I'm not going busking today because it's PISSING rain. This storm is nuts! It's raining like I haven't seen in a long time, with thunder that lasts a full 20 seconds and blindingly bright lightning. Cleansing the dirty streets of Helsinki...
Since I'm not busking, I don't have much to update on, though I did stop by and meet that dude who ordered the poem a few days back. He said he was at Crush Cocktail and Lounge Bar, across from Tavastia, where I'll be seeing A Place To Bury Strangers play tonight.
When I got there, he came out to meet me. "Man, I've been here since 10 a.m.," he said.
"Oh? Do you work here?" I asked.
"Well, I own the place."
"Oh, ok."
He tipped me for the poem and offered me a coffee/drink. I hung around for a bit. An older woman turned to me and said, "You must be a native English speaker. Are you?" to which I, of course, answered that I am. She read my poem and said that no Finnish person can write a poem in English like that unless they did really, really well in school. She and I started talking and she was pretty cool. Turns out she's an English teacher (and her accent indicates that she's originally from the UK). She's also the mother of the guy who ordered the poem from me...I think.
Robert, the dude who ordered the poem, said that I am welcome to come back for a drink at Crush anytime. Maybe I'll take him up on that offer.
It's my dad's last night in Finland, so I'm going to brave the rain and go meet him for a bit. Then I'm going to some event called "A Contract With The Devil," presented by Helsinki10 Concept Store and Anti Sweden. Jeans launch party/swaparoo? The after party is the concert at Tavastia, also featuring Dead Combo.
Christ. Going out in Helsinki is so damn expensive!
31 July 2009
30 July 2009
Flower Power
So today was a funny day. Not particularly profitable, but every little bit helps. I had no customers for ages, so I decided to write something – anything – to make my typewriter useful. And to intrigue people with the occasional ding and whirrrr of my machine.
I ended up typing out this really weird dream I had the other night. It's a funky piece of writing, reflecting my funky dream. Let me just say, this one dream includes a white bat and Jimmy Fallon. I don't know what that means either.
A guy approached me after a while and talked to me for a bit. I think he was trying to hit on me, which was a bit weird. He had me listen to his mp3 player, and he read the story about my dream, and then he asked, "If I give you flowers, will you write a poem for me?" I was hesitant, because I didn't want to encourage bartering since I do need money. Because of this he said, "Oh well I'll just give you the flowers anyway." At which point, I said I'd write a poem for him for the flowers (because I'd feel like a total douchebag if he gave me flowers and I didn't do anything in return). To be fair, I did see his wallet and it was completely empty. But it was strange that the dude leaned over and hugged me (him standing, me sitting) when he gave the flowers to me. They were wilting a bit, but still lovely.
My dear David (the typewriter's name) with the flowers
But right after him, I got some customers, with actual cash, so I decided to do their poems. The first was a girl who purchased a poem for her childhood and lifelong friend who just had a birthday. It was a cheesy poem – nothing I'm proud of. She tipped and walked away with a smile.
Another girl came up and asked for a poem about anything. I tried to convince her to give me a topic, but she just said, "Write about whatever is on your mind." Coincidentally, my mind was on my mind, since I have had some very strange dreams recently. I wrote a poem called (surprise) "State of Mind." I copied it into my journal since it was one of the only poems I have written on the street that is not about another person. I would reprint it here but, seriously, my poetry is crap. I think it seems better here since English is not their native language, so sing-songy rhymes are A-OK. She was nice and, even though she said she was poor herself, she tipped me well because she said she loved my idea so much.
I also ended up writing that poem for the guy who called back. I'll meet up with him tomorrow to make the exchange.
The workers at Tori were great today, too. They brought me peas in the pod (a popular street buy in Helsinki) and they were more than willing to accommodate my needs. I told Fredi, a big shot at the restaurant, that I wanted to write something special for them since they have been so good to me. I told him to think of something for a few days, and that I didn't want to write a poem because my poems are cheesy. I much prefer my stories, and you should too. He smiled and said they could put it on the home page for the Web site. That would be cool.
I ended up typing out this really weird dream I had the other night. It's a funky piece of writing, reflecting my funky dream. Let me just say, this one dream includes a white bat and Jimmy Fallon. I don't know what that means either.
A guy approached me after a while and talked to me for a bit. I think he was trying to hit on me, which was a bit weird. He had me listen to his mp3 player, and he read the story about my dream, and then he asked, "If I give you flowers, will you write a poem for me?" I was hesitant, because I didn't want to encourage bartering since I do need money. Because of this he said, "Oh well I'll just give you the flowers anyway." At which point, I said I'd write a poem for him for the flowers (because I'd feel like a total douchebag if he gave me flowers and I didn't do anything in return). To be fair, I did see his wallet and it was completely empty. But it was strange that the dude leaned over and hugged me (him standing, me sitting) when he gave the flowers to me. They were wilting a bit, but still lovely.
My dear David (the typewriter's name) with the flowersAnother girl came up and asked for a poem about anything. I tried to convince her to give me a topic, but she just said, "Write about whatever is on your mind." Coincidentally, my mind was on my mind, since I have had some very strange dreams recently. I wrote a poem called (surprise) "State of Mind." I copied it into my journal since it was one of the only poems I have written on the street that is not about another person. I would reprint it here but, seriously, my poetry is crap. I think it seems better here since English is not their native language, so sing-songy rhymes are A-OK. She was nice and, even though she said she was poor herself, she tipped me well because she said she loved my idea so much.
I also ended up writing that poem for the guy who called back. I'll meet up with him tomorrow to make the exchange.
The workers at Tori were great today, too. They brought me peas in the pod (a popular street buy in Helsinki) and they were more than willing to accommodate my needs. I told Fredi, a big shot at the restaurant, that I wanted to write something special for them since they have been so good to me. I told him to think of something for a few days, and that I didn't want to write a poem because my poems are cheesy. I much prefer my stories, and you should too. He smiled and said they could put it on the home page for the Web site. That would be cool.
Dwindling
I have gone busking three times since my lucky day. Those days were not so lucky. In those three days, I made less than 1/10 of what I made on the millionaire day.
On Sunday, I had two customers. One was a love poem for a woman named Anu, purchased by a guy who was just very intrigued by my "business". The second was another love-ish poem. A guy asked me to write a poem for his girlfriend whom he hadn't seen for months because she went to her home in India for a while. I wasn't very happy with the stuff I wrote that day – all pretty cliché lines. The only thing I liked, really, (which is still pretty silly) is that I titled the poem for the Indian girl "The Jewel of My Crown". Get it? Geeeet it?
I did get a discount on dinner, though. And the restaurant gave me a small bowl of strawberries and whipped cream again, which is so delightful. Another guy approached me and said he thinks what I'm doing is great and asked how often I'm there. He said he's going to think of a good prompt and come back one day.
I didn't go busking on Monday because, instead, I went to go check out an apartment for my brother who will be moving to Helsinki in just over two weeks. He's going to University of Helsinki for his graduate degree, so cheers to that!
Tuesday, I got three orders. First, a girl asked for a poem for her friend who was having a hard time in life at the moment. I compared hard times with bad weather, with the idea that just like bad weather, bad times will pass. Then, a guy ordered a poem for his Scottish friend who had fallen for a Finnish girl, for the guy to give to her. He was in a rush, so he left before I finished the poem, but asked for my number so he could pick it up the next day. I stopped writing the poem assuming that he wouldn't call to retrieve the poem. He did call, and I have yet to write it. Shit. I need to write it, call him back, and somehow get it to him.
My last customer was a guy who had purchased a story early on in my busking career, the one who had just come from therapy. He ordered two stories, one about himself and one about the lady he was with. Apparently, the chick he was with is one of the best billiards players in Finland. I wrote a story inspired by an episode of The Ellen DeGeneres show (no joke). A kid inventor wanted an air hockey table, or something like that, but his mom said he couldn't fit it in his room. It was either that, or the bed. So the kid devised a piece of furniture that encompassed both. He could just flip the bed over and, hooray!, there's the game table. The story I wrote is basically about that, but with this lady doing it.
And yesterday, I went busking and, once again, made absolutely no money. Awesome. Luckily, my parents are in town so they came to Ravintola Tori and ended up buying dinner for me. The money that I made in those three days didn't last long either. I spent most of it on drinks at the New York Dolls concert I went to last night. (At least I got into the concert for free, thanks to a friend.)
New York Dolls live at Virgin Oil, Helsinki
On Sunday, I had two customers. One was a love poem for a woman named Anu, purchased by a guy who was just very intrigued by my "business". The second was another love-ish poem. A guy asked me to write a poem for his girlfriend whom he hadn't seen for months because she went to her home in India for a while. I wasn't very happy with the stuff I wrote that day – all pretty cliché lines. The only thing I liked, really, (which is still pretty silly) is that I titled the poem for the Indian girl "The Jewel of My Crown". Get it? Geeeet it?
I did get a discount on dinner, though. And the restaurant gave me a small bowl of strawberries and whipped cream again, which is so delightful. Another guy approached me and said he thinks what I'm doing is great and asked how often I'm there. He said he's going to think of a good prompt and come back one day.
I didn't go busking on Monday because, instead, I went to go check out an apartment for my brother who will be moving to Helsinki in just over two weeks. He's going to University of Helsinki for his graduate degree, so cheers to that!
Tuesday, I got three orders. First, a girl asked for a poem for her friend who was having a hard time in life at the moment. I compared hard times with bad weather, with the idea that just like bad weather, bad times will pass. Then, a guy ordered a poem for his Scottish friend who had fallen for a Finnish girl, for the guy to give to her. He was in a rush, so he left before I finished the poem, but asked for my number so he could pick it up the next day. I stopped writing the poem assuming that he wouldn't call to retrieve the poem. He did call, and I have yet to write it. Shit. I need to write it, call him back, and somehow get it to him.
My last customer was a guy who had purchased a story early on in my busking career, the one who had just come from therapy. He ordered two stories, one about himself and one about the lady he was with. Apparently, the chick he was with is one of the best billiards players in Finland. I wrote a story inspired by an episode of The Ellen DeGeneres show (no joke). A kid inventor wanted an air hockey table, or something like that, but his mom said he couldn't fit it in his room. It was either that, or the bed. So the kid devised a piece of furniture that encompassed both. He could just flip the bed over and, hooray!, there's the game table. The story I wrote is basically about that, but with this lady doing it.
And yesterday, I went busking and, once again, made absolutely no money. Awesome. Luckily, my parents are in town so they came to Ravintola Tori and ended up buying dinner for me. The money that I made in those three days didn't last long either. I spent most of it on drinks at the New York Dolls concert I went to last night. (At least I got into the concert for free, thanks to a friend.)
New York Dolls live at Virgin Oil, HelsinkiBut I'm not going to get discouraged. Busking is still incredibly enjoyable. And the free time I have in between customers allows me to do other things, like work on the book I started for the millionaire. Or write stories for friends. Or myself.
One recent story I'm quite proud of is entitled "The Fox and The Frenchie," which I wrote for my friend Chris, in London, who housed me in his squatter's mansion. A fox sneaks into the mansion and cleans himself up. The best part is when the man discovers the fox and says, "Merde! What's all this?" to which the fox replies something like, "I would have told you, but judging by your initial reaction to me, I didn't think you'd approve." It's probably funnier in context. Then the Frenchie compliments the fox's suit and they become friends. (Oh, how silly.)
I guess I'll go busking now.
One recent story I'm quite proud of is entitled "The Fox and The Frenchie," which I wrote for my friend Chris, in London, who housed me in his squatter's mansion. A fox sneaks into the mansion and cleans himself up. The best part is when the man discovers the fox and says, "Merde! What's all this?" to which the fox replies something like, "I would have told you, but judging by your initial reaction to me, I didn't think you'd approve." It's probably funnier in context. Then the Frenchie compliments the fox's suit and they become friends. (Oh, how silly.)
I guess I'll go busking now.
27 July 2009
Trying my luck, getting lucky
Yes, it's amazing story time.
I went busking Saturday evening, for the first time in ages. (Friday was rainy, after all, so I never got the chance to go.) But Saturday. Yes.
Within five minutes of sitting down and setting up, the kitchen at Ravintola Tori had already sent me a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream. They're so good to me! While eating the delicious dish, I wrote out a story for one of the boys from the band Foals. I have decided to write a story about each band member, all completely fictional, and then I will mail the bite-size bits to the fellas. I started with a story about Walter, pouring ketchup onto a plate. (That was a given prompt, by the way.)
Foals & friend with joke respiratory masks, Oxford
Soon after that, I got my first customer: a man who spoke fluent Finnish but wasn't from Funland. He parked his bike and stood there thinking of a topic while his two gorgeous children looked pensively at their pensive father. He ordered a story about the dualism in life that eats away at a person. I wrote about the "live to work or work to live" dilemma.
Then nothing for a while. An American author whom I met while hanging out with Lilu came and sat down next to me. He used to work for the New York Times and the Financial Times, so this guy is a pretty experienced writer, I’d say. I had him read the Foals story for Walter, and another one I had written. He liked both. He’s writing a book about the Winter War, and had me read a chapter and – believe it or not – it was fucking hilarious. It was well written, visual, and there were lovely bits of comic relief. That’s the kind of thing I need in a historical account of war. He’ll be finishing the book this week.
Across the terrace, but still within earshot, a man called out to me. He was with a gang of folks, all pretty tough-looking. The woman looked like Posh Spice and the men looked like badass thugs. This guy (whose muscles were like glistening mounds of meat on his arms, decorated with tattoos) caught my attention. He asked me what I was doing. I started messing with the guy, and being a bit of a prick, actually. He asked me to come to his table so he could give me a topic for a poem.
“Nope,” I said. “This is my office, so you come to me.” (I’m such an asshole, but it’s a good thing I gave the guy a little trouble, I think.)
He said he’d give me a good tip if I came over there and, necessity overcoming pride, I succumbed. He tipped me very well, basically the standard awesome tip. (Being so vague is really frustrating.)
The topic was awesome; he has a daughter in Stockholm whom he rarely sees and he just wanted me to write a poem for her telling her how much he loves and misses her. Really touching, in fact. I wrote the poem, with a few distractions on the way. He became impatient.
When it was done, I delivered it to his table. He made me sit next to him while he read it, and then when he had, he hugged me. He said it was perfect. He was really thankful. I went back to my post and began to ponder about what had just happened. I judged him and gave him a hard time, and he gave me one of the most heartfelt topics for a poem. I was exhibiting necklaces made by Nina Ristimäki (my cousin’s wife), and decided that I could give him one for free, as another present to his daughter.
I called him over and said, “You know, I just think it was so sweet that you got that poem for your daughter. Take a necklace for her as well.”
He was clearly taken aback. He sat down next to me and told me that he would buy the necklace. I said, “No, no, no…please accept it as a present.”
He said he would accept the free necklace, but that he wanted to give me some money anyway. He was so amazed at my offer – which was, honestly, just a simple act of kindness. He pulled out a bill that, erm, shit. How do I put this into perspective? This one bill was worth more than I have ever made in one day of busking. That, on top of his initial tip, is more than twice what I usually make in a day. I refused the generosity and said that he cannot possibly consider giving me so much money. I told him I was happy to give him the necklace for free, etc, etc. He insisted.
I was blown away. What the fuck just happened? I decided to write the guy another poem to show my gratitude. When I delivered it, he handed me two more of those shockingly valuable bills. I refused once again and told him I cannot accept his money when I did nothing to deserve it. I put the money under his drink glass and ran back to my post. He walked up to me, dropped the two flaps of paper into my purse and told me he would be back in two weeks.
At one point in conversation, he offered me 2,000 euros to write a movie script. I giggled it off. He wanted me to write him a book. I think I might.
A friend at the restaurant (reacting to my gaping mouth) asked what happened. I told him, and he said he thinks the man is the owner of a hockey team here in Finland, or at least used to be. At home, my cousin’s wife did some investigating and turns out the customer that I had initially slagged off is some Finnish millionaire, worth hundreds of millions of euros. Talk about luck.
Can you imagine being so rich that you can just tip a busker with 50-euro bills (PLURAL)? I'm not that rich, but I'm glad I met a guy who is.
I went busking Saturday evening, for the first time in ages. (Friday was rainy, after all, so I never got the chance to go.) But Saturday. Yes.
Within five minutes of sitting down and setting up, the kitchen at Ravintola Tori had already sent me a bowl of strawberries and whipped cream. They're so good to me! While eating the delicious dish, I wrote out a story for one of the boys from the band Foals. I have decided to write a story about each band member, all completely fictional, and then I will mail the bite-size bits to the fellas. I started with a story about Walter, pouring ketchup onto a plate. (That was a given prompt, by the way.)
Foals & friend with joke respiratory masks, OxfordThen nothing for a while. An American author whom I met while hanging out with Lilu came and sat down next to me. He used to work for the New York Times and the Financial Times, so this guy is a pretty experienced writer, I’d say. I had him read the Foals story for Walter, and another one I had written. He liked both. He’s writing a book about the Winter War, and had me read a chapter and – believe it or not – it was fucking hilarious. It was well written, visual, and there were lovely bits of comic relief. That’s the kind of thing I need in a historical account of war. He’ll be finishing the book this week.
Across the terrace, but still within earshot, a man called out to me. He was with a gang of folks, all pretty tough-looking. The woman looked like Posh Spice and the men looked like badass thugs. This guy (whose muscles were like glistening mounds of meat on his arms, decorated with tattoos) caught my attention. He asked me what I was doing. I started messing with the guy, and being a bit of a prick, actually. He asked me to come to his table so he could give me a topic for a poem.
“Nope,” I said. “This is my office, so you come to me.” (I’m such an asshole, but it’s a good thing I gave the guy a little trouble, I think.)
He said he’d give me a good tip if I came over there and, necessity overcoming pride, I succumbed. He tipped me very well, basically the standard awesome tip. (Being so vague is really frustrating.)
The topic was awesome; he has a daughter in Stockholm whom he rarely sees and he just wanted me to write a poem for her telling her how much he loves and misses her. Really touching, in fact. I wrote the poem, with a few distractions on the way. He became impatient.
When it was done, I delivered it to his table. He made me sit next to him while he read it, and then when he had, he hugged me. He said it was perfect. He was really thankful. I went back to my post and began to ponder about what had just happened. I judged him and gave him a hard time, and he gave me one of the most heartfelt topics for a poem. I was exhibiting necklaces made by Nina Ristimäki (my cousin’s wife), and decided that I could give him one for free, as another present to his daughter.
I called him over and said, “You know, I just think it was so sweet that you got that poem for your daughter. Take a necklace for her as well.”
He was clearly taken aback. He sat down next to me and told me that he would buy the necklace. I said, “No, no, no…please accept it as a present.”
He said he would accept the free necklace, but that he wanted to give me some money anyway. He was so amazed at my offer – which was, honestly, just a simple act of kindness. He pulled out a bill that, erm, shit. How do I put this into perspective? This one bill was worth more than I have ever made in one day of busking. That, on top of his initial tip, is more than twice what I usually make in a day. I refused the generosity and said that he cannot possibly consider giving me so much money. I told him I was happy to give him the necklace for free, etc, etc. He insisted.
I was blown away. What the fuck just happened? I decided to write the guy another poem to show my gratitude. When I delivered it, he handed me two more of those shockingly valuable bills. I refused once again and told him I cannot accept his money when I did nothing to deserve it. I put the money under his drink glass and ran back to my post. He walked up to me, dropped the two flaps of paper into my purse and told me he would be back in two weeks.
At one point in conversation, he offered me 2,000 euros to write a movie script. I giggled it off. He wanted me to write him a book. I think I might.
A friend at the restaurant (reacting to my gaping mouth) asked what happened. I told him, and he said he thinks the man is the owner of a hockey team here in Finland, or at least used to be. At home, my cousin’s wife did some investigating and turns out the customer that I had initially slagged off is some Finnish millionaire, worth hundreds of millions of euros. Talk about luck.
Can you imagine being so rich that you can just tip a busker with 50-euro bills (PLURAL)? I'm not that rich, but I'm glad I met a guy who is.
25 July 2009
OMG OMG OMG
I HAVE THE BEST STORY TO TELL YOU GUYS AND I WILL WRITE ABOUT IT SOON BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE TIME RIGHT NOW. HOLY HELL THIS IS GOOD I PROMISE.
24 July 2009
Missing in Action
Sorry I have MIA for most of July. As I mentioned earlier, I went to the UK, and I just spent most of this week at my family's rented mökki (cabin) in the Finnish countryside, sans Internet. But now that I am back to civilization, I intend to launch back into busking for my last three weeks in Helsinki. This morning was gloomy, but the sun seems to be breaking through and the sky is blue; maybe it will be a nice day for busking. I'll go back to Ravintola Tori today!
Oh yeah, and that really vague bit about me not being able to busk until I knew the outcome of something . . . I thought I had swine flu (thanks to my visit to friends in Oxford) but it seems I don't. Yes! H1N1 safe!
Oh yeah, and that really vague bit about me not being able to busk until I knew the outcome of something . . . I thought I had swine flu (thanks to my visit to friends in Oxford) but it seems I don't. Yes! H1N1 safe!
17 July 2009
The Return
I am back in Helstinky and I had a fabulous time in England. There are lots of stories to tell, and some to keep to myself. But there's a problem now that I am back, and one that I'm keeping confidential until I know the story in full. And until I know the outcome, I won't be busking.
Shit shit shit, how am I going to make money?
Shit shit shit, how am I going to make money?
14 July 2009
06 July 2009
Pre-Blighty Busking
Can it be? My Internet is working? In short bursts, with low signal – but, hey, that's good news. Better than none at all!
I didn't go busking this weekend, and I didn't even make it to that music festival. Lame. It was bad weather, which is bad for business, and it makes me tired. And I realized I had been rather discontent with life and kinda cranky. I was stressed, and my life is hardly stressful here.
Then I realized it was because I hadn't been busking recently, and I missed it. (And last time I went busking, I didn't have any customers, which isn't that great either.) Today, even though I had tons to do, I promised myself that I would go busking at some point, no matter the weather or business.
I was running around town all day with my laptop (since Internet was out). Then I ran home, grabbed my typewriter and headed to Ravintola Tori, with my laptop still in my arms. That's a lot to carry. It was sunny, but quite cold today. When I got to Tori, the terrace was EMPTY. I figured I'd use their WiFi until some more people showed up.
The city is dead, though. For two reasons: 1) lots of people are on their vacation, so the city has calmed down all over, and 2) it was cold today!
My boss from last summer told me he was getting out of work and that he'd stop by and buy me a beer. He did, and it was nice. Then I sat down to busk. I also set out some necklaces that my cousin's wife made, to see if people were interested in buying.
I had nothing for ages. I was getting worried that maybe this busking thing won't fund my living. Maybe it's not worth the time I put into it (other than the enjoyment I get from it). I wrote for myself a bit, and that was fun. After what seemed like AAAAGES, some dude asked for a story about a bad Monday morning that turns good. It was a silly story, but he tipped well.
The first customer is always the ice-breaker! Another customer came up soon after and asked for a poem. She didn't know what she wanted it to be about, which is hard for me to work with, but I encouraged her to think of something. "What did you do last Saturday?" I asked. "Umm...I went to work, and drank wine, and um...went swimming in the sea. Write about the sea!" Ka-ching. A topic. I ended up writing this little poem about how she loves the sea, despite the fact that it's so dirty from kids peeing in it and "those Americans" who polluted it with tea. (Hell yeah, reference to the Boston Tea Party. What's up fifth grade history.) She liked it so much afterwards that she came back to give me more money.
Another girl at her table liked the poem, too, and came to order one about their day. She said she hadn't had a day off in ages, and that last night her friends had gotten wasted. This morning, some workers from Tori (who were hanging out with them) made them breakfast, and since there were so many people who had spent the night, they went to the market to buy five toothbrushes. Then it's like beach, ice cream, dinner, booze, blah blah blah. The last line ended with "One day free, Monday spree" or something. They liked that one too. The girl who ordered this poem also bought two necklaces, much to the delight of my cousin's wife. Best part is: I get a cut of the necklace sales. WOO!
Busking makes me happy. End of story.
P.S. Blighty = Britain, and this post is Pre-Blighty because I'm going to London tomorrow! I will not be busking there, so I'll have no busking updates for the next week. Just FYI.
I didn't go busking this weekend, and I didn't even make it to that music festival. Lame. It was bad weather, which is bad for business, and it makes me tired. And I realized I had been rather discontent with life and kinda cranky. I was stressed, and my life is hardly stressful here.
Then I realized it was because I hadn't been busking recently, and I missed it. (And last time I went busking, I didn't have any customers, which isn't that great either.) Today, even though I had tons to do, I promised myself that I would go busking at some point, no matter the weather or business.
I was running around town all day with my laptop (since Internet was out). Then I ran home, grabbed my typewriter and headed to Ravintola Tori, with my laptop still in my arms. That's a lot to carry. It was sunny, but quite cold today. When I got to Tori, the terrace was EMPTY. I figured I'd use their WiFi until some more people showed up.
The city is dead, though. For two reasons: 1) lots of people are on their vacation, so the city has calmed down all over, and 2) it was cold today!
My boss from last summer told me he was getting out of work and that he'd stop by and buy me a beer. He did, and it was nice. Then I sat down to busk. I also set out some necklaces that my cousin's wife made, to see if people were interested in buying.
I had nothing for ages. I was getting worried that maybe this busking thing won't fund my living. Maybe it's not worth the time I put into it (other than the enjoyment I get from it). I wrote for myself a bit, and that was fun. After what seemed like AAAAGES, some dude asked for a story about a bad Monday morning that turns good. It was a silly story, but he tipped well.
The first customer is always the ice-breaker! Another customer came up soon after and asked for a poem. She didn't know what she wanted it to be about, which is hard for me to work with, but I encouraged her to think of something. "What did you do last Saturday?" I asked. "Umm...I went to work, and drank wine, and um...went swimming in the sea. Write about the sea!" Ka-ching. A topic. I ended up writing this little poem about how she loves the sea, despite the fact that it's so dirty from kids peeing in it and "those Americans" who polluted it with tea. (Hell yeah, reference to the Boston Tea Party. What's up fifth grade history.) She liked it so much afterwards that she came back to give me more money.
Another girl at her table liked the poem, too, and came to order one about their day. She said she hadn't had a day off in ages, and that last night her friends had gotten wasted. This morning, some workers from Tori (who were hanging out with them) made them breakfast, and since there were so many people who had spent the night, they went to the market to buy five toothbrushes. Then it's like beach, ice cream, dinner, booze, blah blah blah. The last line ended with "One day free, Monday spree" or something. They liked that one too. The girl who ordered this poem also bought two necklaces, much to the delight of my cousin's wife. Best part is: I get a cut of the necklace sales. WOO!
Busking makes me happy. End of story.
P.S. Blighty = Britain, and this post is Pre-Blighty because I'm going to London tomorrow! I will not be busking there, so I'll have no busking updates for the next week. Just FYI.
04 July 2009
Photos
Since I know my blog is so text heavy (and it kind of has to be), here's a break, with a few photos of things I see in Helsinki:
Downtown Helsinki, near Kauppatori
The famous Havis Amanda
Juhannus (Midsummer) weekend, my cousin with the Finnish flag
Night (but still light) picnic
P.S. Yes, you can buy Brooklyn Brewery beers here
Night (but still light) picnic
A night out, a FINLANDIA vodka mirror
Some people doing capoeira behind Lasipalatsi
(Not a very effective "roda")
Downtown Helsinki, near Kauppatori
The famous Havis Amanda
Juhannus (Midsummer) weekend, my cousin with the Finnish flag
Night (but still light) picnicP.S. Yes, you can buy Brooklyn Brewery beers here
Night (but still light) picnic
A night out, a FINLANDIA vodka mirror
Some people doing capoeira behind Lasipalatsi(Not a very effective "roda")
All Luck Ran Out
The Internet went out in my apartment and, since I'm subletting, I have no idea how to contact somebody to fix it. I'm just hoping it miraculously comes back on its own. If not, I guess I will do my Web stuff daily at this fabulous place I'm sitting now, Korjaamo. It's this great little art gallery/cafe/restaurant/theater/bar/club/concert venue. (Not joking, it really is all those things.)
I discovered that my Internet was out yesterday morning and I was very irritated. I remembered that Ravintola Tori has WiFi and so I planned to go there. And since I was already heading that way, I thought I might as well grab my typewriter and get in some busking time, too.
I spent the afternoon working online, and people who recognize me from busking were startled to see me with a more advanced piece of technology, my MacBook. But it was a lot to lug over to the restaurant: my typewriter and the rest of my busking materials, my laptop and normal necessities. I must have looked crazy with all that stuff.
Around 6 p.m., I started busking. And this was the first day that I didn't get one customer. Not one! I was kind of irritated by that, but the time I spent sitting at my post was not wasted. My friend asked me to write a story which I hadn't started yet. It was supposed to be "sexy," and I never write things like that, I guess. It was weird, and it took me a while, because it was a bit longer than the normal things I write. It was nice, after all, because I was able to make some writing that will not disappear out of my hands and mind right after I finish it.
Today is sunny, but rather cold and windy. I'm debating whether or not I should go busking, and the answer is probably yes, I should. I do need the money, after all. Let's hope I have at least one good customer, if I do go.
I discovered that my Internet was out yesterday morning and I was very irritated. I remembered that Ravintola Tori has WiFi and so I planned to go there. And since I was already heading that way, I thought I might as well grab my typewriter and get in some busking time, too.
I spent the afternoon working online, and people who recognize me from busking were startled to see me with a more advanced piece of technology, my MacBook. But it was a lot to lug over to the restaurant: my typewriter and the rest of my busking materials, my laptop and normal necessities. I must have looked crazy with all that stuff.
Around 6 p.m., I started busking. And this was the first day that I didn't get one customer. Not one! I was kind of irritated by that, but the time I spent sitting at my post was not wasted. My friend asked me to write a story which I hadn't started yet. It was supposed to be "sexy," and I never write things like that, I guess. It was weird, and it took me a while, because it was a bit longer than the normal things I write. It was nice, after all, because I was able to make some writing that will not disappear out of my hands and mind right after I finish it.
Today is sunny, but rather cold and windy. I'm debating whether or not I should go busking, and the answer is probably yes, I should. I do need the money, after all. Let's hope I have at least one good customer, if I do go.
02 July 2009
Rain and Shine, Fucking Good Times (A much needed update) Pt. 2
(Continued from previous post)
Let's just say I had a slight ache that morning when I awoke to my phone ringing. Hangover, bad. Phone call, good. It was Lilu! She called to ask what had happened the day before, and she wanted to give me the subject for the next poem. "I know commissioned writings cost more," she said – which I imagine she said with a wink, even though I couldn't see it. It was a birthday poem about her friend whose motto, so-to-speak, is, "Champagne goes with everything I wear." Awesome motto. With the hangover, I knew I would not make it to busking until that evening.
I headed out to Tori at around 4:30 p.m., and intended to stay until maybe seven or eight. I had both poems ready for Lilu when she arrived, and she adored the birthday one. (I'll admit, the graduation poem wasn't as good as the birthday one.) She tipped me well and her friend also ordered a poem, this one for an American buddy, Bill. He's turning 71 and I had no idea what to write. I ended up using the name "Bill" as a hook, rhyming "Clinton" with "live on." Then I made some little references like "undiscover'd" land (which I used both for its syllables and its Shakespeare-ness, another "Bill" I mentioned in the hook).
I ordered a sandwich from Tori (one of the benefits of busking there). I usually get the cheapest one, and it's delicious every time. One of the managers from the restaurant gave the sandwich to me on the house. Am I becoming a staple of Tori? That's amazing.
Lilu offered to get me a glass of wine. I was going to turn it down but then I figured one glass wouldn't hurt. Hair of the dog? I went to their table, which was situated right next to my busking post, to thank them. They told me to sit down and so I did. We ended up having a great conversation, and they kept pouring wine for me. Then they ordered dinner for me! These women, who are about the age of my mother, are FABULOUS. They decided to "adopt" me, and their humor is surprisingly similar to mine. Quite crude, in fact – which I adore. Lilu also decided to become my "agent."
I wasn't sitting at my post, though my stuff was still set up, so I could tell people were curious as to who was supposed to be there. They didn't know it was me, so I wasn't doing much business, but I was having a hell of a time anyway. We were all getting a bit tipsy, and then Lilu turned to one young girl who was leaving and began talking with her. Why are you leaving? Well, I'm done eating. Don't you have an event coming up? Er...I guess. If so, BUY A POEM!
Lilu was marketing me! It was fantastic. She convinced the girl to buy a poem. The girl said her friend was coming to visit from the Netherlands and that they were very crazy and spontaneous together. They once hitchhiked to a carnival in costumes; this girl had been a bunny and her friend had been a sort of femme fatale. I called the poem "FF in Helsinki." The girl seemed rather doubtful about buying, but when she came back to pick up the poem, she actually dropped her jaw. She loved the poem I wrote, or maybe she's a good faker.
The view of Tori's terrace from where I sit (at a slow time)
Let's just say I had a slight ache that morning when I awoke to my phone ringing. Hangover, bad. Phone call, good. It was Lilu! She called to ask what had happened the day before, and she wanted to give me the subject for the next poem. "I know commissioned writings cost more," she said – which I imagine she said with a wink, even though I couldn't see it. It was a birthday poem about her friend whose motto, so-to-speak, is, "Champagne goes with everything I wear." Awesome motto. With the hangover, I knew I would not make it to busking until that evening.
I headed out to Tori at around 4:30 p.m., and intended to stay until maybe seven or eight. I had both poems ready for Lilu when she arrived, and she adored the birthday one. (I'll admit, the graduation poem wasn't as good as the birthday one.) She tipped me well and her friend also ordered a poem, this one for an American buddy, Bill. He's turning 71 and I had no idea what to write. I ended up using the name "Bill" as a hook, rhyming "Clinton" with "live on." Then I made some little references like "undiscover'd" land (which I used both for its syllables and its Shakespeare-ness, another "Bill" I mentioned in the hook).
I ordered a sandwich from Tori (one of the benefits of busking there). I usually get the cheapest one, and it's delicious every time. One of the managers from the restaurant gave the sandwich to me on the house. Am I becoming a staple of Tori? That's amazing.
Lilu offered to get me a glass of wine. I was going to turn it down but then I figured one glass wouldn't hurt. Hair of the dog? I went to their table, which was situated right next to my busking post, to thank them. They told me to sit down and so I did. We ended up having a great conversation, and they kept pouring wine for me. Then they ordered dinner for me! These women, who are about the age of my mother, are FABULOUS. They decided to "adopt" me, and their humor is surprisingly similar to mine. Quite crude, in fact – which I adore. Lilu also decided to become my "agent."
I wasn't sitting at my post, though my stuff was still set up, so I could tell people were curious as to who was supposed to be there. They didn't know it was me, so I wasn't doing much business, but I was having a hell of a time anyway. We were all getting a bit tipsy, and then Lilu turned to one young girl who was leaving and began talking with her. Why are you leaving? Well, I'm done eating. Don't you have an event coming up? Er...I guess. If so, BUY A POEM!
Lilu was marketing me! It was fantastic. She convinced the girl to buy a poem. The girl said her friend was coming to visit from the Netherlands and that they were very crazy and spontaneous together. They once hitchhiked to a carnival in costumes; this girl had been a bunny and her friend had been a sort of femme fatale. I called the poem "FF in Helsinki." The girl seemed rather doubtful about buying, but when she came back to pick up the poem, she actually dropped her jaw. She loved the poem I wrote, or maybe she's a good faker.
The view of Tori's terrace from where I sit (at a slow time)The American traveler from the night before decided to pay me a visit. (I told him where I'd be...) He stayed at Tori to have dinner and a beer.
Another girl who had seemed interested in my sign when I wasn't at my post came up to me immediately when she saw me sitting there and ordered a story about anything. I wrote about two artists who don't like clocks and they use the sun as their guide. One year, they spend the summer in Helsinki randomly (after spinning the globe). Since the sun is always up, the two men are lost in this timelessness and find themselves working at all hours because they are suddenly schedule-less. They come back to Helsinki the next summer.
After that, I went back to join Lilu's table. She kept introducing me to everyone she knows who strolled by. She always introduced me as someone who "will be famous someday." Lilu again tried to market one of my poems to two women, but they were more resistant. Lilu decided that she would buy a poem for the women instead. It was about how they rarely have moments like this (hanging out, just them two, at a cafe). They met because their husbands were friends and they sent their daughters to the same music school. I tried to tell Lilu that she didn't have to pay me for the poem, because she was being so glorious to me. She insisted on it.
I noticed the American guy was sitting alone, so I suggested that we move inside and join him. This was after maybe three or four bottles of wine split between us three ladies. Lilu's friend had left, and another one replaced that one. The ladies also bought the American dude's dinner and poured him wine.
Then Lilu asked about a man who was sitting alone. I had heard about this man. He's an American writer, mostly deaf, who comes to Tori everyday to write. Lilu and I went up to him. He told us that he's writing a book about the Winter War and that he's from New York. He worked for the New York Times and the Financial Times, and he developed a relationship with Finland when he went through a stage of reporting about small countries. Lilu invited him over for a glass of wine.
It was a riotous good time spent over, perhaps, five bottles of wine. (I think the employees at Tori were weirded out since they're not used to me being a "customer" as much.) And I ended up showing the American traveler around (meaning we went for more drinks elsewhere) since it was his last night in Helsinki.
And unfortunately, I haven't been out busking for the last two days. Wednesday morning, my cousin called me and asked if I would like to work for a day or two at his office. His coworker was swamped with work and they needed to lessen his load, so I was basically an extra set of hands (since the work didn't take too much thinking). It was great, because I'm getting paid for that, which means I might actually make rent this month!
I plan on going busking tomorrow, but I may not go this weekend, because I'm trying to go to a music festival called RuisRock in Turku, Finland. Let's hope I get to go!
I noticed the American guy was sitting alone, so I suggested that we move inside and join him. This was after maybe three or four bottles of wine split between us three ladies. Lilu's friend had left, and another one replaced that one. The ladies also bought the American dude's dinner and poured him wine.
Then Lilu asked about a man who was sitting alone. I had heard about this man. He's an American writer, mostly deaf, who comes to Tori everyday to write. Lilu and I went up to him. He told us that he's writing a book about the Winter War and that he's from New York. He worked for the New York Times and the Financial Times, and he developed a relationship with Finland when he went through a stage of reporting about small countries. Lilu invited him over for a glass of wine.
It was a riotous good time spent over, perhaps, five bottles of wine. (I think the employees at Tori were weirded out since they're not used to me being a "customer" as much.) And I ended up showing the American traveler around (meaning we went for more drinks elsewhere) since it was his last night in Helsinki.
And unfortunately, I haven't been out busking for the last two days. Wednesday morning, my cousin called me and asked if I would like to work for a day or two at his office. His coworker was swamped with work and they needed to lessen his load, so I was basically an extra set of hands (since the work didn't take too much thinking). It was great, because I'm getting paid for that, which means I might actually make rent this month!
I plan on going busking tomorrow, but I may not go this weekend, because I'm trying to go to a music festival called RuisRock in Turku, Finland. Let's hope I get to go!
Rain and Shine, Fucking Good Times (A much needed update)
Monday was another late afternoon/early evening busking day. And it wasn't my best.
When I arrived at Ravintola Tori, the woman who had purchased a poem from me on my first day, and then came back for another, was there. Considering that I will undoubtedly write about her in the future, her name is Lilu. Lilu is absolutely brilliant. She said she wanted to order two more poems from me, one about a kid who just graduated from high school in New York who is coming to Helsinki to celebrate. The other, she had not decided on its subject yet. She went to her office and said she'd be back in an hour. Then my friend Antti, another one of my customers from Day 1, stopped by with his friend. I was thinking about getting lunch since I hadn't eaten much since breakfast, so I packed up my stuff and took a break with Antti and his friend Pekka. Pekka ended up buying one of my ready-made stories, and after both guys left, I went back to sit down.
I sat there for a while with no customers and then, damnit, it started to sprinkle. I love the rain, and this wasn't even real rain. But I couldn't risk my paper and stuff getting wet if it started to rain more forcefully so after making very little money, I packed up and went home.
Lilu and I never exchanged the graduation poem I wrote, but I know she's my loyal customer, so I figured I'd run into her again. She said she did stop by at some point and I wasn't there. Unlucky. After I made it all the way home, the sun started shining full force again. Fuck. But I didn't want to go back out again, so I just decided to leave the day as it was.
I ended up going out for "one pint" with a friend, which never really means one drink. We met this American guy at the bar who was traveling the world alone and we showed him how you really do it in Helsinki; we stayed out until 5 a.m. reveling in Finland's endless sun and drinking until it's finally time to stumble home. This American traveler is relevant later on in the story, hence the introduction. I'll write the rest in another post, to break it up a bit. And it is a story about two different days, anyway.
Helsinki birds at 4:30 a.m. next to the 24-hour McDonald's
(Notice the French fry that the bird is about to snatch mid-air)
When I arrived at Ravintola Tori, the woman who had purchased a poem from me on my first day, and then came back for another, was there. Considering that I will undoubtedly write about her in the future, her name is Lilu. Lilu is absolutely brilliant. She said she wanted to order two more poems from me, one about a kid who just graduated from high school in New York who is coming to Helsinki to celebrate. The other, she had not decided on its subject yet. She went to her office and said she'd be back in an hour. Then my friend Antti, another one of my customers from Day 1, stopped by with his friend. I was thinking about getting lunch since I hadn't eaten much since breakfast, so I packed up my stuff and took a break with Antti and his friend Pekka. Pekka ended up buying one of my ready-made stories, and after both guys left, I went back to sit down.
I sat there for a while with no customers and then, damnit, it started to sprinkle. I love the rain, and this wasn't even real rain. But I couldn't risk my paper and stuff getting wet if it started to rain more forcefully so after making very little money, I packed up and went home.
Lilu and I never exchanged the graduation poem I wrote, but I know she's my loyal customer, so I figured I'd run into her again. She said she did stop by at some point and I wasn't there. Unlucky. After I made it all the way home, the sun started shining full force again. Fuck. But I didn't want to go back out again, so I just decided to leave the day as it was.
I ended up going out for "one pint" with a friend, which never really means one drink. We met this American guy at the bar who was traveling the world alone and we showed him how you really do it in Helsinki; we stayed out until 5 a.m. reveling in Finland's endless sun and drinking until it's finally time to stumble home. This American traveler is relevant later on in the story, hence the introduction. I'll write the rest in another post, to break it up a bit. And it is a story about two different days, anyway.
Helsinki birds at 4:30 a.m. next to the 24-hour McDonald's(Notice the French fry that the bird is about to snatch mid-air)
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