Summer Scenes

My son watches me with interest as I go mad gesticulating in the air, with furious assassin fever, clenching my teeth and ranting about long winters and fucking insects of hell.

Then I recover. I remember that I always tell him that hurting other beings is wrong. I put on my patient and lovingful father voice, and I think of Saint Thomas Aquina.

They say that Saint Thomas Aquinas loved every single living thing, he loved everyone and everything, including telemarketing sellers and mosquitoes.

Well, I don't doubt his saintliness, but from all things in the world, I am sure of one: Mister Aquinas didn't ever live in Finland.

Joulupukki's Wish List

Economic recession adjustment policy shakes Finland.

Europa Press - Oulu - 27/04/2010

Local newspaper Kaleva reports that Joulupukki (aka Santa Claus) announced this Monday the final implementation of his new adjustment plan aimed at solving the serious problems that his company, Christmas Oy, is facing due to the economic recession.

"Among the measures adopted, his house will now be available for sub-renting during the Summers in order to make the company more resource efficient. Also, all non-essential elves have been made redundant and

On Vulcanos

Creatures shall be seen on the earth who will always be fighting one with another, with the greatest losses and frequent deaths on either side. There will be no bounds to their malice; by their strong limbs a great portion of the trees of the vast forests of the world shall be laid low; and when they are filled with food, the gratification of their desire shall be to deal out death, affliction, labour, terror, and banishment to every living thing; and from their boundless pride they will desire to rise toward heaven, but the excessive weight of their limbs will hold them down. Nothing shall remain on earth, or under the earth, or in the waters that shall not be pursued, disturbed or spoiled, and that which is in one country removed into another. And their bodies shall be made the tomb and the means of transit of all the living bodies which they have slain.

O earth, why do you not open and hurl them into the deep fissures of thy vast abysses and caverns, and no longer display in the sight of heaven so cruel and horrible a monster.

-From Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks.

Family Theatre

Linus is having a bath, and plays with his plastic fishes in the water.
(Juanmi enters)

Juanmi: Linus, I think you need to wash your hair, it has been a long time since you last did.

Linus: No, my head no... nooo.

J: Yes, I know you don't like to get your head wet, but I really think you have to. Your hair is getting all tangled and you are getting rastas, see? All messed up.

L: Nooooooo...

J: OK, what do you think of this: you go on playing for a while and then we come back and wash your hair very carefully?

L: Yes, yes.

(Juanmi knows, but leaves)

(5 minutes later, Juanmi enters)

Dear Kymmenen #4, English

I love anonymous stuff, they get spicy and juicy. Check this one out:

Dear Kymmenen,

You claim to be an english teacher, arent you ashamed of writing an english even worse than that of

Eastern Breaks

I am aware that the unwritten rules of bloggers specifically forbid not writing for long periods neglecting your readership.

I'm sorry, I was abroad and, you know, it was not my intention.

Besides, except for you and myself, there is no such readership here either. It's hard to really care.

Just bear with me, OK? I have this childhood trauma that makes me afraid of not being loved anymore if I don't keep myself performing up to the expectations.

The paralyzing fear that, precisely and preciously, prevents me from performing up to the expectations.

Aaah, *inhales deeply* the wonderful aroma of everlasting childhood traumas.

Buna Café

I don't feel like writing.

The empty space on my belly
has expanded until filling everything.

Time tables change,
cigarettes stink in my breath,
I feel tired and slow,

Fundamentals

There is a body clutching on my soul.

Everybody can see it hanging,
everybody refers to it as me,
but that's not how it feels.

Black Magic

She bounced rhythmically her head up and down
like one of those old toys found in cheap hotels
and Chinese food stands.

If you looked at her long neck nodding at someone else,
you would notice the quite exaggerated fashion
in which she did it.

Café Saara

They have grilled bread with cheese au gratin,
salad, tomatoes, mozzarella, boiled eggs,
nice suits and fresh orange juice.

I sit in front of an empty coffee mug
and a glass of water.

Tervasoihtu

It's Autumn and I sit and write poems
whose dullness makes me sink into my miseries.

Sometimes it has worked, now it doesn't.

It's Autumn, my hands feel cold,
where are the palm trees? where's my mum?
I should write more autobiographic poems,
they are my best, I think,
because I'm so great

Preparing Lessons

I stare into space,
I drank my coffee too quick
but I sit still and stare into space,

Subtitles

I hear them fight.

I haven't yet figured out
if they are next door's, upstairs' or downstairs',
only that they fight a lot nowadays.

I mute a TV I'm not really watching, and,

It's Snowing in Spring

I came to learn to accept the beauty
and the inaccessibility of snow flakes.

Before, it pained me not being able to touch
the amazing structures they form,
to caress its edges, its beautiful roundness,
to watch from very close the wonderful way they shine.

But for some time now,

Dear Kymmenen #3, Capita-what?

Hi folks,

New email in the bank. Roman, from the sweet South, writes the following:

Dear Kymmenen,

My two first questions -two becose i always like to give options to the
people, but feel free to answer both if you want - :


- How can i pull down the capitalism?

- What are de top 10 books you recomend (to me)?

Thanks for having your own point of view and thanks for spendig time sharing it.
Excuse my poor english, i learnt playing video games and there is too much
time since i didn't practice it.

Hugs

The Chalice

I shall drink today and wash my whole self with the dark pulp
that came from putting together all my mistakes and regrets,
my foolishness and iniquities, past and yet to come,

Bad Habits

Quite a bunch of years ago, a friend of mine told me about how it was to attend as a young kid a school owned and ran by the Opus Dei.

She said that most teachers were OK-crazy, just as one would expect them to be in a religious school, but that there were also a few of them quite scary-crazy. One in particular would remind them now and then the beneficial effects of self-flagellation.

And I think, friendies, that that that the teacher taught, is true. (sorry for that, it just wanted to come out)

Let's talk about self-flagellation.

Dear Kymmenen #2, You got mail!

Hi people,

For this week's answer, I have chosen this very kind email that Ben Karlson had the delicacy to send me from UK. Check it out, very fruity:

(not) Dear Kymmenen,

You think yourself so smart? Your not, go fuck yourself, you bloody emo

Crappily yours,
Ben

What's Linux about?

When our first son was born, Veronika and me, to avoid senseless and subtle struggles, agreed on building an as neutral ground as possible for our kids, and thus decided to start by not choosing for our kids names that were Spanish (me) or Austrian (Veronika).

Since we met in Finland, we agreed on having a Finnish name. We checked some names and known characters, and, in the end, Linus Torvalds, the Finnish man father of the operative system Linux, seemed like an interesting person plus the name itself, Linus, sounded nice to us.

But it was much more for his being Finnish than for being Linux-related.

As a collateral effect though, I did think that I should at least try and see what Linux is about, for it would be a shame not to ever leave Windows having my son named after Torvalds.

I know that there is a lot of sectarianism on this whole business, and that, as a rule, cool people like Macs, people who don't like computers very much like use Microsoft Windows, and people with suspenders and populated beards like Linux.

I am none of them. I like computers, the Mac's aura of coolness for money discomfort me, and people with suspenders and long beards intimidate me.

Let this be then: Linux according to Kymmenen.

Dear Kymmenen #1, What's Happines?

Hi people, it seems we got our first question. Olga Richter, from the unknown, wrote this:

Dear Kymmenen,

I don't know how it happenend, but by chance I landed on your blog the other day. It happens to me very rarely, but reading your entries I couldn't help nodding my head in agreement. I have been trying to start my own blog for years, but somehow I always end up reading what others write instead.

Since you put the idea of reader-response into your blog, I will make use of it now to put a question to you which I usually ask everyone I meet:
What does happiness mean for you?
I am curious to learn what people (and you, of course) think makes life worth for them.

Keep going, Kymmenen, I would like to read more of your stuff.

Take care,
Olga

The Multiple Me

I just remembered what was one of the main difficulties I usually find in keeping a blog rolling, and that's the lack of consistency.

Not only that I not always feel like writing (which is also true), but mostly, that when I log back in to the blog, I often find out that I don't like anymore the entries I've written, or the general line of it, if entertaining or critical or witty, or the overall theme, this preaching theme now.

A Happy Birthday

More often than not, when any special date arrives, I end being tagged as a killjoy with unresolved childhood issues. Which is true. But, mind you, today, parishioners, listen to the untold story, listen to:

Birthdays according to Kymmenen's Gospel.

The New Gospel

Well, this is impossible.

I have been trying to start writing this blog for quite a while now, phew, but hey, it's not happening. What's the matter?

I don't remember when it started and with what, but at some point I started feeling that if I didn't find soon some place where to complain about all those things that make my blood boil, I would end going mad.

And I was wrong. What I have become is laconic and grumpy.