Mrs. Dalloway's Coffee Break

We are not great friends. In fact, I have only seen you once, at an event we both frequent. I have no idea what kind of woes or joys you have in your life, and they aren’t any of my business.   The last couple of nights I have been having vivid dreams about my ex-husband. In each of these dreams we have been on the verge of reconciliation, and this has been something I have very much wanted; the dreams have been a continuous showcasing of what a wonderful wife I could be if he would just let me, and him accepting my many offerings but remaining mean and distant, and if not mean, then taciturn and avoiding eye contact and not returning any of my gestures of warmth. Since I have no desire of reconciliating with him in real life, the dreams keep leaving me perplexed and emotionally drained. We did not leave things well, and the easiest and most probable explanation to the dreams is that my mind keeps working on the downfall of the relationship and my part in it, and of course th...

Interiors. Out of everything wonderful life had to offer, interiors. But not just; The Hanging Rock and the pathways that are starting to loosen their grip on me. The sorcery is fading. I get out of bed and immediately almost faint. Sudden change in blood pressure, vertigo, lack of human touch, brain tumor, who knows. Cooing doves in the morning, and the sound is conspiratorial and homey. This view. The newspaper articles are about war, or cutting funding, or killings, or maga propaganda, and as if these were not enough, the science section tells me how studies have shown that women whose bodies go into early menopause tend to lose their synaptic activity in the brain sooner and more often than those whose period continue into their fifties, resulting in catastrophic cognitive problems, with Alzheimer’s looming at the darkest end of the spectrum. Also, that persistent nightmares reduce lifespan, and those who tend to have bad dreams often are bound to die sooner with 70% accura...

It is, finally, the beginning of summer. For those like me, who are working indoors all day and fantasizing being outside in the sunlight where, in this particular dark fantasy, every single other person on the planet is sunbathing as we speak and recuperating in the light from the long barren winter of the utmost discontent: this is the alcohol beverage for you. I was taking a power hike after a shift, briskly walking to the beat of my current favorite album and enjoying the gradual greening of nature and the fact that after months, one could feel sweat trickling down one’s spine instead of the freezing Northern gale blowdrying it in an instant. I was being good after neglecting my health for many months out of sheer exhaustion and lack of energy for it.  Spiriting my soul in the luminosity that is Finnish early summer, I had a wonderful idea, and, for a ceremonial ending of my solitary selfcare date, walked straight into the liquor store. For those who are new to the blog: yes, t...

I don’t have kids. I have always known I wouldn’t have any. I knew having kids was something that never interested me in the least, and also that I would try and prevent the event of my pregnancy by all possible means for as long as I was in a position of that danger. I have never cared much about children. I don’t care if they are cute or heart-melting or smell incredible. I have tried sniffing a newborn’s head. I got nothing. For me, it’s every man for himself. Always has been. I have given the walking papers to every man who has wanted me to mother them, every one of them. Can’t look after yourself? Man, you need to leave. The only exception to the rule is the animal kingdom, and even with those guys, I categorically oppose the usage of the verb mother. Markus likes to call Hanks Obi’s dad, and I guess he kind of is – maybe the term and using it comes more easily to Markus because he is a father himself and he has that bond in blood to someone. Still, I never use the term mo...

It is primal. It’s like a smell, I say when she asks whether I have yet found out what it is like. I dive into it with pleasure, the conversation, and stop checking for signs. It isn’t uncomfortable, the silence, but rather a marker of time. It isn’t often I don’t think about how I would like to be at home instead, I tell Josephine, who appears on the seat next to me. Yes, we are all under the thrall of this small creature, the Lady of Shalott, she says, nodding at the woman opposite me. But I want to weave a magical web, too! I exclaim, and Josephine laughs a little, then grows serious. But isn’t that exactly what you are doing, dear? The woman opposite you? Mere reflection of your own desires. “Stars, hide your fires/Let not light see my black and deep desires”, I quote. Is it like Plato’s cave? Kind of, I guess, Josephine says. But what about cutting the thread? Surely she must need my help if she has an acute thread-cutting need? No, dear. ...

I used to be a woman who wrote in cafes. That was before The Flood. Now I stand there at the entrance in my thick overcoat and huge scarf that smell like Indian cuisine, but I no longer feel like I am expected, or welcome. I write at home now. The Giant’s woman came by the house today. To do some yelling, I presumed. But I didn’t let her in, so she just violently stamped on the snow-covered flowerbeds, where the wild pansies had grown. What a bitch, I said to The Swift, it’s not like I wanted him to eat the flowers. The bird was for once silent. I added wood into the stove and filled the kettle with fresh water. The smell of the fire combined with damp feathers, but I said nothing, I knew he would want to dry himself in peace. I wasn’t a bad smell, really. Päiväkirjan kirjoittaja istuu jalat harallaan penkissä. Kynät seisovat reippaina purkeissa, paitsi ne joita hän sillä hetkellä käyttää.

I had this desire to drive and drive and drive all night long, but the maps were all crumbled and sour, and Adèle said she wouldn’t come with me. She stopped braiding my hair about that same time, and I knew then. Satunnaisesti ajatellen käsitin unohtaneeni ottaa pillerit. Tarkemmin tarkastellen tiesin, etten ollut unohtanut mitään, olin vain kauhuissani. Lumi satoi maahan järkälemäisinä motteina, mutta minä tiesin kuka siellä piilotteli.

Greetings from what used to be Funkytown.  There have been a few inquiries as to what the hell is going on and why is it taking so long. While I find it both heart-warming - and somewhat unnerving – that, in the end, there are some precious lovelies out there who find these ever insightful and dare I say it ingenious stories amusing and forthcoming, I, for the first time in almost two years, am afraid I have been otherwise engaged. This is just a quick word. I must be back soon, because they know I am typing and not working, and I just know if I leave them alone long enough, they are bound to band together, and that is one mutiny I’d rather never see happen. The reason I have been occupied elsewhere for such a long time is that for some insane reason I had what at the time seemed like the idea of the century: to, after more than five years of not touching my needles, knit presents to my family and loved ones this year. Why I would succumb to such madness is anybod...

Mirabelle felt her head expand with air, as the laughter, the hysterics, made way to deep embarrassment that was not without a spiteful undertone. She hadn’t been guilty of stealing Miriam’s precious necklace, no, Mamie had lost the heavy silver and green thing all by herself in a drunken stupor on the night of her big opening. But the waiter had given it to Miri, saying he seemed to remember the beautiful woman in their group wearing it when they were last there, as if Mirabelle did not fit into that category and wasn’t beautiful at all, and that comment, somehow, paired with Mamie’s rude commentary on the blue collar workers and never ever wanting to sink so low as to have a job as a waitress, in total disregard of Miri belonging to that exact class and in fact doing exactly that for a living, despite her writing habit, oh, Mamie made her feel like a rank dilettante, a half-assed amateur, an embarrassing country sibling not to be taken seriously at all, and all that eye-rolling to ...