Monday, October 30, 2006

Remaking history, transforming future, enacting boundaries (let's do it your way)

A scenario never played out, never embodied.

”I don't need you anymore.”

(Crying)

”You're unappropriate, our frameworks don't match, you demand too much. I just want to live in peace, undisturbed by your agendas.”

(Crying)

”We're too different, it would never work out, never last. I want a calm and peaceful life.”

(Louder cry)

”You know, someone more predictable than you. Not too much analyzing. You bring too much questioning into my life and I can't deal with that constant stress, of always feeling like I'm absence, like lacking.”

(Cry; softer, submissive)

”And you see – I already have quite a convenient life. I choose that over passion. It's more rational I guess. Conforming to life.”

(Crying stopped)

"Actually it isn't because of you. I like you just the way you are, but you scare me. I'm afraid of what you will bring forth in me, I'm frightened of what I would become in your presence, of what I'd reveal to myself and the world if you and me become us.”

(A door closing)

”Because you know, I'm quite sensitive, I don't think you realize that. Of course I want you, but it's more complicated than that. I want you, I really do. Since the first time I saw you.”

(Silence)

”I can't just give up everything else you know. I think you have a distorted view of reality, too romantic. I can't give up everything for something this uncertain. I'm not like you, I need a stabilizing force, a comfortable sphere. You make me aware of my Pandora's box – I can't possibly open that, you see?”

(More present silence)

”I would like to love you, but my obligations are elsewhere. In a safe environment, in a world where the future is visible and clear.”

(Pressing silence)

”We could never be. We can never start, never end. We just have to continue like this, like we've done this far. Unspoken, unwritten, silently. My way or no way I guess. Love can never be enough.”

(The longest silence)

And the long hours, minutes, seconds of waiting. I restrain myself. You never wanted to become someone else for me. I do not engage in force, I cry resigned, for not being able to translate properly, for you not being able to read. There's no meaning beyong language you know.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Pockets of space, of time

Talked to my star yesterday, heard her voice clearly though distances away. And we're right back on that blanket in that park in Helsingfors, discussing intellectualism, boredom, bonding hearts and minds. The sun makes us golden, the cider rosy. (Suddenly a call disrupts our flowery world, our dismantled reality.)

My star and I walk until our legs can't carry us anymore (but we'll carry each other). We laugh our stomachs achy, bike unsafely on cobblestoned streets in beloved cities through velvet nights. We make plans of our futures, of dark-haired children, of big dogs and hollow houses. "Not how, my star, when." So we fall asleep in the morning side of the night, when the city still smells of silence and salty water. Her body close to mine on the whitest sheets, keeping me safe (drying the tears that the call evoked), patting my head and whispering my ears full of silver dreams. Forever, my star, just forever.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Inside and out

And I fall in this black hole again. Missing, longing, wanting to be somebody else, somewhere else (with you dear). I feel I have to make all these things you should bring home and just show, talk about, tell everyone about. That it was fucking amazing here, that I miss it so much, that I want to go back, that I had amazing sex, found a great lover, passed out and made theory and all that shit. That I just had a fucking awesome time, better than they had back home. Though the truth is probably the opposite, that they have better lives, they're more beautiful, that they have the most exciting lives, that mine is nothing compared to theirs...

I always return to you. In mind, in body, in existence, past, future. Was this all that was? Did you love me in that way? Did I return that love? You did feel loved, didn't you? And the country just reminds me of you, I have to force myself to forget. I have no other way to walk, this is it, this is my life. Will I ever encounter, experience love like ours again? Or will I always compare everything to you, to the way you were, the brilliance you was. Fuck fuck fuck. I screwed everything up didn't I?

Saturday, October 21, 2006

Is it all wrong then?

I would have wanted you to beg, to not accept my decision, to make me think it over again (to hurt me, hit me, hate me, love me). Can't we do it in a new way (this has been written thousand times, in different shapes, it won't ever be right in a right way, it won't ever fit you).

You just have to say the word and I'll do whatever. I don't get you, don't understand how you think, why you accept (life like this). Can't we do it in a new way?

Thursday, October 19, 2006

Home

Mikael Rantalainen "Jäämaailma"

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

She repeated my name

I told her lies about my life, about how and when and by whom. There were these small windows, you could barely see through them for all the dirt. We sat close to each other, her hair was shimmering, I could almost taste it. Saturday night it was. "You beautiful". But there was no sincerity between us, no intention. Just life. There and then. Hers and mine.

Summer had wrapped itself up. Long gone. Her hands were still warm, moist, from the hours before. The last sun beams reflecting the glasses, purple diamond wine, the deepest colour of despair. Lipmarks on the glasses, small rays of wine had found their way down the foot. They've been there, near her skin, near her breath, close to her warmth.

She repeated my name in every sentence. It was the way she spelled it out, making me conscious of her voice, her softnesses and hardnesses, of her distinct way of placing her hand beside mine. My name couldn't possibly fit something as remarkable as she. "No please, do not. Say not."

She would lean on my shoulder, sighing and yawning. I would tell her more of my lies, fabricating excitements, journeys to other worlds, to parallell universes. She would get me all worked up just by revealing her wide open eyes, her exposed position. And the heat would come to us, place a thin layer of steam on the inside of the dirty windows. (She later said it was the wine, she couldn't resist the deep red colour, it made her weary. But she was wrong, she had the lies on her tongue as well, fooling me with the innocence of her appearance.)

Thursday, October 12, 2006

The necessity of rage

I do not recognize myself in your description, sister. I do not identify as such, not as you define it. I don't feel comfortable with the semantics, depraved of dynamics, differentiation, of meaning as I see it. Your analysis imposing me with guilt, assigning me to that shameful corner of non-existence. Your definition doesn't fit my skin, sister. Can I counterargue: I am not (like that).

But I'm indebted to you, sister, for revealing my true nature, for creating antagonism where I do not see any (patriarchy just scored its second goal).

I love you though, sister, for if you're not enraging me, if you don't turn my thoughts into turmoil, make me feel something, there will not be development. And this is precisely what brings theory forward, brings practics to its utmost.

Sister by soul, tell me about life

Thanksgiving over. A rough weekend, too much reality escaping substances, behind me. Broken promises on catching up. I don't have the energy always, have to do other things, have to be able to breathe, must change scenery, must change myself. (All the dinners, lunches, demand an eversmiling, endlessly open, forward me, a me that isn't, a me that cannot be).

Lots to do, articles to read, analyses to commit to. Still I choose to write you, have to find a outlet for the strange anxiety I sometimes get here. It's not longing, but en overarching feeling of missing out of something (that there's a better life out there for me, but I'm too lost to find it). You know those wonderful things that are promised of life? Always on the run, constantly fleeing, incessantly this restless aspiration toward something else, someone else... I don't know, it's not sadness, don't read it that way, I just want you to read me (I know it's wrong of me, ruthless of always demanding your attention, demanding your availability, know that it's wrong and all that, hate to feel that I use you - do I?).

And you know, I miss X so much. Don't know what to do with the feeling, or if I even want to get rid of it. I see children, see happy families and happy futures. Damn. And still I live this parallell life - do I really want to? Do I want this? I don't get me. I have to try something new, experience something else, anything. Tired of being incomplete, inadequate, insufficient. Should I continue like this? Please tell me, tell me (anything).

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Having it new

Keeping the summer inside, keeping it at bay (I can't have you here now, I have to start brand new, start all over again, you're in a country far away, you are memories in my heart, you don't fit in here) , wishing for fall, wishing that the colours will come soon, the chilly wind and bright mornings.

Love does come stronger - not for us though, right?

I should love, you say. Properly. Not in my way, not like I do it. I don't know love, not like you. Not like yours, the way you want, the way you need me to. So you say. (I see your back when you leave me. I see your tears, those you try to cover. I'm sorry, love, this was the only way, this was the nice way.)

I should do things differently, live life in another way, live so that you fit the equation. I tried, love, but it wasn't enough. Nothing ever is. I need warmth, arms around my body, hands in my hair, words in my ear. (And you didn't provide that for me?)

And still you haunt me, you that make my nights sleepless. Your words, your tears, the expression you left on my iris. It is you, it is grief, longing, belonging. I listen to too much emotions, too many of your songs (and I want more, I want your words, your music dedicated to me, I want it all now, I have to know how you suffer). How do you want me to react, how do you want me to forget? When I hear you through all these words, all these melodies, I suddenly realize: I'm not going to make it (You've already made it, love). Everything that is, is in relation to you (How can you miss something that wasn't enough for you?). You enter my mind, my heart, my body. And now you've outgrown me.

I don't know anything about love (don't believe me, I tend to lie). I know the drill, I've read the manual. I was wrong, love, I was your bad fruit, I was your third wrong. I tried to be the one for you, I tried so hard I almost believed it myself.

Saturday, October 07, 2006

Tired of not...

Then there was the apology. And you come again and again, return unproblematically, making me love you all over again, making me tired.

Your touch, your hands on my body, gently and almost invisible, making me shiver in a way I neverever... I want to be there again, in the moment where tomorrow didn't exist, returning to us, in that bed.

You and me, the sun makes us weary, there on the balkony that day in August. I'm warm and you hold me, tightly. You ask me what I want to do and we both know that the answer is already given. Last night didn't offer much sleep, no rest, only passion which leaks through the sheets, the walls, breasts and skin. The only thing I want, need, is you, all over again... and again. You've never been more soft and I love you forever in that moment. We're too tired, yes, but our bodies live their own lives, magnetical. And right there I don't want a future, don't want to know of other times, only want to be there and live the passion (be the passion), live the dream with you.

And when I'm alone now, I'm doing it and you're here with me again. I'm back in your arms, close to you, the sun is shining on the balcony and you're asking me what I want to do. We're the only ones in the world, in the room, in your bed - and suddenly you're not far away, and the time hasn't passed at all.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

I'll be your protector forever

Heavy rain all night, thunder and lightning. Sleep hasn't come to me tonight. You're in my head, in my room, in my bed, hindering me from leaving you, even for a second. I get up, make som tea and sit by the window, watching the 106 bus stopping across the street. People getting off, heading to warm homes, beds and arms. Next morning, you've sent me pain, you've sent me yourself - and I knew about it before you even told me.

And I try to mother you, try to be the lost one, the replacer: caressing your hair, humming one of those songs you used to love, holding you tight (so tight that our heartbeats can be heard as one). I'm here, my beloved, I'm here. Just beside you, so near, closer, just underneath your skin. I'm always here, nevereverleaver.

(I'm going to take the pain away, yes, come here and leave it in me instead. I know how to carry it, I've done it before, I'll do it forever, I'll do it for you.)

Ain't I a sister as well

They say I shoudn't believe in sisterhood, not even the concept. That it is an contradiction i terms, that it is false per se - there are no sisters in the world, no sisters in history, none in future. Might be, I may be naive. But does the world become a better place just if I stop believing, hoping, longing (for you, something else, other than this)? And if there only is few of us, doesn't that count?

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Life, non-refundable, time, non-recyclable

You're just sitting there, staring at the wall. You've been sitting there, in your hospital gown, like forever. I'm sitting in front of you. I can't see you properly, my eyes are bleeding. Bleeding out the memories of a time when you were different. (Grab hold of some kind of fixation point, think it away, make it unreal. No, no, I'm not a satellite, am i dreaming? I need you, you're my soul, my past and my future, my child and my mother, you're my first love.)

And the rage, oh dear, it's not directed towards you (please anger keep inside). My body's getting smaller, my eyes seek yours, but your gaze is dead, somewhere else than in this cold white room.

So I leave. And when I'm biking home to hours, days and months of peaceul oblivion, my eyes are filled with dark blood, my heart with salty water. I forget you, I must. You also forget, you're prevented from remembering.

I think of your laughter sometimes, but as the years pass by it turns into a silent shout. (I heard you're sitting in your room again.)

Monday, October 02, 2006

I have killed us, darling

Wherever I go, there's you. Always you. And I preserve your memory by reading your books, attending your concerts, listening to your music, paying attention to the things that mattered to you (becoming you). The only way, keeping you alive, keeping your love alive (you still do, don't you?).

I meet it everywhere - it pulls me forward when the wind is too strong, it keeps me company before sleep, it haunts me when I see the child beside her mother (our child will never be born). And I cry, I cry for the unborn, for the future that isn't ours anymore, for you, for me, for a life that has no joint place.

(I know you're my construction, you've become poetry now in a way you could never have been then. The only fuel I recognize is pain.)

Still, you gave me the warmth during the nights, the words during the days. The air I breathed was through your lungs, the love I felt wasn't love until you made it visible. It was your heart that gave me life. You were my antidote, my antiforce, even against myself.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Vs Patriarchy 0-1

"Why do you always have to make things more complicated? Why can't you just relax for a minute, take things as they are?"
"Don't know. Sorry."
"Why does everything has to be such a struggle with you? Argh! I hate this! I hate the feeling of being constantly on my guard in case you change your mind about something!"
"Sorry..."
"Don't you have anything else to say than that? Is that supposed to make everything alright? How do you expect me to live with you?"
"I'm so sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you. I can't live without you."
"Don't say that! This isn't love, this is torture. I can't do this, I can't have it like this. Can't you see that you're killing me?"
"I'm sorry. I love you, I really do. I don't know how..."
"And the things you say - you're no better than one of those fundamentalists. Why do you have to be so complicated?"
"I don't know, but I love you."
"Why do I keep on? Why do I constantly find these people who stab me in the heart, remove it and step on it?"
(Silence)
"I can't do this. I have to go (preparing to leave). So is this it, is this the end then?"
(Silence)
"Fucking great."
(Silence)
"You really are a piece."
(Silence)
"FUCK! Say something for God's sake! What is this?"
(Silence)
"This is exactly what I mean! Sitting there like a freaking statue. I'm not gonna play this game... You're the martyr, huh?"
(Silence)
"Oh, fuck this! I give up. It isn't worth it."
(Slamming door. Silence.)

I don't deny myself anything. I deny myself you.