Indeed, this summer has been all about the city. I've finally managed to collect almost every single one of those 720 interviews I was supposed to but it doesn't make me as happy as I wish it did; no matter how much I would like to grab hold of these days, they won't last.

In a way I feel like this was the last summer. Next year I've got to make some important decisions that may possibly change my directions in life. And yes, I am nervous and frightened as hell but above all my mood's somewhat melancholic. There's no going backwards.

Maybe I'd better do exactly what my dad has predicted: wandering from one place to another as an idle artist with no objectives may cause confusion and trouble but it may also become my thing.

I've got to admit that despite the incomprehensible milieu and the fact that some unknown DJ played Brass Monkey by Beastie Boys but the legend himself didn't - shame on him - I did enjoy all the dancing for a while.

Nevertheless, Etelä-Haaga at 5 am this morning was way more impressive than Grandmaster Flash. Surrounded by fog and humming to this Placebo song I made my way home and ended up having difficulties with the lock that had somehow swelled because of all the heat. I felt like a burglar, trying to break in my own apartment and not to wake up the whole family.

I'm laying on the floor in an empty office, surrounded by shitloads of folders that have something to do with hands-on museums. I've only got two or three days of work left but I don't feel like doing the job. Besides, it took me forever to get here: instead of interviewing customers I found myself shopping records downtown.

Luckily tonight it's time for Grandmaster Flash at Tivoli and some pre- and afterpartying with great company. It's gonna be grand (I hope).

PS Let's not forget the past two days - this describes perfectly what I've been doing:

Tokoinranta, Neljäs linja and Café Java have been places to be recently. As I arrived home Thursday evening I heard someone snoring in the stairway of my house. I suppose the poor guy was trying to escape the evenings that are slowly getting darker and colder.

The past week briefly represented:

Yet there is one exception; yesterday we spent two hours driving around in search of Box. Our next road trip may or may not lead us in Berlin but at least it will be definitely worth carrying out with the company I had some 27 hours ago. It'll be worth a song, too:

I've spent four nights in a row with a very special one.
Before that I shared a tiny cottage with my sisters.
Now I'm home alone and not going to turn the lights off until I really have to.

On Wednesday I got in touch with boating for the first time since 2001, Lake Michigan and, to my surprise, enjoyed it a great deal.

On Thursday Gotan Project performed at Pori Jazz. Unfortunately I had to cope with the studio versions:

When arriving home from somewhere far away I use to sing to this. The same old story at the railway station on Friday (take me home to where my records are):

Night on Earth, en francais Une nuit sur la terre, est un film dramatique realisé par Jim Jarmusch est sorti en 1991. Il consiste en cinq séquences en différents lieux de la Terre : à Los Angeles, à New York, à Paris, à Rome et, finalement, à Helsinki.

Last year I made a French presentation that concerned one of my favourite films. Saturday night I watched Night on Earth once again.

On Sunday Emily Haines made my heart beat faster.

Today



I was listening to Rubik while trying to catch the train; I managed and ended up sitting next to this awfully cute young couple. Their excitement and shyness made me think about the time when I was in their position.

Back then Rubik was one of my favourite bands. Back then I was slowly getting in touch with the one that was waiting for me when I arrived home today.

I'm going to take a small break on a deserted island with seagulls, psychology books and my insane but oh so lovely family.