Sunday, July 15, 2018

THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH ME ME ME: SNAP SHOTS AND SNAPPY TITLES


DARREN MAXIE'S "CONDO" (HIS DESCRIPTION)
Until this very last edit my snappy title for this blog entry had been, GOSLINGS AND HARES:  GUITARS AND HARPS.  Gaggles of squawking goslings and honking ganders are waddling alongside hopping husks of hares throughout Wascana Park.  The geese and rabbits are signals that it’s time to bring out the guitar and harp.  ‘Tis the season to be busking and any day I miss strumming I will regret later.

And then I changed the title to PRIDE AND PREJUDICE:  GUITARS AND HARPS.  My colleague and favorite grammarian, Cathy, always organizes Regina Public Schools (RPS) employees for the REGINA PRIDE PARADE.  Every year the parade marches right past my place – my perch being a high-rise balcony on the corner of Victoria Avenue and Rose Street in downtown Regina.  Factoid:  This year’s pride parade had record breaking turn-out with over 3,000 marchers and 100 floats, making this parade much more sociable and emotional than in years past.

PREJUDICE fits both the Pride Parade and the INDIGENOUS teepee sit-in taking place these days on the lawn in front of the Legislative Building in Wascana Park.  With guitar and harp and drum, Baron and I entertained some of the protesters for an hour or so.

BARON AND SELF ENTERTAINING SOME PROTESTERS
  This morning, however, my blog title, THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH ME ME ME:  SNAP SHOTS AND SNAPPY TITLES seems more apt.  (I’m a snappy title guy.  If I cannot come up with a snappy title I cannot write the essay.  This literary restriction has been with me always.)     

Like William Wordsworth, the world is too much with me.  I’m off contract and on summer vacation until September and certainly have too much to write about.  Summer happens and I’m lost and caught up in everything (it seems). An English idiom suggests that a picture is worth a thousand words.  Over twenty thousand words worth (pun intended) coming up!



Marching in the QUEEN CITY PRIDE PARADE this week:
 
THAT'S CATHY ON THE LEFT HOLDING UP THE BANNER
REGINA PUBLIC SCHOOLS DIRECTOR, GREG ENION AND HIS DAUGHTER, ASHLEY


Among the bloat of summer buskers … 
ANOTHER BUSKER
THE BUSKER'S BOWSER
And so I'm busking at the VALUE VILLAGE MALL and another busker comes by, we chat, and he leaves his dog behind while he grabs a bite to eat.  The passers-by, my potential consumers, of course think the busker's dog belongs to me and ... continue to give me the gears about giving the dog more water.  (The temperature was 31 degrees Celsius/88 degrees Fahrenheit and the dog had no water.)

On my morning run around Wascana Lake I see the workers have been draining the swamp: 



Speaking of draining the swamp, my favorite political picture for the week:

WOULDJA LOOK AT THAT!
At the BUSHWAKKER BREW PUB this week:

GUITAR-SLINGER, TRENT LEGGOTT
SELF ON THE BUSHWAKKER STAGE
BACKSTAGE WITH BIG AND RICH AT COUNTRY THUNDER IN CRAVEN, SK
(IT HELPS TO HAVE NHL SCOUT, BRAD HORNUNG, FOR A FRIEND!
HE INSISTED I JOIN HIM AT THIS CONCERT.)
BARON AND SELF ... BUSKING AT SHOPPERS ON BROAD
AT THE SCHIZOPHRENIA SOCIETY OF SASKATCHEWAN
(IT'S ALWAYS ABOUT ME ME ME ... WITH BRUCE MCKEE, PRESIDENT, ON THE LEFT AND JAMIE ENG, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR ON THE RIGHT)
This past week I received an award from the SCHIZOPHRENIA SOCIETY OF SASKATCHEWAN (SSS) for my volunteer work, which is limited to just two services: 1. I offer pro bono counselling services to any client referred by the SSS; 2.  I always strum and sing live for the SSS one hundred dollar a plate annual fundraiser dinner

Meanwhile … at a summer picnic I met up with Nathan Davis, one of my stage-mates at BUSHWAKKERS:    

SINGER-SONGWRITER, NATHAN DAVIS
At that same picnic I was BUSKING with my pencil:

MELODY AT THE PICNIC
HOPE AT THE PICNIC
THE MAD HATTER AT THE PICNIC

And I shall close this blog entry with a line from a sports article I read this past week:  

We don’t quit playing because we get old -- 
We get old because we quit playing.

Time for me to sign off and get out there playing!




Saturday, June 9, 2018

A STRANGER COMES TO TOWN: THINK BIG


A VILLAGE SELFIE THROUGH THE GLASS

ARIA AT THE MARKET

LAYLA AT THE MARKET

PAIGE (EDUCATOR EXTRAORDINAIRE)

Being a busker means fitting into one of Leo Tolstoy’s two stories, a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town.  Oh do I hate that journey metaphor!  But oh do I love that road theme! Factoid:  Being the busker on the journey could, indeed, be the same stranger who comes to town.

If you are thinking you’d love to be a busker, are thinking of going on a journey, or thinking you’d love to be that stranger who comes to town, I’ve a few tips.  Dear wannabee busker, these tips might turn your Walter Mitty moments into being your reality.


  • DECIDE YOUR PLAYLIST
If you decide to be a guitar busker you need to develop a strategic playlist of sorts, or should I say a practice list.  When I am out busking I am always practicing my original songs, which I compose and rehearse at my buskspot.   This is my habit.   When busking, I’m paid to practice!  I must confess, mind you, that practicing original songs is in that ilk of poetasters reciting doggerel at public speakers’ corners.   

Factoid:  Your passer-by consumers will not distinguish between a practice and polished performance.  Even as a lyricaster (an inferior songwriter), no one will be critical of your original songs.

Meanwhile back to the drawing board … Portrait busking, with my sketchpad and pencil I am still getting paid to practice.  With every visage I pencil improves my speed and skill for creating a likeness.  To put this into perspective, the second portrait I drew was better than the first, and a thousand sketches later I’m finally arriving.


  • CREATE YOUR NICHE
I have my niche consumers only because of my locales.  At Value Village, Shoppers on Broad, and the Italian Star Deli, I sell my thrums to familiar strangers.  Familiar strangers describe my niche.  Because I’ve guitar and harp busked in these spots for years, I’m most comfortable and therefore can afford to be somewhat complacent.  Keep in mind that whether or not your buskspot is familiar or unfamiliar, whether or not it is angst free, will not determine your dollar take for your time invested there.

At the Village I’ve a melange of consumers, none of whom seem to be high-brow.  At Shoppers, too, I've a potpourri of consumers, some of which are high-brow.  And at the Star, my smorgasbord consumers are mainly there for the sandwiches, numbering over 200 munchers every noon hour.

Factoid:  I’ve listed these three places in the order of consumer generosity, the most generous being at Value Village, the least generous being at the Italian Star Deli.  I shall be more precise.  At Value Village my take is between 35 and 50 dollars per hour; at Shoppers between 25 and 40 dollars per hour; at the Italian Star 25 dollars tops over the noon hour.  The secret is to know which hour to be busking at any particular venue.

I thrum a twelve-string whilst blowing my harp.  Other times busking I take my banjitar or didge.   

Factoid:  These three buskspots, in particular, are for minutes of salvo, not for quiet sketching.

Portrait busking is more for my clerisy consumers, the artistic and/or social elite one sees zigzagging through the park or sipping espressos in the downtown square.  Swards and sidewalk cafĂ© patios are my perfect spots for portrait busking.


  • COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR CONSUMERS
Cultivate your connecting skills, first, by making eye contact with everyone who walks by.  Be sure to say thank aloud anyone tossing coin into your guitar case.  Connecting with every passer-by takes practice.  I remind you, dear buskers, not only are you getting paid to practice, public relation skills are significant toward your performance as a whole.  Likeability makes for munificent consumers.    

Factoid:  The mod of your consumers is plebeian. 
Factoid: You, too, are plebeian.


  • START SMALL THINK BIG
I started my guitar busking on lonely street corners.  My confidence and my consumer numbers were low, and unwittingly, lonely buskspots were the perfect places to practice my craft.  From these lonely street corners I ventured into the cacophonous crowds of the grocery store parking lots.  And now I have the adequate skill and roseate moxie to set up anywhere I choose.  My dream of being that planetary busker has taken me across Western Canada, to downtown Amsterdam, to rural and urban Ireland, and Marrakesh, Morocco.


  • KNOW YOUR PURPOSE
Know why you are busking.  If you are busking to pay for food and shelter you need to be out there all day long, busking as long as necessary to pay for your sustenance.  However, if you’re a faux busker such as I am, you need only to busk as much as you want.  My preference is three times a week, two hours at a time, and then it is out of my system until the following week.  To realize my dream of becoming a planetary busker I need to continually polish my strumming and thrumming, puffing and blowing.

The very best thing about busking is that you can busk you can busk pretty much anywhere you want, and the next best thing is that the bulk of the necessary inventory is in your head.   

Busking is one of those treacly, tristful treats that seemingly offers me an amaranthine shelf-life!     

No matter your location you can always borrow a guitar (which I do wherever I busk except for in Canada).  I never include a guitar in my airplane luggage.  In Amsterdam I borrowed a guitar from, ALINA, a Russian musician; in Ireland I borrowed guitars from, MICHAEL, a hypnotherapist; and a Slovakian busker, PETER; in Marrakesh I borrowed a guitar from MOHAMED, a busker from Cape Town.  My planetary playlist is always in my head.

ALINA FROM RUSSIA

MICHAEL FROM IRELAND

PETER FROM SLOVAKIA
 
MOHAMED

MOHAMED

Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week is honorary degree recipient, Doctor Bradley John Hornung (my favorite NHL scout), and his entourage, as they partook the Spring Convocation ceremonies at the University of Regina.

BRAD HORNUNG AND SHELDON KENNEDY (BOTH HONORARY DOCTOR RECIPIENTS)
TINA (FRIEND) AND TERRY (MOM) AND CAROL (MY WIFE) AND BRAD
BRAD ON THE BIG SCREEN DELIVERING HIS KEY NOTE TO THE GRADUATES