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"The past is just practice."


"The problem with perspective is that it's bidirectional."


"And then the whispers begin."

Yellow leaves have began to conquer the pavement.
A tired gust of warm summer air.
The fall's here.


This moment alone is more beautiful
than what is to follow,
what preceded it.


I can finally behold it all with my new eye,
Watch the planes coexist and slide.

Soon it'll all be around again.
We never learn.

(18:19:23) DFade says: ufo-ohjattuja mäkkisynia
(18:20:46) Sampsa Aslak says: Hell yeah
(18:20:52) Sampsa Aslak says: ja liki studiotason äänityksiä

My day.

11/7/2009

"At times come these moments...
It all becomes somewhat surreal.

The context: the time frame, the locus of a life parted.
Maybe not lost as such.
Just... Irrelevance.

What finds its meaning is the world within. Thoughts overlay the real, everything falls behind the transparency of the conflict at hand.

I just lose myself. Not like a daydreamer, nevertheless adrift. And none of it's euphoric. It's just the moment. It's the bubble that keeps you from realising that the real world would puch a hole in you.

My world moves a distance. The dimensions pan at its power. None of the strength is abundant, nor even at my disposal. I take a lean to the window, and zoom countless measures away from what surrounds me.

People, they're there. They're talking. It appears to me that I really don't care.

But now it's all back here to mock me again.

An unholy hypothesis unveiling once more."

Date and time unknown.

---

The poet

---

And I shall call myself an artist
And claim the world is manifested in the ink of my strokes

And claim superiority over the fable just living their lives without perspective

And claim I know better
And claim to be the only one to see

And claim I create what people always wanted this world to be like.

And claim to entertain those of particular intellect.

But I'm blind.
Canvas felt by hand.
Lies following the lines, pulled apart by the brush.

Each line rewritten just for pleasurable language;
The hand not divinely motivated creating perceived perfection.

O' truly a great fake it is.
I wish we could open our eyes.
While silently hoping we never do-

What is there to do when my book runs out of pages?

Yes, one more left, page 74. It stalks me with its gleaming blank.

This could be a prelude to closure, or deprivation.

I just might have joined the Pirate Party. Let's make the idiotism stop, shall we?

Personal statement:

"All I've ever done, said, published, thought up, achieved by not doing or saying; All my life; All definition; All material; All materiel; including and not excluding all mentioned or left unmentioned here, material and immaterial, goes under Creative Commons [hence fourth, unless other exclusion apply]. A whole life dedicated to the best of mankind in a form most suitable. Be advised, I may now be the first person alive to have dared such a statement."

So here goes:

I hereby license all aspects of my life, with all concepts and work related, which could be interpreted as something someone could have a copyright to, within my authority, under Creative Commons BY-NC-SA, till further notice. The CC license is irrevocable. Parts of this statement are severable, with the license still applying.

Signed 26.4.2009


What a mouthful. So it has been done.


Info on the CC license:
http://wiki.creativecommons.org/Main_Page

Tietoa suomeksi:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/1.0/fi/

Upd. As of May 2010 the license has been revoked.

Last Fragments

[These words would have been of otherworldly power if they'd been such.]

I want to tear these curtains - not to see through, but to shred them. Watch the textile as hands dig into its structure and pull and rip the fabric apart. Or maybe just to see through, nevertheless I know not what on the other side lies.

You need but touch with your fingers, and what lies empty within my ribs flows free.

[Today is the last day of your life so far.]