Nyt on yö. Minä kuljen yksin tyhjiä katuja. En tiedä, mihin olen menossa, hyvä kun tiedän mistä olen tulossa, ja ruumiissani soi tuhat kaunista ja voimakasta sävelmää, minun koko menneisyyteni, ja silmissäni loistavat tuhannen ihmisen silmät, silmien takana tuntemattomuus, tätä naista ei tunne kukaan, se ei ole vielä täysin syntynytkään, ei kukaan tiedä mitä se on tulevaisuudessa.
- Mirka Lattunen
El a întins spre mine o frunză ca o mână cu degete. Eu am întins spre el o mână ca o frunză cu dinţi. El a întins spre mine o ramură ca un braţ. Eu am întins spre el braţul ca o ramură. El schi-a înclinat spre mine trunchiul ca un umăr. Eu mi-am înclinat spre el umărul ca un trunchi noduros. Auzeam cum se încetineşte sângele meu suind ca seva. Eu am trecut prin el. El a trecut prin mine. Eu am rămas un pom singur. El un om singur
- Nichita Stănescu
Kunst ist nicht ein Spiegel, den man der Wirklichkeit vorhält, sondern ein Hammer, mit dem man sie gestaltet.
- Karl Marx
The Hermit’s Song
A hiding tuft, a green-barked yew tree Is my roof, While nearby a great oak tree keeps me Tempest-proof.
I can pick my fruit from an apple Like an Inn, Or can fill my fist where hazels Shut me in.
A clear well beside me offers Best of drink, And there glows a bed of cresses Near its brink.
Pigs and Goats, the friendliest neighbours, Nestle near, Wild swine come, or broods of badgers, Grazing deer.
All the gentry of the county Come to call! And the foxes come behind them, Best of all.
To what meals the woods invite me All about! There are water, herbs and cresses, Salmon, trout.
A clutch of eggs, sweet mast and honey Are my meat, Heathberries and Whortleberries For a sweet.
All that one could ask for comfort Round me grows, There are hips and haws and strawberries, Nuts and sloes.
And when summer spreads its mantle What a sight! Marjoram and leeks and pignuts, Juicy, bright.
Dainty redbreasts briskly forage Every bush Round and round my hut there flutter Shallow, thrush.
Bees and beetles, music-makers, Croon and strum; Geese pass over, duck in autumn, Dark streams hum.
Angry wren, officious linnet And black-cap, All industrious, and the woodpecker’s Sturdy tap.
From the sea the gulls and herons Flutter in, While in upland heather rises The grey hen.
In the year’s most brilliant weather Heifers low Through green fields, not driven nor beaten, Tranquil, slow.
In wreathed boughs the wind is whispering, Skies are blue, Swans call, river water falling Is calling too.
Today at the library I read an interview with Alexa Wolf, maker of the film "Shocking Truth", where she spoke about the 'pornification' of human life in the consumption society, and pointed out - how refreshing! - that it was not so much a question of only *women* being objectified, but *all humanity* - women, men and children (who are actually supposed to be sexless before puberty). No sane, mentally balanced man really wants to be like the male characters in porn films, just like no woman really wants to be like the female characters. (Or so I hope.)
There might not be any connection to this interview, save for the strengthened mental state that it provided me, but right after reading it I encountered someone who was a quite likely case of excessive and abusive porn consumption.
I was standing by a shelf in the 'art' section of Lund's city library, flipping through a book about interesting fret saw ornaments on 19th century houses. At some point, a man with the for older males typical 'apple-on-sticks' silhouette came and sat down on a chair nearby. I was mostly a bit annoyed, because I had been wanting to sit down there myself and look closer at this book. But then, a moment later, I thought I could discern from the corner of my eye how he was scratching his penis or something, for quite some time. Since I hadn't looked straight at him, I assumed that he was probably a really old guy who was too senile to realise what body part he was handling. I thought it was kind of embarrassing (for *him*), so I went to another shelf in this section and looked at other books.
Well, after a short while, this guy came to the shelf I was looking at, and took out a book and flipped through it. I ignored him, and continued to search for interesting books, until I had come to another shelf behind the one where I had been just now. Well, at that point this man came walking from the other shelf, too, and seemed to be going to sit down on a chair by the window.
Since I hadn't been able to look at all the books in the architecture section because of his penis-scratching, I went back there. And - surprise, surprise! - this guy came back, too. First, I decided to ignore him, and took out a nice book about weapons from Tula and flipped through it. Meanwhile, this guy first took out a book on my left side and looked at it, then he put it back and went to my right side and took out another book. Every time I moved a bit further away from him, he moved to a position closer to me again.
Unfortunately, my train was leaving in five minutes, so I opted for just going away. I could certainly have gone to yet another shelf again to make *really sure* that he was following me, and then confront him about it, which would surely have been interesting. But I was hungry, I had to piss, and if I didn't catch this train, there wouldn't be any other for forty minutes.
He did follow me through the library, but not outside. I turned back to check in the escalator at the station, and he wasn't there.
Well, I would have loved to kick his testicles to pulp. But I guess it was his lucky day today ...
¤ ¤ ¤
- No no, now I know what I should have done: I should have looked straight at him when I thought I could see him "scratching" his dick, and if he really was doing that, and if he wasn't a senile old gramps, I should have looked at him with a disgusted expression and asked with a very loud voice: "What ARE you DOING?!!! Are you scratching you PENIS??!! *HERE* in the LIBRARY???!!" And then, I should have called some librarians and complained to them about this dirty man who was touching himself in a public place while looking at women who could be his children.
Okay, a note to the future:
"The next time I see a man touching his sexual organ in a disgusting way in a public place, I will ask him with a loud voice, that also everyone else in that place can hear, what the hell he is doing, and call on persons of authority to 'take care' of him."
(Dammit, I have to make my mental process of finding the most sensible thing to do [solution = escapeviolence confrontation] run faster.)
By the way, Alexa Wolf was involved in the "Bellas Vänner" scandal. She was the 'famous feminist' who had allegedly 'participated in the kidnapping' and then 'demanded 116 940 crowns consult fee' from the organisation.
Maybe we'll never know how much truth there is in the allegations, or the whole documentary film ("Könskriget" by Evin Rubar), because people keep talking about whole other thngs when they discuss this issue.
It's very uncommon in Sweden. I've never seen such a scene. My wife just told me maybe about two times she experienced these kind of problems and in one of the occasions, the guy turned to be an Iranian!