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Da Plane, Da Plane

Sitting in a Helsinki bar, killing a couple of hours before heading out to the airport and home. I am really looking forward to shifting back two hours: being plus-seven out of ET and plus-ten out of PT in particular are a real bitch.
Despite my knee playing up in the transitional weather, I got to see something of the area. Some parts of the Helsinki suburbs look disturbingly post-Soviet in their industrial rust, and the prevalence of dun knitwear and beige buildings go some way to explaining the suicide rate. Artistically, it’s a lively town, though (in my brief glimpse) appearing to contain more than its fair share of bitterly pseudy boys in bad spectacles, short-sleeved shirts and ties. The kid who played at Dubrovnik with a guitar and pedal drum Sat night looked like Dennis Franz fucked The Arcade Fire.
The two kids who turned up at the festival dressed as anime characters looked very lonely. I recognised one as Revolutionary Girl Utena, couldn’t place the other one. The attendance was all fanboys and goth girls, the latter outnumbered the former by about ten to one, which isn’t bad. The whole thing was superbly organised, and from my perspective ran incredibly smoothly. They got a record attendance of some six to seven thousand people. I think they’ll have to change venues next year — not unusual for the Helsinki Comics Festival, as in the past one of their previous venues has actually burned to the ground.
Just sitting here watching Helsinki go by, for another hour and a half.

Published in mobilesignals