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The stuff of poetry  -ah those old days of coming back late on trains bit
drunk!!!!
Cheers Patrick 
Ps are you going to do it again soon -report back tp great Unka  P

-----Original Message-----
From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of kasper salonen
Sent: 20 January 2008 04:04
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: I just

I just had a miniature adventure.
I'd been drinking with my friend Johannes all evening; whiskey
(Tullamore Dew, the best in the world) & brandy (which my buddy had
won at work) & jaloviina (look it up).
I left Helsinki train station at 01:42. I had about 8 stations to go
through before arriving at my own, Rekola. a small, serene affair with
a bridge on one side & our house -- my current home -- on the other.
instead I slept through an additional 8 stations & ended up at a
station whose name translates rather directly to 'Blossom-castle'. it
wasn't anything like a castle. it was tiny & wet & frightening. the
wind was blowing harder than I'd ever remembered it blowing, & the two
small shelters (on opposite sides of the track) had walls that were
grilled & so kept the wind out very inefficiently. I waited at this
pitiful castle for an hour -- I hid under a bridge, among cobblestones
& dirty pillars, to escape from the wind. then I crept out & got on
the train (the time was 03:33) and traveled to the end of the line,
which was closer than my own destination in the opposite direction.
there I would wait for half an hour for the train to take me home. not
drunk enough to not be pissed off, but almost.

at that station, whose name translates rather directly as 'Kiln-hill',
I met a girl (my age, 21) who's name was Jasmin. she had a family with
4 brothers, & her parents wanted to give her a name that stood out. it
does, & I like it; though I didn't have the heart to tell her it felt
like a hooker's name. mainly because she didn't remind me of a hooker
at all; she was pretty, & young, but self-assured. she seemed to
appreciate the humour & fatedness of the night; she used public
transportation very seldom, but this was the second time she'd fallen
asleep on the train & zoomed (way) past her own intended stop. she
came to me, a little groggy, & asked me where she was -- we were. I
told her. she was talkative but not in the annoying, precocious way
some teenagers can be. she was delightful. I felt at ease talking to
her. her face was small & delicate, her hair was neatly tied back with
an orange bandana. she looked comfortable, with herself & otherwise.
we waited at the station for a moment, swearing & cursing our
dim-witted luck. then we boarded the train which left momentarily.

on the train we chatted. it was chatter, even though she wasn't
empty-headed (I associate chatter, chatting, with empty-headedness).
she hadn't gone to high school but to a trade school where she'd
studied to be a clothier. she didn't want to be a clothier, but a ...
I forget.

we drank corkfuls of my whiskey (Tullamore Dew, the best in the world)
& chatted. we woke a sleeping man, concerned that he would miss his
stop -- it was what she (& I) would have wished other passengers had
done to her (& me) when we'd nodded off. she'd nodded off for TWO
HOURS. she wondered at this.

I was to leave off at Rekola (from the swedish 'Räckhals', which
translates rather directly as 'craning neck'), one stop before
Koivukylä, 'Birch-village'. but she asked me, off-hand, if I'd like to
get off with her at the latter. I agreed. we stepped off, lit
cigarettes. we alked over a bridge where Jasmin told me she was going
in an opposite direction. she kissed me on the cheek -- I kissed her
on her cheek also, saying, "ranskalaisittain". (translated rather
directly as "as the french do it"). she laughed & left. I left. here I
am.

this is all true. it happened within the last 5 hours.
it was quite fun.
if this narrative was at all in the manner of K. Vonnegut, it's
because I've just re-read 'Slaughter-House 5'.

KS


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