Perform a blowjob in a gallery space, a museum space is even better.
Instructions: You are among a crowd (friends). Get slightly drunk. Offer a man to get down on him right now in front of all these people you do not know (friends). Fall on your knees and lick his crotch. Open his belt and caress his thighs. Be graphic. If he refuses follow him on your knees. Tell you are very good at it. Ask in front of everybody, if it is ok to perform in front of everybody and perform anyway. Be loud, say please. Ask why he refuses. Don’t you like it? Don’t stop, follow him. Be persistent. Say it is good fun and that you are cheap. If he is not willing ask why. I am not cheap enough, you ask. Say you are desperate. Say that you have heard you like it, I’m sure you’ll like it. Look at my mouth, say. Tell it is good fun and you have been dreaming about doing it exactly with someone like you. I like your smile. Don’t stop until you are removed and kicked out of the place for disturbance and continue to do it outside gallery space.
Another idea: Hire a male prostitute and go to a museum opening among people you do not know (friends and colleagues). When speeches are over and people are enjoying cocktails, themselves, choose a visible spot. Go on your knees and give the male prostitute a good old-fashioned blowjob. Don’t forget to swallow. Don’t stop sucking his penis even though you will be interrupted and told to get lost. Talk dirty, shout loudly and laugh, lick everything.
She is lighter now than when she started some weeks ago. Lighter, not as heavy as she was in her heaviest, approachable. Less of flesh, fleshiness in right places, round but not thin nor fat, seductive to look at. Picture of a naked woman hand on crotch smiling by the pool. Jump in. Picture of a woman in bikini posing and bending. Jump in. Picture of a woman flaunting her ample cleavage, perky posterior in a snake print swimsuit soaking up in the sun. Jump in.
Boob boob boob job, job job job toned body in a khaki bikini on Ibiza Holiday after causing a stir. Stirring beauty: How does she do it? Beauty sported with a pair of pale pink jogging bottoms, look at her ass. Now hands full with her Luis Vuitton carrier in one hand and a mobile in the other barely containing herself in floral bikini, look at her ass. Jemma Lucy looks like she is pregnant. Look at her ass. Who needs the millennium falcon pert posterior in revealing swimsuit? I don’t even know what that means.
What is eating? Everything. This action we must do and be compelled to commit every day. Stay focused even though the focus is on wrong things, always the same things, such as asses and breasts, sex and things we can grab. Nothing wrong with sex. No, but something wrong with neuroticism and blind obsession. Body means very different kinds of things to everybody even though it is to mean very simple pleasures in life and yet a necessity to be able to enjoy one’s body and somebody else’s body, to enjoy life. And how do we do it? No other interest than self-interest and pictures to look at?
Conditions of heart, conditions of human heart, conditions of animal heart, nature which is conflicted in humans, beats in different volume and speed depending on body weight. Breathing and beating of heart are connected. A bird’s heart can beat. A bird’s heart can beat in a way as it flies through life fast and drops dead. Once you have held a scared bird, the bird is the heart. Secrets of the heart, of a heart, from my heart, the bottom of my heart, kindness of heart, you have a beautiful heart, to see someone’s heart, to replace a heart with another heart, black heart, ripped off a heart, heart surgeon doing her job, playing with my heart, out of a good heart, bless your heart, big heart big big big.
Do people suffer more than animals? Is heart a symbol of not suffering or suffering in a way it makes you grow as a person? A burning heart, a passionate organ metaphorically. There is a strange connection between feeling and a muscle, blood and boiling, the pounding one, pumping, beating orderly, kicking on its own. I don’t have to think about it unless it gets sick. Conditions like not having one, having heart selectively, heart symbolising warmth. Heart of glass, heart of gold, heart of steel, no heart, heart of a dog, her heart is strong, heart is in the right place. Heart of flame, to break a heart, a heart to break, heart attack, heart failure, heartache.
Excavator on a star looks lonely and abandoned. A horse called Flight was difficult to handle. The animal was sizeable and white. Only one who it let ride was a girl and I thought she was the bravest person I had ever met. I use to like to watch them work together in perfect harmony. The abused and hurt horse, beautiful and enraged, and the only one who could touch its white. How are we the same? What is the same? Why do you seek similarity? Why do you want to be safe with people like yourself?
Puta Madre conceptual garden sub specie Aeternitatis, where every deed happens: truth is a bitch. Say the truth and you will be smacked around. Out-of-place, naturally dislocated.
Nymphaea looked for her earring on living room floor carpet. She said she has bad eyes. Great Horned Owl in her, in her bra was tightly pressured against her skin. Wanted to study her pressure marks, sunken bloodless steps on her, leaps of red. I thought it must have hurt to wear such bra. To wear underwear she did shaping her form. She always had a nightgown for me with a cartoon figure. I loved her furniture. She hung her jewelry on corners of her dressing table with oval shaped mirror. Smelling her bottles, her sheets, her plastic pearls, her things, her and valuables, details, piled magazines in her closet. Hers, language of her. I looked for it through her hanging clothes sitting on the floor. I poured everything that was in the box on the floor. Language of clichés, language of beauty language of trauma language of banality language of architecture language of aggression language of being a child language of being alive language of acting out language of close language of an old woman language of dust language of turquoise.
Call it divine, call it repetition of the name, repetition of the sound, call it repetition of the act, the same movement, the same fear and hate in the call, do not expect the same, expect the worst, do not expect the sane, expect lunacy, expect your narrowest nightmare corridor with mass of people in it with you unable to breathe, with them and their smell, unwashed. Call it hypothetical trust, blind hypothetical trust, insane hypothetical belief, expect the unseen, the unknown purity command, fury, need to make the idea of purity happen in black. See the flag, see the scarfs, see the eyes. Nothing will turn their heads around from this mission. Nothing. Crisis is in not negotiable in smallest space, in smallest breaths inhaled in passing out with the rest.
ThreatExpect the crisis, threatExpect the hurt, threatExpect the ill, it will come, it will be a terrorist, call it a terrorist, call it an organization Terrrrrrrrroriiiiiist. Terrrrrrrrrrrroriiiiist! It will be an explosion, a blast. Call it what you will, call it fear, terror, tyranny, call it many of who were hurt, many of those who are dead. Call it your blind heart, call it answer of the kind heart.
It is not a comical POW. It is not a comical savage. It is the hidden savage of Christ, the one you deny, the one you do not want to acknowledge, because it is in you, in your religion. Smell of divine captivated, taken, imprisoned. Moral imperative making monsters, sounds of this world, being a monster in an acceptable way, the same way as chanting righteousness, justice, superiority. Us and them, haven and threat, Paradise of safety and Hell of the uncovered. Those who did what they had to do. Those who accomplish God’s plan to save what there is for us to be saved, next to nothing. Standing next to nothing, next to a plan of salvation drawn on to ground.
I am nothing. I have nothing. I come from nothing. I know nothing. I was born yesterday. Tomorrow I will be born yesterday. This is something I struggle to understand. I am defined by others. I can’t define myself. I do not understand. I am so young. I am so silent. Wet behind my ears, naked in front of everybody, puzzled. Reason for my existence is this: act childlike, be helpless, speak with soft voice, smile, be kind. Don’t have lots of sex with men, don’t think you can have lots of sex with men, but be willing. Don’t show your pain, don’t talk about your pain. Tell what has happened to you, don’t tell what has happened to you. Don’t wander around, don’t look for knowledge, don’t think you have got talent, don’t think you are special, don’t think you are rational.
What is a proper laughter for women? Hold your hand in front of your mouth? Be timid. Women shouldn’t laugh loudly like hyenas, like monkeys, like donkeys even though they are subhuman. Don’t look untended, don’t look unfinished even though you are unfinished. Don’t lift heavy objects, don’t do dirty work, don’t do men’s work, you are not capable. Don’t wear revealing clothing, but be naked, because you are, we see you.
Don’t be better than men, keep your composure, keep calm, keep the look, keep smiling. Don’t speak up, don’t speak out. Don’t speak against, don’t contradict. Don’t show long face, don’t show discontent, don’t complain, criticise, but not too much, we don’t want to hear it. Don’t swear, don’t act manly, don’t walk manly, don’t sit manly. Don’t get drunk. Don’t be humourless, don’t be uptight, don’t disagree, don’t be a bitch. Don’t think you have power.
En mä, tiedä kannattaako sitä luonnollisuudella ja biologialla ja historialla mitään paljon selitellä, että olemme sellaisia, koska joku on niin säätänyt, eikä säädetystä poiketa. Vanhemmuudesta vielä, se on vaikea juttu, todella. Sitä ei kovin moni hetero osaa. En tiedä, voiko heteroille antaa vanhemmuuden avaimia lainkaan. Jos sukupuolinen suuntautuminen määrää millainen vanhempi on, niin ja millainen lapsesta tulee, mitä voimme päätellä heteroiden vanhemmuutta harjoittavassa maailmassa lopputuloksesta. Hyvässä vanhemmuudessa ei ole kyse rahasta, niinkuin moni luulee. Tai että ei halua kuulla huonoista jutuista lapsensa elämässä. Jos ei ole ketään kelle kertoa elämänsä paskasta, niin se on melko paska tilanne. Heterot vois ryhdistäytyä, ennen kuin on liian myöhäistä. Jos rakastaminen ja välittäminen eivät riitä, eivätkä kiinnosta, millainen elämä ja kokemusmaailma, saati ihmiskuva siitä syntyy. Tai ei ole käsitystä mitä nämä asiat ovat, kuinka niitä toteutetaan ja miksi niitä pitäisi olla koko ajan harjoittamassa. Miehen ja naisen mallit, joilla heterovanhemmuutta puolustetaan, ovat toissijaisia asioita noiden kahden rinnalla. Vakavaa, joo.
Future of Change. I wish and work for change, to change, for a change, give me some change, change a tune for a change, change clothes, change the way you walk, change the way you live. I think about it so much it has become a mantra and I begin to play with the thought of change, the word, what it means to me, what it means to anybody. Is it difficult, because for me it is a necessity and a self-evident part of life. As I see it people are afraid of changes, especially those which demand us to give up something. Changes may have an ominous tone in them, a silent doom. Change is absolute, good and bad, profitable. There is a thought of profit in the word. To change there must be something to gain, there must be an end and a thought of a new beginning. Also economically it can be wise to learn to give instead of taking.
But in the light of everything
what happens now in the world, it looks like things do change rabidly one way or the another. To demand world to change for better is a cry. Is it too common a phrase to be taken seriously? What kind of attitudes there are in general towards changing habits, attitudes, altering ways of knowing, looking, needing, wanting and doing? It is requiring substantial volume to make dramatic changes happen, a lot of energy, focusing and learning. I say dramatic because changes to make our ways of living sustainable and wiser need a total turnover. That means a lot of work. Not looking for easy ways out, there aren’t any.
Majakollektiivi Timanttimetsä 