A return to Finland – Charon concert, September 2025

They say that, as you grow older, you just return to the things that brought you joy in your younger years. If there’s anything that really marked me when I was younger, it’s gothic music. Not just music, but the entire subculture, way of life… And Finland. The land of enchanted winters and gothic metal. And not just what brought you joy, I must add, but what constitutes your very being. So, when one of my favourite bands ever announced their reunion tour in their homeland, there was nothing else for me to do than to return, 20 years after my first visit, and my first Charon concert.

The tickets for the show in Helsinki were sold out within a few minutes. I quickly rerouted my original plan and bought a ticket for Jyväskylä, figuring an extra 3-hour trip by train is doable within the temporal confines of my weekend trip. After a fantastic Weekend of Hell in Germany, a mere two weeks later I had found myself roaming the streets of Helsinki. Just like all those years ago, I embarked on a journey of self-reflection as well as self-revelation, unfolding in perhaps the most beautiful country in the world next to my own.

Like a pilgrim entering the temple of his final rest, I let Jyväskylä envelop me with the most wonderful feelings of belonging. I stood at the edge of the dark, hypnotic waters of Jyväsjärvi lake, as melodic guitar riffs played like a presque vu in my mind, inviting what was to come that evening. And what came was perhaps the best show I’ve seen by Charon, a warm welcome back between melodic poets and their audience in a spell of devotion. The utter gothic poetry of JP’s lyrics always brought me back to their albums throughout the past two decades, unearthing rare, hitherto hidden meaning in its bewitching beauty. To feel his tight embrace, to laugh together at our old photo and to reminisce and offer my deep and heartfelt gratitude to all of them for this gem of a night… I left the place in a smiling daze, singing in the middle of a street, the moon carefully shining over my every step, the gothic sky above like another embrace, no other sky like it.

The third day, and already the last one, my heart whispered. Why did I wait so many years to return here? There were obstacles, sure, but I wonder… Was it also an attempt at forgetting what Finland truly means for my existence? Oblivion lies beyond that last look, twenty years apart… I felt as if my legs were rushing me towards the train station, as if in a dream… Or maybe I couldn’t bear the official goodbye, so I hurried inside to not allow myself one last look at Helsinki. My mind was in a dark chamber, nothing in it except a suspended heart in light pink… Crumbling down to the melody of „Unbreak, Unchain“… „Could this be what it seems? Painted in your dreams…“ Like tiny pieces of bread, frosty and soft, the weight of my world in each crumble… Yet I was content to have my heart crumble like that, because at least one part of it would remain here… Unbreak, unchain. Its melody trailing me (or I trailing it)… And then the doors were closed behind me, no one to hold them for as the kind lady before did for me. Should I go back and take a deep breath of that autumnal air? Say my goodbye officially? It was as if I would willingly submit myself to the pain of departure. I tried telling myself „This is not a goodbye. Therefore, no need to go back and gaze upon Helsinki for the last time, because this time, you will return and it will not take you another 20 years to do it.“ So I turned away reluctantly, my innards crumbling with a sorrowful smile.

Is this truly the closest I could get to calling a country home? Here I spent the weekend greeting everyone back in Finnish because they all assumed I was a native, what with my attire and overall look. Perhaps because “outsiders” are the norm here? Black is a normal colour, being a goth even more. Perhaps I would never truly belong anywhere, but this is the closest I could get to it – a comfortable easiness of being? Why does it call me, and I yearn for it? Am I sentenced to always yearn and mourn, perpetually walking around a mausoleum, the wind carrying leaves like petals of a present around me… Perpetual craving for this melancholic winter sky, the cold streets, familiar places of rapture… „Leave no remorse to call your name“, and yet I left everything, even the things I couldn’t do without… Parted from these lands a fraction of myself.

Charon, as if sensing this could not be such a rushed departure again, announced a big arena concert this summer. Helsinki, I will return to you.

Happy Halloween!

Time flies at an unimaginable pace, so we’re already at the threshold of my favourite holiday – and I still haven’t written a post about my other favourite thing of darkness and horror: Weekend of Hell. Same time, same place as last year – with new faces and a definite upgrade in decor and ambience. My little black heart rejoiced again! From a veil of fog enveloping the visitors to an awesome hard rock horror soundtrack blasting throughout Turbinenhalle, Weekend of Hell – one of Germany’s top horror cons (note: not the only one, which is even more awe-inspiring considering other EU countries are lucky to have a good comic con in general) – amped up the volume in the final days of August to properly prepare us for the chilly autumnal evenings and Samhain on the horizon.

While I thoroughly enjoyed last year’s line-up of horror stars (check out my musings below), this year, as with everything else, it was dialed up to 11. One name: Skeet Ulrich. As soon as he was announced on the pages of WoH, I knew it was going to be pure madness. Skeet himself couldn’t have been more nice and pleasant to speak to, despite the long lines of fans waiting to take a photo or get his autograph on some Scream memorabilia. I loved his panel, as well – he spoke about the trilogy idea for the new Scream and how his vision was supposed to drive Melissa Barrera’s character into finally becoming the killer in the final apart. I also very much appreciated how he spoke against her shameful termination (because she was vocal against the genocide in Palestine), and overall, we could all feel that authenticity, modesty and kindness emanating from him.

We had a cute photo together (although my high forehead makes me look like a female Pennywise, lol), and I also took the opportunity to take a shot with Costas Mandylor (the Saw franchise), who’s an entertainer to the core, as well as Brooke Smith (Silence of the Lambs, Grotesquerie) and Bai Ling (The Crow).

Even though I didn’t have my faithful companion with me this year (Claudia, you better get everything in order for next year), much fun was had – and who could forget the classic vegan option of pretzels and French fries at the event! Luckily, this is Germany we’re speaking about, so eating ethically was never an issue, right from exiting the train and stumbling upon several pre-made dishes at a small Reve store on the side (including vegan sushi) to restaurant options, although I didn’t have time to really check those out. After all, the weekend was dedicated to Hell!

Until next year hopefully, here’s some visuals from my fave con ever – and Happy Halloween!

Weekend of Hell & the Hellafter

Just a few short weeks ago, I had returned to my old stomping ground – my fave con! Weekend of Hell in Oberhausen – after years, centuries, eons. I hadn’t realized how much I missed this horror paradise until I saw the inside of the Turbinenhalle again, a river of people in masks and costumes flowing through. Certainly one of the best editions yet, with some of my absolute favourite actors and actresses, plenty of old acquaintances, and, most importantly, daywalking with my best friend whom I hadn’t seen in, again, years.

A month later, and it’s clear that this weekend has changed something in me… profoundly. I’m still mapping the unknown landscape that has opened itself up in front of me, but one thing has become clear: I yearn for this realm. I missed it, and I missed myself in a way. A permanent change of scenery also means a rearrangement of the elements inside, and it wasn’t until I was at Weekend of Hell that I became aware of just how much I need to retain of myself to still be me. From horror and general weirdness to eccentricity and that absurd highlander stubborness and defiance of the Krajina people. Revelations and hitherto hidden, dormant truths are my constant companions now. Melancholy follows me, inspiration is right behind, and I write again. What do I write, you ask? My verses will be known in the hellafter…

Some visual impressions & mementos from WoH that I will bring to the grave with me…