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  • december 2025

    danny schmidt – stained glass

    nicole sabouné – so far out

    billy opel – min egen sång

    mattis – joan didion

    vance joy – riptide

    snbrn, kerli – raindrops

    saint jhn – i can fvcking tell

    imchibeat, erik bo jonsson and the northern lights, adée – stick around

    fridlyst – komsikomsa

    au/ra – ghost (acoustic)

    shirley collins – hares on the mountain

    hindarfjäll – blodörn

    gigi perez – sailor song

    coyote shivers – sugarhigh

    erk, jonte montana – mental

    lisahall – is this real?

    kato – turn the lights off (feat jon)

    lord huron – love like ghosts

    addison rae – fame is a gun

    onerepublic, alesso – if i lose myself

    venturing – play my guitar

    hildur guðnadóttir – bær

    elliot smith – behind the bars

    ethel cain – inbred

    davron mananov – everything is

    jacub – jag vet, du är inte min

    badgrub, police in paris – katyushka

    viggo nobis – dimman

    chasing abbey – íorónta

    jonah kagen – god needs the devil

    anna graves – burn on

    tess posner – feral child

    marty robbins – big iron

    imchibeat, simon emanuel – 1704

    prison ghost – vultures

    86love, h!ckey – alberta big dick swingin

    seamus mckenna, swallows and crows – the parting glass

    ❤

    spotify link

  • thrift store angel wings

    i found home made angel wings in a pile of christmas garbage at the thrift store.

    someone made them out of cardboard and feathers and put little LED lights in them

    they remind me of twenty years ago when i was young and i would wear angel wings and white dresses and white and pink plastic rosaries to travel in shitty heavy metal vans to go out to fields with my friends and drink and party

    i always had a bottle of cheap champagne or a even cheaper rosé and i would run around shrieking like a banshee, screaming out all the rage i had inside

    i became “the angel girl”

    biblically accurate, maybe – all eyes and wheels, bellowing “be not afraid“

    i like these wings, they are silly and make me laugh and feel nostalgic

    i burnt christmas candles today that smell like cedar and cinnamon

    and i had some friends over for a christmas party

    when i was twenty and edgy, we called it “yule”

    we would wear white and make wassail and serve home made mead

    people would drop acid and one time some australian people showed up with a really fancy tropical fruit tray

    they weren’t invited but at least if you’re gonna crash a party, bring something with you

    they were really nice and we talked about goats

    i’m older now, so no one party crashed, but we shared chocolates and meat and cheese

    i made candles for the girls

    i wear my angel wings and make jokes and put glitter on my face

    in the two years since my father’s death, just before christmas 2023,

    this is one of the first times i’ve allowed myself to feel even a bit of joy about the holidays

    my girlfriend gives me a candle that smells like sage

    i feel normal, just for a while

    just a girl having friends over for christmas

    we play mariah carey and i dance in the kitchen

    joy can be foreign to me

    i savour the taste of it in my mouth

    it is a change from tasting blood,

    when i have spent the last two years, biting my tongue

  • lion taming for beginners

    i told you that i was a lion

    and you picked up that worn wooden stool

    and faced me down anyways

    when i spooked like a terrified horse

    always prepared to run and trample

    you told me to be not afraid

    and you called me back with gentle words and a steady hand

    when i open my mouth

    and show you all of my rotten teeth

    you smile and kiss me anyways

    you tell me to take off my makeup

    because you like what’s underneath

    if my flaws and imperfections were an altar

    you would be there on your knees

    ❤

    (originally written august 7, 2024)

  • my late father (spoken word)

    two years ago today, my father died.
    he was 71 years old.
    he died of influenza.
    i watched him take his last breaths and he died fighting.

    i miss him, terribly.

    in the spring of this year, i wrote a piece of writing called “my late father“. i write about grief frequently, and as of yet, “my late father” is my best piece about the complicated feelings i have had regarding the sudden death of my father.

    i recorded this piece of writing as a spoken word piece and composed some accompaniment to go with it.

    i made the video for this song using vhs clips i have shot in the days since december 18, 2023. i used these clips to show that life continues to spin around us, even when we feel like we are dying inside.

    thank you to @brush_of_nihilus and @omintejagfanns for your support and love during this time of transition and loss for me. i am eternally grateful.

    “my late father” is now available as a spoken word piece on my bandcamp. it’s free.

    i have also uploaded the video to my youtube.

    gwiinawenim

  • i’ll take my chances

    just throw me in the river already

    and see if i float

    fill my pockets with rocks and all of the things

    you can’t stop yourself from saying and thinking

    about a traumatized girl with a dead dad

    “witch“, you can say

    “witchcraft” you can murmur with all your friends,

    don’t think i haven’t seen you and your kind before

    people like me, we bear it all, from people like you

    we wear your imperfections like red letters poorly sewn on clothing

    we do this so you won’t have to

    it would be too painful for you to recognize humanity in us

    much easier to dehumanize

    so we become the easy, nebulous other

    no longer part of you as humans having human experiences

    humans making human mistakes

    humans doing our best to get by, to just get by

    no, easier to cast out, return to the fringes

    a lifted finger, sharp words, “back to the fringes“

    so i can stand there in sensible shoes as the outlander and outlier

    pockets and socks full of all the things you’d dare not say to yourself

    dare not say about yourself

    because, if you said them, thought them, verboten words

    perhaps they would be true

    is my witchcraft telling you that they are true?

    those words you cannot say, the things you cannot admit

    is my most devilish spell, the most dangerous of all,

    the one of doubt?

    fill my pockets and socks and purse with your doubt

    because you need someone else to carry it

    it must be painful for you

    so let me ask

    does the lipstick cover up the ugly words

    does all that blush and mascara make you see yourself as kind?

    projection is easy, looking in the mirror is hard

    so, just throw me in the river, already

    and i’ll take my chances with that black churn

    instead of the shoreline full of yous and yous

    laughing ghouls with bitchin’ manicures

    the lot of you