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.
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