Why Jesus?

When the muslims take over, they will shoot all gays and transvestites.
At the same time tens of nuclear plants will explode
and the Russians will find a red button that has been forgotten since Gorbatjov.
And the Kyoto protocol will be accidentally burned in Bush´s fireplace
and the ices in the south pole will melt from the heat and
the water at the coasts of Finland will rise several meters
tha bridges will collapse an in the fall take tens or twenty of wind-mills with them
Then Jesus will come and apologize he didn´t turn up earlier
but someone had put eco-bananas in the trombones
so the angels couldn´t blow
They were all alcoholics anyway.
Then Christian Morgenstern will rise from the dead and say:

Der Zwölf-Elf kam auf sein Problem
und sprach: Ich heiße unbequem.

I´ll still be playing accordion.

The terrible ballade about life and it´s wrong-sides

I wish i had a nail in my forehead, so that I could hang myself on the walls and unnoticed spend my days and afternoons in cantines and offices. I wish I had a loudspeaker in my throat and a play-button right outside, so that people could push it and listen to randomly recorded sayings about the world, either from a right- or a left-wing perspective.

The grasshoppers can listen to my moanings at night, in the evenings I will light a red lamp at the terrace, and then I´ll sit there quiet and ponder. My bed is 90 x 200 cm, that´s enough for a person not more than 170 x 70 cm. I will die slowly, but that´s the purpose. Life is for those who can give themselves to other people, who can read papers or work in offices, who can bring out garbage and dishwash and dry floors and greet their friends without being infected by the terrible meaninglessness that´s pushing on the temples. Life is for those who can fight for what they believe in, or who can do things for other´s wellbeing.
They can live. There´s enough of them.

The intelligent thought of the week

Ilkka Kanerva

A new idol in my collection of old ladies

I have a new person in my collection of elderly women that I admire.

Kristin Olsoni was the first one that I happened to see in a TV-show. Then I have heard and seen her plays in the Klockrike-theater and share her interest and admire for the Swedish author Harry Martinsson.

Vivi-Ann Sjögren made me want to go to Mexico instantly by her very good and insightful book about her trip to Mexico in the 90's. She has what very few authors have – an understanding for what it is to be HUMAN in the world and how we can connect with other people in the way of being all the same for real. I've read lots of of books written by regular travelers, but they usually sort of shield themselves from the country they are traveling in and write about the place in a foreigner's point of view. Sjögren knows how to describe new places with that same unique eye that you have in your own back-yard.

And now, let me proudly present my new idol; Kitty Tennberg.
Kitty is an artist who has kept an understanding for what's good in the world and I knew when I met her that we had the same relation to and love for animals. She was that sort of person that I would love to take to an island and paint with for several days.


Tennbergs pictures from 1986 - 1994 in Grand, Porvoo until 28.3.

P.S. Do I sound enough like a stupid cultural reporter now??
HAHAHAHAAAaaaaa. Promise to get more unfocused in the close future.

Ladies

YES, I´ve been to a barbershop concert...

A cockatiel´s conquering the world

Fjutte is taking over the world.
I don´t know how it happened, but here´s his website: http://fjuttes.blogspot.com

Nowadays part 2

Two versions of a lovely country

Posters from the book "Come to Finland" by one of my favourite authors Magnus Londen

Finland in the eyes of Otto and Timo

Nowadays part 1

This is Finland

In Finland they have now decided to take this man above away from Fazer´s liquorice bars and replace him with a more neutral picture.
In Finland it´s easy to get 16 000 names when you want to keep this man on Fazer´s liquorice bars, but when the government send refugees home to face an almost secure death, almost no people react, no names no nothing.
In Finland the Swedish newspaper HBL interviews five white people from the street when they want to have an opinion about what people feel about taking away the liquorice face. FIVE WHITE PEOPLE. What I would be interested in hearing, and what I think makes more sense in this whole stupid rhumba, is what the liquorice colored people would have to say about this.

Sorry I felt for a change here I know it´s ugly but I don´t care

No more no less

I love this shit!

Out and back before twelve

Pia and me decided to give Porvoo a chance tonight. Sober.
This is what we learned:

1. Café Seagull, 1 tea

Dark weirdo athmosphere. We felt like foreigners. Sat alone for a while, then the drunken boss from Porvoo drain-service sat down next to us, didn´t say a word, stared that stupid drunkard-stare, panted in Pia´s neck, refused to move when we asked him to. We moved to another table. Almost a fight at the next table.

2. Barracuda, 1 orange juice

Woow, Vikingline on bare land. Karaoke in a corner, a woman who looked like an exploded Tina Turner sang all the one hit wonders she could ever think of. A girl from the staff constantly gave us that "what the hell are you two doing here anyway"-look. Another drunkard sat down next to us, stared that stupid drunkard-stare, smelled like ash-tray and weeks with no shower, had blisters on his eye-lids and said that everything´s going to hell. We agreed. Then we went.

3. Donington Rock Club, 1 tea

Nice staff, let us enter almost for free, then we didn´t have to pay for the tea. The bartender looked like last time he made a cup of tea was in 1995, but it turned out good anyway. We sat there and liked it. No drunkards no nothing. Then out of nowhere came a disasterous rock-band. Our ear-drums almost burst and we felt like 67 years old. We went home.

Throwing ice blocks into the sea

Molested by a fake reality

One of these nights I dreamt about fake plastic grass growing on my legs, and even under my feet. It was that kind of fake grass you find on football fields and very symmetric as well.
Does this mean, I´m stuck in a reality where nothing´s happening and I can´t do anything else but watch grass grow up my legs,
and as if that wasn´t bad enough - it´s also FAKE!

Apocalypse later

After the party I cried "because the blackbirds sang so beautifully in the garden"
and we sat at the balcony, me and him, and I knew at that moment,
that some world had been smashed into pieces.

May 2006

Find five faults

For Daniil

Once there was a redheaded man without eyes and without ears. He had no hair either, so that he was a redhead was just something they said.

He could not speak, for he had no mouth. He had no nose either.

He didn't even have arms or legs. He had no stomach either, and he had no back, and he had no spine, and no intestines of any kind. He didn't have anything at all. So it is hard to understand whom we are really talking about.

So it is probably best not to talk about him any more.

DANIIL KHARMS

Fucking Valentine

Something for the fresco artist

I don't know where I'm going to end up of course, and
while I think of that painfully many minutes are passing by
like nothing is happening.
Nothing is happening.

Headless doll

I went to an exhibition today, made by an elderly woman who collects old stuff from flee-markets. She kept showing me Italian hand bags, vases and what not, and did apparently not think it was absurd at all to have clothes on a doll looking like this.

Badarsle

Habe gerade einen Idée bekommen, von nirgendwo. Ich wollte auf Deutsch schreiben, weil ich Virginija vermisse. Verstehst du "badarsle" Virginija? Es ist sowie "Bad-arsch" auf Deutsch. Sehr lustig in meinem einfachen Kopf.
Liebe Grüsse.
Borgå ist fast nur scheisse.

Och så till en annan oväsentlighet;
Det bara ropar i mig att föröka dig, fort, när jag känner doften av den här karln. Jag ids inte ens försöka förklara ett sånt fenomen, för det har säkert bara med dumbiologi att göra.

Another unimportancy (I know that´s not a word, but come on, it´s nice);
Why is it that one can only do one thing a time? If I have a job, I cannot make music. If I make music, I cannot have a job. So what is it that I want to do, have a job or make music? Maybe make music AND have that as a job? Impossible! Come on, no-one pays for music anymore, and I am not good enough, cause I am from Europe and I´ve grown up knowing I am fucking nothing! You can´t have any dreams here! Get real and stop dreaming, that´s what I´ve been told since I was 16 and ran around in town and glued Loesje-posters up the walls. No-one´s gonna notice that! So get an education and stay down with your boring stupid feet on the ground.
You know what? I still want to say NO!

Jag älskar dig mer än mitt liv

Det finns fenomen som är försvinnande i vår kultur. Ett av de här fenomenen är förmågan att skratta åt sig själv. Ett annat är att glädjas över att det går bra för andra. Ett annat är ketchup och McDonalds popularitet, men det är bara bra saker och det ska jag inte klaga på. Jag ska egentligen inte klaga alls. Jag ska bara konstatera och minnas ett ställe där jag tillbringade så förbannat många timmar av min ungdom. Bar Mary i Borgå. En bar, som nu, efter att den är borta, i minnet ter sig som ett magiskt ställe, som något helt unikt och speciellt, förlorat, antagligen för att jag har så många minnen därifrån.
Där fanns de här pojkarna som egentligen gav grunden till hela mitt musikintresse när det gäller progg och vad det fanns att upptäcka. Och mycket annat. Man satt där och var alldeles bortblandad över att det fanns så mycket bra man aldrig hade hört förut. Och ibland, mot slutet av kvällen, kunde de sätta på Backstreet Boys. Bara som en bomb, som ett skämt, som en fågel som hade flugit fel i detta pretentionernas träskvatten, jag vet inte. Men det är hit jag vill komma. Jag saknar det där så jävla mycket. Var är dom där som har så mycket sinnesfrånvaro att dom kan sätta på Backstreet Boys i en bar för musiknördar? Var är dom som kör runt torget med klassisk musik strömmande ur högtalarna? Var är dom som spontant blandar ihop saker utan att veta varför och sen ser på sin röra med häpnad?
Allt nuförtiden ska vara så seriöst på något sätt, så eftertänkt. Man ska vara så säker på hurdan man är och till vilken stil man hör. Jag blir så förbannad och är glad över att jag inte är sexton år idag. Jag hade inte klarat mig över tröskeln. Pladask hade jag fallit ner på golvet i en hög av självömkan och svårigheter.
Jag är fascinerad av världen, för att folk beter sig så oväntat överallt. Man kan aldrig vara säker på någonting och själv är man naturligtvis den tråkigaste gråa allätaren som finns när det kommer till resande. Man är beredd på allt. Man har sett så förbannat mycket, så många fantastiska vattenfall, bergstoppar och underligt klädda typer med snurrade mustascher och vandringskäppar, afrikanska kungar och besatta voodoogurun. Vi är fullmatade, apatiska, belästa och så satans toleranta. Visst är det konstigt och fel att det är de tråkigaste människorna i världen som har råd att resa, dvs europeerna, amerikanerna och australiensarna, okej snart säkert kineserna och många andra också? Vi har rest så mycket att vi nu börjar intala oss att vi vill resa för att "göra något för andra också." Det vill säga för att komma med vår kvasikunskap och berätta hur de i andra kulturer ska förbättra sina förhållanden för att i slutändan bli likadana som vi.

Jag kan vara intresserad av folk mest för att jag inte förstår dem, för att jag blir frustrerad över att nån kan tänka idiotiskt och resonera banalt, och samtidigt vara smart. Det är såna saker. ”Man slutar aldrig att lära sig” eller "Nu måste jag bara se framåt" kan vissa ha mage att komma och påstå och samtidigt se ut som om dom säger något livsviktigt, medan det bara är gamla floskler i nån annans öra.
Varför det? För att det har sagts för många gånger? För att man hela tiden ska vara så satans nyskapande, och originell och kreativ, titta-vad-jag-kan rövsparkande intressant? Vad är det för fel med att upprepa sånt som är sant flera gånger, ifall det ÄR sant? Klichéer är väl klichéer för att dom sägs jävligt ofta, och det som sägs jävligt ofta måste väl vara sant. Måste klichéer alltid vara fel?
"Jag älskar dig mer än mitt liv." Jag skulle villa kunna säga sånhäna saker på fullaste allvar. Men jag kan det inte. Jag är född i cynismens regntunna.

Ojojoj, nu kom jag på en annan sak. Lonely Planet. I de böckerna kan man läsa sånt som att "when you visit the villages, greet the people with a smile". Är det inte ett påstående som är rent åt helvete? Är det inte konstigt att komma med råd om hur man ska hälsa på andra mänskor i en reseguide, när främmande mänskor har hälsat på varandra i århundraden? Varför ska man nu behöva veta att man också ska le när man hälsar på i nån afrikansk by (vafan man nu ens har där att göra från början om man inte vet hur man hälsar på andra mänskor.) Tänk om man är ledsen?
Okej, det här leder ingen vart. Jag måste bara säga det.

We both smell like shit ok, but do we really have to look the same way too?

Kärlek, förvirring och en oklippt pannlugg

Something I like (nerd) is when the sound of someone logging into MSN goes in tune with the music you´re listening to. If it comes somewhat in tact I almost get horny.

How to become a loser

1. Get really speeded while being drunk and try to get everyone to be just like you
2. Be really depressed in between and act like you´re getting sick even if you´re not
3. If you don´t know what to say, complain
4. Never know what you want
5. Never know what feeling is real and what´s not
6. Make drastic moves without considering anything on forehand
7. Say out loud "now I know" and change your mind after ten minutes
8. Drive crazily straight through shops and markets with tomatoes, glass splitter, oil and shit flying right past your ears
9. Repeat what you say all the time, even if you´re talking nonsense
10. Make music that sounds like a catastrophe
11. While playing music, delete things you´ve spent hours on until there´s just a stupid voice and one tune left, as if that would be nice.
12. Write messages and meaningless things in your blog and then change them every hour cause you´re never happy, as if anyone cared
13. Take everything personally
14. Try to make everything as complicated as you can
15. Promise yourself things and then break every promise as fast as you can



How to become someone else, someone good
1. Don´t drink alcohol
2. If you drink alcohol, be yourself and be a happy drunkard
3. If you don´t know what to say, say "cucumber"
4. Think about what you want and smile while you´re thinking about it
5. Take your feelings seriously
6. If you change your mind, it´s still ok
7. When playing music, just play
8. When writing, talking or deciding things, don´t do random shit
9. Don´t take everything personally, or actually, I want to keep this. KEEP TAKING EVERYTHING BLOODY PERSONALLY if you are the type that can´t help doing so
10. Still, try to be uncomplicated. UNCOMPLICATED. What ever it might mean.




Some Finnish Beauty Contest participant in the train from Helsinki to Turku

This one saved my week

I´ve been playing instruments and stuff. Playing has always meant the ultimate sense of freedom for me, cause there´s no need for me to produce anything of value. Of course I want to do great music as well, but if I fail, it´s not the whole world. Nobody asks me things about music or expects me to know a shit about anything. I can just do what the heck I want and play with effects and shit as much as I want, cause I don´t even know of the do´s and dont´s. I don´t know what´s out and what´s not, which button to push or which small sign means what in the program. It´s exactly like me and photography, but when it comes to photography people expect me to know a hell lot of things cause I´m educated. I don´t know a shit about buttons and effects when it comes to photography as well, and I guess that´s nothing to be proud of. That´s called "failure" in one language and "artistic freedom to do what the hell you want" in another. I am constantly caught in between, like a sheep between the fences of all the endless interpretations of how to live a life in the world. Why is it that I never really know what it is that I want to do? My favourite situation is when you have no alternatives. Just one, shitty road to walk.
Anyway, you can listen to the first piece of musical weakness here.



But now I want a new one. I mean this is from 1988, can you imagine the sounds?

Thoughts about depression

I´ve done a lot of thinking these last few days, cause someone close to me is going through a pain I haven´t seen before in my life. I think I might never get into a real depression, because I seem to have something in me that almost automatically turns me upwards, just when reach the bottom. This sounds so stupid as I write it. But let me explain. When everything feels like shit I usually write down the factors that makes everything feel like shit. Then I see what I can change immediately. Usually there´s something that you can do something about quite quickly.
The problems with really deep depressions are, that you aren´t able to even develop a healthy thought about things like how to get better, because the option that there is a chance things will get better IS NOT THERE. Often you are not able to write a single line, even worse - to even take a look at your own life and the circumstances, and what you might be able to do about it.
My biggest problem these days is - how to give hope to someone that has lost every last fraction of what there is to hope for and believe in? How to inspire someone that wish he were dead? What to say? Where to begin with someone who TRUELY DOESN´T CARE?
Me in my stupidity thought a little good old therapy by talking and getting to the bottoms of the problems, will bring an easy relief, but I recognize myself getting more and more helpless, the more I see NOTHING improve - the days are just copies of each other with no pattern whatsoever.
Before, I was very sceptical to medications like "lucky pills", but I recognize I am changing my mind. I naively thought you could talk any person out of depression, but now I consider depression more like an illness, like any other fysical illness you might develop. Which needs treatment. If someone wants to die, that person is not well, and needs to more or less artificially get a new idea of what it is to feel happy.

Sanningar

Sorry folks, men jag är riktigt cyniskt inställd till det MESTA just nu.
Omständigheter har lärt mig att man
1. aldrig ska älska nån för mycket för då blir man bara lämnad
2. när nån vill ha "en paus" i ett förhållande vill de bara ha en på väntelistan medan de själv får lov att knulla runt och testa ett annat slags liv och sen vill de kunna komma tillbaka som om ingenting hänt OM de ännu vill ha en
3. när nån påstår sig vara "fullständigt ärlig", ljuger denna
4. dåliga nyheter kommer inte en och en, dom kommer I GRUPP

Bevisa att jag har fel.

Life is kicking me in my own damned ass, asking me "so how do you like this? Fall already? Nope, guess I´ll have to kick a little harder next time." And FFFFFKH, another kick. And I suddenly find myself laughing.

Whisky and farmers

Happy days and nights. Yesterday we spent drunk in Helsinki city. Pia and me ended up in a strange place where a retired guy gave us whisky from a coffee cup. His two farmer friends from Hyvinkää came over, and I realise this was a chance I very rarely get. This might sound weird, but I almost never meat real Finnish people like this, like completely regular nothing-else Finnish farmers. I tried to communicate in my very rusty Finnish. We talked about farming, politics, machines that you use in farming and something about phosphor that I still don´t understand. It was basically like trying to talk to another species of monkey. I had absolutely NOTHING in common with these guys, what´s more interesting than that?

So long, orange from Versailles

Today I heard my mother´s concise information that she was going to throw the orange from Versailles away. It has been resting here in a coffee cup by the window since August 2007, when my mother visited me in Paris and we visited Versailles, and saved this tiny orange from being squeezed into the ridiculously expensive orange juice that they sell in the gardens of Versailles.
Now the day has come, when there´s not much more of an orange left of the orange, so we both agreed it´s time to put the sweet little thing into the wheel of reincarnation.

Nights

I really can´t sleep these days. Oh, I mean nights.
Know the feeling when you just want to FFW the night as if it was a boring video? This is how I feel every evening when that stupid thing comes along. Somehow the other people around me disappear and actually fall asleep. I don´t understand this complicated process.

Nights are made for couples. You can just lie there and be fucking 2. For the lonely people a night just means more loneliness.

Someone just came in and PUKED RIGHT HERE!

Coincidences, or?

Life is strange. I think I am getting sick cause I got lost somewhere in between realities. Lost somewhere in between all these places and where it is that I should be. Cause during the last few weeks I surely have been living so many lives. I met an Ethiopian man in a bus who told me he had died many times in his life, so he´s not afraid anymore. He escaped from a concentrate camp when he was 13 and lived on the street for four years. One cannot do much else than just look at these people and sort of admire them. One feel so small next to these real survivors.

I spent new years eve with a bus driver and his family in Guatemala City. He somehow wanted to take care of me cause he had once been taken care of in the US as well.
This is how it goes. The good things you do to other people just keep on coming back to you. I am saying this like it´s something new and strange, but of course it´s not. It has just occurred SO OFTEN during these last few days that I have to point it out.

Imagine - you go by bus from point A to point B. On the bus there´s a shitload of people you don´t know and never will know, all with their individual stories. Imagine now that you actually get the opportunity to know someone, and in 12 hours you will know where that person has spent his last 11 years, what he is dreaming of, how his girlfriend´s house looks like and how much her mother likes dolls.
This is exactly what happened to me. I got to know a South Corean guy at the bus from Guatemala City to Puebla, and ended up spending the night with his girlfriend´s family. Also, they didn´t want me to spend a night on my own down in the dangerous downtown, and I am not the one who refuses to stay at people´s houses, as it is one of my biggest interests just to see how people are living.

What can I say? Not more than 2 weeks away from home and already been at two stranger´s homes.
This is life how I like it.

Me with Alan, the bus driver and his family in Guatemala City

Me in Puebla with the Corean guy Sang Yon and his Mexican girlfriend Veronica and sister

See more pics?

MAGIC forests, and people and cars, and hand-painted signs, and children and LOVE and Spanish, and weirdos

es todos.