horoscopes

 

Austin Kleon (yes, the one who's so brilliant it almost hurts) blacked out some horoscopes for those of us who usually find them dull. This is mine. (Probably the first horoscope I've ever liked, believed and appreciated. Also the first one ever to make me cry.) Find yours here.

blue skies

I'm falling into my slightly pathetic habit of feeling nostalgic for events that have yet to occur. Next summer, mainly. (I'm also feeling kind of blue and in need of reassurance so that's a double reason for posting this video. Blue skies are coming, along with those painfully perfect summer nights.)

small steps

Things are steadily returning to a slightly more normal state. Every day my heart inches back into its slot in my chest a bit more, my thoughts begin to find their way out of this tangle. My mantra of late is it's fine, I'm fine. And for once it's kind of true. Less shaky hands (oh thank goodness for this), less nerves, less fear.

But now, for the first time in a long long time (such a long time, in fact, that I had pretty much forgotten how this feels), my anger is back. You know the petty, cranky, infinitely normal frustration you feel over trains being late and people being arses? It's back and, I tell you, it is glorious. I revel in it. I adore it because it's yet another sign that I will be fine.

(It's too long that I've been vacant and numb, waiting for trains without realizing their lateness, or maybe noticing but not caring at all. I don't enjoy the frustration over little things but the luxury of having a bad day simply because it's cold and I'm cranky is truly something quite exquisite.)

plans for summer

We planned picnics today, proper picnics, not the improvised ones we usually get up to. And garden parties and tequila nights and road trips and festivals and birthday parties.

I think the thing I miss most about summer is twilight in Helsinki.

The steady descent of the sun, the sea breeze, the softness of grass against my bare shoulders. The endless almost-white nights, the few hours of darkness, the dawn that comes slightly after three a.m.

Catching the last train home or meandering to a friend's for the remainder of the evening or just sitting on my windowsill and watching the sunset. There's nothing quite as exquisite as being able to spend the night out of doors.

of books and roses

Today is the day of the book and the rose in Finland. Traditionally, women would on this day give men a book in exchange for a rose, but these days it is mostly a celebration of literature. Accordingly, I spent the day at a bookstore writing custom poems for members of the public with our creative writing class.

(The way it works, you fill in a poem order, wait for thirty minutes while it gets written, then collect it and admire. Free of charge, too! Writing them is brilliant fun but utterly exhausting.)

In celebration of this day, let's discuss books, shall we.

What was the last book you read? (I just finished Indecision by Benjamin Kunkel.) How did it make you feel? (Enlightened, surprisingly. Also annoyed.)

What was the last book that made you cry, and why? (The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje. I keep rereading it and falling more and more in love with it every time. I think I wept mostly because the language is so beautiful, and also for the unfairness of love.)

Do you read poetry and if so, who is your favourite poet? (I do, my favourites include e.e. cummings, Aila Meriluoto, Pentti Saarikoski, Ema Saiko, Hafiz, Allen Ginsberg, Kirsi Kunnas, Sappho, W.H. Auden and many more.)

Recommend me something to read! (I recommend If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things by Jon McGregor. Ja teille, jotka puhuvat suomea, Harry Salmenniemen runokokoelma Texas, sakset on pirun hyvä.)

Also, I seem to have lost the source of the photo above. If you recognize it, please link me to the source. Much appreciated!

may

And so, a new month.

When May began, around midnight, we were walking past a rave under a bridge. On our way to catch a bus that ended up driving by and leaving us stranded without batting an eyelash. (Not too surprising, considering buses tend to lack eyelashes.)

The stars had just come out then. We were tired and cold and heading to a friend's place after an eveningful of drunken shenanigans and surprise encounters. Two different parks, pink hairspray, a stray dog, Communist songs, missed trams, iloveyous, dinosaurs, silly games of footsie.

A hopeful beginning for this month.

(Also, last Friday was one of the good days: an exhausting yet incredibly helpful therapy session, a park, friends, running downhill simply because being young in April is rather nice a feeling. Also a royal wedding which I unabashedly enjoyed.)