Check it out! OG Mack.
(Click on it to see a bigger version.)
15 August 2009
THIS IS HOW WE DO IT
The article written about me came out yesterday in Nyt.
Check it out! OG Mack.
(Click on it to see a bigger version.)
Check it out! OG Mack.
(Click on it to see a bigger version.)
14 August 2009
I guess I must be having fun
I'm in NYT today! It's not online, so I can't show y'all yet. But if they don't put the article up on the Web site, then I'll have to scan it in. It's funny, and it's in Finnish, so it won't make much sense to non-Finnish speakers. And Google Translate won't help you if I scan it in!
And it's nice and sunny – not rainy like I expected. Maybe I'll go busking for an hour? Then it's back to packing. Then to Flow Festival!
And it's nice and sunny – not rainy like I expected. Maybe I'll go busking for an hour? Then it's back to packing. Then to Flow Festival!
13 August 2009
OK OK, here we go
Below, find the details of Tuesday's busking adventure:
First thing, one woman got a necklace. I knew I recognized her from somewhere, and I later realized she's a waitress at Tori. Whoops.
I had no customers for a long time, so I got food. And there was this seagull that was aggressively trying to steal my food! It kept diving in at me, or trotting up. One of the waiters chased it away for me, as did my friend Jaakko. I finally finished my meal in peace.
With my free time, I wrote a story for this art project I'm doing with my friend Ashkahn. It's top secret until we get some stuff together, or maybe I'm just saying that. Nonetheless, he's a great artist/graphic designer/typographer/guy.
Then I found out that my meal from Tori was free. Thanks, Fredi!
Finally! I got an order for writing! A guy asked for a story, and didn't know what the topic should be. I made him pick something, and he said, "A man and a woman go to play tennis, and you decide what happens." What happens: Mr. Williams (a prominent art dealer) goes to his country club to play tennis with his girlfriend/arm candy, Charlotte. After the first game, Charlotte notices the ball boy doodling caricatures in the white lines of the court and threatens to report him for graffiti. Mr. Williams likes the art, and says he will make the boy famous. The next time Mr. Williams comes to play tennis at the country club, he's there with the ball-boy-turned-artist (who is now a valued member of the club)...and this time, Mr. Williams' arm candy is named Lucy.
Then a couple approached me and said that it was their two-year anniversary. They asked for a poem. I asked if they wanted it to be lovey-dovey (not in those words) or funny. They said mix the two. So I wrote what felt best. I delivered the poem to their table and watched for their reaction. The man read faster than the woman and gave me the thumbs up. The woman cried. About half an hour later, one of the waitresses carried out three glasses of champagne and said one was for me...from the couple. They clinked their glasses with eyes locked, and then they looked at me, and we three raised our champagne flutes in the air for a silent toast. I like getting tipped (extra) in champagne.
My last customer proves that the world is small, or at least that Helsinki is. She ordered a poem with the prompt "What it means to be born on a Thursday." I thought what I wrote was kind of cheesy, but she said she loved it. It was for her son, who is 19 and was originally born on a Thursday. She asked, "What's your name?"
"It's on the back of the poem."
"Wait...that's your name??"
"Yeah...?"
"I was your landlady last year!"
Haha, no shit. We had never met, only exchanged emails. We thought that was awesome.
Wednesday, it rained, so I didn't busk. But I did meet Lilu for a goodbye lunch. She's fantastic. And Wednesday night, I went to Helsinki's best bookstore, Arkadia Bookshop, for a finishing-of-book party. The author is that guy I have mentioned before, an American from New York who was writing (but is now finished with) a book about the Winter War. Gordon Sander. Check it out.
That bookshop is glorious, too. The owner, Ian, is such a delightful man, and he has a lovely British accent. He and I made a trade: I got one of the Arkadia tote bags in exchange for a story, which I will mail to him. He also gave me a book by Kingsley Amis, one of my favorite authors. If you’re ever in Helsinki, this is a must-see-stop. One of my favorite parts of the store is the color coordination of books. He sometimes has entirely orange bookshelves, or blue, or, in this case, one long strip of just red books.
Then I went home. And I started packing up. All of my wall decorations are now placed safely into containers for the long journey home to New York. Pretty soon all my books and clothes and everything else will be too.
First thing, one woman got a necklace. I knew I recognized her from somewhere, and I later realized she's a waitress at Tori. Whoops.
I had no customers for a long time, so I got food. And there was this seagull that was aggressively trying to steal my food! It kept diving in at me, or trotting up. One of the waiters chased it away for me, as did my friend Jaakko. I finally finished my meal in peace.
With my free time, I wrote a story for this art project I'm doing with my friend Ashkahn. It's top secret until we get some stuff together, or maybe I'm just saying that. Nonetheless, he's a great artist/graphic designer/typographer/guy.
Then I found out that my meal from Tori was free. Thanks, Fredi!
Finally! I got an order for writing! A guy asked for a story, and didn't know what the topic should be. I made him pick something, and he said, "A man and a woman go to play tennis, and you decide what happens." What happens: Mr. Williams (a prominent art dealer) goes to his country club to play tennis with his girlfriend/arm candy, Charlotte. After the first game, Charlotte notices the ball boy doodling caricatures in the white lines of the court and threatens to report him for graffiti. Mr. Williams likes the art, and says he will make the boy famous. The next time Mr. Williams comes to play tennis at the country club, he's there with the ball-boy-turned-artist (who is now a valued member of the club)...and this time, Mr. Williams' arm candy is named Lucy.
Then a couple approached me and said that it was their two-year anniversary. They asked for a poem. I asked if they wanted it to be lovey-dovey (not in those words) or funny. They said mix the two. So I wrote what felt best. I delivered the poem to their table and watched for their reaction. The man read faster than the woman and gave me the thumbs up. The woman cried. About half an hour later, one of the waitresses carried out three glasses of champagne and said one was for me...from the couple. They clinked their glasses with eyes locked, and then they looked at me, and we three raised our champagne flutes in the air for a silent toast. I like getting tipped (extra) in champagne.
My last customer proves that the world is small, or at least that Helsinki is. She ordered a poem with the prompt "What it means to be born on a Thursday." I thought what I wrote was kind of cheesy, but she said she loved it. It was for her son, who is 19 and was originally born on a Thursday. She asked, "What's your name?"
"It's on the back of the poem."
"Wait...that's your name??"
"Yeah...?"
"I was your landlady last year!"
Haha, no shit. We had never met, only exchanged emails. We thought that was awesome.
Wednesday, it rained, so I didn't busk. But I did meet Lilu for a goodbye lunch. She's fantastic. And Wednesday night, I went to Helsinki's best bookstore, Arkadia Bookshop, for a finishing-of-book party. The author is that guy I have mentioned before, an American from New York who was writing (but is now finished with) a book about the Winter War. Gordon Sander. Check it out.
That bookshop is glorious, too. The owner, Ian, is such a delightful man, and he has a lovely British accent. He and I made a trade: I got one of the Arkadia tote bags in exchange for a story, which I will mail to him. He also gave me a book by Kingsley Amis, one of my favorite authors. If you’re ever in Helsinki, this is a must-see-stop. One of my favorite parts of the store is the color coordination of books. He sometimes has entirely orange bookshelves, or blue, or, in this case, one long strip of just red books.
Then I went home. And I started packing up. All of my wall decorations are now placed safely into containers for the long journey home to New York. Pretty soon all my books and clothes and everything else will be too.
For next time...
I have great things to update about. But no time right now. Packing. Busking. Cleaning. Drinking.
Will today be my last day of busking? Or should I go tomorrow for a few hours just to see if the article actually encourages people to come?
In other news, Flow Festival starts tomorrow!
In other other news, I might stop in Stockholm for a day, if I can!
P.S. A photo from one of my busking sessions: Tori's delightful ice cream.
Will today be my last day of busking? Or should I go tomorrow for a few hours just to see if the article actually encourages people to come?
In other news, Flow Festival starts tomorrow!
In other other news, I might stop in Stockholm for a day, if I can!
P.S. A photo from one of my busking sessions: Tori's delightful ice cream.
###
11 August 2009
New Hampshire, Shanghai & Couch-surfing
I'm in a bad mood this afternoon, and busking while feeling bad isn't good. I can't pretend to be happy, and customers are more attracted to genuinely happy buskers! Maybe busking will make me happy again.
Yesterday wasn't great for business, but it was a good day nonetheless. I sat down and got absolutely no customers for the first two hours. I did, however, write my little thank you present for Ravintola Tori, since the people there have been so great to me. It was a fake complaint letter from a married middle-aged man (or so I imagined) named Wayne Peters, from New Hampshire, U.S.A. The man in the letter complains about the lack of variety in blanket colors, the expensive prices at Tori, the cute staff members who make married couples jealous, the "fancified" food, and, finally, me. Yup, the guy complains about me. It's more humorous in context, I bet. They said they will frame it and put it up in the resto, and perhaps even scan it and put it on the homepage of their Web site. Sweet!
Lots of free time, though. Finally, one of the waitresses, a cute British girl named Natalie, asked me for a story that would fit into this little frame. She wanted it to be about her, her presumed boyfriend, and their dog. What I wrote was rather cheesy, but I think she liked it. She tipped me well. (She also later ended up getting a necklace, too. She picked my favorite.)
An old lady came up to me and started looking at necklaces. She began to talk to me, and we kept switching between Finnish and English. She asked for a poem about anything, so I wrote a poem about, well, busking. Me busking. And only having one more week to do it. (In fact, I have less than a week, since I think my last day will be on Thursday.)
She tipped me for the poem and also got a necklace. She was very nice, but kind of rambled a bit about her family. But she would interject with compliments, telling me that I have beautiful sea-green eyes and that I'm "very good-looking." How nice of her to say. I am sure I started blushing, since I don't take lots of praise well.
After busking, I met up with this girl from Shanghai, whom I had met a few nights before. She needed a place to crash on her last night visiting Finland, and I opened up my doors to her. I already had an extra mattress laid out and everything. We went shopping a bit and took her stuff to my apartment. Then she took me out to a fantastic dinner at this fancy-shmancy place called Juuri. She ended up spending over 90 euros on dinner for the two of us. (Three appetizers, two glasses of wine, two main meals, two desserts, tea, tout.)
I told her that it was too expensive, and I tried to convince her to let me help pay, but she wouldn't let me. She said that she would have spent another 140 euros on a hotel room (i.e. a bed), and she would rather spend that kind of money investing on a great meal and good conversation. We had both.
I ended up taking her to Erottaja Bar, and I paid for two Brooklyn Lagers. (I like to support The Brooklyn Brewery, wherever I might be.) Then we went home and talked. And looked at photos. And listened to music. And talked. And then we went to sleep. She left to London this morning, but we decided to stay in contact, and she said I am welcome to visit her in Shanghai. I just might...
P.S. The writer from Nyt told me that the story will for sure run this Friday. Look out for it!
Yesterday wasn't great for business, but it was a good day nonetheless. I sat down and got absolutely no customers for the first two hours. I did, however, write my little thank you present for Ravintola Tori, since the people there have been so great to me. It was a fake complaint letter from a married middle-aged man (or so I imagined) named Wayne Peters, from New Hampshire, U.S.A. The man in the letter complains about the lack of variety in blanket colors, the expensive prices at Tori, the cute staff members who make married couples jealous, the "fancified" food, and, finally, me. Yup, the guy complains about me. It's more humorous in context, I bet. They said they will frame it and put it up in the resto, and perhaps even scan it and put it on the homepage of their Web site. Sweet!
Lots of free time, though. Finally, one of the waitresses, a cute British girl named Natalie, asked me for a story that would fit into this little frame. She wanted it to be about her, her presumed boyfriend, and their dog. What I wrote was rather cheesy, but I think she liked it. She tipped me well. (She also later ended up getting a necklace, too. She picked my favorite.)
An old lady came up to me and started looking at necklaces. She began to talk to me, and we kept switching between Finnish and English. She asked for a poem about anything, so I wrote a poem about, well, busking. Me busking. And only having one more week to do it. (In fact, I have less than a week, since I think my last day will be on Thursday.)
She tipped me for the poem and also got a necklace. She was very nice, but kind of rambled a bit about her family. But she would interject with compliments, telling me that I have beautiful sea-green eyes and that I'm "very good-looking." How nice of her to say. I am sure I started blushing, since I don't take lots of praise well.
After busking, I met up with this girl from Shanghai, whom I had met a few nights before. She needed a place to crash on her last night visiting Finland, and I opened up my doors to her. I already had an extra mattress laid out and everything. We went shopping a bit and took her stuff to my apartment. Then she took me out to a fantastic dinner at this fancy-shmancy place called Juuri. She ended up spending over 90 euros on dinner for the two of us. (Three appetizers, two glasses of wine, two main meals, two desserts, tea, tout.)
I told her that it was too expensive, and I tried to convince her to let me help pay, but she wouldn't let me. She said that she would have spent another 140 euros on a hotel room (i.e. a bed), and she would rather spend that kind of money investing on a great meal and good conversation. We had both.
I ended up taking her to Erottaja Bar, and I paid for two Brooklyn Lagers. (I like to support The Brooklyn Brewery, wherever I might be.) Then we went home and talked. And looked at photos. And listened to music. And talked. And then we went to sleep. She left to London this morning, but we decided to stay in contact, and she said I am welcome to visit her in Shanghai. I just might...
P.S. The writer from Nyt told me that the story will for sure run this Friday. Look out for it!
10 August 2009
A Sample
Here is a sample from the book I wrote for mystery millionaire.
As you can tell, the "book" I wrote is a children's book, one that he can read with his daughter. The book is entirely about them, including their names and things about them (as much as I know), so it's a very personalized gift. My mother helped me with the illustrations when she was in town, so thank you!
I contacted him, and I hope I get this book to him before I leave!
As you can tell, the "book" I wrote is a children's book, one that he can read with his daughter. The book is entirely about them, including their names and things about them (as much as I know), so it's a very personalized gift. My mother helped me with the illustrations when she was in town, so thank you!
I contacted him, and I hope I get this book to him before I leave!
09 August 2009
One More Week
One more week in Helsinki, then back to New York. Will this be the end of my busking career?
###
07 August 2009
I want an answer, Nyt!
What the fuck my article didn't come out today and I don't know what's up wid dat.
I asked the writer and he said that Nyt loved the article, so they must be holding it off until next week for some reason. But that doesn't help me. If the article came out today, then I would (I hoped) have a delightful boost in customers during my last week here. But now it's coming out next Friday, right before Flow Festival, which I will be attending. So I probably won't be busking that weekend anyway. And then I leave back to New York on the following Monday or Tuesday.
Or the article might not come out at all. Maybe they cut the story? Shit.
I'm not going busking today, for several reasons. 1) Because it's my mother's last day in Helsinki before she heads home to Los Angeles, so I'm going to spend time (i.e. drink & dine) with her. 2) The weather is nuts. Keeps switching on and off from sweaty, hot sunny to sweaty, hot rainy. Weird. 3) I just don't feel like it.
P.S. Madonna played in Helsinki last night (first time ever?) and the city was craaaaazy!
P.P.S. I forgot to mention in my last post that one of the dudes from Dead Combo walked by my busking spot and told me he likes typewriters. I like typewriters, too. What a co-ink-e-dink.
I asked the writer and he said that Nyt loved the article, so they must be holding it off until next week for some reason. But that doesn't help me. If the article came out today, then I would (I hoped) have a delightful boost in customers during my last week here. But now it's coming out next Friday, right before Flow Festival, which I will be attending. So I probably won't be busking that weekend anyway. And then I leave back to New York on the following Monday or Tuesday.
Or the article might not come out at all. Maybe they cut the story? Shit.
I'm not going busking today, for several reasons. 1) Because it's my mother's last day in Helsinki before she heads home to Los Angeles, so I'm going to spend time (i.e. drink & dine) with her. 2) The weather is nuts. Keeps switching on and off from sweaty, hot sunny to sweaty, hot rainy. Weird. 3) I just don't feel like it.
P.S. Madonna played in Helsinki last night (first time ever?) and the city was craaaaazy!
P.P.S. I forgot to mention in my last post that one of the dudes from Dead Combo walked by my busking spot and told me he likes typewriters. I like typewriters, too. What a co-ink-e-dink.
06 August 2009
Ketchup, on the rocks
I have to catch up on my busking blog. Not having internet at home prevents me from updating as often as I busk!
Let's see here...where did I leave off? Last Sunday, I said I had to go busking because I was being interviewed, but I didn't because it was raining. We just did the interview at Tori instead. Monday, I got to read the article for fact-checking, and I went busking. The photographer for the paper came and took photos of me and it was super awkward. She just told me to type and I had no customers, so I just wrote whatever. Maybe I'll post what came of it later.
That day I only had two customers, one who works at the restaurant and the other was some tourist. The Tori worker asked for a poem for his fiancee – not too cheesy. He tipped me well! The tourist came up and asked for a poem for his camera, a Leica, which he then used to photograph me as I wrote. He said he will post the photo and my poem (which I titled "I Like-a Leica, how original) on Flickr and forward the link to me. He did not tip me too well. Haha.
No busking Tuesday.
Wednesday I had three customers, the first approaching me immediately when I sat down. 1) A story about four friends. Three of them live in Spain, the other in Helsinki. They rarely see each other. I wrote a story about how they will form a band and reunite when they tour. 2) Some guy asked for a dirty poem about his friend from Paris. Dirty, dirty poem. I made a dirty, dirty poem. It was this guy going up to a woman and whispering all the things he'd do to her into her ear and then finding out she was a man. 3) Lilu's brother asked for a poem about his daughter, who is going to study in Rome for one year. I made less than I would have liked that day, due to less-than-average tips.
But! Tori gave me a free meal with a coke, and Fredi (Tori big shot) showed me this Gonzo book he bought. He saw HST's typewriter in the photos, and made the connection. Pretty cool book, I'd say. And then, towards the end of my busking, I had absolutely no customers. In that time, I wrote a story for my friend in London, the owner of The New Evaristo Club, a bar on Greek Street that I regular. I also wrote out some postcards and another one of the Foals story series, this one being for Yannis. (Yannis' story has to do with swine flu and Oxford, as per request.)
Today was great for business. I was only out there for about an hour and a half, max, and I got quite a few customers. Right when I sat down, three guys approached and said that they each wanted me to write something. Two stories, one poem. Story 1 = a girl who runs away from everything. Story 2 = man and woman walking in Helsinki on a summer night and how the endless sun messes with your perception of time. Poem = a Helsinki summer poem.
A bee/wasp landed on my typewriter today and I'm a wuss, so I couldn't type while it was there. Instead, I took photos of it molesting my David.
Soon after that, I got a sleek-looking business man. Very savvy looking. Very sleazy looking. He asked for a poem and a cigarette. He wanted a happy poem about life being good. I wrote a poem called "A Life on the Rocks" which I ended up copying for myself. He also later came back, said he loved it, and said that he'd give me another Euro if I wrote out another copy of the poem for his friend.
My last customer was a (I think) German family. They wanted a story about their young son, Jona. The kid was wearing a bandana and an apron. An apron? I ended up making the last couplet something like, "At my apron, people may stare and gape. / But, you see, it is just a backwards cape!" Silly, cute – just what they wanted.
Below, find the poem that I wrote for the slickster business dude.
A Life on the Rocks
Rocks and stones connote a hard time in life,
times that are trying and so full of strife.
A rock and a hard place, stuck in between.
A stone weighs you down; hard things to foresee.
But life is so joyous! A grand old time!
Why make rocks so heavy, bog down the mind?
This is not the way that I like to think.
Let's see here...where did I leave off? Last Sunday, I said I had to go busking because I was being interviewed, but I didn't because it was raining. We just did the interview at Tori instead. Monday, I got to read the article for fact-checking, and I went busking. The photographer for the paper came and took photos of me and it was super awkward. She just told me to type and I had no customers, so I just wrote whatever. Maybe I'll post what came of it later.
That day I only had two customers, one who works at the restaurant and the other was some tourist. The Tori worker asked for a poem for his fiancee – not too cheesy. He tipped me well! The tourist came up and asked for a poem for his camera, a Leica, which he then used to photograph me as I wrote. He said he will post the photo and my poem (which I titled "I Like-a Leica, how original) on Flickr and forward the link to me. He did not tip me too well. Haha.
No busking Tuesday.
Wednesday I had three customers, the first approaching me immediately when I sat down. 1) A story about four friends. Three of them live in Spain, the other in Helsinki. They rarely see each other. I wrote a story about how they will form a band and reunite when they tour. 2) Some guy asked for a dirty poem about his friend from Paris. Dirty, dirty poem. I made a dirty, dirty poem. It was this guy going up to a woman and whispering all the things he'd do to her into her ear and then finding out she was a man. 3) Lilu's brother asked for a poem about his daughter, who is going to study in Rome for one year. I made less than I would have liked that day, due to less-than-average tips.
But! Tori gave me a free meal with a coke, and Fredi (Tori big shot) showed me this Gonzo book he bought. He saw HST's typewriter in the photos, and made the connection. Pretty cool book, I'd say. And then, towards the end of my busking, I had absolutely no customers. In that time, I wrote a story for my friend in London, the owner of The New Evaristo Club, a bar on Greek Street that I regular. I also wrote out some postcards and another one of the Foals story series, this one being for Yannis. (Yannis' story has to do with swine flu and Oxford, as per request.)
Today was great for business. I was only out there for about an hour and a half, max, and I got quite a few customers. Right when I sat down, three guys approached and said that they each wanted me to write something. Two stories, one poem. Story 1 = a girl who runs away from everything. Story 2 = man and woman walking in Helsinki on a summer night and how the endless sun messes with your perception of time. Poem = a Helsinki summer poem.
A bee/wasp landed on my typewriter today and I'm a wuss, so I couldn't type while it was there. Instead, I took photos of it molesting my David.
Soon after that, I got a sleek-looking business man. Very savvy looking. Very sleazy looking. He asked for a poem and a cigarette. He wanted a happy poem about life being good. I wrote a poem called "A Life on the Rocks" which I ended up copying for myself. He also later came back, said he loved it, and said that he'd give me another Euro if I wrote out another copy of the poem for his friend.
My last customer was a (I think) German family. They wanted a story about their young son, Jona. The kid was wearing a bandana and an apron. An apron? I ended up making the last couplet something like, "At my apron, people may stare and gape. / But, you see, it is just a backwards cape!" Silly, cute – just what they wanted.
Below, find the poem that I wrote for the slickster business dude.
A Life on the Rocks
Rocks and stones connote a hard time in life,
times that are trying and so full of strife.
A rock and a hard place, stuck in between.
A stone weighs you down; hard things to foresee.
But life is so joyous! A grand old time!
Why make rocks so heavy, bog down the mind?
This is not the way that I like to think.
Because, you see, for me,
Life on the Rocks is the ice in my drink!
Ah thank you.
Life on the Rocks is the ice in my drink!
Ah thank you.
02 August 2009
No Busking Because...
I haven't been busking the past two days, and for very good reasons. On Friday it was pissing rain, as I noted in my last post, so it wasn't worth trying. Saturday was a beautiful day for busking – warm, sunny, brilliant. But I didn't go. Why not?
Because I had the worst hangover I have had this summer to date. As I also mentioned, I went to see A Place To Bury Strangers play at Tavastia on Friday night. I was going to go to the Helsinki10 Concept Store for that pre-concert party, and I did walk by a few times, but I never once went in. At Tavastia, I said hello to Oliver from APTBS while Dead Combo was playing. Then, after APTBS had played, I sneaked backstage to say hello again.
Oliver, A Place To Bury Strangers at Tavastia
A few beers and a shot of whiskey later, we moved the party to Bar Loose, where there were more whiskey shots and beer. I got wasted, thanks to Oliver.
Oliver with a Finnish tranny
Because I had the worst hangover I have had this summer to date. As I also mentioned, I went to see A Place To Bury Strangers play at Tavastia on Friday night. I was going to go to the Helsinki10 Concept Store for that pre-concert party, and I did walk by a few times, but I never once went in. At Tavastia, I said hello to Oliver from APTBS while Dead Combo was playing. Then, after APTBS had played, I sneaked backstage to say hello again.
Oliver, A Place To Bury Strangers at TavastiaA few beers and a shot of whiskey later, we moved the party to Bar Loose, where there were more whiskey shots and beer. I got wasted, thanks to Oliver.
Oliver with a Finnish trannyThe next morning, I woke up still drunk and as the booze wore off, the hangover took over. I met my mother at her hotel and, while she used the last of her free internet there, I curled up on the floor of the hotel behind her. I was in bad shape. There was no way I could honestly put together intelligent pieces of writing; I could barely stand up. I spent all day sprawled out in my bed, while my mother took care of me. I'm sure she's very proud.
Today, I have to go busking at Ravintola Tori because I am being interviewed for an article in Nyt, the cool insert mag of the major Helsingin Sanomat newspaper. The writer will come to observe me busking and then interview me. Tomorrow, they'll send the photographers for my own personal busking photo shoot. Hahahahahahahahahahaha. I'll link to the article when it comes out, though it will be in Finnish, so good luck translating.
Today, I have to go busking at Ravintola Tori because I am being interviewed for an article in Nyt, the cool insert mag of the major Helsingin Sanomat newspaper. The writer will come to observe me busking and then interview me. Tomorrow, they'll send the photographers for my own personal busking photo shoot. Hahahahahahahahahahaha. I'll link to the article when it comes out, though it will be in Finnish, so good luck translating.
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