|SELF (on the left) and DILLON|
My duties for the day actually began a week ago when my complicated friend, Robin, asked me draw her pet dog, Rudy. And since I’d be beginning my day drawing dogs, I decided, too, whilst my pencil was moving, to sketch a portrait of Zeno, the pet doggie of my arithmetical friend, Kim.
As at the start of all of my sketches, whether they are human or canine, I never REALLY know how they are going to turn out. All I know is that they always do turn out, and for the most part, in a positive regard. And this, too, is true of guitar busking.
After my hound dog sketching of Rudy and Zeno, two portraits for Rudy and one for Zeno, I slung my guitar and headed downtown to busk at VALUE VILLAGE. Some days, just bit-by-bit, I feel not so excited about going busking. Today was one of those days.
And this non-excitement is especially true when no one familiar stops to chat. For over half an hour people passed invisible-busker-me, but instead of moving, I was too lazy to change buskspots. One of those passers-by even nodded her head in disgust, and still I chose not to move. It was just one of those not-so-exciting meh mood days.
Perhaps I was suffering from POST PERFORMANCE DEPRESSION; after all, the day before, my first busking day of spring, I had a glorious time. I shall explain.
Being a successful busker means having to learn how to busk. This really means learning how to prepare. Practice, practice, practice getting the tunes down will result in the endorphins up. Such preparation is ever necessary for any next-to-perfect busk. Actually, after literally hundreds of street performances, I've empirically decided that busks are never perfect, but they can be perfect fun.)
Anyway, sometimes there is the letdown -- the POST PERFORMANCE DEPRESSION. I attribute this dullness due to the day before being one of those perfectly fun busking days. The day before began with high expectations. It was finally warm enough to busk! It was my first out of the season!
I do realize that as a busker I suffer disillusionment. Oftentimes while busking, I am only in romance, not in reality. This disillusionment is with good cause. For example, one busking day I made $60 in my first five minutes of strumming. This particular occasion represented the romance of busking, not the reality. The reality is that after those first munificent five minutes, I made but $5 rounding out that same hour.
Sometimes I just need to remind myself that there are just bad busking days. There are days when there is not much flow and not much money. Today was one of those days.
I packed up my guitar and headed to BROADWAY AVENUE (my used-to-be-favorite busk spot, until the zombiehood of beggars infested the parking lot) to shop for some grocery items, a quart of organic milk and a barbequed chicken to be exact. There at the store entrance and busking away was my old buddy, Dillon, strumming his acoustic guitar.
Dillon and I have been guitar buddies for years, and not coincidentally, we are both buskers. Factoid: The last time I had seen Dillon, I was busking on the BROADWAY parking lot with my banjitar, and Dillon was busking in front of the liquor store of that same parking lot. Dillon ditched his spot and joined me in an hour long busking jam.
Today, with his permission, I grabbed my guitar and harp and joined Dillon at his buskspot. This was old times. This was one of those near-perfect moments.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning of a planned busking day thinking this is all but jabberwocky. Sometimes then, on these days, I am but a fraud.
On such katzenjammer days my self-doubt ought to be my driving force for creativity. Sunday was one of those days … until I re-connected with Dillon who unwittingly (he was just being his ever-friendly likeable self) proved to be my Sunday provocateur.
In Phenomenological Speak ...
this Sunday that began BOW-WOW ended with a WOW!