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| 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.
 |
| RUDY |
 |
| RUDY IN SHADES |
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| ZENO |
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!
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