PSYCHOLOGY BUSKING a la wordswords: MERRY KRISKRINGLEMAS -- YOU ARE ONLY AS GOOD AS YOUR LAST (fill in the blank)!

CHRISTMASTIME OPEN MIC AT THE CURE

Cliché after cliché states that you are only as good as your last performance, or you are only as good as your last bat, or you are only as good as your last press release. I will add a few more that are closer to home for me: You are only as good as your last song, or you are only as good as your last book, or you are only as good as your last blog entry.

And if you are lucky, sometimes your last bat or last song or last book offers a certain notoriety, at least temporarily. “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes” (so sayeth Andy Warhol). For fifteen minutes. Yes. Just fifteen minutes. And after that if you want another fifteen minutes of fame, you will need to enact or replicate a performance that is popular among your critical masses yet again.

I do know that fifteen-minutes-of-fame feeling. When I was a grad student one of my professors suggested I expand a psychology paper that I had written into a book. I took heed, sent it to a publisher, and voila! A Wishbone Epistolary was published by the Guidance Centre, University of Toronto in 1985! And when my Wishbone book was included in a mail-out packet sent to every member of the Canadian Guidance Counselling Association, I received a load of royalties, some fan letters, and my first real fifteen minutes of fame!

Shortly A Wishbone Epistolary was published, I defended my thesis and was awarded my master’s degree. And right after that, I was assigned as a high school guidance counsellor in a local high school. At my new posting, my reputation preceded me. Not only did many staff members know that I was a published author, I was also the only one in the school who had a graduate degree. That was then, and this is now. Back then, I was the only Edison bulb lighting the building. Nowadays, I am but another lambency among the dozens of 40 or 60-watt bulbs enlightening the minds of the students in the myriad of educational spaces of my employer.

Several years after that guidance counsellor assignment, I joined with some fellow staffers to form a ‘60s cover band, resulting again in another fifteen minutes of fame experience. In my city every Christmas is the Annual Carol Festival at the Knox Metropolitan Church. Choirs from all over, take their turn on the stage to put on a festive show that packs the house. In the very year we formed our band, Sharie and the Shades, we were asked to be the key performance for the festival. (Sharie and the Shades was named for the music teacher in the high school of our employ, and adhering to our snappy band name, we all wore shades as we performed ‘60s rock ‘n’ roll, shades from the past, so to sing.) Of course, we jumped at the chance, hopped onto the stage, and performed as requested. We arrived and set up early, played an hour-long set for a front row of local dignitaries, the premier of the province, the mayor of the city, et al, and the entire hour-long performance was televised! This performance had my bandmates and self brightly shining in the public light throughout the rest of the Christmas season.

My guitar and song-writing skills are adequate for every year to garner five paid gigs at a local bar, BUSHWAKKERS, and a few other charitable gigs every year at another bar, THE CURE. All these contract gigs follow the same format. I solicit other singer-songwriters from my guitar-slinging community, and we take turns on stage performing our original songs to audiences of regular imbibers, dipsomaniacs, and folk genre followers. Being the self-appointed host for all these shows, I amass consequential moments of fame whilst introducing tyro to virtuoso gig-mates. Also, for the stage finale on all these shows, I close with my fifteen-minute set. (Such an action is not prompted by my vanity; rather, I am the closing performer on every show because I am the only person who is obligated to stay and sign-off at the end.)

Because I have been busking across the pond, in The Netherlands, in Ireland, and in Morocco, I fancy myself as being a planetary busker. Such a self-described nomenclature has offered me fifteen minutes of fame on many an occasion, especially in conversations among the guitar-slingers and buskers that I meet in those countries during my travels, and those I meet back at home after my travels.

Exploring these same adventitious places, I, oftentimes bring out my pencil, which also effects many minutes of fame.

MY PAL'S POOCH

ANOTHER FRIEND, ANOTHER PET

Take, for example, these pooch portraits Fido and Rex and Lassie et al that I have drawn for friends just this past week. For each of these drawings, from each of these family members who own these pets, upon my presenting the final product, I am pretty much guaranteed more than my usual fifteen minutes of pedestrian pet fame!

Of course, too, this blog that you are reading offers me fifteen minutes of fame time and time again. For example, not only is my blog continually rated as being among the top ten busking blogs, PSYCHOLOGY BUSKING A LA WORDSWORDS is listed at the top of the top ten!

FROM A GOOGLE SEARCH TODAY

And how about my QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH. My fifteen minutes of fame for my latest book, QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH, published just a couple of months ago, is already cooling. My publisher is nominating me for a book writer award in 2024, so that may heat up my social salability a degree or two, and if I happen to take home a prize, my books sales could explode!

AHOY, MATEYS! SHIVER ME TIMBERS! QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH IS A GOOD READ!

FACTOID: If a million readers click on the margin to the right and purchase my book, I will make a million dollars!

But alas, dear reader, we should know that fame and fortune may not be so worthy of pursuit, especially if at the expense of personal health. My point, dear reader, is this. Chasing rainbows for pots of gold takes the same energy as chasing popular exercise regimens for optimum health. To attain either, one cannot afford to be complacent. The fat of the former and skinny of the latter is this: ONE NEEDS TO KEEP MOVING.

Take heed to what I say, not to what I do. If I were to practice what I preach there would certainly not be a 38-year gap between book publications!

If I were to practice what I preach, every gig I give would be an Orphic experience for the audience, rather than just another folk-show facsimile of the one I gave previous.

Also, if I were to practice what I preach, I would be more Promethean in every endeavor. I would be more innovative in my song writing, and I would be more rebellious in my personal fitness. Right now, in real time, I am working on both. I am attempting some punk strumming patterns for a couple of new songs I am writing, and I have just registered for a ski-instructor course this coming January 5^th, 6^th, and 7^th at MISSION RIDGE SKI RESORT, SK.