Tuesday, February 22, 2005


Men..... Men.....

Enter the bar.
I see four friends of mine, two by two, sitting independently...
We are in Koti.
There is this German-beergarten-like big table.

There is an interesting seating arrangement:
Two guys who I know, but who do not sit together, sit in such a way that they have a girl between them.
I want to talk with both.

The girl is sitting on a chair which has no back (forgot the name of that... In German, its “hocker”)... and she is leaning forward...
“Hey, what if I were to ask if I could share your chair?”
She looks up, smiles, and moves to the right…

Just as I was sitting down,
The guy on her left goes:
“Hey, I was talking with her”

I say, fine, and tell the girl; I meant that I will sit on her back, not side,
She moves back to the middle, and a little to the left...

I move to sit down,
The guy on her right….

“Hey, I was talking with her”

Secrets... Life... A text with no point.

Ain’t it somehow secrets, that everybody wants to know?
Nobody wants to know common knowledge…
Can be in the form of white lies,
Can be shattering truths.

Sometimes secrets you find out, accidentally, which you realize you should never have known…
Sometimes they are told by others…

These secrets, told by others, can be forgotten easily, maybe because they were told; you think they cannot be crucial... Or possibly they would not be so powerful… Or you somehow know they were not only told to you….

Secrets you find out... Stumble upon… Put two and two together…
Life shattering…
Secrets you know you will have to take to grave…
Secrets you cannot even tell the person who they belong to…
Secrets that are not yours… Which may affect you nevertheless…?
Secrets you need to get out… Can’t….
Secrets that cause stomach pain…
Secrets which have taught you life lessons, in not to trust even your closest…
Secrets which have taught you even the smallest talk can be used against you…
Secrets which will shape your later life….
Maybe even secrets which you have used for your own good, with all the right to use it…
This way or that,

Some secrets are a burden you will have to carry forever, in your grave, they will be the fire burning in your bones, in your deathbed, and they will be the words which you will have a hard time holding back… The knowledge you will be happy to keep secret till your flesh turns to earth……….

Some things need never to be revealed.

The "curse" of finndistan

This weekend I met two cute girls...
With one I talked before…, the sweet one…
With one, it was the first time…, the vamp...

Both told me they read Finndistan.
Possibly I would not have met them if this site did not exist…

During our conversation, the sweet one had told me she would never go for a drink with a guy like me, even though she liked my stories.
With the vamp, it was the usual “you will not have me tonite”, without me even making a move… I did not care... I like women who play men… And I like to play along…

What if I had not written all the stories here...?
And I had met these women…
What would have happened?
Without this heavy macho image in the stories, for which I have to admit am contributing heavily in life,
What would be my starting point?
What would be my ending point?
What difference does Finndistan make?
I wonder.

Monday, February 21, 2005

Golden Knowledge One

”When you talk to a girl it means you think she is easy.”

“What if I turn my back to her, and she tries to talk to my back?”

“Then you are a challenge”

“A girl chasing me, even though I have disgraced her,… is a cheap slut without respect for herself (edited later), … who I have no time left for”

“Noooooo.. she is just chasing you”

“And when I am talking to her?”

“Like I said, means you think she is easy.”

Sunday, February 20, 2005

Golden Knowledge Two

”Finnish guys only come and talk when they are drunk...

And you talk when you are not drunk, that is too smooth”


Saturday, February 19, 2005

You can see the Dutch are Full of Shit..., a clothing shop sign for the
cabins... : )

P.S.: "Paska" means "shit" in Finnish

Friday, February 18, 2005

The lightness in the cruelty of honesty

Honesty is cruel.

If I must be honest enough to write the four conversations I had this weekend, with three girls, the cruelty that will be posed here, and the insincerity, makes me decide not to write them. – Maybe, if I did not know they read this page, I would have put the words down….. Maybe…

I still cannot throw away this text; believe that once the title is written, the rest should come. Otherwise it's bad karma.


A question I put to a girl, curious for the answer, no anger, no pain, just curiosity… Did not get an answer I wanted (I wanted a negative one), got an honest one word answer. The one honest word explaining more than bookfulls, was painful..., even though it would have been an ego treat for most guys. I saw the pain, the irresoluteness, the unknown, the want and the holding back in the answer… It was honest... It was painful... Not what I wanted… But it relieved... At least me…. The walls you build around yourself, the walls that are existing around you, imprisoning your feelings, the natural protection you have surrounding you, the need for keeping your soul intact… The naturality in this occurrence. And the honesty in letting the words flow.

A friend I saw... Chat... Sitting on my lap… She’s warm… In good shape… A long time flirt… Fun girl... Never slept... Will not sleep… But the ten minute conversation we had, during a flirt without the prospect of sleeping together… Talking about sex and us, honesty… Not exactly words every guy would like…, which some would take as flattering… … It was honest, and the way things were said, the truth, the knowledge in them, and the honesty of realizations, even though the realizations were pushed with the back of the hand… Their mere existence, just knowing they exist, and she has no problem in saying them, was the thing I was looking for… More than a flirt... More than a fuck... Though it would’ve been a good one.

Later that night I see this girl who slept in my place once, with my t-shirt on… Kind of a romantic girl… Because of her I misjudged my last minute targeting, and let my shots go astray... A good-looking girl, and young. Actually too young for the bar I was in… I was surprised to hear that she wants me to walk her to her father’s place. And I declined. No need for blue balls… (Shout asshole if you want…) Later in the night I got a message, an unexpected explanation. Reading it, it was not hard to realize that writing that message was not easy. And what I read in that message made me felt better than the one night stand I had lying beside me. It was honest. It was a little girl, in a big world she did not know yet. She knew it was a big world, and accepted it. A let me know it. In words which are unusual….

Earlier, the honesty in hearing I was played, the openness in the game, instead of turning around, made me play along. Join it. With the only outcome being the momentary fun, I enjoyed the game which played itself out in an ultimate power chess, strategies laid out, unknown, only to be revealed and counterattacked. Strategies, in which the honesty lay by accepting their existence… In which the honesty existed by accepting the presence of bad intentions. That made me stay and have a good time.

I thank you for being honest.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

One sad story

(I received this from a friend, so I can post it)

He looked good, he was nice and he was available. He started talking to me and offered me drinks… Obviously I stayed with him.

He lived in Helsinki and had a wife and a baby in there. He didn’t care for that so why should I have?

He was in Tampere to play tennis, the games were about to continue 10 am. the next day, had an early wake-up. I didn’t care.

Closing time, we left. He came home to me, he paid the cab as nice men do…

Started taking off his clothes, then mine…

He was far too small and far too fast, about three minutes of “fun” and that was it.

I was totally pissed off.

He wanted to sleep, but couldn’t cause I had music on.

I turned out the music being too bored to sleep.

Then he started kissing me again and wanted me to give him a blow job. Hah! After all that pleasure he had totally failed to give me, he was the one wanting more…


Told him to call a cab and leave.

He tried to resist but finally got the point and started getting clothes on.

I kicked him out around 5 am. and finally fell asleep, thanks to the drinks he had bought me.

Did not miss him in the morning.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Finnish women pick up style...

A Sunday chat with a friend usually provides me with good stuff….
Writing with permission:

Following a long and friendly talk with a lady in Panama, (this sentence was edited by the friend...)
The girl turns to the guy,

“Remember who initiated the flirt”
“Yea, me”

“No… me”
“I got my drink; I turned around, saw you, and said hi”

“Yes, but that was the second move”
“Come ooon, you were standing behind me; I did not even see you”

“No. I saw you, and came closer to you. I made the first move”
“But you were on my back”

“You were there with your friends?” she asks at some point...
“Yes... “
“The guy who got you the drink, he was your friend?”
“He is scary...”
“He is a good friend. Nice guy”
“He is scary…”

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Love at no sight

”I am from Canada”
”I love Canadians”
”Have you met any?”
”Nououou... ... ... ... ARE YOU TRYING TO BE A SMARTASS?”

Monday, February 14, 2005

Alcohol destroyed her...

Standing by the dancefloor, buddies dancing with girls, I am listening to the music...
A girl I’ve known three years ago, who happened to be a twenty two year old cute one, now, totally drunken, approaches:


“You fucked with my friend *****, years ago...”
“Yea, sadly it was only once”

“What’s up?”
“Fine and you? Long time I haven’t seen you.”

“Can you buy me a beer?”
“Why don’t you buy me a beer?”
“There are many guys here who would buy you a beer”
“Hmph… bastard”

Her friend takes her away…
After three years, her face had swollen, gained around ten kilos, looks like anything but a woman in form… an extreme beer belly…
I would not know what got her into drinking so much…
All I know is, drinking hasn’t helped her much.

And one thing I know by now, is to keep off women who drink too much... “Too much” is a relative clause, you’ll know when it is “too much”…

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Why always wrong timing???

I do it..
People I know do it..

When walking around, you see an acquaintance, and even though he, she is having a chat, they stop, and you have a half minute small talk.
When chatting with acquaintances, a known face passes by, and I pause my chat, to have a half minute small talk…
Quite usual, and quite often…

Another version of this is,
I am chatting with my friends, possibly laughing, bulshitting around, it sometimes is like a private stand up show, sometimes like a private forum on life, sometimes like playboy girl next door stories…
In the end we are a closed group. – at least in the coming context.

Why the fuck, does there always have to exist one guy none of us knows, enters with a stupid comment, and wants to take part in the conversation, whichever language it is taking part in, does not invite him..
It’s a group which is talking about any kind of shit, which most of the deep thinking finnish would be to deep to comprehend, anyway.

Just like it happened last time, guy comes, I get bored, crack some jokes, my guys laugh their ass off, the guy stands there like a fish in a bowl…
Back off…
If I want to talk to you, I would already have talked to you…

And the funny thing is, the sad truth at the same time, most Finns will hardly except your approach for chat if you are not referenced by a friend of his – e.g. a friend tell him you are a good guy, but will expect a whole group to accept him into a conversation, for which they have no fucking ticket.

Get tha fuck out of my face…

Women are welcome to join the conversation.
I know you will forgive me for the discrimination, as two boobs signal intelligence. :)

Friday, February 11, 2005

My apologies to the Italian Pizza people...

In Amsterdam,
We enter this Italian Pizza place, which has
“50% price on pizza”

Yea we say, and it turns out that the normal price of pizza is around sixteen euros, so the half price only manages to even the price with the neighbors…

I turn to the Italian on my table and say:
“You know, you Italians try to fuck the customers all over the world, you bastards” – Taking into account my experiences in Germany…

We finish eating, and I ask for the bill...
The waiter turns toward the kitchen and shouts,
“Yirmiuc numaraya hesap, kardes”
Which is in Turkish…..