Show me your face, show me your best face

Olin kävelemässä kotiin. Kadunvarren mainoksesta minua katsoi James Bond. Heitin häntä lumipallolla. Osuin olkapäähän. 2011  I was walking home. James Bond was watching me from the roadside ad. I threw a snowball at him. I hit his shoulder 2011

 

I hope I score this because I really wanna be your buddy. Reach out for the exceptional. What is exceptional?

There is someone clever behind me checking out whether I can count. How thrilling and if I fail will you put bullet in me. If I score will you be my buddy, my friend, will I be accepted in your circles, on your level of special individuals of men. I so much want to know more of you. 
I must say I lost count. Show me your superiority. Make me feel I am nothing. Show me your intellectual right. Ways of getting inside someone’s head. Get a trauma and die. I know counting proves something. How far can you count, how far do numbers reach? How much do we have time, money, bullets, screws, tools, cars, friends. How many times, I lost count.

How many times (there is something personal experienced in repeat) I repeat. Byhyy. Get a grip folks, do it now

It has become personal dilemma for me as I encounter it continuously. I have encountered it, disdain for existing in front of someone, having been in the way probably. It comes so naturally the hate towards someone like me. I know it now by heart. I speak of it because spite and disrespect has grown into me sown in stitched darn, an order that tells me I should feel like dirt and know my place. My knowledge of myself, of me keeps me doing what I do. It preserves me and enlightens me. I have no need to compare myself to anybody. I have no need to live anybody else’s life. I know my place. It is expanding and moving.
I can never completely let passed things go, who could let hurtful words and faces go which were with so much contempt. How odd I am, curiously poking, testing, needling. I am the odd one, not sadistic though. How weird, how worthless. And how many times it happens again and again to someone else because that person who is hated happens to be in someone’s way doing something irregular, having presence of irregular and out of place or just someone strange to be tested. I have become to think it is natural for us. Something that cannot be helped nor avoided it has to be faced, although we are conscious and we can be kind. Kindness is difficult, obviously, a weakness.

We are able to change our behavior if we will. If we will. That is it. Many won’t because to step over someone is far much easier and pleasing, a satisfactory way of realizing oneself. We can put ourselves to place of other people if we want. Imagine experience of the other. Still I find it odd when someone who is harassed harasses back, one who fights back is the difficult one, and the one who harassed first begins for the first time (if lucky) understand what it feels like to be harassed. That person becomes scared and hurt: how can you do that! What happened? I didn’t know nor understand that what I did was wrong and unjust. Or that person could defend herself. Justice. Justice is when a person with false idea of self worth falls down and sees herself/himself. False idea of self is like air you stand on given to you by people close to you. Adored geniuses of closed circles, how many there are of those. Dear Lord! 

People who do not have the slightest idea what other people feel or want. 
Do not want to know what that other is and is thinking. I know it takes time and interest.
People who do not want to know as they are too occupied with themselves.

The word “Swastika” comes from the ancient Sanskrit language and basically means ”to be good.” Today, there are those who would like to highlight and make use of the swastika’s original meaning. Among them is artist and designer Sinjun Wessin, whose Spiritual Punx line of clothing, accessories and stickers—which started in 2013 and is designed to “inspire people to be more loving and accepting to all”—treats the “swasi” as a feel-good icon.”
http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2014/08/swazi/376061/

Experiment number 1

I truly apologize for your expose, must be pervert in us. Watercolour, 1998.

blueberry sounds

 

Carousel

2000