Sturla Viðar Jakobsson is the leader of infamous black metal band Svartidauði. Here’s his perfect Reykjavík day.
First thing in the morning?
On my perfect day, I don’t get up because I have long since evolved past the biological need for sleep. So I’d already be up, but at dawn, I’d start the new day off with a balanced breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a protein shake from a cup fashioned out of the skull of the last tourist in Reykjavík. I love to cook.
After breakfast, I would go work out. I work out at Reebok in Holtagarðar, but on my perfect day, I’d obviously have my own gym. It would be called “Blood. Fire. Deadlift.” like that Bathory album.
I’m on a ketogenic diet right now. I’m really happy with the results but, goddamn, do I want a pizza sometimes. If I’m still on the diet, I’d go to Hereford Steakhouse for lunch and have a bloody ribeye steak. I’d eat it with my spotter from Blood. Fire. Deadlift. Brophet Brohammed.
I’d start at Bar 7 with my “entourage” for some cheap beers. We’d be there in a fabulous way, not a shabby way—I’m talking about my “entourage,” make sure there are quotes around it. Then we’d get into a spaceship—this is the perfect day, right? Anyway, that would last until at least 18:00. Then it’s time for coffee. I’d grab a truck driver coffee to-go at Prikið and head across the street to Freddi to reset my high score on the Barb Wire pinball machine. I have the only human high score on it.
Ok, it’s my perfect day so I am no longer doing Keto. Then it’s time to eat half my bodyweight in pizza from Eldsmiðjan. I’m old school, so just pepperoni and cheese.
Late at night?
I guess I’d be playing a show with my band, Svartidauði, in some Dracula castle somewhere. But after that, I have a fire pit that we built in my backyard so I’d just go there, light the fire, dance, and then shoot heroin with Lou Reed and sing about it. You know that song—‘Perfect Day’—is about heroin right? Yet they play it at weddings? People are fucking idiots.