Drug Spam Poem

valued customer susu.petal

purchase:

hydrocodone

codeine

phentermin

high quality

STOP YOUR PAIN

drugs online!

discount online pharmacy!

the truth about you

user susu.petal

Peaceful Christmas

Take care of yourself and the ones you love.

Have a peaceful Christmas.

Please,

step right into the picture.

Christmas Colors

Just wanted colors today.

Please, dress me!!!

Mick, that fabulous and inspirational artist, gave me a marvelous idea! He commented on my new book’s video, saying that the figure (who is not me!) wasn’t dressed for winter.

This made me start a project –Top Fashion Design, even with paint- in my Finnish main blog. I have asked the readers to download the picture of Middle Morbid (my English name for her) and design gorgeous, plain or whatever clothes on that poor, shivering thing using whatever tools and programs.

If my English readers wish to participate in this project, please do! Download and dress Middle Morbid with your own style, let your imagination flow and post into your blog your unique fashion style with a few lines about the story behind the outfit, or you can send the work to me. I intend to make a collage or a video about the outfits, so I ask for your permission to use your work.

I’m going to draw lots after dead line of this project, and one lucky fashion designer shall get a small award from me.

The dead line is on Saturday 12.12. 11.59 PM in Finnish time.

We Made It Through November!

The appalling, horrific and mean November is over. The weather is still rain, rain, rain, but it’s December and after December comes January and then February, March and then it’s April and spring!

Well, that sounded a little bit too optimistic coming from me. Damn, still many months until spring breezes chase the grey skies away.

I survived November thanks to the project Lepis started, do visit the fine Gallery Selätys and be inspired and amazed of the work Finnish bloggers have made together.

BLOGitse, a Finnish woman living in Cairo, Egypt, helped me through November with her inspirational and creative peas. Check them and be delighted! She writes in English.

My own project was to finish my comic book, it’s done. I made an ad for it (not to be shown on TV, it’s too expensive, but just for my own joy).

The first of December opened my Christmas Calendar here.

Towards spring with all our might!

Meet My New Book

Meet my new book: it’s called Keskiäkäisiä hajatelmia which is impossible to translate into English. But I’ll tell you what you’ll find in the book.

The book contains comics, poems and stories about a woman, who has reached a certain point in her life. She’s not so young anymore, she’s more likely to be hit by lumbago than by the arrow of Amor, and she’s reached the age when she wants desperately to have a seat in the bus. She wonders about her life, the new facts days bring along, and she’s anxious to know why the seats in bars are so high nowadays. She remembers the days when she had ten drinks in the evening and two aspirins the next day, and can’t figure how it is nowadays two drinks and ten aspirins.

It was fun doing this book. I published it myself, like my earlier books, with the help of BoD.

Selfportrait: Fooling Around In A Black Dress

Welcome To The Grand Opening Of Galleria Selätys

Galleria Selätys was opened in November 2009. Lepis invited co-bloggers to join into a project called How to Survive November. In the project, bloggers were to choose a photo of their own, which then was to circle through all the other bloggers who participated the project, each putting one’s own touch to the photo. Thus the original photos were manipulated by many bloggers.

The results of this interactive project are now to be seen at Galleria Selätys.

Welcome!

And suddenly there was light

I went out today. In the morning.

For real.

The sun was climbing slowly, sleepily, deciding finally to settle low. The sky became blue. It was amazing.

I don’t remember when was the last time I saw light. The sky has been grey for weeks.

Or so it seems.

When I returned home, the weak hug of sun had begun to melt the powdery snow on the branches.

Now the trees are bare, the sky has gathered clouds of every shade of grey and black, and the sheltering shield is hanging once again over me.

Darkness.

Variations

Helsinki In The Afternoon. Today.

One photo does indeed tell more than thousand bitter words.

Confused?

Confused?

Afraid of being caught sleepy?

You’re not the only one.

Fight way through zombies.

Looking good doesn’t have to bankrupt you.

Cheap.

Will you consider this?

Plz, answer this.

Be satisfied.

Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?

dear susupetal

hello

wanna win a million?

be a player, be a winner

pay for real, win for real

your royal bonus is waiting

contact

to

confirm

***

The poem is pieced together from the titles of spam coming to my mail.

Perfect Voice

There are voices that are just perfect.

William Wordsworth's Daffodils read by Jeremy Irons

Comics

The weekly theme for the Finnish PoemThursday was to write a love poem without the word love. I made a poem without words, and since the poem can be read in any language, I publish it also in this blog.

I like to draw comic strips. I’m not a skilled drawer, but that doesn’t matter, I’ll draw anyhow. In my Finnish main blog you can find the category comics. Most of the comics are about this rather middle-aged woman who just doesn’t get some things. She’s figuring for instance how it is possible that in the old days it used to be ten drinks during the night and two aspirins in the morning, and nowadays it’s two drinks a night and ten aspirins the next day. Stuff like that.

Have a nice weekend!

Snowflakes

First snow,

it came with the cold north wind.

Grey clouds melted into water,

water became snowflakes.

Earth is still black.

Snowflakes vanished to the drains.

Puddles full of yellow leaves,

boats sailing to the south.

Spam Poetry

Hey.

lol guess what.

Post-holiday brand items to sell.

Order your rep Rolex submariner now.

TOP SELLING WATCHES!

New Blizzard’s Masterpiece!

Absolutely 100 % customer satisfaction.

Pay less to get more.

***

The poem is pieced together from the titles of spam coming to my mail.

First Snow In Lapland

Bottle

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is bottle.

Fresh

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is fresh

Depression

It’s easier to write about depression in English than in Finnish. Maybe it has something to do with the realization that, despite all these decades, I’m not still ready to accept depression as a part of my nature, a big piece of my life. Writing in English helps me to look at depression as an interesting phenomenon, not as a part of me.

Well, I’m content to write about depression in any language. A few months ago I couldn’t have written anything about it.

Depression isn’t sadness. It isn’t gloominess. It has nothing to do with unhappiness. Depression isn’t a mood you’re in. You can feel yourself gloomy and sad, but you can get out of those moods. Maybe it takes some days, even weeks, but eventually you can shake off the unpleasant mood.

Depression can’t be shaken away like the blues. Depression hangs onto you with grey claws. Depression doesn’t wake you up in the morning; it forces you to sleep hour after hour, it makes your limbs weak and slow. If you manage to get rid of the sleep for some hours, you sit in a chair doing nothing. You see all those books on the shelves, but you can’t read anything. Your ability to concentrate is nil. You can’t listen to music, melodies are vague and unclear, words of songs are incomprehensible. The chat of people is as understandable. If you hear their words, it takes less than a second to forget what they said. It’s as though the place where your brain used to be, had been totally emptied and filled with black, thick cushions which muffle the world outside yourself. You can see there are movement, light, voices and happenings around you, but none of that touches you. You’re isolated, totally alone in yourself.

You want nobody near you. No one brings a smile on your face. A hug from your child feels nothing. You aren’t able to sense the caress of the person you love. You are fading away, and at the same time you’re afraid to be left alone. The presence of other people reassures you of still being alive.

Being dead is the state of your mind when you are depressed. Dead people don’t have to wash themselves, there’s no need for clean clothes. Ghosts don’t eat, so you have no appetite. You drift from day to day, and as long there’s only the depression, you can lull in that thick mat of cushions of your mind.

Until anxiety comes to visit you, and your lack of feelings turn into fear, horror, panic and a desperate need to put an end to everything.

(But this is no writing about anxiety. Maybe I’ll write about it some other time.)

The photo is a manipulated version of the original here.

A Sore Throat

My Homepages

(photo manipulation made with photofunia)

I’ve been busy making myself homepages. Now the work is done. There’s also a section in English on the pages.

Please, have a look!

Blogpersonalities

A fellow blogger, Ari, has made a portfolio from my pictures of blogpersonalities I’ve published at SusuPetal ArtGallery.

Thank you Ari, I just love the result!

Check also Ari’s own portfolio!

The Quatation Of Today

"...I don't like you. I don't like the syphilic whore you were born out of, I don't like being down here in a rat-infested foreign country when I coul be at home with my family. I do like inflicting pain on criminals, so you had better answer my questions truthfully, or I'll hurt you bad."

James Ellroy: The Black Dahlia

Getting To Paradise

Getting to paradise

there had to be lies,

closing of eyes.

The dice was shot

and sure, I got

the ticket to paradise.

Still paying the price.

Hot

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is hot.

Don't talk to me about the blues

It’s funny, how all of the sudden it hits you. The sky is clear blue, the sun is warm, full and shiny, you feel the heat on your skin and you close your eyes.

It’s a mistake. The shade behind your eyelids turns into pitch-dark, and your vision becomes black.

No, it’s not funny, I had it wrong. It’s sad, the unexpectedly gripping moment of anguish. The flood of anxiety crashing over you. It’s horrible, and it makes you think how thin the line is, just a mere stripe that hinds you from falling down and drowning. Beneath. Under of this everything.

The feeling of being safe is just an illusion. You are not safe with depression. Never. Never.

Don’t tell to me about the blues, blues is only music.

Childhood

When I was little, we used to spend some time of those long, hot summers of childhood in Hanko. We made daytrips to the beaches of this southern town, and occasionally we lived in some villa. Hanko is famous for its villas, some private, and some turned into boarding houses for the summer people who invade this otherwise sleepy town.

I remember the sunny days, the beaches of golden and hot sand, the ice cold water in the beginning of June turning into a sea of hotness when reaching August. The taste of strawberries with whipped cream, the softness of the cup of hot chocolate in the morning.

Tender times to reminisce when you’re growing old.

Cleaning

I’ve been cleaning today, vacuuming, washing, and dusting the grey surfaces. It’s a bore, but it has to be done. Cleaning is quite useless. You do it once and after few days you could do it again. It’s a never ending task. A project that won’t just be finished. Ever.

Although I like the process of making art often more than the final result, the same doesn’t go with cleaning. I like the result much better, and I hope not to start it all over again after some time.

The one, who gives me tools to make cleaning a work of art, shall be highly thanked and blessed. Any suggestions?

It's out

and I'm off for a couple of days.

Old

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is old.

Morganism(i)

My fellow blogger Lepis (check out her marvellous macro photos!) offered me a ride and we drove to Sysmä for a couple of weeks ago. In Sysmä we stayed at a local blogger’s house, and celebrated also the publishing of this blogger’s, Morgan’s, new book.

Morgan has a place called Morganismi. It’s a magical place with art among the trees, all kind of fun stuff here and there, touching moments in th shades of the bushes. A place worth visiting, if you happen to be near Sysmä. The summer opening for the exhibition is next weekend.

I took a lot of photos there and made a video about the place. Hope you enjoy peeking at Finnish do-yourself-art! I did.

White Houses

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been busy finishing the manuscript of my novel. I’m going to, like the other two, self-publish the novel at Books on Demand.

It’s tedious to rewrite old text, I’ve been bored to death. I don’t like to read my old texts, they are familiar, and there’s nothing surprising in them. Boring, boring, boring, but now I’ve done it.

I had this manuscript, but no name for the novel, so I arranged a query in my main Finnish blog and asked the readers to come up with a name. They gave plenty of suggestions, and the name was found.

Having got the name, I made some sketches for the book cover, and made a poll.

Doing all this, has left me very little time to visit your blogs, less leaving comments. Sorry about that.

The novel’s name is Valkoiset talot, White Houses, and it’s a story about four white houses and their residents. There’s going to be a lot of misery, hope, love, every day life in the book. It’s a novel about us, here and now.

Hopefully, the novel sees daylight in June. 

On The Bus

picture by Mick Mather

***

Buses are the worst. At first, everything is alright, you step aboard, pay your fare and sit down. The driver starts the engine, your eyes seek for the familiar landscape through the window. Forests and meadows melt into a swirling ribbon, blue, green, occasional sunny, yellow spots. The ribbon unwinds when the bus rolls to a stop, the doors sling open, new passengers mount to the bus.

The journey continues and suddenly you hear the change. Voices of people mumbling to their mobiles get sharper, words come closer, but you can’t hear what is said, you don’t recognize the words. The air is filled with sharp mutter. The ribbon behind the window turns muddy, the window becomes a glass wall, it falls on you, and you’ll be imprisoned into the transparent material.

The bus moves faster. You dare not look at the driver, you’re afraid he’s having a seizure, maybe he’s drunk. He drives more rapidly and you tremble in your glass cube, there’s no air. You struggle for breath, you want to get out, but you’re not able to lift your hand and push the stop button. You can’t move your body. Not before the bus stops for the next time, the doors open, and you feel the cool breeze pulling you out of the bus.

Your feet are shaking. There’s no bench by the bus stop, you’d like to sit on the ground, but you know there’s no way of getting up if you’d do so. You hold on to the pillar of the bus shelter, you lean your forehead and feel the jagged, cold surface, and you try to remember how to breathe.

***

I wrote this short story first in Finnish and published it in my Finnish blog earlier this week, and on the same day Mick published in his blog the pic you see above. I asked for and got the permission to use Mick's beautiful picture to illustrate my story which I translated into English. Mick's work suited the feelings of my story more than perfect. Thank you, Mick.

Big

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is big

To Be A Mother

Hvitträsk

The Sky

One day she noticed the sky was blue. It happened quite suddenly, she was pushing the wheel chair up a very steep street, she was sweating and panting. She heard the beat of her heart in her ears, bum, bum, bum the heart drummed in frenzy.

-Are you angry? You don’t say anything.

-No, I’m hot, she said. -It’s heavy to push uphill.

-It’s the sun. It makes you warm.

Finally they reached the top of the street, and she stopped to take a breath. She put the wheel chair’s brakes on, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, se saw the blue sky. It was amazingly clear, almost like a blue shelter arching way up high. She felt dizzy, and she grasped the handles of the wheel chair.

-What is it? Are you all right?

-I’m fine, she answered. –I’m just so happy to see the blue sky. So, so happy.

The winter had been long.

 

Hunger

It happens every spring: I crave for colour. I need colour, I must create colour.

The days for the black and white are gone. For a while, because I know that period will come back, as surely as this colour inspiration overwhelms me every spring.

I’ve been a little lazy in taking photos. Instead I’ve wanted to make paintings, digital of course, because I have no patience for work that demands a long time. I have to be ready fast, I have no nerves to stay at one piece for a long time.

The urge, the hunger for colours, made me start the new blog. It’s my seventh…no, eighth, no, NINTH blog. Oh. Exaggerating? No. Every blog has it own function.

At least for me.

 

Welcome

to my newest

blog

Happy Easter!

Easier

Spring is easier.

Light wakes up in the morning. It may be grey light, but nevertheless, it’s light.

Rain washes the sandy pavements, floods rinse small stones into the gutters.

Pushing the wheelchair is almost like a dance when there’s no snow and ice.

Feet won’t slip and slide.

No weighty loads on the back, getting rid of the heavy winter coat. Balls and chains loosen.

Hands aren’t freezing, the grip is only cold.

Tears don’t compose an icy sonata of pearls on the cheek.

Spring is easier in many ways.

Easier. Not easy.

What Is This?

What

is this?

This awakening,

the warmth in my

limbs, the throbbing joy

in the branches of a tree

turning green. Winter sleep

is over, leaves are pushing

their way towards

the sun.

What

is

this?

Is

it

spring? Spring.

Black and White

The weekly theme for Moody Monday is black and white

Building

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is building.

Walking

My blogger friend, Mick Mather, celebrates his birthday today. I’ve admired his art for a long time (time is so relative in Blogland…), and especially I love his vision of women. Mick treats women in his art with love, care and respect.

I asked and was given a permission to use Mick’s art to make a video. Here it is: a tribute to Mick’s skills.

Happy birthday, Mick! 

A larger version of the video here.

Time

Time to hurry,

time to wait.

 

Time to be in time,

time to be late.

 

Time is all we have,

time to survive.

If not, it’s time

to say goodbye. 

***

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is time

Spring Fever

Run, run, run,

catch the first beam

of the sun.

Goodbye ice,

farewell snow,

flow, flow, flow!

 

***

The weekly challenge for Moody Monday is spring fever

Hope

Bigger version here.

Broken

I know how it feels

to be broken.

Looking at the pieces of myself.

Trying to save all those fragments of my mind,

Losing  bits of sanity.

So many times,

so many times before.

And now, once again.

As I swore that never, never again.

Here I am, once more.

 ***

The weekly theme for Thursday Challenge is broken

Snowing

Snowing.

The sad slowness of spring.