A note from the Dark

The glorious town of Åbo smells like piss & shit & puke. Every second street is torn up. Building projects. You'd better tread carefully. If you don't watch out while being a little round under the foot you might end up falling into a half-built pipe. IT'S SUMMER, the season of idle merriment. It's hothothot and life is unforgivingly miserable, a ceaseless stupor. Whatthefuckmyheadisfallingoff. I get a cold, as I always do. "well, the weather is nice isn't it." Let's go to the little summer house and have a barbeque, a glass of wine, let's swim in the lake. I kill mosquitoes & cute little furry bunnies with my .44 Magnum. Life on the countryside is so peaceful, balsam for the soul. I head for the concrete jungle, water-hole for dreary souls. We dodge summery prattle: head for - the library. Cold&mouldy&friendlyquiet.

People are "nice" & leisurly and wear bright colors. I grow more & more sinister for every minute. Vacation? Yeah, loll on the beach / read Seiska / go watch "culture" in some hicky outdoors theater. Recharge the batteries, don't we all need it so? Life is so busy in the modern world and you gotta seize the moment to have some fun! Fun - sun - fume - desert. Loafer-wearing, shades-clad, icecream-eating FUCKERS. god damn strawberries (my mother asks: "how much are the strawberries" and something nasty breaks loose in me). On TV: Tangomarkkinat. DDR-produced Krimis with drab cars and drab houses and blood-thirsty dogs. Every character is called Heinz. Tom Hanks movies on eternal re-run. "Life is like a box of chocolat...." my ass. I know what's in there for sure & it ain't no good. Strömsö TV show Strömsö Talk show Strömsö News News from Strömsö self help advice from Dr Strömsö. Empathy, entrepreneurship, fun times in the garden, green fingers & rosy cheeks, folks, let's make a drink of pig's ears. BURN IN HELL. I am encouraged to read the latest novel by some guy called stig larsson, 'cause he's so great with depicting the Dark. I AM the dark and the season brings out all of it. The demons, the ants, the big gray hole, the frenzy, the haze of days passing by like clouds of dust. The nights are light and the mind is ablaze with racing thoughts, itching feet, sweat all over. A few hours' blissful sleep, beer, silence provide me with transient appeasement.

I summon rain & thunderstorms. I hide under the bed til' those leaves start rotting. Some day, the air will be crisp, the tourists will be gone and everything's gonna be alright.

The single most reasonable thing to do under these circumstances is to drink oneself into sweet oblivion. Over & out.