Hi. I’m officially drunk and officially sobering up. Ain’t I interesting? Häähähähä.
Mokoma is a good soundtrack to this sort of moment. Minä etsin RAUHAAARHHGHGHGHGH!! No, Saatana! Onpas vittu iha hyvää musaa!
Oon vahva ja tekisi mieli mennä tupakalle. Menen sitten. Huhuhu.
Mun tietokone meni rikki, myhhyyhyyhy. Meaning: my computer is broken, myyhyhyy. I’m writing from my alternative one, it doesn’t really save my life, but it helps a bit.
Late night on msn with some Yummy lady who now claims to be fat (!) made me wake up at 12, and have lunch immediately. Now I’m here eating my dessert and having my coffee… and thinking that I have stuff to do that I won’t do, therefore I have nothing to do and need to find something.
It sucks sometimes when the day is too beautiful and you just know you won’t be enjoying it outdoors. It just sucks. And it makes you feel guilty to feel like watching a movie or just pfff whatever indoor activity.
I should become a psychopath. Surely their mental disease makes it more exciting when they’re having their dessert, with their coffee, looking out the window. They sure have someone to stalk or kill despite the weather. Killing someone under the sun or under rain, it might just be like adding a different spice on food. Millions of possibilities, millions of things to try, despite the weather.
Now the police or someone very paranoic comes read this and I’m arrested.
No, I should just become a stalker, not a 100% full power 3 year guarantee psychopath. Ain’t that necessary. I should just go stalking people, live. I can always blame it on somekind of art. “I’m a writer, I’m just trying to get some inspiration”. And that’s actually something, I might get inspirational benefits from all that. Inspirational. lol.
But Mr Woodrow just screamed from his window that I’m unconsciously, or very consciously, trying to provoke accidents in the middle of the streets. And he is very right. Must we respect the seniors.
Be whatever it is, I’m still in need of entertainment, goddamnit.
When your ears are melting from so much rum, or when you’re dreaming that one of them is fucked and falling apart, you realize that the world is so beautiful despite the poverty in Africa. Somalia can smile, because each year brings us a new July 25th, and in each July 25th we can drink and celebrate the renewing of the goddess of my evenings, the duck of my lakes, the yellow & blue dirt in my thoughts, the 
-smily at the end of my sentences. Happy Birthday, duck. Too late were I to find out this date; I’d have prepared something more elaborate for you. This post is already too drunk, it sounds like one of our 3-word stories, but it’s from the bottom of my heart and from the bottle of my booze. Congratulations.
We wish you a merry christmas, we wish you a merry christmas, we wish you a merry christmas and a happy new age!
There’s so much randomness this day that I don’t even know where to start. Probably by the one which made me even think about blogging tonight. Well, not that anyone needs to know this, but it’s more of a “lol, let’s not forget these links, cos they’re so utterly random and I’m random enough to think that shouldn’t be forgotten”. So yeah, here I was, happily (or nerdily) googling some phrase structure in Finnish just to check if it exists - which is already random, cos I was talking to myself in Finnish - and then I came across this, öhm, thing: http://www.lycaeum.org/languages/finnish/tripit/kannab17.txt
0o !!
What the heck! So I decided to check that lycaeum.org website……… Well……… WHAT THE HECK!?!? Seriously. “The world’s largest entheogenic library and community”. WHAT? WHY? WTF! And then after a few clicks I got here: http://www.lycaeum.org/languages/finnish/acid/
I mean, what the fucking utterly fuckemnation fuckedy overlordian fuckgorey duckystyle fuck is that motherfucking goosebumpey schizophrenic fuck!? If I were reading this right now, I’d ask myself “What was that phrase structure this creature was googling that could lead to this?!”. Well, it was nothing drug related, actually it was depression related. Cos I just realized I feel like shit at this moment (or a few moments ago when I started talking to myself in Finnish about my own bad mood 0o ) and for some reason I was scribbling on my own desk, just like I do when I’m drunk. I’m not drunk, by the way.
I’m glad I’m not addicted to anything or I’d have totally surrendered to my vice at this moment. It feels weird. Silent. Cold. Empty. Frustrated.
But not to make this a depressing post, I’ll dance. Too bad you can’t see it.
Irony ownz.
Haha.
Ei mulla oo enää pahaa oloa 
HÄÄHÄÄ I’m trashing my own blog again. For the love of God. Or for my own love. Love. Four-letter words.
Okay, I fucked my sleeping pace all again. Of course, I’m on vacation, I can sleep at 5am. So now I’m an idiot sleepdrunkard ‘cos I have slept too little. I’ve been sleeping too little for a few days, that’s that.
Not the happiest day. Very sad news came straight in the “morning” when I woke up, and then things keep being not very happy since, graaa, I wish I had gone out during the day, daylight!! Now it’s dark and we’re still planning what to do. Dämmit.
It really feels good to write HÄÄHÄÄ though. Probably an influence of that Juha Vuorinen shit I was reading. Lol, it is at least good to keep up with the finnish slang, etc. And it’s pretty good at making me drunk, too.
But now I gotta go and be drunk for real. Or not exactly right now. We haven’t planned yet. So now, LOL -I’m feeling SO DRUNK!- I’ll take a glance at #local.
insideout insideout returns
insideout to the long time abandonned chatroom
insideout that resembles the very same eternal silence of the past
Bad-Fate has joined channel #local
insideout Bad Fate has come to release us
insideout or not
insideout I’m not drunk, btw
insideout And my greetings to maya, my bulgarian queen, when/if she reads this.
insideout Farewell.
I miss maya
But now I’m off to pizza+booze, mhöhöhhö. Lollero, Pseudoseni was having pizza last night. Pizza runs in the family.
Cheers, fuckers!
This blog gets totally trashed sometimes, I notice. It feels good to trash it when I’m trashing it, but some other times it feels like a waste, a blur, a stain. But at the same time, I enjoy stains.
I’d love to live somewhere with an unfurnished room, white, but stained. The stains of struggle couldn’t be more pleasant to look at, or be amongst.
I love Katatonia, the dude with that voice of his. The best to fill this greyness, pseudo-coldness, loneliness.
And I had written a lot of shit which I judged to be better off erased.
So what now?
No sight of Woodrow, no sight of stimulation to produce anything creative. No sight of pain, no sight of whores, no sight of my toothbrush to brush away the bitter taste of lunch.
Gladly enough, I’m more of a listener than a voyeur.
np: Katatonia - Consternation
“When they least expect we provoke an accident. We could invoke the Blessed Virgin Mary, in either of her forms, it’s all the same.
If even divinity is schizophrenic, dare you not imagine the little pieces of fresh meat walking around, tempting fragile hearts in this Earth. At least the Virgin was decent enough to let us somehow know that she’s the one and all of them. But my ironies are never understood anyway… Who knows, maybe the Virgin would get them? Too bad she doesn’t answer me. She could appear, in a dream or whatever, for us to have a coffee, liquor, keep up with the news. But the saint isn’t a fool, she might be on vacation, and she knows very well (if she listens to all my wishes, how we suppose she does) that I’m going to give her a lot of work. Oh, my holy Virgin Mary… “
Many voices have been speaking recently. The one above shouted last night, in another language you couldn’t possibly get the hang of. That voice was nothing but a hand with a knife; violence was bubbling through. Oh, and there was a face, you could barely tell if it was a man or a woman, you could just feel the evil urge, the psychotic smile gaining shape in those lips. The intentions were an accident. Now that you read about knife and psychos, I must clear that by accident I don’t mean murder. Accidents vary a lot. There are the kinds that appear in an exclamation of the sort “oh, what a surprise! What are you doing around here at this time?”, as well as more intense ones, in which whores find out they have a heart alive and beating inside, and realize they’re taken. The latter is the one she wanted to cause. She? We better conclude the voice was female. It’s too bittersweet, afterwards, and how much bittersweet can you get if you’re not a woman? Bittersweetness is a gift to women. She was a she. Might have had the voracity of a he, maybe. But getting back to the accident.
She was violent, then, last night. Her mind was so blood-red that you could easily fish words like “stabbing” and “drop of blood” in her speech. Metaphors, metaphors… but very well used metaphors.
I can’t recall in which moment she asked for my advice, but she did. We were probably sleeping, we sleep in the same head (and our home-head has many other tenants, so it’s hard to find who’s who sometimes).
“How should you provoke that accident? Should you?”
I thought for a little longer, and concluded that it’s no harm if it’s done naturally. Or I’m probably lying, and what I want for real is to see the victims lying on the floor… in the bed, wherever. Dirty minds, eh? Human, I tell you. Isn’t it the most human thing to do, to stop by in the middle of the street if someone had just passed out? The huge majority won’t help, they’ll just watch, amuse themselves. It might be amusing really, because it’s instigating unusual emotions. But then they’ll go home and tell their family, and in a few days they’ll forget about it…
“Yes, go ahead!”
I got hooked in the thought that she is a talented poetic voice, and she can dress very well. The words, I mean. She can dress words.
“You can use the enemy’s gun in your favor, you study the same art.”
She sounded excited about it, but I could feel a little fear of looking foolish.
“Do it as if nobody is looking, then.”
She left - excited, I could tell - she’s off to shower now. Some purification, some music, and a snack afterwards. She’s a talented little poetic voice, I tell you. And she’s master in the art of provoking accidents, just that she never really noticed…
My neck has never spent a night in a worst position.
This isn’t a simple narration, damnit. I’m drunk atm, btw. But yeah, I’ve always said this blog isn’t the home of a simple telling facts shit. But I’m drunk now and tired, let’s see what happens and what you can infer from my post.
I’ve gone to college for absolute no reason, academic reason, that is. Or not quite, because some professor was supposed to hand in our grades today, but she just didn’t show up, so fuck you professor. But I’m not pissed off, I’ve seen my Yummy lady. And I’ve had lunch with her hahaha we split a meal. I even paid the fucking coke, I’m so gentle. Now, msn. I fell asleep at 21, woke up again at 23 feeling totally drunk, so I decided to get the rum and here I am. DRUNK for real. But to that extent in which we can still type and shit.
She’s even sung for me, how sweet, that Yum fuck. I made a drawing, I’m talking shit, soon I plan to say something whorish - haven’t thought of what yet - but she’s going to bed soon, I GOTTA whore. Maybe at the Goodnight wish. Hahaha. Whore you, me, we, us! I’m drunk!
np: Katy Perry - I Kissed A Girl
PS tomorrow I’m sure I’m not going to remember I made this post, so hmm… yeahwhatever,kisses.
“Such a tiring day, I got home at 22.00″
Yeah right.
It took me a while to even think about it, but howcome she was on msn changing status back and forth since about 19.00? It’s not like I care, lies are social and I do approve the whole social lying thing. But it’s weird, haha, I’m now trying to recall a trace of shine in her eyes. Probably the kind that states “I’m lying” or more improbably the kind that wants to be caught. She had even confessed this other social lie of hers the other day. She lies socially, ain’t that cute? She can’t even fucking hide it or doesn’t even try to.
Nah, haha, now the shine in my eyes is other stuff.
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