The Evening Shift Pt. 2

I am getting blisters on my hands from carrying this typewriter around everywhere.

Yesterday evening, since it was such a bright and sunny day, I decided that I should actually go out busking. I was afraid I might not have many customers since it's Sunday, but nice weather in Finland always lures people out of their homes. I realized I had run out of paper, having only one sheet left, and I needed to buy more. I went to Stockmann to stock up on paper, and ended up spending almost 12 euros on it. That's expensive! But I don't want to buy cheap, crap paper either, because presentation of my writing is as important as content in this case.

Then I went busking. Over at the restaurant, nothing happened for a great while.

I think evenings aren't as good for business. In the afternoon on a sunny day, people are more spontaneous and willing to put in some money for a random piece of writing. In the evenings, however, that spontaneity has disappeared, and people are more interested in their white wine spritzers or their beer or food or friends (the list goes on) than that gentle tick tock sound of my typewriter.

Regardless, I got some customers. A woman had her adorable son order a poem from me, so I made a poem about the boy, Raffaello. The boy gets two euros from his mother, spends it on candy and has a dream about a land made of candy only to wake up and find out its not real – but he still has his sweets. The poem itself was not as cheesy as the plot makes it seem.

The good thing about getting one customer is that it gives other people the guts to come ask for one. A girl came up and asked for a poem about love, but no one in particular. High cheesiness factor, but I dodged that by creating a voice doubtful of the point of the word "love," discussing how you don't need to say it, but you can show you love somebody in what you do.

The girl and her friend liked it so much that her friend ordered another: a poem about friendship. The poem I wrote was so bad, so cheesy. It is Hallmark card worthy. But with a prompt like "a poem about friendship," how am I supposed to avoid the obvious cliches? I would have tried to make the poem a bit edgier, describing, perhaps, the friendship of two ne'er-do-wells, but I think my customer was looking for cheese. Yuck.

Another girl told me to write a poem about her and her three friends. They call themselves the Seagulls because they're so lively and they love to party, etc. This was a fun poem to write, and the four friends loved it. Said it was "perfect." I think my final couplet rhymed "talk" with "squawk."

My final customer was a lady who asked me to write a poem for her boyfriend, Petri. It is his name day today (the day after I wrote the poem), so I did a little tribute to the name Peter, and its historical fame "from Peter Paul Rubens to Frampton's breed." I think I misspelled "Rubens" in the poem by adding an extra "e." They loved the poem.

No one paid extra tip, except the last lady (and I think that was more of a pity tip). But that's fine, because ya get what ya get. Weather's nice again today, so I'm gonna hit the terrace at Tori once again, but I am considering busking in front of the local contemporary art museum, Kiasma, in the future.

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The Smiths – William, It Was Really Nothing