Back from the universities

I bet everyone was bored reading my rant about universities. Let's get back to the Real World. My job and my writing are much more interesting issues... (Nah, just kidding.)

Kauto woke us up at six. Elina stayed in bed, but I rose and ate breakfast and Kauto played for an hour and then he went back to sleep. (They slept up till 9.30.) I cannot go back to sleep when I'm already awake and had breakfast, so I opened the computer and went to work. It turned out to be a pretty productive day. I finished a self-assigned typing job (more about that later: it's a business secret) and translated over five pages of Jason Starr's "Nothing Personal". Let me tell you: it's a great novel. One of the Great American Novels of the 1990's. I certainly hope that my translation will find a home. If not, I'll publish it myself. Then I dabbled with "The Dostoyevsky Reel". There was a ill-written scene with which I tampered for quite a while. I'm not very good at writing scenes with much happening and going on, people going in, sitting down, putting things into motion. But I hope it got better.

I also made a research on the fourties and fifties B films because the scene was situated in a drive-in. There's a double bill with Devil Bat's Daughter and The Magnetic Monster. My book takes place in 1957, so these are pretty old films, but then again the drive-in is a shabby place where there are no premieres (with the exception of the ones that the bad guy in the book produces). I've tried to base all the films mentioned in the ms. in reality, so that they really exist.

But this research took time, as I dwelved into the mysteries of IMDb. It's a fascinating world, the universe of forgotten B films and their makers. Who are they? Did they really care about the art, the cinema, misé-en-scene? It's also quite sad to read about people like Frank Wisbar who made only lousy B pictures after emigrating from Germany in the thirties. (Well, I know that some people are enthusiastic about this. I haven't seen it myself.)

Then I edited some texts for the forth-coming horror reference book (Diane Guest, Peter Straub and James Herbert) and sent them to Jukkahoo. Then I read my e-mail and then I wrote an interview with Vicki Hendricks, the queen of noir (or noirotica, since there are many erotic elements in her novels). At the moment I should be doing finishing touches on the female noir article I've been doing.

I also wrote poetry. I did it first thing in the morning. I've been writing poems on and off for some seven or eight years now, while earlier I wrote so many that I even published my own poetry mag, Blinkity Blank (1988-1997).

Here are the results (in Finnish, I'll try to translate one of them into English):

Kadulla tulevat vastaan
hiljaiset liituraidat,
poikittaiset sanat,
meille on varattu taivaspaikka
kuka minnekin,
minä menen yhdeksännelle piirille,
se on ansaitsemani rangaistus,
kuka tietää, mihin itse kuuluu,
paikat on varattu jo vuosia etukäteen,
ellei vuosituhansia.
Se on meemien valta,
se on yhteiskunnan tahto,
kuka astuu ovesta sisään,
kuka jää kynnykselle,
meidän ei kannata sanoa vastaan,
liituraitojen sanoma.

***

Lintu askeltaa minun kirjainteni ylitse:
se on tämän ajan vaade,
kirjeitse ilmoitettu ajatuksen katko,
valheelliset uutisoinnit
asioista jotka eivät ole ikinä tapahtuneet
eivätkä tapahdu,
eivätkä tule tapahtumaan,
kuka tämän tietää,
ilmoittautukoon.

***

Tai vaietkoon iäksi:
se on tuntuma yhteiskuntaan.

***

Onko jollakulla vielä mahdollisuus
olla kadonnut, kadonnut löytyi kuolleena,
kieli vai ajatukset,
kumpi tulee ensin,
minä varaan mahdollisuuden erehtyä.

***

Hiljaiset liituraidat,
pakottakaa meidät ansaitsemaan,
saakaa meidät puhumaan,
itsemme pussiin, itseni ansaan:
tähän kieleen ovat muutkin langenneet.

***

Väkisin ansaittua rahaa,
leijailkaa kaduilla vastaan,
tuokaa meille ansaitsemamme skonssit:
jälkiruokien aatelit,
kuka vielä muistaa vuosien takaiset juhlat,
kuka vielä voi muistaa miltä tuntui olla osa yhteiskuntaa,
kuka vielä tietää, kuka voi tietää:
tästä on mentävä, ali tai yli,
ympäri käyden kohtaa oman turmionsa,
katsoo sitä suoraan silmistä sisään,
astuu sisään ikiomaan tuhoonsa,
vanhat autokauppojen interiöörit,
muinaiset sotilaiden univormut,
uudet, käsittelyaineelta haisevat ihmiset,
meille ei ole löytynyt tilaa enää vuosiin.

***

Now in English:

A bird steps over my letters:
it's a prerequisite for this age,
letterized rapture in thoughts,
unreliable news about things that have never taken place,
that don't take place,
that will never take place,
who knows anything about this,
come forward.

(Transl. by JN)