Smoking is healthy: pt. 2

Text: John Westlund Art: Ushiri Stenberg Smoking is healthy part 1


Before I met Mr Downearth and Freddie, I didn’t know who I was. Life had changed for the worse and there wasn’t much I could do about it. Valerie left, the kids too, and they were never coming back. So I left too; ascended with my new friends.

In the first year, it felt like my flat was eating me alive. I was suffocating, like an indebted wretch thrown to the bottom of a deep, dark canal. ‘Who am I now?’ The question echoed through the empty space of my room, bouncing off the walls in an endless, erratic dance. Who am I, with my lack of presence? No longer a worker, no longer a father, barely a functioning man. A nobody.

In the midst of my despair, Mr Downearth appeared. I hadn’t spoken to the fellow in many years, but I vaguely remembered him from the days I spent at the library with my wife. I remembered his smile. His honest, unrelenting eyes. I remembered picking up his books just to put them back down and truth be told, I remembered my desire to stay away, because in his studies he was up to more than I could really bother to understand. I mean, why bother with all of that strange business if you have no reason to escape? Back then that was my one and only truth. But now, I need a new truth. The pining, red-eyed mess of a man I’ve become… he desperately needs something.

I stand in front of the smoky, bird-footed creature that used to be a man. When I lean down to take a closer look I notice the name tag attached to his robe reading “0001” in neat, black lettering. I turn to Professor Downearth who’s been observing me from a corner of the room.

– Is that him? I ask.

The professor nods. I turn back to the monster to greet him.

– It’s nice to meet you, Kane.

A subtle sound like a stifled laugh. I ignore it and continue:

– I’ve read about you. Can I ask you a few questions about yourself?


– Maybe about your wife? Valerie?

More silence. The professor steps in and puts his hand on my shoulder. He’s smiling, yet I can’t discern the expression on his face as he says:

– Now, what you’re trying to do is very interesting, but it’s no use. He doesn’t know who he is.

– Not at all? I reply.

– No.

– So he doesn’t even recognize you anymore?

– He does not, I’m afraid.

– Does that upset you, Professor Downearth?

For a second, his face seems to freeze. Then he smiles even wider.

– The results of the study have been positive, haven’t they? Trust me, there’s no reason to be upset.

As the professor swivels us around to exit the room, the smoke around 0001’s head seems to puff even thicker.


Text: Ushiri Stenberg Translation: John Westlund

If you don’t drink your coffee, the horse man will cut your face to pieces. Nobody wants their face cut off, especially not when you can influence the inner factors by slowly beating your head against a wall. The fractures you create makes it so that the horse man likely won’t appear. You want to avoid the horse man, do you not? He lives across the street in the entrance over there. Whatever you do, don’t peek through your keyhole at 1 o’clock in the night. He will most likely stand there. If he sees a ray of light he will strike and strike until your door is beaten down. Whatever happens next is anything but good, especially for the neighbours who will hear your shriek in the night. So come on, drink your coffee. Otherwise the horse man will guard your door every night, and the night it’s unlocked is the night you lose your face. The first stories of the horse man were told in the 17th century and can be found in the diary notes written by the former landowners of Häckeberga Castle. A heavily built man with a stooped back and a laugh like a neigh was seen near the water mill. That’s how the millkeeper told the story in the beginning of the 19th century. Shortly thereafter he hung himself in the barn. In 1932 the stables were ravaged by fire as two children disappeared from the village. A few days later, a boy said he had seen the children sitting on the stooped back of a man who was playing with them and who sounded like a horse. They were headed for the water mill at nightfall.   /Ushiri

Udda (odd) music with Ushiri #1

This is my official youtube channel for my radioprogram ” Udda musik med Ushiri with selected odd music that I broadcasted from Fountain House, Malmö, Sweden, on the FM radio at 89,2mhz, . I also add in my own odd ideas on how I feel about it things with my sexy, slow whiskey voice. It contains many odd genre´s, just listen through this playlist and you get what I mean.

A short preview of what music it contains below

Carrot soup – Build your body with carrots

Text: Anna & Ushiri

In opposite to some people’s belief, meat protein isn’t really necessary when building muscels. There are seveal vegan athletes and body builders online…

today, to find the strenght to start this new site, we eat carrot soup.

Our opinions:

Ushiri: I feelt a strong urge to start infusing carrots in liquid form into my body since I feelt the taste was a bit weak and there for this seems like the most unlogical idea to get more carrot inside you 🙂

Anna: I like the texture with chunky bits of vegetables and cheese. The overall taste is a little bit anonymous but good anyhow…

Some months ago, Svenska Dagbladet also told about what good can come out of different carrot usages. If you have a scar for example, just put some carrot (like aloe vera) on it, and watch it heal. In all we give this Swedish carrotsoupfrom Felix 3 carrots in total.

If you have other recipes feel free to write to us 🙂

God wants you to make love to him.

Text: Juan Pablo Tupper Art: Ushiri

She-he, God-Goddess, as consciousness itself, has not only waited since time immemorial to have a body capable of experiencing pleasure, a body through which he-she can incarnate the supreme orgasm of creation. In this aeon-long wait, she-he waited to have a mind that can make love to her, to him. Isn’t it what art actually is, the human mind, this small parcel of the divine mind, making love to God himself when being creative? It is copulation of cosmic forces, the yin penetrated by the yang, and yes indeed, the yang, in what it has of yin, being penetrated by what of yang there is in the yin. A yang ectoplasm ejaculation fertilising the yin ectoplasm, both part on one universal mind, we call “God”. It is also an epic masturbation.

The divine masturbation of God, through our minds having sex with his own self, which is not he nor she, and also is he and she at the same time. How have we ended up denying God theirself the pleasure they conceived as the ultimate earthly gift to us? We have moralised sex. We have commercialised and standardised art. We have, in other words, repressed God’s sexuality. Sin is not to fornicate but to abstain from fornication. Sin is to deny the body and sin is to desecrate the quill writing bibles. Sin is to aspire to achieve fame and to mechanise the magic intercourse, instead of letting ourselves be possessed by a frenzy of ethereal magma, flowing explosively through us, and to let it create through us what we fear to create. God wants you back in the church. Not the Catholic or orthodox, the synagogue or mosque.

Not the ashram or the crack-pothippy-guru’s sect. God, the ultimate she, the ultimate he, wants to hear the temples erected in his name trembling  and vibrating with the moaning of creation. He wants an immoral soma to replace the wine. A soma equally forbidden replaces the bread. Isn’t the wine in any case the fruition of the fornication of the grapevine? And the bread that of the wheat? Claim back those gorgeous architectural works of art, built by unaware libertines like you, away from the claws of “institutions” and bring them to the life they deserve.

Turn them into the bridal bed where an endless orgy honours God’s sinless debauchery. Turn the physical church into the archetypal church, that one hidden in the depths of your soul. Open the portal to the womb of the collective unconscious where nothing is sin and all is permitted. Be fornication, be art. Be art, be philosophy… be what you will to be, but be! Return to the temple, I command thee! Undress! Copulate! It is God’s will, written in your

body, written in your mind.
Written in the air. The most delicious
pheromones, craving to inebriate you
oblivious, the ink. Abandon your
sinful waysand just… be!

Finnish Cargames – Review

Text & Art: Ushiri Stenberg

Flatout awesome!

When you are talking about cars in you usally hear about different things like engine power and how many miles it has driven and if the AC system is good and about bla bla bla and about the catalysing power of the riddlefilterring possibilities in the blobbpipelines and the thermal dipps in can do in 15 megswoosh.

I cant fathom how all that crap can be of any direct interest more than it’s cool to use one when you want to travel somewhere. If I want to have fun in cars then I play computer games where I can crash cars.

In the Finnish developed Flatout 2 which is an extremely good racing game on filthy roads all over the planet and industrial areas where more than 6000 objects fly all over the road when you driver around and you an crash into planks and all sort of rubble like bus stops and drive through windows in small restaurants and destroy all furniture just because you wanted to take a shortcut. All of this with epic grunge music slamming in the background with songs like ” I’m feeling dead inside” with a most broken male voice that has been drinking too much vodka and sand. Most of the cars are also extremely crappy, sexy and rusty mixed together.

But if you prefer more cool looking sports cars those are also available. My point is; how can you be so anal about the inside of a car, of course because you have a deep interest in it, Personally I always thought it was a sort of weak penis enlarger thing. I guess it’s the same if you are an outsider to some sort of music and just go ” Oh I hate hard rock” when it actually is Terrorcore (which is a niche genré in techno) that you hear. One person asked me one time what kind of car I would like to buy, I answered – “A yellow car” J.

Thanks Mimpo for showing me this game 😀

I give it 5 of 5 carrots, Available for: PC, Xbox360,Xbox,PSP,PS2

Gamereview: Flatout 2 carrotScore: 5/5

Worst vacumcleaner memory

Text: Alexander Strinder & Art: Ushiri

This happened in the 80’s when we still had landline telephony. It was Sunday and I would, as usual, vacuum my apartment for it to be clean and nice during the week. I put on the vacuum cleaner and it started to hum. I’ve always wondered why a vacuum cleaner must sound like an airplane engine every time you clean. Therefore, initially I did not hear that the phone rang. I thought it had probably rung a couple of signals already, so I’d have to hurry to answer before they hung up on the other end. Admittedly, I had an answering machine, but I was curious by nature and wondered who it was, calling on a Sunday afternoon.

I turned the vacuum cleaner off, put away the vacuum cleaner nozzle and directed myself to go towards the phone. In my eagerness to catch up to the phone, I happened to trip over the vacuum cleaner and fell forward, while I managed to step on my big toe. It hurt immensely and I couldn’t stand on my foot. Now I understood that it is the big toe that allows the foot to keep the balance, and if you cannot support the big toe you have to walk on your heel.

I called the hospital and they told me that I’d probably broken my toe. Unfortunately, it is not possible to plaster the big toe, as it must heal itself while walking on the heel. I also couldn’t call in sick due to a broken big toe, so I had to hobble to my job in the video store. Sometimes I stumbled on the heel and ended up on the big toe, which hurt immensely. It felt like someone hit the toe with a hammer, with full force. Since that day, I have full respect for the vacuum cleaner and therefore still have an unbroken big toe. Who was calling me on that Sunday? I don’t remember.