Who likes Billy Joel?

God it's been quiet here, eh? I know I know, don't judge my laziness :D

Anyways... I was visitin my old home town Kathmandu and I happened to fall in love with Billy Joel's Piano Man again after many years, thanks to my cousin. I also found out that my lovely girlfriend likes it also alot :D Because I love all the characters in the song I decided to write a litte tribute to it. And here you have another Stories from the Mute story with title that took a lot of effort to come up with. Seriously.

A Stories from the Mute story Piano Man

Written by Wille Holopainen

-

                      I’m walking down the street that I know way too well. How do I always end up doing this stuff? Well who knows? It’s a street I’ve walked hundreds of times, on hundreds of Saturdays. It’s nine o’clock and I finally get to the door of my regular bar, where the regular crowd shuffles in and I seem to blend into it. It seems like no one cares about anything, they just walk straight to the counter and order a drink. I’m just getting ready to start and I look around. There’s an old man sitting right next to me, making love to his tonic and gin. I move over to my piano and just as I’m about to start playing a semi-cheerful song the old man look aver and says: “Son, can you play me a memory. I’m not really sure how it goes though… but at least I know it’s sad and it’s sweet! And oh, I knew it complete when I was wearing a younger man’s clothes…” I played him something along those lines and then continued to my regular set.

                      I look over my piano and again I see many stories. As my eyes observe the smoky old bar they come to stop at the counter, where there sits a young pretty girl, drinking her rum and coke, but my eyes are not looking at her. They’re looking over her head, where the bartender is cleaning a glass with a towel that makes it even worse. He’s John. John is a friend of mine and he gets me my drinks for free. Oh John… he’s quick with the joke or to light up your smoke, yet there is a place that he’d rather be. I stop for a while and go to have a good old chitchat with John. He says: “Bill I believe this is killing me. My condition is just going down all the time. The doctor said I could work only twice a week, no more. If I were feeling better… I know I could be even a fucking movie star, just if I could get out of this goddamn place. Well, I guess you know how I feel. I wonder how you end up here every damn Saturday” And what do I say to that? “So do I John, so do I”

                      As I go back behind my piano, I see Paul sitting in the booth with his grey suit on. Paul is a real-estate novelist who unfortunately never had time for a wife. He’s talking with a guy who has a huge build. The guy’s called Davy and that old bollocks is still in the navy. And probably will be for life. He has always sat in the same booth every Saturday after coming from visiting his mom. Him and Paul are pretty damn smashed, although it’s not even past ten yet.

                      I’m trying to get eye contact with the waitress ‘cause I want some water, but she’s just studying politics for her final exams. Next to her a businessman is slowly getting stoned. The old bastard is smoking a huge ass cigar and drinking scotch.

                      All the people in this old smelly place that can be barely called a bar are sharing a drink. It’s a drink they call loneliness. But I guess it’s better than drinking alone. All these people who seem to be the lowest sad sags of our social system are actually not. I see a judge of the high court, the chief of NYPD and at least two big corporate hot shots. Another living example to support the old saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover”.

                      It’s a pretty damn good crowd for a Saturday and the greedy idiot manager gives me a smile ‘cause he knows that it’s me all the people have come to see just to forget about their stressful or otherwise dull lives for a while.

                      I have a long break and gallop a beer or seven and it’s silent except for the sounds coming from the kitchen, which can not be told apart from the toilet, and Paul’s and Navy-Davy’s chatting. All of a sudden a drunken high court judge stands up and shouts from the top of his lungs: “Hey! You’re the piano man! Sing us a song, since we’re all in the mood for a melody!” and another drunken customer adds: “And you got us feeling pretty motherfucking all right!” What can I say to this? Absolutely nothing. All I can do is to get up and totter over to my piano and start playing. I’m a wee bit drunk at this point, yet I play perfectly. The piano sounds like a freaking carnival and the microphone smells like beer, which isn’t such a bad thing.

                      Pair of important looking men all suited up and bit tipsy sits at the bar. Then they walk up to my piano and put bread and a business card in my jar. Then they say: “Man, what are you doing here?”

                      Later I take a look at the card and see that these men were talent scouts for a huge label. On the other side of the card they had written: “Give us a call and we’ll get you deal”. I look at the card for a while. Then I call up John and ask if I could use the telephone in the kitchen/toilet. I pick up the earpiece and start dialing the number on the card. I hear a click at the other end and I wait. “Stardust Records, how may I help you?” says a pretty female voice. “I need to discuss about a deal with Mr.… Umm… Jeffery”. “By all means, just a second”. I wait for a minute and then another click reaches my ear. “Who’s this?” the man at the other end asks. I wait for few seconds and then I make one of the greatest decisions of my life. I take a deep breath and utter few drunken words that would end up being the most important words of my life and I will remember this moment forever. “This is the piano man from Sam’s Pub. Fuck you and next time you see me stick your business card up your hairy ass, you smell like shit. Thanks.” Then I hang up and drop the receiver and rip the business card into small pieces and throw them to what I think is a toilet. Then I get back to the bar and sit behind the piano I love so much and take a look around and start playing. This is the place I belong to, this is the place that doesn’t give a shit about our social status, this is the place where we share our drink of loneliness and this is the place where I can honestly say I feel like home. This is Sam’s.

An Epic Conclusion

So this is the last piece of my three piece concept, which includes the stories In the Diner and The Open Door.
This piece is called Pitchforks and Haunted Souls and it is also revised the magnificent Brooke Rojas, thanks to her again.
So here it is, the epic conclusion that will comlete the picture, ladies and gentlemen, I give you:

A Stories from the Mute story Pitchforks and Haunted Souls

Written by Wille Holopainen

Revised by Brooke Rojas 

                      June 18^th, 1626, that’s the day I was drowned, burned and hung. It was a rather interesting and beautiful day. The birds were singing and rain was falling down to the ground from somewhere in heaven, although I don’t believe in heaven. Well, I wouldn’t know since I’m bound to haunt evil people until the world ends, if it ever does. But yes, back to June 18^th.

                      It started when I moved to the town of something in northern England. It was small town where everyone knew each other. Mrs. Hatchet made the best pies in all of England, but the beer was the worst in the world. Anyways, I was the new lad from Scotland and I really didn’t fit in, because these people couldn’t understand half of what I was saying. Another thing was that I wasn’t religious. I never believed in that humbug they wrote in the bible. It’s completely bollocks. But I went to the church every Sunday, because if I weren’t there I would have gotten burned as a witch. That’s pretty ironic, because I got burned anyways.

                      Well I went to church every Sunday, but I never sang. I couldn’t sing when I was alive and I can’t sing now and I never liked singing, especially those hideous religious songs. I just hate them. Well, then some people noticed and the word spread around the whole town and I got casted out. I don’t understand why they made it such a big deal. I wasn’t like the women in Mexico who hopped in bed with eachother. It wasn’t really pleasant, because I couldn’t buy food or go for ale with other lads. It was bollocks, absolutely bollocks. And it got worse.

                      It took them one night, one night to decide what was me destiny. They decided that I’m afflicted by the curse. I couldn’t do anything but let the rain fall down. The birds were singing, but not for me. No, they don’t sing when you’re six feet underground.

                      They took me to the lake and tried to drown me. I would have drowned but the priest pulled me up every time so it seemed that I wouldn’t drown. He was a bastard child of a bastard mother. He enjoyed burning people. Apparently I was the 21^st to be burned.

                      After the drowning ceremony they marched me down to the center of town. They had their pitchforks and they we’re waving them high in the air. I could already smell the burning hey and wood. I could feel the warmth from the flames. They ripped my shirt and whipped me all over. I tried to fight, but I couldn’t fight eight strong men who were holding my limbs as if they were big sausages. Whipping stopped when someone announced that the judge is coming. They covered my wounds with a sack so the judge wouldn’t know what was going on. Then they chained me and put a blindfold over my eyes so the judge wouldn’t catch my stare. If he did he would have seen the innocence in my eyes. They started to push me towards the flames and shouting at me. One lad was pushing harder than the others and shouting to my ear that I shouldn’t resist. I told him not to get his bollocks in a twist. Did he really think I could resist. Like I had a chance to.

                      When I reached the flames they took the blindfold off. Then I looked to the sky and shouted: “Tell me! Tell me why do they all get to live and I have to die!” Then the first flame started licking my skin. Then another one joined and another and so on. The flames got hungrier as the people of the town fed them with hey and air. In a few moments the flames were eating off my skin, going towards my bones. My hair was gone, my skin was gone, but my eyes were not. They could see everything. They saw the women and children look away, they saw the cheering men, they saw the judge’s face that had a small evil smile on it, and they saw the angels. The angels were singing. They told to let it shine. They dried the teardrops from my eyes. Then it was all over. My soul flew away from my body and stayed to observe.

                      When they noticed I was dead they took me down and hung me to make sure I was dead, but the witch they never found. And I can’t take an eye for an eye, so I will haunt them until they die. And when they die I haunt their children and when they die I haunt their children and I will haunt their whole family until the world ends.

                      So that is my story so far. At the moment I’m haunting the sixth generation so far. I could only pick one person to haunt. I picked the priest. Now his descendant suffers. This young lad is having a very romantic relationship with a girl named Veronika. I will make him suffer more than I suffered. I will make him suffer through Veronika’s agony. He will be in pain.

                      All I need to do is to plant some very nasty thoughts into his mind to upset the girl. And then I make the girl feel miserable. When she feels miserable and upset I will plant an idea of death to her mind. It’s easy because madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push.

Not for sensitive people and definetely not for those who love sheep.

Yeah, the title pretty much tells it.
AND YES I KNOW! Two posts in two days, boo hoo whores, do you see me giving a shit?
I keed, I love ya'll!
Now enjoy another Stories from the Mute production: Bill and Joe!

Bill & Joe

                      Mud. Water and dirt mixed together. It smells like someone had mixed sea and earth. A man walks on the beach. He steps into the mud, but he doesn’t react. The man is called Bill. Bill is an average man from Liverpool. He likes football, pub meals and beer, but now he is in Cuba on a beach. He is smoking cigar, which smells like vanilla. Bill knows that smoking is bad so he throws the cigar away. It cost £100, by the way. Bill is a man of principle. Bill is a good man although he killed his wife. Bill did it because he went bananas. He is supposed to be on a funny farm, but he is smart so he got away. He is crazy at the same time. Funny.

                      Another man walks on the beach. He is an environmental activist and just five minutes ago a sheep ate his hand. Ironic, isn’t it? The activist is called Joe and he is about to bleed to death. He asks Bill to help him. Bill comes closer and sits into the sand. Joe sits also, crying because of the pain. Bill enjoys seeing Joe bleeding. Joe doesn’t. Joe tries to leave, but Bill smacks him and he won’t leave. After a while Bill throws Joes body to ocean, laughing like a dad laughs when he sees his son learning to ride a bike.

                      This was one of Bill’s not-so-man-of-principle-moments, but it happens even to the best of us. Bill calmly starts to walk back to the hotel. On the way back he encounters a sheep. The sheep has two fingers coming from its mouth. Pretty weird, huh? Bill, as a wise man, realizes that those must be Joe’s fingers. Bill hits the sheep between its eyes, which makes this magnificent and noble animal open its mouth and drop the fingers. Bill picks up the fingers and slips them into his pocket. Then he takes a look at the animal. He thinks it is need of pleasure, so he walks to it and opens his belt. You can all guess what he does next. Bill is shouting to the sheep: “Call me Tim you dirty bitch!” The sheep is screaming too, but for different reasons than Bill, or Tim, as he likes to be called in this situation. After Bill/Tim was done with the sheep he just walked away. He walked back to the hotel, looking only forward. He never looked back. Never.

                      When Bill got back to his hotel room number 3871, he took the bible out of the drawer, looked for Ezekiel 25:17 and read it out loud. After this he prayed. He prayed for forgiveness, he prayed for strength to resist his temptations to kill, to slaughter, to torture and to mutilate, he prayed for getting his sanity back, although he never had it. He waited for a while and since he still felt insane he prayed again. His prayer went something like this: “You dick squeezer up there in heaven, our heavenly sadistic bastard, why on fucking earth do you promise eternal life and forgiveness to those who genuinely ask for it and believe in you bull shit powers. You ought to suck my balls, you motherless, dick licking, bullshitting, dickless, butt riding, motherfucker! All good that the religious brainless pot heads tell me you can do is complete bull shit. You don’t have any powers, you are just useless piece of shit. Fuck you, you probably don’t even exist, so why the fuck am I talking to myself?” Pretty good, eh?

                      Now that we know Bill’s religious view, we partly understand why killing isn’t such a problem to him. See, when Bill starts to have feelings, they usually are not love, sympathy, empathy, friendship or any kind of nice, warm or positive feelings. They are hatred, insanity and other fuzzy feelings that make your body tinkle. They way Bill sees things is different from ours. Where we see an opportunity to help, he sees an opportunity to shed blood. Where we see love that makes us go: “Awwww!” he sees disgusting feelings that make him go: “KILL!” And that, my friends, is usually what happens. Bill is a cruel man, we cannot deny it, yet he is very smart, wise and calculating, which makes him a very cold person when these qualities are combined with his strangely strong will to see suffering, blood and death. Bill is a very interesting personality and we should all learn from him.

To read more of Bill’s wild adventures and to learn more about this brilliantly beautiful creature, stay tuned.

P.s. This text is dedicated to a great man who loves sheep and is a beloved friend; Mr. Tim Anderson.

THE METAL!

Wassup bitchees!?!?!
Ok, I didn't really mean it :D

Well today's post violates many many many copyright laws and shit, but frankly I don't give a shit. It's really not that bad :D
This little piece of (shit) text is a Tribute to The Metal and the greatest song in the world. If you are smart enough, you see where this is going... so here it is: The Metal!

The Metal

In the ancient time, there was a man who knew the road and the writing was written on a stone. The writing told that there shall be an artist who will lead the way. Actually a band, but I think the words got lost in the translation. In the beginning of the era of the Metal, which dates back to the dark ages where a powerful wizard summoned the strongest demon, the Satan himself, a magical pick was created. The wizard could not control the mighty beast and he was almost destroyed. A blacksmith heard the noise of their battle and saved the wizard by throwing a piece of metal at Satan’s face. Whilst the Satan was confused and hurt, missing a tooth, the wizard put him under a spell: “From once you came, you shall remain, until you are complete again!” And so the Satan was defeated. The wizard thanked the blacksmith by making a magical pick from Satan’s tooth. The person using the pick could play only the best metal melodies and make any woman wanting and moist. Ever since the pick was created it has come to rescue the Metal when it has been in danger. And every time the pick has been used, Satan has come to try and get what was his. This is a story of the band leading the way to the new golden time of the Metal; this is the story of Tenacious D.

Chapter One: Kickapoo

A long ass fucking time ago in a town called Kickapoo, which is a small religious town in Tennessee, there lived a humble family. But there was a black sheep. JB was his name. He refused to step in line and he had a vision of fucking rocking all the time. One day he wrote a jam and that day shall be remembered as the first day of the Metal’s liberation from club music. At the time club music was a big thing and Metal was barely surviving. JB’s jam was recorded on a c-cassette and the lyrics are known to every true rocker: “Oh the dragon’s balls were blazing as I stepped into his cave and I sliced his fucking cockles with a long and shiny blade. Through his eyes you fuck the dragon, fuck-a-lising, fuck-a-loo and if you try to fuck with me then I shall fuck you too!” the lyrics go on to be unrecognizable mix of JB’s singing and his fathers all caps raging. Our holy book, the book that contains the truth of our governments, the book that is known as the Book of Metal, tells that JB talked to his holiness, Ronnie James Dio at the Night of the Jam and he hath told him to bail his birth town and travel to the city of fallen angels, where the ocean meets the sand. He would form a strong alliance and the world’s most awesome band. And this happened.

Chapter Two: Venice Beach

Years after the magical night in Kickapoo, Jables finally arrived to Los Angeles, the city of fallen angels, after travelling far and wide to find the secrets of his art. After all these years, the pick was calling for his new masters, because it knew they would be ready to raise the Metal back to where it belongs: on top of everything with hot chicks around it ready to blow. The pick lead JB, although he didn’t know it then. Only later he would find out the true powers of the pick.

The pick lead him to the holy ground of Venice Beach, where the pick had also brought the master exploder, the greatest guitar hero of all times, Kyle Gass, also known to our society as KG Solo Man 5000 or just KG. Their eyes met as KG was playing on of his best-known masterpieces: Classico; a song combining the stars of classical music with fucking awesome power chords. Only problem was that it had no lyrics, since KG was not much of a singer. Alone these two artist would never be nothing but fat losers with big dreams of musical career, but as the pick arranged them to be together, they were invincible. At least when the pick’s plan was fulfilled, until then they sucked ass. As KG was playing, JB joined in with his improvised lyrics mocking the crowd that was leaving. This event gave birth to their first disciple: Saint Lee. Lee was a pizza delivery guy and driving instructor. Pretty smart, huh?

As Lee heard the magical notes and powerful lyrics he knew that he had testified the birth of the greatest band ever. And so did JB and KG. KG let JB live with him and as they showered together like real men, they noticed each other’s ass marks. These marks formed the name of the greatest band ever. These marks said “Tenac” and “Anacious D” and as their asses touched together they knew that their band would be called Tenacious D. If you were around the rock and roll history museum at the moment of the impact you could see a green flash in the guitar gods room at the top of the guitar way to heaven. And so the savior of Metal had born.

Chapter Three: The History of the Pick

Before the time of the Pick and the era of the Metal, there was The Man. The Man still exists, but it cannot win the Metal, because Metal will always be too powerful with the assistance of the Pick. The Man ruled everything that was going on in the world. The Man ruined the ozone, the Man killed the Amazon and the Man created bad music. There was a way to stick it to the Man. It was called rock and roll, but guess what? The Man ruined it with a little thing called The MTV! Luckily the wizard was sick of the Man’s dictatorship and he summoned the Satan to destroy him, since God was too busy.

Many musical styles have tried to destroy the Metal, but they have all failed. You cannot kill the Metal. The Metal will live on. You can bash it and throw it around at times, you can make it very small, but you will never kill the Metal. New way tried to kill the metal, but they failed as they were stricken down to the ground! They thought they could come with their new ways and different sounds and weird nonsense lyrics and take over the Metal. But no, they failed. Next the Man sent grunge. Grunge tried to kill the Metal, but they failed as they were thrown to the ground. Those ridiculous fools…

Next the Man did a very dirty trick: he sent punk rock on earth and people who weren’t careful enough got confused with it. Punk tried to kill the metal, but they failed as they were smite to the ground.

No one can destroy the Metal, the Metal will strike you down with a vicious blow. We are vanquished foes the metal and we try to win. For why, we do not know.

The Man got desperate and tried one last thing before it went underground for decades. He sent techno. Techno tried to defile the Metal, but the Metal had its way. Metal seemed to be invincible and no one tried to cross it again until the Man got stronger. In his cave, the Man grew stronger and more dangerous than ever. As his first act after he got back on the ground of the earth, he sent pop and club music. These two mass murderers of souls harvested most of earth’s souls, but luckily few stayed strong and resisted the evil power of the Man. They did it because they were true believers and the knew the Pick of Destiny would save them. And so we are at the present time, where JB and KG are getting ready for the greatest battle of music the earth has ever seen.

Chapter Four: The Training

One night, after smoking weed and listening to Black Sabbath, Dio talked to JB and KG again. He told them that the time of the conclusion of their training had come. He told them to learn two things and then they would be ready for the Pick. Their assignment was to learn the power slide and cock pushups.

Their training started the next day, at the crack of noon. After watching Pete Townshend perform the power slide they stared to train it. It looked amazing…. ly bad at first but after several thousands of repeats it looked awesome. Next they started to build up their cocks                      and after seven weeks of training they could each perform seven cock pushups. Now they were ready for the pick.

Chapter Five: The Pick of Destiny

As The D was writing their masterpiece, they came across a freighting monster, an ancient and deadly creature: writer’s block. They seek a way around the monster by trying to get inspired with musical magazines. At this moment the Pick of Destiny decided to appear to them. They noticed that all the great rockers had used exactly the same pick. These rockers were the four saviors of the Metal: Eddy van Halen, Pete Townshend, Jimi Hendrix and the last man who used the POD before Tenacious D received it: Angus Young.

The D ran into the closest instrument shop to look for this pick, but as they were asking about it they met a man who knew all about the Pick of Destiny, Salvatore Papardello. He explained them everything he knew about the Pick. He also told that it now lied in the rock and roll history museum. At the moment he lead the words out of his mouth Jables and Kage knew what to do. They would steal the pick. Before they left, Papardello also explained the present struggle with club music and pop. The D knew they had to hurry in order to save the Metal. And so they did.

Chapter Six: The Journey and the Claim of the Pick

Jabels and Kage started their journey to claim the Pick from rock and roll history museum by taking the car of Lee. After getting the car with lies as the Book of the Metal requires they started to drive to Sacramento. On the way the car broke down and now I am quote the holy diary of JB for you to understand exactly what happened. “Me and my brother Kyle, we were hitchhiking down a long and lonesome road and all of a sudden there shined a shiny demon in the middle of the road. And he said: ‘Play the best song in the world or I’ll eat your souls’. Well me and Kyle, we looked at each others and we’d said: ‘Ok’. And we played the first thing that came to our heads, just so it happened to be the best song in the world. Needless to say, the beast was stunned. Whip-crack went his whippet tail, and the beast was done. He asked: ‘Be you angels’ and we said: ‘Nay! We are but men! ROCK!’”

And so they defeated the demon from hell and got to the museum. They broke in with a plan they got from an old man who hath broken in before, but lost his leg at the last meters.

After diving into an air vent they dropped to the floor of the museum, but in the wrong room. So they started to move towards the guitar gods. On the way they had to avoid guards and janitors. Finally they got to the end of the Guitar Way to Heaven. As they walked up the stairs they could feel the presence of the POD. Just as they saw it and were ready to run to it Jabels saw the lasers.  He stopped KG and started to dance through the beams. He did well until he got trapped into a corner. In the corner, right in front of his dick, there was a kill switch for the lasers, but he could not reach it. KG came up with the solution and he said: “Cock. Use the cock.” And so JB did. With the power from his training he told his helmet head to get it on and so happened that his dick reached the button and they could get to the Pick.

As they were reaching for the Pick, they pushed over few amps and with the Pick in their hand they ran to the security door that was closing in front of them and away from the guards who were shooting them unprofessionally. Jabels looked at Kage and shouted: “Powerslide!” and so they slid. Under the door they went, just so that the guards were left behind the door. And so the Pick of Destiny was claimed back.

Chapter Seven: The Victory

With the Pick of Destiny, Tenacious D marched to the Man. With the power of the Pick they made the hot secretary wanting and moist and in that state of mind she was easy to get around. When they got to the Man’s office they found out that the Satan was the Man. With the power from the Pick they challenged the might demon to a rock off. Satan’s attempts were powerful, but not genuine enough with the entire club shit he did. The Pick gave the power to defeat the Satan and they played a Tribute to the greatest song in the world, they had just played for the shiny demon on the road. With this song and its confusing and hypnotizing lyrics they confused the Satan enough to force him to hell with an ancient and powerful spell: “From once you came, you shall remain, until you are complete again!” And as they did this Satan’s horn fell off, as a payment to the Metal for breaking the original spell of the wizard. The lyrics they used to defeat the Satan, also known as the Lyrics of the Great Victory, were: “Look into my eyes and it’s easy to see: one and one make two, two and one make three, it was destiny!” and before they started, they gathered all their courage and used each others to support themselves by saying: “We’ve been through so much shit. Deactivated lasers with my dick and now it’s time to blow this fucker down!” Tenacious D will always be remembered as the band the liberated the world from shitty music and stuck it to the man. And we will live following their teachings.

Stick it to the Man!

Shoutout to cynical bastards!

Hello you weirdos there!

Been a long time since I posted anything, not that it mattered :D
So here's something to my Finnish speaking cynical bastards ;)

Wille Holopainen

14.2.2010

Katmandu, Nepal

Syvällinen Essee

Elämä on täyttä paskaa. Sen läpi käyminen elämän eri vaiheissa edellyttää pitkäjänteisyyttä, eriskummallisen vahvaa elämänhalua sekä lievää yllytyshulluutta. Kaikkein paskamaisin asia elämässä on se outo tunne, jota kutsutaan rakkaudeksi. Se alkaa vähemmän oudolla tunteella: ihastumisella. Ihastumisen jälkeen seuraa erittäin paskamainen toisen osapuolen houkuttelu. Tästä houkuttelusta haluaisin sanoa pari pientä paskamaista sanaa.

Toisen osapuolen houkuttelu alkaa pienimuotoisella ”flirttailulla”, joka on hyvin paskamaista, koska se vaatii liikaa aikaa, rahaa, tekstiviestejä sekä internetin hyödyntämistä. Flirttailuun kuuluu kehuskelu, pieni kiusaaminen, lähestymisyritykset sekä joskus jopa lahjonta. Houkutteluun kuuluu myös syvällisten tekstiviestien lähettely. Tämä lähettely on erittäin paskamaista ja se alkaa vituttaa ennen pitkää. Lähettelyyn saattaa myös osallistua kolmas osapuoli, jonka tarkoitusperät saattavat olla hyvät, mutta hänen toimintatapansa edesauttavat katastrofaalisia piirteitä tapahtumaketjussa. Nämä kolmannen osapuolen funktiot saattavat olla esimerkiksi puhelimen varastaminen ja viestien lähettely tästä laittomasti toiselta riistetystä objektista. Ihastumisen ensimmäinen aste on kaikkein paskamaisin, koska siihen saattaa liittyä kolmas osapuoli, joka saattaa aloittaa lumipalloefektin, joka päättyy kaikkien osapuolin turmioksi.

Jos ihastumisen ensimmäinen aste jotenkin mystisesti (kenties Joulun taian avulla) onnistuu, kaikkien osapuolten tulisi varautua toisen asteen paskamaisuuteen. Toinen aste on molempien osapuolten kohtaaminen julkisella paikalla, esimerkiksi elokuvateatterissa tai ravintolassa, joskus jopa molemmissa saman puolivuorokauden sisään. Nämä kohtaamiset sisältävät erittäin intiimejä tilanteita, jotka käytännössä tarkoittavat käsistä pitämistä, halailua sekä suutelua kera koskettelun. Tämä vaihe on paskamainen, koska tunne, jonka osapuolet yleensä kokevat, on sietämätön. Se on sietämätön, koska tunne saa ihmisen suorastaan tärisemään jännityksestä ja toisen ihmisen kosketuksesta. Sietämättömyyttä lisää myös itsehillintä, joka on vain juuri ja juuri tarpeeksi vahva pitämään halun ja intohimon aisoissa. Toisen vaiheen paskamaisuuden takaa sietämätön tunne, joka saa elimistön värisemään epämiellyttävästi.

Jos osapuolet selviävät toisen vaiheen koettelemuksista selväpäisinä, kolmas vaihe takaa järjen menetyksen vähintäänkin väliaikaisesti. Kolmas vaihe on oikeastaan muuntautuminen ihastuksesta rakkaudeksi. Tähän vaiheeseen mennessä on aloitettu seurustelu, joka itsessään jo tekee elämästä paskamaisen, koska se saa ihmisen ajattelemaan vain ja ainoastaan seurustelua; ”Mitä tekisimme seuraavalla kerralla, kun näemme?”, ”Milloinkahan näen taas rakkaani?” ja ”En nyt ehdi tekemään läksyjäni, koska kyyhkyni odottaa jo ostarilla!”. Rakkaudentunnustus on kaikista vaikein saada ulos seurustelun aikana, ainakin se ensimmäinen. Juuri kun olet muotoillut sopivan lauseen ja aivosi lähettävät käskyn äänihuulille värähdellä, joku lähes maagiselta tuntuva voima saa kurkkusi tuntumaan siltä kuin pelästynyt pallokala yrittäisi leijua pois suusi kautta. Tällainen outojen voimien suoranainen vittuilu vaikeuttaa rakkaudentunnustuksen ulosantia. Ja vihdoin kun pallokala kurkustasi katoaa, joku puolituttusi eksyy paikalle kyselemään miten Juhannus meni. Kun rakkaudentunnustus sitten joskus sopivissa tai vähemmän sopivissa olosuhteissa pulpahtaa puhujan suusta, se kuulostaa epäilyttävästi mumisevan kleptomaanin häpeilevältä monologilta. Ja parhaimmassa tapauksessa toinen osapuoli, kuin iskuksi vyön alle, on kuin ei olisi kuullutkaan koko monologin tynkää. Tämä taas johtaa tunnustuksen toistamiseen hieman reippaamman kleptomaanin monologia lähennellen. Ja sitten joskus, jos joutuu naimisiin, saavat osapuolet tapella kaikesta ja kaikkialla joka hetki. Harvat onnelliset hetket, joita nämä pariskunnat kokevat, johtavat sukupuoliyhdyntään, joka taas johtaa lapsiin, jotka johtavat em. kinasteluun, joka saattaa johtaa avioeroon. Kahdesti. Rakastuminen on siis kaikista kamalin vaihe ihmisen elämässä.

Elämän paskamaisin asia, rakkaus, koostuu eri vaiheista, jotka ovat toinen toistaan paskamaisempia. Ensimmäinen aste on ihastumisen houkuttelu, joka sisältää flirttailua ja kenties kolmannen osapuolen sekaantumisen. Toinen aste on julkiset kohtaamiset ja niihin sisältyvä kanssakäyminen. Kolmas aste on ihastumisen muuntuminen rakkaudeksi, joka on pahinta mitä voi käydä. Se sisältää rakkauden tunnustamisen, avioliiton, joskus jopa useamman kuin yhden, sekä viha-rakkaussuhteen muodostumisen. Jotta tämä essee ei menisi suoranaisen kyynisyyden ja brutaalin rakkaudenvihan puolelle, haluan sanoa että niin paljon kun rakkaus satuttaakin, ilman sitä ei ihmiskunta tule koskaan selviämään, joten näin Pyhän Valentinen päivänä, juuri sinun, hyvä lukija, tulisi pitää kiinni rakkaimmistasi.

The Open Door

Well hello there again!

Yeah I know, it's weird talking to yourself...

So here's some stuff for you people who bother to read this crap :D It's a thing I call The Open Door.

A Stories from the Mute story The Open Door

Written by Wille Holopainen

Revised by Brooke Rojas 

Let me tell you about a girl, girl that teaches us all a valuable lesson. This girl is very special. She is part of a scheme that is so horrible in all of its glory. She is part of scheme that is dates back hundreds and hundreds years. This is the story of Veronika. Saint Veronika.

Veronika was a very beautiful and smart girl, talented in many ways. Her GPA was 3.98, she played cello with the San Francisco symphony orchestra, played volley ball and chess on national level, and had a good looking, athletic and smart boyfriend. Her friends were pretty and did cheerleading and were popular. She had everything you could ever imagine the perfect high school girl would have. Except for one thing: the will to live.

Veronika was depressed. The only problem was that no one knew, and how could have they? She was always smiling and what a wonderful smile she had. Veronika could make a block of ice size of the white house melt butter in a hot pan.

She would always go shopping with her friends when they had a clothing crisis, which was approximately every second day. Her ability to hide depression and mental agony was just amazing. She made Samuel L. Jackson look amateur. She should have won an Oscar for her performance. But whenever she was alone, she would just sit in her huge black leather chair, stare out of the window, and think what it would feel like to jump from it, hit the ground and be relieved of all the pressure and pain.

One day Veronika was sitting in a train, going to her volleyball practice, thinking about her life and the things made her it miserable. That train ride changed her life. That train ride changed the lives of many people, but most importantly the lives of five. Technically six, if we count the man who jumped under the train.

Two days before this tragic train incident, Veronika was shopping with her best friend Vivian or Viv, as she was better known. They were looking for a dress for the school dance, which was supposed to be next week, but it was postponed because of a memorial.

Viv had found the perfect pink dress she had always dreamed about, but it cost a relatively small amount; $3000. Viv called her dad, who of course as a wise man that knows the value of money, refused to pay for the dress. Viv starts crying and threatens to kill herself, which, ironically, makes Veronika feel really bad, so she promises to pay for the dress. Viv was so amazed that she almost fainted. Five seconds later she realized that the amount of money Veronika was about to donate her was huge, so she decided to refuse it.

The girls left the shop and went to eat lunch in a three Michelin star restaurant. Veronika ate a salad that had about three leaves of lettuce, two pieces of chicken and three very thin slices of truffle with a drop of dressing. This cost her 28$. Viv didn’t want anything else but a piece of bread and water. Such an anorectic…

After Viv got a ride home in Veronika’s limousine, Veronika told the driver to drive back to the shop. It took Veronika seven minutes and thirteen seconds to buy the pink dress to Viv. Then they drove home and when Veronika’s parents noticed that she had bought a $3000 dress to her friend, they asked with what money. Veronika answered calmly that the money came from her savings account. Before her mom got to ask the next question, Veronika opened her mouth and told that she would not need that money. Then she left and locked herself into her room.

The next day she took the dress to Viv on her way to school. They continued together to Lincoln high school. The second they went through the gate, a young man named Jason hugged Veronika for a good 28 seconds. Jason was her boyfriend, who’s world would crash in less than 24 hours. So there they were, kissing and cuddling like a newly married couple. They fled to their classes, Veronika nearly running to AP stats. Math was something she really enjoyed. She could run away from her hidden depression into the numbers and graphs. The next 90 minutes she was happier than ever.

After the school day Veronika and Jason went to Veronika’s house, which happened to be empty, because her dad had flown to Italy earlier that day and her mom was in a conference in Wellington. The young couple climbed the stairs up and went to Veronika’s room, where Jason took a seat in her chair. He actually sat in the chair where Veronika made a crucial decision concerning her life. Veronika kindly asked him to get up and move to the bed. Jason took it the wrong way and grabbed Veronika in a highly inappropriate way. Veronika didn’t really mind, but because of her strong principles she decided to move his hand. Veronika asked something very interesting from Jason, something that should have alerted him. She asked what his world would be like without her, what if she was dead? Jason didn’t really know how to react, but eventually he found the words. He said that he wouldn’t have a world, which is probably the cheesiest answer after Orlando’s answer to Jaques’ question about Rosalind’s stature in Shakespeare’s “As You Like It”.  Veronika got up and moved to her chair. She started to stare at the window again, which kind of crept Jason out. He took her hand and whispered in her ear something really stupid. This led to a situation where Jason ran out of the door and Veronika stayed in her chair.

The next morning Veronika woke up from her chair when her dad came home. She had been staring the window whole night and then fallen asleep. When she heard her dad’s steps in the stairway she put on her most beautiful smile. When her dad came in she hugged her like never before. Dad asked her if something was wrong, but all she said was that she felt like she was trapped inside a frozen waterfall. Of course her dad got a bit worried, but when Veronika told that she had broke up with Jason he calmed down a little.

Veronika decided to take a day off from school. She just sat in hr chair all day long and her mom, who had come home around noon, brought her food every once in a while, but all she ate was a banana and piece of bread. When her alarm went on at 14.32 she remembered that she had volleyball practice. She packed her stuff and ran out of the door without even saying “bye” to her parents. She ran to the train station, where she hopped into a train, just in time. There were four stops between her house and the gym. The first two stops she just thought about what Jason had said about his needs. When they were about to come to the third stop, the train suddenly started to brake. Everyone in the train could hear and feel a thud when the train ran over something. Finally the train stopped and everyone was asked to get out. Veronika was very curious girl, so she ran to see what was going on behind the train. When she reached the end of the last wagon, she saw blood and guts everywhere. Some guy had jumped under the train. Later they found a note saying that he would see Ann again.

This incident caused something in Veronika’s brain. Something just clicked. The man who jumped under the train showed Veronika how she could escape her misery and feel like she was in charge. All her life people had expected her to be something and her personality could not let all these people down. She decided to take her own life.

She walked home, twelve kilometers. During this walk she created a plan that guaranteed that no one could save her from herself. She sneaked into her house from the back so her parents wouldn’t notice her. Around eight they left to a fundraising party in city centre. The second after Veronika heard the car leave, she started to make her plan reality.

When the parents came home, they found an empty bottle on the windowsill. Also the mom’s sleeping pills were lost. They went upstairs to see what Veronika was up to. She was lying on her bed, drooling like a dog with rabies. There was puke all over her shirt and the room smelled like vodka.

The ambulance came in seven minutes and sixteen seconds after they called ERC. Then Veronika’s dad and Veronika went with the ambulance to the hospital and her mom came with car. When they finally got to the hospital the paramedic had performed a gastric lavage on Veronika. She was rushed to the doctor who put her on dialysis, but they had to do CPR for two minutes before they got her heart up and running.

After two hours she was stabilized and sleeping. No one ever thought she was capable to do anything like this. Her mom was crying and her dad was trying to talk to her. He said that she should be strong enough and hold on to them. It was just not her time to die.

And she didn’t. She had serious brain damage and she couldn’t move anything else except her head. Three months she lived like that. Three months she suffered of frustration that was unfathomable. Three months she tried to see the bright side, but there wasn’t one. One day Jason came to see her, as he did twice a week. They asked the nurse to leave, so they could talk in private. Three hours later Veronika gets a stroke and dies, because she insisted to have DNR. When they removed her intravenous drip, they noticed teeth marks on the tube. They knew that she couldn’t have done it herself. They also knew that Jason was the only one who had visited her.

Jason was brought to the police and he confessed that he gave the tube to Veronika so she could blow in it. He said that it was the right thing. He said she would have found another way anyhow. He got jail for two years.

After the funeral, when her parents emptied Veronika’s room, they found a note. A note that was written the night she got into hospital. The note said:

“If you are reading this, I am hopefully dead. This is my reasoning for my actions, my last message to you, and my last will. I have killed myself, because I haven’t seen any colors in my life for the past seven years. It is hard to see in color when you are miserable. I don’t feel like I deserve to be here, I feel like I’m stuck here living someone else’s dream. Luckily, even every prison has an open door. I have tried to talk to many people, but no one really believed me. I am not sorry for what I have done, but I am sorry to cause you pain, but I’m better off like this. I am sick and tired of being invisible. You probably think I was always in the middle of all attention, which is true, but no one ever saw how bad I felt inside. I have always been the perfect girl everyone wanted me to be, but I got tired of being your Saint Veronika.”

Short movie

Hello there!
I have no readers, but hey, who gives a shit?
So if you are reading this, congratulate yourself; you have survived this far!
I just wanted you to know that I will start shooting a visiual version of In The Diner as soon as I get a production team. the script is ready, although it is in need of revision. There might also be other short movies coming up based on Stories From the Mute texts, so stay tuned!  \ , , /

Revision time!

Hello there you lads and lads without bollocks, also known as women!

This is a revision of In The Diner, which my dear friend, the magnificent Brooke Rojas herself made.
Thnaks to her and her incredible ability to read my mind and put into words in a lot nicer way!

A Stories from the Mute story In the Diner 

Written by Wille Holopainen

Revised by Brooke Rojas 

  The street hasn’t changed one bit; the old billboard that says you should buy our fast noodles still hangs outside, although they haven’t been sold in over 10 years. The same old man outside still searching through the garbage for something to eat near the diner I always go to. The diner is old and not as glamorous as it used to be but it is where I met my wife for the first time.

   It was June 1999 and she worked there as a waitress while I delivered papers. I took a seat in the corner where I always sit. She came and asked me what I wanted to drink, but I couldn’t say anything so I just watched her. Her hair was like silk, her eyes like diamonds, her mouth looked perfect for kissing, and her body looked as if it was made by the gods. She asked me again and this time I could finally say the words I couldn’t say before. I could feel them bubbling from my lips but they would still not answer her question. Instead they said; “You are the most perfect piece of art in the whole universe.” Which ended my sentence with a slap to the face and hot coffee poured all over my pants.

    I started running. I ran all the way back home on the other side of town and I didn’t see her again after that until school started. I was late on the first day of school and saw only one free seat next to a girl who had brown hair and perfect posture. I apologized to my teacher for being late to class and told him that it would be the last time. I sat next to the girl and when I turned to say hello, it happened again. The words wouldn’t come out, but this time I didn’t even have to try to say anything. After school I put myself back together and went to talk to her.

“Why did you slap me?”

“Because every time I hear those words someone has tried to get into my pants”, she answered.

   Later that year I got to know her better and the more time I spent with her, the more I began to fall in love with her. After the year ended she left to go to a university on the other side of the country but I stayed in my hometown because I had already gotten a job from a butcher.

  Every night for three years I would think of her before I fell asleep. On April 12, 2004 I saw her again. She was eating at the diner where we first met. I had just gotten my salary for the month so I ran to a jewelry shop down the street and picked out the most expensive ring I could afford. With the ring in my hands I quickly ran back to the diner. I arrived just before she paid for her meal. Once I got inside I froze when I saw her. We stared at each other for about 10 seconds before I finally realized what I had come to do. I kneeled in front of her and asked; “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” After the longest minute in my life she opened her mouth and said: “Yes, of course!”

   That is the story of how I met my wife but now the cold wind blows through my bones, and I feel like I am getting old. I just wish I could get old with her. For eight years she was there when I needed her, eight years she loved me and I loved her back. For eight years we were happy, we were healthy, and we were perfect. For eight years my life was finally complete, but in one moment, it was all gone.

   I haven’t changed a thing in our house, though she is now living somewhere else far away, probably with someone else. The phone still sits next to the window and every time it rings it scares the shit out of me. The last time I answered it there was a doctor on the phone who said my love was never coming back home. Her immune system had shut down and in a hospital bed she grew cold.

   I’m not looking for answers to life and death, but dear God, why did you choose her? She was the only thing that held my life together and made me happy. When I heard she was gone I saw dark clouds eclipsed and realized the sun won’t shine again.

  The train is coming soon. I stand on the platform waiting for it to take me away. I see it now and I am ready to get away from this place that constantly reminds me of Ann’s sad, cold fate. As the train moves closer and closer towards me I closed my eyes and begin to take my last step. I am  going to meet Ann once again.

Hey guys!

This is my FIRST post, so don't be hard on me.
This blog is about me posting some short stories taht I've written. Some of them are happier some are pretty depressing.
Here's one of my all time favorites, I actually worked hard with this one, hope it shows. There is artwork coming for this at some point and when I get it you will be the first ones to see.
So here's In the Diner

The street hasn’t changed one bit. There is still the old billboard saying you should by fast noodles that haven’t been made for ten years. Still the same old man is trying to find something to eat from the garbage bin of the diner I am going to.

                      The diner is old and not as glamorous as it used to be. I met my wife for the first time in that diner. It was in June 1999. She was working there as a waitress and I was delivering news papers. I took a seat in the corner where I always sat. She came to me and asked what would I like to drink, but I couldn’t say anything. I just watched her. Her hair was like silk, her eyes were like diamonds, her mouth was perfect for kissing, and her body was like it was made by all gods there are.

                      She asked me again and this time I got words out of my mouth, bubbling off my lips, but they weren’t answering the question. They said: “You are the most perfect piece of art in the whole universe.” After they came out she slapped me and poured hot coffee on my pants. At that point I started running and I ran all the way to my house on the other side of the town.

                      I didn’t see her after that until the school started. I was late on the first day and the only free seat was next to girl who had brown hair and perfect posture. I said I’m sorry for being late and the teacher said that this would be my first and last time I was late. I sat next to the girl and when I turned to say hi to her it happened again. Words didn’t come out, but this time I didn’t even try to say anything. After school I put myself together and went to talk to her: “Why did you slap me?” “Because every time I’ve heard the words you said someone has tried to get into my pants”, she answered.

                      That year I got to know her better and the more I spent time with her, the bigger my love to her grew. After that year she left to university to the other side of the country and I stayed in my hometown because I had gotten a job from the butcher.

                      For three years I thought about her every night before I fell asleep. On April 12^th 2004 I saw her eating in the diner I met her for the first time. I had just gotten my salary of the month and I ran to a jewellery shop down the street and picked the most expensive ring I could afford. With the ring I ran back to the diner and she was just about to pay when I got in. When she noticed me she just froze. We just looked at each other for almost ten seconds and then I remembered what I was doing and kneeled in front of her and asked: “Will you be my wife?” After the longest minute in my life she opened her mouth: “Yes, most definitely!”

                      So that is how she became my wife. But now when the cold wind blows through my bones I really feel like I am getting old. I just wish I could get old with her. For eight years she was there when I needed her, for eight years she loved me and I loved her back, for eight years we were happy, we were healthy, and we were perfect, for eight years my life was complete, but it all was gone in one short moment.

                      I have changed nothing in our house although she is now living somewhere far away probably with someone else. The phone is still next to the window and every time it rings it scares the shit out of me. Last time I answered there was a doctor on the phone, telling my love was never coming back home. Her immune system had shut down and she got cold from someone in the hospital.

                      I’m not looking for answers to life and death, but dear God why did you choose her!? She was the only thing that held my life together and made me happy. When I heard she was gone I realized that in my life dark clouds eclipsed and the sun wouldn’t shine again.

                      The train is coming. I’m on the station waiting for it to take me away. I could see the train and I was ready to get away from this place that reminded me of Ann’s sad and cold fate. When it was almost on the spot I closed my eyes and took one big step. I was going to meet Ann once again.