soon we'll be enjoying breakfast again.

well hello again.

it's been a while.

i am in the middle of a countdown.

4 to go.

see you soon.

in the meanwhile, enjoy this amazing little song.

popping down.

tonight i will experience a little something special. down down down below. more to follow...

throb and swoon.

alien alien is a sideproject of rodion and hugo sanchez, casiotone and italo house masterminds. their ep came out already over a year ago, but somehow i missed it.

its b-side is a low, sleazy and lazy sort of a tune that can fill the dance floor at the very late hours, get an afterparty going towards the execution of ideas that make people blush in the morning (or late afternoon) or just the perfect sunday morning workout song.

the video reminds me of early mornings in nyc after a queer warehouse party in a derelict space somewhere in the meatpacking district or just walking home through the desolate streets of brooklyn 5 am... the boys in the video – fierce.

echoes of a life elsewhere.

since my writing tends to be more sporadic than i intended, there are other ways to know what i am up to.

first, there's instagram. you can find a link on the right column. follow, if you wish.

fake lashes in the tram on a monday morning. tagged #roadkill in my instagram.

second, my best friend started a blog a few months ago. she is a globetrotter, a foodie and mingles naturally in the art world. although differently emphasized than mine and often both more mainstream and more upscale, her insights, recommendations and gossip are definitely worth getting familiar with – so follow her at svårt att säga nej (in english despite the swedish title). and quite often i am hanging along with her since we travel, dine, booze, dance and get into all sorts of shenanigans together.

saved by sustenance.

moments with friends become all the more precious the more fragile your foundation is.

i have been allowed to sit silently, forget what i just said, change the topic, mumble inexplicably, and everything and anything that can be expected from someone barely solid.

most importantly i have eaten with friends.

sharing a meal is an intimate gesture, a kindness that requires very little but nourishes by filling whatever gaping holes require a fix for another day. sometimes that little makes a tremendous difference.

even before i uttered words of finalization to anyone, my somber being was unquestionably welcomed at communal tables. after it all poured out, i was handed a piece of bread to nibble to sooth me.

one of the people who has always cleared a place for me in her table is hanna. we do not know each other well enough to be in tune with whatever goes on in either of our lives, but there's warmth and caring extended in our sporadic catchup meetings.

in addition to a glowing presence, hanna loves her food passionately. talking about it, sharing it, getting excited about it, talking about it a little more.

now she has shared her passion in a book written with her husband. approachable, easygoing and flavorful recipes – just like the people behind them.

shared. chanterelle and aubergine pasta at maxill. 

alone. avocado pasta at my new home.

safkaa is out and available in bookstores and online.

new horizons.

my morning view has changed.

not only did i let go of a life once so stabile and precious, i had to abandon the neighborhood i so dearly loved.

had to? well, no. not exactly.

i was offered a rope and i jumped: my sister's other apartment was free and she suggested i take it. a natural leap towards something familiar in a novel environment.

it's a view of lush green with fall foliage just creeping in, open skies and a landmark that seems almost like a beacon to guide me towards the new.

i guess this means my neighborhood recommendations also need a new chapter. ok then.

transformation.

two and a half years ago i shaved my head perhaps for the last time.

since then there's been the reappearance of pixie cut, the helmet head, the justin bieber bob and several other stages of growth that sort of went unnoted even by my friends. just recently when i started wearing my hair up and actually doing it, it has been obvious what i am aiming at: a long mane.

moreover, it's been over two decades since my coif was its natural color.

wait, how old does that make me sound, huh?

it was long and black (with a white shaved section on both sides, go figure...) for a brief time about a decade ago, but has mostly been very short throughout my adulthood.

don't get me wrong, but i tend to associate long hair with the sort of timid femininity that i find annoying and, quite frankly, boring. the longer the hair, the more certain i seem to be that there is a serious lack of personality going on.

obviously, my future as a psychologist might fall short because of unjustified generalizations.

another part of me obviously refuses to think that an undercut somehow is a sign of personality or the edgier the hair, the more impressive the quirkiness inside. such evident failures need to be tackled if not just inside my little head. thus, going long and au naturel was the thing i needed to try.

and there are perks:

at shoulder length i am starting to like it. it's a hassle sometimes, but quite a bit of fun to work on. i can actually have it twisted in more ways than one.

moreover, i like the way it allows me to go further into the depths of masculine styles – and have found myself wearing increasingly many garments from the men's department. androgyny has always been a thing i'm attracted to, but personally i need to keep a glimpse of the femme there somehow to balance things out for me.

last, but so definitely not least, it gives me the freedom to stop worrying about whether it is manageable at any given time in the future. there is no root to color, no form that is lost, just a bunch of hair ready to be wrapped up and go. which is mostly what i do.

inke and i going amish.

let's see if i can hold on to the positive note. my goal is still quite far away, but here is where i am at at the moment. freaky, huh?

leather necklace from cos.

fluttering foretaste.

actresses turning singers is a phenomenon that disappoints more often than not, but this particular spark has me eagerly awaiting. the first glimpse and flickering suggest much to anticipate.

there's a particle of light and it makes things right... it just don't behave like a wave.

light feet.

my bday last fall was a day of warmth. a beautiful brunch arranged for me, friends and loved ones around, and a night that turned into soft sleep in a hotel suite. waking up to room service. bliss.

my presents were as warm as the day. a trip to soak in the sun to leave my hectic work behind. my favorite scarf. many more.

and a gift card to a store i love, but realized i had never – no, not ever – bought anything from.

sometimes it is quite strange to note that things slide by you but nevertheless leave a marking: i was quite sure i owned items from there. i had stepped in enough times. the stuff resonated to me. even my friends thought it was a place i frequented...

i made it a point to spend my gift wisely. it proved to be a long endeavor, but finally this spring i managed.

there they were: the softest and lightest pair of shoes. to ease the heaviness of my steps.

moccasins by samuji.

thank you my dears.

moving on.

wrapping a material life in obituaries puts perspective into how things could always be more definite.

at times like these, i can be obstinate in thinking that causally explanatory traces can and must be found before turning pages in my own life. the sort of stories that make sense, have culprits, actions that lead to reactions and a sense that folds neatly into boxes.

my perseverance in trying to find meaningful paths unfolds as an almost infinite understanding that slowly eats me inside leaving behind an echo of a motion fueled only by caring and worrying. overwhelmed, things shut down around my little universe only to whisper in muddled thumps as if reminding me that there is a world outside my preoccupation.

nevertheless, in order to move on, i am trying to learn to live by the surrealism i so dearly embrace otherwise. letting the crickets walk on empty plates.

it takes an eternity to fill a box after box.

it is a relief to realize that unwrapping feels – if only ever so slightly – less of an ordeal.

it all takes time.

beautify.

i have assumed several healthy habits in the past months. without delving too deep into details, i will reveal one  – and the most superficial – of them.

roses.

i have started buying flowers. just because they are beautiful. just for the enjoyment of me, myself and moi.

sure, it is not a spectacular habit by any means. it goes without saying that the other ones are not all that extravagant, either, but that's kinda beside the point.

peonies. vase from habitat.

they make me happy. in an unassuming way, a few fresh blossoms provide a fragile enhancement to the everyday environment where routines and chores dull your mind.

forget me not. i have not forgotten you.

luckily i also found some forget-me-nots at the cottage. my favorites.

i’m in the milky way.

well, i'm not too keen on suggesting summer hits – my psychic predictions are known to stray away by miles. but i think this song by swedish electropop duo icona pop might keep me bouncing a little come warm weather.

simply. i love it.

disruptive pattern material.

the approaching summer has brought the joys of night walks and bike rides through the city. i've strolled and rolled the streets, breathing in the smells and feeling the wind caress my bones with sometimes a stronger chill factor than june would imply.

i've got my hair wet and fallen short when trying to make it pedaling up the hill.

i've walked with a smile on my face with solid – and not-so-solid – ankles.

and i have worn a trusted set of boring old clothes and haphazardly realized my hair has grown. i have also sported an increasing amount of camouflage – i guess a need to blend into my surroundings and disrupt my edges feels more appropriate and sheltering than before.

at some opening at design forum finland with silver wearing old zara trf jacket. (photo timo idänheimo)

good old – and i mean from 2004 – vans slip ons in a limited edition stitched camo and natural rubber.

a camofleur in spring bloom.

sugar rush.

a long-awaited friday night with dearly missed friends demanded some special attention. it seems our lives get overwhelmed by work so easily, and the time we find for each other diminishes inconspicuously.

or life just happens.

although i'd say we're naturally inclined to effortless entertaining – meaning showing up at the door with a bottle of wine would be totally acceptable – there were lengthy and rambling facebook and email threads dedicated to planning the menu and the evening.

my contribution was sweet.

and it was good.

chocolate hazelnut pie in a jar.

life happened.

despite my firm efforts, my return to writing did not go according to plan.

it was life that swept me off my shaky feet, bounced and twirled me around while gasping my breath and left me panting face down on a cold slab.

it's spring. the light brightens things up. new life emerges.

it'll all be ok.

cherry blossoms.

how gala can you go?

perks of the job come in the form of big parties and exclusive events.

despite the fact that i most often wear a rather androgyne collection of clothes, a mix'n'match of women's and men's, and feel that i do not need to do neither my face nor hair, it's fun to get dolled up for a gala.

or a photoshoot just before.

dress by tiia vanhatapio, tights by wolford, sandals by miumiu, bracelet by kalevala koru.

oh, the smug smug face i have...

dreamscape.

i am absolutely in love with these videos. kinfolk are a group of artists who have combined their talent to produce work inspired by their love of small gatherings.

sure, they are a little too dreamy and perfect and at the wrong moments aggravate more than soothe. sometimes – ok sure, much of the time – life seems to consist of just managing between piles of laundry, dirty dishes, dustballs, hurry and short, snappy words to those around us.

but at most times, the serenity in these little clips draws me close and reminds me of the really important things: food, friends, and the details that make the moments we share so precious.

sit back, relax and enjoy. and if you feel the urge to write thank you notes by hand or quit your job to bake bread, do not blame me...



and there are more on their vimeo page. but remember i warned you.

have a beautiful weekend.

fragile vessel.

it's been a while since i've posted music.

too many mediocre songs and meaningless albums have passed by or i've just assumed that you know about the good ones way before i have time to say anything.

 yes, i assume you are a busy lot well informed and all...

even this one isn't new although porcelain raft's debut album strange weekend is just coming out next week. the dreamy, lofi pop that sounds as brumous as his videos look like are beautifully accompanied by the voice that assumes nothing resembling arrogance or pomposity, just gently adds to the haunting float that becomes a song.

he's opening for m83 at tavastia on feb 27 which is a combination bliss, if anything can be.

 

on relativity.

my mentor had a poignant suggestion to people who insisted that everything is relative: "just try jumping off a ten storey building and see how relative things are." naturally, his little remark was as beyond the point as the original suggestion was hasty, but there was a brief reminder of some things being universal.

talking about universals gives certain people the chills – and reassures some – but the mere acceptance of the existence of universal laws explains very little of the world. the thing is, once we start making sense of what happens around us, we start putting facts together and the glue we choose has an immense effect of what kinds of conundrums come about.

to put it simply, our explanatory stories – or narratives as the good old hermeneutic inquirer would say – are construed by us with whatever material we have at our disposal and the results are selective and biased in every beautiful sense of the words.

i have a paradoxical but loving relationship to moments when little details force me to reassess the storyline i put together. a challenge to my factoids which are built for self-defence or out of pure fatigue can illuminate where i picked the wrong jar of adhesive and give me a reason to reconstruct what i consider real.

lately i have found myself pondering the nature of being busy. my most common greetings start with oughts and shoulds, and i find myself explaining my absence from everywhere including the present moment.

or, to be honest, i feel like the artist faye mullen's model who chose bricks as her point of reference:

photo from series i am an artist and i weigh by faye mullen 2010.

whatever i give feels like a brick is lifted off my shoulders but provides the exact pleasure to the recipient that can be expected after being a given a solid block of clay.

to be honest, it ain't a great feeling.

thus, i have concentrated on doing things that give me pleasure. slowly finding time to browse the tubes of glue at my disposal and rearranging the bricks and bringing forward other elements that build up who i am and what my reality consist in.

i started with my nearest and dearest and am slowly moving towards friends and this blog. i refuse to let my narrative get stuck with beginnings like should've and ought, and will soon be distributing marshmallows and fountains of down.

the ultimate goal? i checked out that my weight equals about 9 spider monkeys and i think transforming my busyness from laying bricks into little monkey-gone-crazy is more like the narrative i want to believe in. i'm still not quite at handing out bananas, but trust me, i'll get there. i will still be more busy than i have ever been in my entire life, but it's all about finding the right relativity, right?