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

But 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.

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Foals – Heavy Water