Salty Licorice Symphony
I think it's more Jack's bag to blog about tourist-ing, but I just axed my poem about tourist-ing from my manuscript-of-pooems (yes, I have one of those), so I guess that frees me up to share my trip to the Sibelius monument in Helsinki, a few weeks ago. These pictures, though, I guess still pale in comparison to the-picture-I-haven't-actually-seen-for-like-nine-years of me plugging my ears and frowning at Schoenberg's grave:
"Beach baby, beach baby give me your hand..."
Just act casual, try to blend in...
"Beach baby, beach baby give me your hand..."
Just act casual, try to blend in...
2 Comments:
I have that Schoenberg-grave picture somewhere; I'll try to dig it out. I think there's a picture of you fake-dancing in front of Diaghilev's tomb in Venice too. Why were we visiting so many artists' graves on that trip?
I'm still trying to understand the "Salty Licorice" thing...
Oh, there's just salty licorice everything in Finland. I meant to mention that.
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