Sounds as chanting this world

Experience of hunting big game in Africa and images of it. Killing a magnificent powerful animal that could kill you. Bruise in shape of Africa.

| Henna Timanttimetsä

Sounds of Africa

You hear insects all the time everywhere. You are scared of insects. They are violent in their multitude. Their amount is unexpectable, unknown small horror that creeps. Their force is their poison and need to go under your skin. To eat you to consume you and move on to the next body.

Africa is scary. It is enormous and endless and dark. Endless in its blackness, noise, violence, liveliness and uniqueness but we like to see it as one block because we must understand within our rational frame all, even the things which don’t fit the frame in any way. We need to force all into our frame to comprehend and control and use. All that we can’t control, what can we do with it?

Ethnic sounds, drums, stomping, whipping, singing. Animal sounds: roaring. Human sounds: shooting. Nature’s sounds: the wind, eruptions, the grass, the rain.

Cacophony distilled normal, a harmony, a naming. Making order, giving advice, giving comprehension and guidance, harmony like for a choir with a conductor. Do not make a mistake. You will be punished. Who are the people who punish? Who are the people who are punished?

Coffee cantata, tsinasil signifies the sounds of whipping of Jesus. Wonderous voices made with instruments invented. Giselle is losing her mind. Think that sound.

Sounds of Africa

Sounds as chanting this world. Christ is crisis. Chanting in crisis. Chanting an end.

| Henna Timanttimetsä
Sounds as chanting this world. Christ is crisis. Chanting in crisis. Chanting an end.

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 smells 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 the not negotiable, in the smallest space, in the 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 organizationTerrrrrrrrroriiiiiist, 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 the 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 the 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, heaven and threat, Paradise of safety and Hell for 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 onto ground.

Soundtrack of this is so musical.

| Henna Timanttimetsä
Soundtrack of this is so musical.
  1. Easy Tree Generator with Beautiful Hearts
  2. La Maman et La Putain by George B.
  3. Tango B in me
  4. Oijoijoi Muchas Machos sung whisperingly by Him.
  5. Oye Oye Lucia! Running wild with Children of the Night
  6. Where is Bela Lugosi now? i don’t care, in heaven with me.
  7. There! Believe it! said Michael playing with his tongue.
  8. Of Course i like Madonna. I’m shallow in the best way.
  9. Tampere JAZZ happening is always hip.
  10. Me singing whatever comes to my mind every now and then, also talking to myself!
    ………….What! Are you Crazy??
  11. Sounds of the sea continuously
  12. Sounds of sleeping
  13. Sounds of the traffic
  14. Sounds of walking
    Anything by that beautiful Finnish Female composer. She is always in my phone.
  15. Hola.
  16. Yes I would do that.
  17. ‘Oh Fuck’ is a drink with white rum, lemon and pineapple juice and soda or orange juice, pour ingredients how you feel.
  18. O real thing, SHostakovitsh, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. Awesome.
  19. Yes, I do love you, but you choose not to love me, so.
  20. Farewell song anything goes.

His w

| Henna Timanttimetsä

It is bass in his voice
reifying the opposition, difference of quality in low and something large.
Foamy chocolate heart of an image, still fingers hateful night, and so on. But yes, it is romantic. Searching for sources of awe even in contempt. I have a constant feeling of guilt for I don’t know what, for that and that. Quiet masochism. Dirty and cheap in between. But it is not me. I’m the receiver of his favor, of he paying attention, making me solid out of these pieces he found and what is me. 

Moon as a triple reflection on a window demonstrated by a street lamp. I go slowly by floating like asleep, as sleep itself, sleeping. Sink my hands into foam, into my hands and his voice, rub it on my face to feel his w. 

Sounds of Africa/shot in the head

| Henna Timanttimetsä

You hear insects all the time everywhere. You are scared of insects. They are violent in their multitude. Their amount is unexpected and unknown small horror that creeps. Their force is their poison and need to go under your skin, to eat you and to consume you and move on to the next body. Africa is scary. It is enormous and endless and dark. Endless in its blackness, noise, violence, liveliness and uniqueness, but we like to see it as one block, because we must understand within our rational frame all, even the things which don’t fit the frame in any way. We need to force all into our frame to comprehend and control and use. All that we can’t control, what can we do with it?

Ethnic sounds, drums, stomping, whipping, singing.
Animal sounds, roaring.
Human sounds, shooting.
Nature’s sounds, the wind, eruptions, the grass, the rain. Cacophony distilled normal, a harmony, a naming. Making order, giving advice, giving comprehension and guidance, harmony like for a choir with a conductor. Do not make a mistake: you will be punished. Who are the people who punish? Who are the people who are punished?

Coffee cantata, tsinazil signifies the whipping of Jesus. Wondrous voices made with instruments invented. 

Giselle is losing her mind. Think that sound.

Sounds of Africa

| Henna Timanttimetsä

Sounds as chanting this world, Christ is crisis. Chanting in crisis. Chanting an end.

| Henna Timanttimetsä

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 smells 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 the not negotiable, in the smallest space, in the 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 organizationTerrrrrrrrroriiiiiist, 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 the 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 the 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, heaven and threat, Paradise of safety and Hell for 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 onto ground.