[ 5.15.2003 ]
Pyökinhyppykärsäkäs
don't ask me what's that in latin
Listening to Nick Cave and humming along to the lines "Oh my,Oh my what a wretched life(..)" At work. Oh yes, such a wretched life I'm training at work since I've got no place else to go to practise by myself. The song rings deafening in my ears and my fingers wan't to follow the keychanges as I go through them in my head. Naturally I coarse their physical movements to minimum in order to avoid any funny questions people might otherwise come up with. Patrons, curators and attendants pass me by, without even noticing I'm playing the unisono fill of drums and bass launching the chorus of "The Heart Of A Pig (and the death of a bachelor)" (well, it's just a working title inspired by H.C. Agrippa, but it might turn into actual line). Imagery training by itself just doesn't seem to do the trick for a whole band.
Today I've pursued after another rehearsal studio, this time I even had to compete with a rival musician for getting there first. So I check the city map, hop in a bus, drive past the place to step out and start running, step out and take a cab with what little money I had got left and so on. Felt like being thrown in the middle of a crappy Chackie Chan action comedy. The "rehearsal studio" I actually rushed after turned out to be a little modified site hut in a backyard of a motorcycle parts -service garage, somewhere in industrial estate... a simple metal box with padlock on bolted door. A cabin, hut, what ever! We would have easily afforded the rent, but then again, electrisity wasn't included. Just try to imagine the electrisity bills in winter when there's not only the bands gear but
heating, too. Felt just unreal, after driving by busses, taxes and myself nuts the last two hours and now being showed these huts: 3x7x2.5 meter metal boxes
with hardly any acoustic characters one is likely to demand of rehearsal studio. Being asked for rent for using such crappy place to rehears felt even surreal! "Well, how do you like it now - is it a deal or not?" "Uhm...no?"
There's a lot of people that like to think someone will mourn after them when they die, and then there's a lot of people who think nobody will even notice their passing. Which type do you belong to? I've noticed the same dichotomy between the younger lads who still think their band is the greatest and will conquer the world, themselves being the center of the world and the older researchers at university who don't give a bugger if there was half dozen persons more at the wake.
It was monday I heard Lauri-Juhani Eerikäinen was dead, which is a true loss, altough he would have undoubtedly yelled "people die everyday" if he only heard my previous statement. I will miss him, and remember his achievements in the world of scientific libraries, teaching, research and city architecture, which he accomplished by his skills in discourse analysis (aided by colorful and striking language, always answering the need). And in the world of sexual minorities, too. Anyhow, one of his merits was naming Pyökinhyppykärsäkäs, an [i]hymenoptera[/i] - I believe - of a kind, not even living in Finland. A person, sick and wicked man with a sense of humor equal to only surrealists or wrathful lesser Gods on a bad day. Truely a Master of Humanities (of all major European languages, literature and culture) and a refined man of taste and controversy. A true Christian, which makes his person even more marginal, as he was more interested in the essence of Christian teaching itself than what the Christian neighbor next door thinks about his family. Probably not even earning a heaven-share with any of the major Christian creeds for all his sins he reveled in, with pride and joy.
More than once mr Eerikäinen told me that if he told me all of the craziest anecdotes, I'd never believe another word he said. Which I believe, for the things he actually cared to tell. Many of these things would leave any younger rocker with his/her jaw hanging open with the most sincere suspension of disbelief (since there'd be no
point trying to convince anybody with such unbelieveable stories
so they had to be true at large). And this made me think what if he had become a rock star? How many people would know him now, and the rumors! What pilgrimages would his headstone prove... But, who knows now the deceased and does the quantity matter the least after you've got a wooden suit and soil to chew? His wife and son? His lawyer hunting still their prey with the money LJE might have left him to do so? Pyökinhyppykärsäkäs?
LJE R.I.P.
Mr EagleOwl [7:41 AM]
