Hyvää matkaa

It seems that each time brings me back more and more disorientated, and journeys have to reach an end and circles have to round off prior to any explanation; I'm standing agitated and unable to put down my stuff, run by this tremendous sense of emergency, deeply and smoothly shattered each time more delightfully and however withdrawing always further into inland and cryptic regions. These times are run by too many things, brutal changes of direction; light and daytime dramatically match with the standards I've always known thus far; I'm on the edge of wide moves.
Frightening things of which the worst is the feeling of homelessness sharply seizing me sometimes: burning bridges from one side does not build any towards the other.

In the mid-afternoon in greyish Turku, some sort of public works machinery of inhuman dimensions let its hammer hit the concrete, and this sang a bizarre and bewitching rhythm spreading all over the central place in the cold moist air; the feverish lament possessed the whole scenery, people on the market looked like behaving under a weird influence. There is this ghostly boat floating before one of the windows of the Cathedral. In my home city a small and very old chapel has its inner walls covered by ex-votos of sailors' families, praising for the sake and the souls of their husbands and fathers. The model boat was barely sensibly swinging and, while turning, the faint light tainted its sails of spectral white.
Of the real boats along the Aura river the Finnish Swan was great; the ropes hanging from the three mats channel and convey the same kind of energy as the vaulting of the Tumiokirkko in Tampere. It is somewhat related to inverted trees.

I've been trying to get lost while getting to the venue but unconsciously took the right direction; missed the entrance, surprised by the frightening low number of people. Jaakko was there and Mikko arrived, had seen them lastly such a long time ago - of the most wonderful people I know, lovely and inspiring. Halthan was average power electronics, averagely enjoyable. Zoät-Aon was great as usual. Thought in the best way on any aspect. Mystical in a similar fashion as pure electronics can be, more than ritual. Met some people I expected to meet, missed some others, surprisingly.
Anenzephalia was a blast. Impressive charismatic people, and this very elegant insight on inner fears and obsessions more than political blabbermouthing. Intense and psychotic sound. Liebombast. Liebombast! I'm walking on a field of madness - perhaps their best, with the obsessive and almost self-restrained motto. A master's show.
I hardly recall the rest of the evening; Bourbon, rum and Belgian beers, broken glass, candles, very small kitchen.

No, I really can't count how many drinks I had. How much is a lot. The schedule already intangible was put to pieces as we decided to miss the train, the fake spur of the moment; there was another gig and a very nice friend to accommodate us. The Klubi of Turku is rather different from the one in Tampere; maybe better, more spontaneously organized. I confirmed my immoderate and deep love for white Martini on the rocks (for S., as a lot of things). Herra Ylppö & Ihmiset was a nice concert, very sheer and genuine. I had only heard their hit single Sata Vuotta beforehand (see below). Irrelevant, or not, thoughts came to my mind. I suddenly wondered for how long I hadn't been in this precise situation, both position and state of mind - concluding that, as far as I recalled, I had never been in. Should I learn to love again, or precisely for the first time...

There was this weird sense of surreality in the next hours, the strange grill, the river, the walk back to that place - Mikko sleeping standing, the bottle of pirate rum we finished at last, the dark park... A cat with big and bright eyes and a yearned sleep. A coffee in the white morning... We left, Jaakko and I stayed in the train station waiting for our train to Tampere; we talked a lot, about music, about people we both knew, funny connections, and again we walked on a field of madness. Much light and appeasement, very simple and bright things...

But then again, should I keep on writing the official story - if there ever is any other; signs and symbols galore and all emptiness behind, gaping ellipsis and pregnant absence; and I'm pushed to the very end of the plank with words and tears forced deep into the throat. I should burst into something and I don't. Better turning into a pillar of salt? I shall leave this to time; it was all in all a very nice weekend with great friends, there is very soon important enough concerts to strike the raw energy which is left - push things further down into oblivion.