Monday, October 4, 2010

The Cat in the Hat: An Essay on the Artifice of Auxiliary Headiness

Photography courtesy of William Wright

Writing is work. It demands time; it demands talent. And here is the irony; in Summer when I have lots of time I write very little, and in Autumn and Winter when I have little time I write lots. Perhaps I am apologizing to you, my readers, about the frequency (or lack thereof) of my bloggings. Enough of this. From this day forth I shall attempt to keep my readership informed of my current buskapades more frequently than I have been as of late.

This particular entry is to be about hats, the logical extension of my previous post, Cap – a – Pie: An Essay on the Hat and Sole of Busking. I shall state immediately and emphatically: I urge anyone on a busk to don some headgear, for doing so can be quite lucrative (from a very mercenary perspective).

As for my personal preferences for headgear, I shall describe asunder. I wear a cowboy hat when I strum and sing cowboy songs. My favorite cowboy hat is one that I purchased at Value Village in Victoria, BC. Those days I imagined myself as a doppleganger to Roy Rogers, King of the Cowboys!

Of course, oftentimes the clime will dictate the headgear to be worn. On a cool Autumn busk I always wear a toque, and when doing so have always imagined the Mike Christopher look to be my projection. Outdoors among the masses, a certain headwear has that strange ability to embellish one's attractiveness, because busking at its best is really a gloze, a deception, a mask of one's true appearance (unless of course you are instrumentalizing and soliciting even during your bedtime hours). Any type of hat will always add a little tony to your visual street presentation.

To put this headiness into perspective, I shall give a quick review of some personal busking heuristics.

Rule #1. One must be motivated and have the desire to be a busker.

Rule #2. One must develop a technical skill to be a busker.

Rule #3. One must develop a tactical strategy to be a busker.

Wearing a headpiece is part of Rule #3. (Rule #1. Yes, you have a yen for adventure and angst. Yes, you have the urge to be going somewhere – else. Rule #2. Yes, you can play a guitar. Yes, you have a great voice. Rule #3. Yes, you have written some great songs. Yes you have that look – the right hat will enhance, even transmogrify that look!)

Whether on vacation or buskation, I am always on the qui vive for the perfect hat.

You may have noticed I have started to add pictures to my blog. If something requires the use of a knife and fork – I am your guy. If something requires some computer savvy – I'm not your guy. Please be patient whilst I learn the lowdown of the upload of this or that to my posts. And in return for your patience, I shall submit for you an original song, complete with lyrics and chords. My next post I hope to have a recording of this same song for you to doubleclick.

The backdrop to this song: In Regina, Saskatchewan, at the corner of Broad Street and College Avenue is a new development called Canterbury Place. Canterbury Place, by English design, is to be filled with condos, nifty shops, and even a replica of Big Ben. I had imagined a guy, like myself, to be busking there. I had imagined this fellow to be strumming and singing in the main square beneath that big clock. And I imagined the ladies to be winking at him, whilst clinging to their boyfriends. Here it is. Try it out on the next ruck of pedestrians you're entertaining. Put on your hat and go, Cat, go!




[C]Girls at Canterbury Sta[F]tion

Are [G]flicking drooping [Am]eyelids while [C]clinging to their


Who are [G]clapping to my [Am]tunes

And [E7]tossing coins … toward my re[Am]demption. [X3 at end]

[verse 1]


Girls at Canterbury Station

G Am C F

Nibble sour cream on bagels and sip their frigid beers

G Am

Beneath the courtyard clock.

E7 Am

And I hearken to the tickings … reckon my beginnings once again.


[verse 2]


For I am but a busker

G Am C F

A customary hustler slinging my guitar

G Am

Where certain people gather

E7 Am

At Canterbury Station … where they toss a coin or two for what I do.

[chorus] X2

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