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.

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Yeasayer – Sunrise