rafael pyton

You all need to know that I am absolutely furious that I did not take these pictures myself. In fact, I will blame my camera. Truth of the matter is, however, that my German friend Dr Gonzo is a great snapper. Who has a better camera than me. Haha!

I am performing a civic service here. No, a duty, to remind you of beauty. The world can be a mean and ugly place - someone has to stand up, grab it by the ball, powersuck the scum off it with a huge vacuum cleaner. Really, there are place on this planet where you can’t even see the sky anymore.

Billion-people of Bejing, LA:ites, hicks of Mexico City. This is what it looks like. Start your pilgrimage to Nagu now. Before it is too late, before the blue is a mere memory, before the grey becomes taken for granted.

I write this post with one hand. No, nothing lewd. See, I was rolling some stones… why? Well, you know, building pyramids, temples and air fields. Anyway, dropped this big boulder next to another one, and my left fuck-you finger did not quite make it out in time.

OWWW.

Clocked between a rock and an equally hard place, you quickly find out which the softest part of the equation is - and that was definitely the wrong pie for this finger. I hardly dared pull off the glove at first, because I imagined the tender stick being squashed like opossum roadkill. Fortunately, it still resembled a finger, although rapidly changing in color and size. And when I managed to move the funky pumpkin, it was clear it wasn’t broken either, so I walked it off - on the floor of the sea.

It’s a good thing I usually use my right fuck-you finger to signal contempt for my fellow man, but what do I do now, if aggressively agitated, and wanting to respond with the double bird? Should I A) flip the right finger twice, or B) wince, and carefully try to stretch out a trad double feature?

Don’t think too hard about that, Bubba; it’s one of them rhetorical questions…

Naturally, the King of Pain wouldn’t write a post to cry about a damn digit. I laugh this fat finger straight in its purple nail. It only appeared here because it is a sign of bad luck and according to the starfish in the coffee sky or whaddevah I probably shouldn’t leave the house for the rest of this week.
You don’t believe in bad luck? Need more proof? My Porsche is at the garage!

The streetcar named desire ran like a clock from day one, until; in fact, at the very time I was gently knocking the hard black plastic on its dashboard, praising it’s unbelievable reliability, it started overheating and flashing red lights! There might not be a god, but there sure as hell is someone or something up or down there who likes to hump my head from time to time.

I barely made it to the local garage here in Nagu. They fix tractors there. Big sledgehammers on the wall. I gave them the number to the parts guy at Porsche Centre Helsinki. The scenario goes as follows: it’s either the thermostat, in which case it is €7,50 for a new one, and I’ll be on the road again next week, as soon as the part arrives from Germany.
Or! It could be the top end. In this case, I will not only have to transfer to a specialist garage, but I will also have to sell ass on the street to pay the bill.

Place your bets. Is it bona fide bad luck week or a simple blip? Top end or thermostat? Ass on the street or car on the road? Let’s once and for all end the bullshit and get my story straight and narrow: Is Andy cursed, or is he just talking? This is it. This is really it.

Whoa! Who is that? Brad Pitt training for Fight Club 2? Oh no - it is just Andy… taking a break from watching his own reflection in the water…

Summer has been good to me. Many of my unconditionally best friends have popped by the mountain in Nagu, and there’s been so many parties going on I occasionally thought I was auditioning for old Aerosmith.

I won’t reflect at length, but there is simply something about those liquid diamonds in the water. You’d never know the sea was dirty, unless you include the huge rocks that litter the glitter. Or maybe that something is the pink in the air come evening and gin & tonics. No, that’s not it - horizons are always beautiful. The weather? The sauna? Well, it doesn’t get much hotter - and that includes both. But wait, I think I know what it’s all about. A fantastic setting, a bunch of great friends, king alcohol, crayfish and song, so on and so long, are only means to the end; LAUGHTER.

Try it. Because: No matter who you are, I am always your mirror.

Uh, even though the sentence above is the missing link to every problem in the world, I am not trying to play out Dalai Lama. And the risk for getting us confused is rather small, I think, despite the shaved heads. Auditioning for Aerosmith, remember? I was Robert Downey Jr auditioning for Aerosmith, g’dinggit! Hahah!

Then there was a couple of nights in Tallinn.

Boy, am I going back there… well, I’ll try to put a lid on my innermost feelings on this outermost of forums, and instead, in coming posts, bore you to death with some awesome nature pics and further tales about the marriage between sea and mountain. I guess that would be my version of a cold shower. I have so many summer pictures I won’t be done until winter. Until then, just one sneak peek, however, token of the paparazzi…

Ponytail, ponytail
Look this way
Fingers, please, don’t release
Aha!
In her palm, hidden, a map of treasure
Trace her tummy, study and measure…
Oops!
Tiny butt, lots of pleasure!
[Is that a smile?]

Well
I just wrote
to feel your skin

I know.
It is the way she walks.
In her tiny Prada silver shoes.
Like a gazelle floating in space among sweeping clouds and sailing ships while a silent war of pillow fights erupts and the sun sets as the sun rises and what would you do because I can not but watch left right left right watch one two one two three watch her walk before me.

God, I need a cigarette.

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
it’s not warm when she’s away
ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone
and she’s always gone too long
anytime she goes away…

I listen to Al Green. He knew. Like I do. That it’s been the longest day. And that there are fourteen more until she comes my way.

A road is naught and nada sans car. And so, say…

…doesn’t Guards Red go well with green and grey?

After the heavy artillery, the angry spademan Andy spit in his hands, and rolled up his sleeves. Most people settle for tractor-made, but I want to see the proud signs of sweat and sweet pain in my work.

In design, I shoveled and shuffled gravel all the way to the wall of the mountain, which now lines the whole uphill to beautiful effect.
Somehow, the ice age did not take this road into complete consideration as it carved up this area a rather long time ago, so, busting balls and breaking backs, I proceeded to build the small stonewall on the other side by myself.

I feel quite Chinese about it.

From nowhere in the forest
A huge Volvo truck appeareth
T’was a beast in baby blue
Matching cuffs and collars too
But will it make it up the hill
Or shall it boggo like a daffodil?

It rained gravel all the way
So much un-like any other day…