeat and positive. I had come to accept that succession of events as inevitable. It made sure that I was rabid to leave for vacation at all times with situations as they were constantly lurking behind my back. Failure of something was grafted to my brain. That is a motivation eraser. I had one place though where nothing could touch me. There was a place where the women were beautiful and the people were free and fun loving, and they liked me there…a lot. A home away from home. The place where anyone could be themselves without fear of judgment, looks of contempt or acts of attrition. A land that held a girl that I had seen many times and shared a specific relationship with. I enjoyed her company very much and she was so kind to me. A totally missed opportunity at the time. Too chickenshit to tell her my feelings. Alas, this was many years ago and that chapter has been closed for years, but she opened my eyes to her world and I loved it. This was in 2006 and this was Danmark.

She was the first to arouse my curiosity for distant places. She gave me the introduction to all that would eventually lead me years later to my current partner and home. Taking me on numerous adventures all over Sjælland and Jylland, my love for the world increased exponentially. She introduced me to many wonderful and many, many memorable people. We had met during the last days of Ungdomshuset on Jagtvej 69. A lot of rioting and protesting made København a mecca of free thought and expression. Nørrebro was alive and was like a nerve center pulsing with raw energy. Fires raged in the streets. Sacrificing themselves for a fair and just society. Proving that law enforcement was the military arm of the archons. To protect and serve the interest of a selfish few. Destroying people whilst maintaining power. We were up against the hydra, and we were going to crush it and liberate all. It was the first time in my entire life I felt alive. Protest and political agitation was nothing new to me. Since being 15 or 16 agitation in one form or another was my life. It just came along with the territory in being heavily involved in the Hardcore community. This was however a new unseen kind of level. This was the youth responding to regulation and oppression with balls. Not an excuse for your run-of-the-mill sticker Hot Topic anarchy but the real deal. I was dumbfounded that this was tolerated to the degree it was. It incensed me so profoundly I was on the verge of tears every day. My soul was truly awakened and it wanted to conquer the world with love and community and peace. Of course love and violence sounds like a very terrible combination but then again is there any truly perfect revolution? It was only fair that a fierce love developed for her land. Plus one language learned from time at University would be saved. Almost all the Nederlandse taal learned in 2 years had fallen victim to the abyss of the mind but I was determined to save my Danske sprog.

Just being there was the greatest refresher course on everything in life in general. That is just a little bit of what I experienced on vacation one time. So it is obvious now that a high from something like that has a brutal suppressing crash after coming back. Work truly became another 4 letter word. Life apart from that became suicide on a daily basis. Extreme highs and lows. That is where I was. Before my 180 degree turn.

The bus had reached Nils Ericson terminal in Göteborg. Stepping off the winter winds were stinging. A biting cold. The only cigarette break during the 8 hour journey. We were officially half way to our Wedding party. Awakened by the cold, I sucked down 3 cigarettes and boarded again. The future bride standing next to me, you could have hit me in the face with a brick and slammed me in the nuts. I did not care. My future was unfolding in front of my very eyes and I could not have been happier. Life had given me many chances, but this one, I was not about to toss away. She was gorgeous: a snow white with bright red hair. Truly a sight for any eyes. My love for everything was so vast, so infinite. I was illuminated. I felt like the luckiest person in the world. We had gigantic suitcases stuffed with everything we would need for our time. It was “our” time. Words do no justice for feelings like that. Cuddling and whispering sweet song into each others ears, it was just a few short hours before we would be received.

By friends and family. By the loves of our lives, the people who would become my new family in my new home. My family was far away but I was about to be adopted…

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