Friday, January 31, 2014

Rinta-Perälä carries out a favour rite


What's your favourite poem?
"I Wandered Thick as a Brick" by the ghost of Sid Vicious.

Who's your favourite porn star?
Mary Magdalene.

What's your favourite food?
Tumult weed.

What's your favourite film lab?
Gone with the Wind.

What's your favourite invention?
The gagphone.

What's your favourite thing about Finland?
We had a female president. She has a speech impediment and sounds like she has a mouth full of mashed potatoes.

What's your favourite book?
"Strengthening the reproductive muscles of Christianity" by Reverend Goodlay

What's your favourite pastime?
Copyrighting my cruelty.

What's your favourite motto?
Exterminate all rationed thoughts.

What's your favourite sex position?
The clue is in the mail.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Incarcerated Moon


sound traces back spaces after
silences dust lost escape

dreams dreaming of each other
eternally cremated in stars

smoke folds around skull passages
parting through a crack possessing lands

language describes itself as wood strips
fluttering reflection upon nothing

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Laboured love songs


"Don't Tell Her I Bought a Vibrating Tanning Bed"

"I'm Addicted to the Smell of Your Poppy on Remembrance Day"

"Stuck in a Loveless Leaf Blower"

"Ever Since Our Orangutan Committed Suicide in a Guillotine"

"Little Miss Mountain Drudge"

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Rinta-Perälä badgers himself romantically


What kind of music do you like?
Music that makes me jizz in your back pocket.

What affectionate nicknames would you use?
Sigismund of lovemaking. Pharaoh Dicklips.

Let's hear your best pick up line.
Alkaisitko korjaamaan puhelinpylväitä että saataisiin nuo housut perseestä halki.

Your sexual orientation?
Straight as Saint Anthony's jangle stick.

What kind of lover are you?
Duly blundering.

What sort of things would you say in bed?
You're the cream in my bureaucracy. Pardon my frog spawn breath. Being with you is like cleaning a fridge.

How do you keep your relationship fresh?
Shit references. You're a steaming pile of hot number.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Kasvo - Face


Wax crayon. Rinta-Perälä, 2014.

Unityttö - Dream Girl


Eyeliner. Rinta-Perälä, 2009.
From Shinya Tsukamoto's Tetsuo.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Rinta-Perälä attempts to sing Mystery Train backwards


Do you know any last words of your relatives?
The last words of my paternal grandmother were "put your cock away, Your Sultanic Highness."

You really are a big wanker, aren't you?
I have intellectual wanks. You take a book, let's say, by Maya Angelou, open it and place it comfortably around your fur-clad freedom fighter.

What does your name even mean?
Rinta means chest or front, Perä means rear or back. Perälä is my home village. It's a real bender of a name. My first name, Tero, is the same as Terry from Terence or Terentius.

Any plans for the future?
Even juster browsing. Some riss-daddle now and then. Not too much nib gibbling.

Who will win World War III?
Fairies.

I am the first consciousness of chaos






German expressionism

Otto Dix
Emil Nolde
Friedrich Karl Gotsch
Walter Gramatte
Edmund Kesting
Walter Jacob
Käthe Kollwitz
Otto Lange
Christian Rohlfs
Otto Schubert
Adolf Uzarski

The Haunted Screen

Monday, January 6, 2014

Biddings for the underground playboy


Smell like power and wash your ass for glory

Kindly bestiality is the mark of a great beast

Only eat paper when you go to church

Commemorate convenient life forms with a vengeance

Pray for better blasphemy

Friday, January 3, 2014

Technical questions


Is it vulgar to shine your boots on a vulva?

Is it reasonable to have fear of hell as part of dove training?

Is smuggling Scandinavian treats considered boring?

Is it possible to ride a bull naked and let the horns tickle your belly?

How aggressive do you have to be to choke a worm?

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

The Great God Pan - Xélucha


The Great God Pan by Arthur Machen, Xélucha by M. P. Shiel
Illustrated by Austin Osman Spare. Creation Books 2012

"You are - you are Xélucha!" I shrieked; "voices now of thunder howl it within my consciousness - and by the holy God, Xélucha, though you blight me with the breath of the hell you are, I shall clasp you, living or damned -"

I rushed toward her. The word "Madman!" hissed as by the tongues of ten thousand serpents through the chamber, I heard; a belch of pestilent corruption puffed poisonous upon the putrid air; for a moment to my wildered eyes there seemed to rear itself, swelling high to the roof, a formless tower of ragged cloud, and before my projected arms had closed upon the very emptiness of insanity, I was tossed by the operation of some Behemoth potency far-circling backward to the utmost circumference of the oval, where, my head colliding, I fell, shocked, into insensibility.

M. P. Shiel: Xélucha