pleasing stuffing, filled but not full, exhausted, drained, sucked, emptied, done. Wanting to fill it because of lack of content and the feeling of fulfillment all the time that is compulsory. Drank in between the birches in cool calm despite the sign of a mall in bright red behind there and the dirty double trailer truck on the side of the road towards a pulp factory which has been closed for some time. It is dark. Drinking in the dark the blue, yellow and red, drinking a wish and the thought of full, drinking the landscape, drinking the melancholy and the night, drinking the time, drinking the passing cars, drinking the dirty snow, drinking the shoes, drinking the hands. Not who drank but why. The problem is what you are. That is why.
poem
All the things you can do by the pool
meet a naked vibrating man
to be an inconsiderable prick and float
take part in an orgy
routine penetration
make love, moan
hold your feet in the water, move your feet
have a drink, have another drink
have a tan, put sun lotion on
jump in the water, splash the water
smoke a cigarette and watch the sun
lie on a towel and watch the sky
watch swimmers
watch people have sex in the night
make a movie with your phone, dance holding your phone
To know the world through unheld desire
It is to forget wisdom and finding it. Yes, there are mistakes, the unthinkable. There is mess, the intolerable. There are undesirable things that appear to you and you won’t like them. They drive you nervously out of balance. Things that are found under that shouldn’t be there, something should be solved, but not the things that can be forgotten or leave unsorted or get over with the easy stuff first. There isn’t a time without something to be solved, mostly it is you, it is always you. One thing is the cover suit that protects you from infection, it is for your own good and courtesy to other people. They will know your task. It is to avoid from getting dirty, from harm, from others, from touching, from contact, that fear that suspicion, skin and cells, hair and smell. To be protected from contact, wear a mask not to be seen, not to inhale the unseen, unpreventable still, unpredictable deadly disease that spreads via secretion and breath. Afraid of the deadly virus and there is no cure. It is precaution, it is to be sure in isolation. Desire in the world of neurosis gets shrunk. It is death. All is covered by death. The want and the need to live, smell of death and you have to breathe it in order to solve it, to have the wisdom to know the world, to have time to know the world. To pass on wisdom of the world, to keep on living, to reflect the world outside of me, world which affects me, shapes me and is me, is in me. To fall apart inside a suit that I put on to protect me.
Color
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreen
brownwhiteblackgray
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblackgray
blackgreenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreen
brownwhiteblack
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblackgray
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeige
whitegreenbrownwhiteblackgray
blackgreenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblack
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblackgray
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreen
beigewhitegreenbrownwhiteblackgray
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblackgray
blackgreenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreen
brownwhiteblack
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblackgray
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrownwhite
blackgray
blackgreenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblackgreenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreen
brown
white
blackgray greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrown
whiteblackgrayblackgreenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhite
greenbrownwhiteblack
greenbeigewhitebrowngreenbeigewhitebrowngrayblackgreenbeigewhitegreenbrownwhiteblack
gray
Get down on your fucking knees!
Get down on your fucking knees!
The claim that the world is changing incredibly fast.
What is the speed a bullet has? You won’t feel it once it hits your head.
World of agony is too much to take. Don’t speak it out just hear the bang.
That is what we do not tolerate: truth about ourselves, our deeds, our need to enslave, to humiliate.
Things we do not take if they are not for granted.
Preserving prettiness as something innocent playing as contrast to our cruelty, as a value to sell and be covered by. It is truth we should like, but we kill it, because it is not enough. We do not get ahead fast enough honestly. It even sounds too little, too bold to be alive. The one who speaks the truth and is not believed because it is too much to take. Get down on your fucking knees!
This command is about power used, power liked and loved. Power of ruining innocence of someone, ruining possibilities of someone for a life. This gun is an accusation. It is pointed at you. It is my emotional respond to you questioning me, for you to obey me. It is my belief, my religion, my faith and reassuring my righteousness. Me holding my truth, my path in my hand.
Get down on your fucking knees! Now!
Bow your head. Feel my weapon on you. How cold it is against your skin, against your fear, against your life.
Where are you when you are there afraid?
In the dirt below me breathing.
Me above you looking at you with anger. Looking at you like you were nothing, not even a human. Me with possibility and desire of pulling the trigger. Click. It takes one click.
Not adopting any method to be faster, not adjusting myself according to what is, but still I am.
drop something, pick it up
drop something, pick it up
drop something, pick it up
turn the lock, open the door
turn the lock, open the door
turn the lock, open the door
move the chair, sit on it
move the chair, sit on it
move the chair, sit on it
sit on a chair, straighten your back
sit on a chair, straighten your back
sit on a chair, straighten your back
do it backwards, open your mouth
do it backwards, think about your mouth
do it backwards, show me your tongue
Finisterra maailmanloppu the end of the world
It is in repeat, in repetition that is not changed, pattern that is not questioned.
A constant need for something, to be something with that something gained, that needs to be named.
What happens, what will I make happen in this idea of constant, a moment that is moving, a movement of individuals of constant, making moves to make a change that does not eventually end up changing much, or anything.
The end of the world and a world is when worlds of mine and yours come to an end as they were, as we obviously have learned to know them and as we have lived them. To live a world and to end a world as it is a possession and is many worlds simultaneously. World is an it and them, an I, a persona. Worlds as minds and bodies, a body which we penetrate violently without reaching the world we wanted. Because we do not understand our hostility, strangeness of our own which is an obvious part of the world, the unknown. We escape it, because we are afraid of it. We try to possess and destroy strangeness of that other, but never of our own. We just silence it, the it in us, hide it to nonexistence and solitude.
Without her she gets made, a kind of other, malformation of sex. She needs persona and identity of her own. What does she make of herself, of this lot? Out of these forms of hers. She must build herself.
Character of mist that makes you feel cold inside. Her reputation precedes her, irregular person, despicable. She is what you heard, you think. What you made of her in your mind via your and other people’s speech. Isn’t she. Talk works like clay. Story of her could be continued in this way unless she would not act for her defense. Get that clay into her own hands. She needs herself to oppose, resist and defend herself. Nobody else does it. Nobody else is interested in her life. Her life what it really is, what she really is like and able to do. Her reality is not interesting to anybody but herself, she lives it, not you and makes it interesting. She makes her life even there is discouragement, contempt, laughter, ill talk, threat, there is so little faith in her that it is unbelievable and unbearable. To accept passively what goes on and on, because others accept it, it suits them and they say there is nothing one can do, for her it is not an option. That is her exceptional quality, active resistance, energy of hers.
Evaluations, descriptions, adjectives, measurements and comparisons, faults, flaws, drawbacks. Qualities we need. Qualities we have made us and what are they worth, how do qualities change. We imagine, make, consume and refine ourselves.
She is not right. Characteristics that is stated as a fact without further evidence than hearsay. Demonizing her to people who listen. Who asked about her. Without her she gets made. As if she died. Character of mist that makes you feel cold inside. Is this the same world we inhabit? You speak of me, but you do not confront me nor speak to me. How little respect there is, how little trust. She is what you heard as a fact. To think otherwise would be unthinkable. Thinkable pleasure, envious joy of dragging her down speaks mountains. She is not right.
She is not right. To kill is to entertain. It is to better yourself. To paint a picture of malicious woman is to draw a separating line. Pointing her out from above, from a distance, from acclaimed perfection, from accepted shameless perfection undeniable.
To know her is to say what she is. She is loud, she is noisy, she is quiet, she is broken, she is tense, she is irrational, she is shameless, she is lost, she is dead.
Measuring temperature with hand on one’s forehead for a minute. It tells me something. How accurate it is if my head is hot and my hand is cold.
What to do on green grass?
Roll over light optimism as expected, as taken for granted
light of optimism the night of when I am interested in the light of the truth that lying on grass brings: Truth a carefully weight bearable word to be carried
not more nor less, new grass, always new and fresh, tended similarly everywhere
word no more no less, grass, color of it does something to your mind.
Majakollektiivi Timanttimetsä 