2025: ANOTHER YEAR OF REGRET AND RESOLVE

 

It is time for my 2025 resolutions, resulting mainly from my regrets for 2024. Yes. Regrets, I’ve had a few but then again, too few to mention. Yes. Regrets, referring to Ol’ Blue Eyes, I’ve had a few, of which I will mention later.

As I am typing this, I am looking out my window in the surfin’ village of Sayulita, Mexico. Just a five-minute walk from my Airbnb, and I will be on a beach amongst at least 100 surfers. SURFIN’ USA (THE BEACHBOYS)

and SURFSIDE 6 (TROY DONAHUE)

are ever on my mind when I’m down on Sayulita beach.

Staying here for a few days during Christmastime, I have snorkeled the force majeure of the big waves at Banderas Bay – not recommended!

And I have even managed a game of chess with a living-statue chess master!

What I did not do and regret not doing is sketching some pencil portraits along the Puerto Vallarta Malecon.

Hmmm. And I am not sure why I did not! After all, I have done portraits in Ireland.

I have done portraits in The Netherlands.

I have done portraits in Morocco.

And I have done pooch portraits too!

Yes. I REGRET not drawing portraits in Mexico. So, for 2025, be it near a Mexican malecon or a British Columbia boardwalk, I RESOLVE to do pencil portraits in a bigger way than in 2024 and all the years before.

Knowing full well that I can become the person I resolve to be, when I fly back to Sayulita, between palavers of my portrait busking, I also RESOLVE to learn how to surf! And this shall be my New Year quiddity, sketchin’ and surfin’!  

(YES. IT BECKONS.)

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

 

 

 

 

2024 ANNOTATED DRUMPF XMAS CARD: IF YOU HATE TRUMP, YOU WILL LOVE THIS CARD

WTF?!

My usual designer XMAS CARD took a turn for the worse this 2024. When opening the card my caricature of Donald Trump immediately piques curiosity. Here is the annotated edition of this 2024 card:

• Drumpf

Note that on his left collar I labelled him “Drumpf.” Drumpf is a German surname that dates to the 16^th century and is most known as the predecessor to the family name, Trump. According to research author, Gwenda Blair, Donald’s ancestor, Hanns Drumpf, was an itinerant German lawyer in 1603. Back to the future in 2024, Donald Drumpf is the quintessential emasculated New Yorker socialite, seeking refuge and solace at Mar-a-Lago in Palm Beach, Florida, and soon at the presidency in 2025.

Calling Donald, Drumpf, is most certainly meant to be condescending (and funny). As a surname, Drumpf sounds even funnier than Trump -- Just ask British comedian, John Oliver! 

• WTF

The reader will also notice the WTF in big Democratic-blue letters across the top of the inside page. In this case, WTF means WHAT THE FIGGY PUDDING! Rather than swearing with the F-word, the F for Figgy pudding is certainly more festive.

• Person. Woman. Man. Camera. TV.

How about that five-word cognitive memory test that Trump has been trumpeting?! Under pressure this five-word baptism of fire mental test seems no small matter for such a small wannabe dictator, at least not from the perspective of this five-time-fake-injury military draft dodger, Donald Drumpf.

• WOW

Yes! Trump aced this test by repeating these five words twice in row! Such an impressive mental exusion for the dull-witted and dastardly, Donald Drumpf.

• HAPPY NEW YEAR 2029!

This past week Donald Trump has been suggesting that Canada should become the 51st state in America. Trump has been mocking our Canadian Prime Minister, Justin Trudeau and besmirching our Minister of Finance, Chrystia Freeland. Justin Trudeau, has a heart of gold, and is a graduate of McGill University and the University of British Columbia. Hi is bilingual, fluent in English and French. Chrystia Freeland, is a journalist and economist, a graduate of both Harvard and Oxford, and fluent in five languages. Whereas meanwhile, back at the bully pulpit, Donald Drumpf has a vocabulary of 10,000 words, and to employ some Christmassy metaphors, Drumpf has walnut for a brain and a lump of coal for a heart. 

An FYI, Drumpf: Pretty much anything coming from your mouth is fake news. Most Canadians consider you to be a reprehensible and evil being. Lots of Canadians are refusing to travel to the states as long as you're the ringmaster of your swampy circus. You think those who do not agree with you are on a witch hunt, when in fact, we, Canadians, know you are a wannabe warlock. I AM A CANADIAN -- YOU, SIR, ARE A CLOWN. 

Donald’s presidency will end in 2029. As his term in office ends, so will likely be the end of an American century of global dominion. But what do I know? I do know that this XMAS card is an expression of my disdain for the reprehensible, Donald Trump. Donald Trump is the personification of malversation. Do I find some schadenfreude in referring to this malversation as Drumpf? I do, but I digress.

On the front and back cover of the card, are a couple of my traditional yule drawings:

To prove I can be kind at Christmastime, I shall close with a sample of my XMAS CARDS over the last few years:

XMAS SANTA 2019

XMAS CARD 2020

XMAS CARD 2021

MERRY KRISKRINGLEMAS, EVERYONE!

 

 

ONCE IS ENOUGH -- TWICE IS A TREAT

 

MY BUSKING AVATAR

For me, one of anything is usually enough, whereas two of anything can oftentimes be a treat. And when I state, one, I am commented on both time and content. In reference to time, one hour shall suffice for my length of engagement for anything (except for my work contract), whereas about content, one portion shall suffice for practically any product being indulged. For example, I’ve the morning habit of reading the international news from CNN, Al Jazeera, and Fox. (Hmmm. Fox may be more intergalactic than international, because its writers and followers are seemingly from another planet.) Saying this as a Canadian writer, American politics reeks with the stench of the filthiest Augean Stable, the one where members of the Republican Party are kept and fed. When compared to reading Canadian and Western European politics, reading American politics is like reading lollapalooza ugly.

UGLY 

During this morning ugly read, I sip one Nabob cappuccino (no refills necessary).

One hour, too, seems the perfect amount of time that I allot for traveling to and fro home and my two gyms, Downtown Fitness and Ascendant Martial Arts. Downtown Fitness is my gym for strength training, and just a five-minute walk from home, whereas Ascendant Martial Arts is my gym for Muay Thai training, and just a five-minute drive from home.

At Downtown Fitness, my workouts last just one hour, for five days each week. At Ascendant Martial Arts, my workout is one hour of punches, kicks, knee strikes, and elbow strikes. A one-hour regimen of Muay Thai just one day a week is enough!

WASCANA LAKE and WASCANA POOL and WASCANA RINK, all situated in WASCANA CENTRE, are just walking minutes from my home. And keeping in theme, one hour to and fro for each is suffice. To run the lake takes a half hour. To walk the lake takes 50 minutes. To ride my bike ‘round the lake takes but 20 minutes. Swimming laps in the pool, I schedule myself for just one hour.

Even watching television, I am only good for an hour, two hours and I am Zzzz. A series that I have just finished watching was “MAN ON THE INSIDE.” Though it was five-star fun, I never watched more than two episodes in one sitting. And the same goes for “BLACK DOVES,” another five-star series that I’m currently watching. More staring at the tube would be just squandering my time, for me, quality time powers a quality life.

I do have a load of activities where a two-hour timeslot is a treat. Except for hiking. No matter how long a hike takes, it is always a treat. Disc golf, at the very least, takes a couple of hours. And the better I get, the bigger the treat.

Guitar busking for more than one hour becomes a chore, whereas portrait busking for a couple of hours can be a treat.

A GRAND LADY AND HER DOG

MICHAEL PAYNE, THE MOST FAMOUS HYPNOTHERAPIST IN LIMERICK IRELAND

Writing this blog is always a treat and always takes about an hour (for the first draft), whereas writing each day for a couple hours on my next novel, the sequel to QUEST FOR BLACK BEACH, is a treat!

A CHILLY RIDE

Enough of my notions on time. ‘Tis time now to turn to product. (Pun intended!) I never eat breakfast and my lunches are always very light. Even so, just one helping at suppertime of my most favorite cuisine is usually enough. But it is the after-supper snacks that are my killers!

Factoid: Last evening I bought a 165 g bag of “Maynards LICORICE ALLSORTS,” and I gormandized the entire bagful within an hour. With NATURAL COLOURS & FLAVOURS it had to be healthy right?! Introspection causes my dander to rise and thinking about it gives me a stomach-ache! Assorted licorice is not a good pre-game, pre-busk, or pre-anything meal!

Practically every evening I tap TIMMY’S for a London Fog or a Chai tea or a Cappuccino or a Macchiato. (Timmy’s is a Canadian cultural icon, known elsewhere on the planet as TIM HORTONS.) But always just one. And when I partake of other diners, which is often because I live right downtown where the diners are many and diverse, I limit my alcohol consumption to just one drink.

Factoid:  Just one drink of alcohol for me, is one drink of alcohol too many. Alcohol does not enhance my life in any way, not even socially.

If there is any message in this blogpost it could be that line of caution from Democritus, the ancient Greek philosopher, who stated, “Throw moderation to the winds, and the greatest pleasures bring the greatest pains.” This was followed up by another ancient Greek philosopher, Socrates, who stated, “All things in moderation, including moderation.”

But American actress and singer, Mae West, said it best:

“YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE, BUT IF YOU DO IT RIGHT, ONCE IS ENOUGH.”

MAE WEST

I shall close this essay with A BIG WOOF to my dogophile pal, Robin, who created the avatars atop and below my words in this post.

WOOF!

 

 

A BRIEF HISTORY OF BUSKING: FROM YONKS TO YIKES

1860 ORGAN GRINDER

Buskers, such as I, have been around for yonks. The term, busking, was first coined (pun intended) in the 1860s, from the Spanish, buscar (to seek), in reference to the Roma as they trekked along the Mediterranean Coast, singing and playing their lutes and harps for the Spanish and French and any others who would listen along their way.

Whenever I busk, I stand as a proud member of the buskerhood (pun intended), having an aggregate of antecessors:

In 11^th Century Russia, we were known as the Skomorokh.

SKOMOROKH

We, Bhavai, a popular folk theatre in India and Pakistan, have a 700-year history.

BHAVAI

In Medieval France we were known as Troubadours and Jongleurs.

TROUBADOURS

In Old Germany, we were the Minnesingers and Spielleute.

MINNESINGERS

We were the Chindon’ya in mid 19^th Century Japan.

CHINDON'YA

In Mexico we were, and still are, the Mariachis.

MARIACHIS

And Christmastime we are still A-Wassailing. Figgy pudding, anyone?!

WASSAILING

Buskers take many shapes and setups. I have seen puppeteers, knife throwers, living statues, keyboard players, accordion players, face-painters, freestyle rappers, print sellers, poetasters, magicians, ouija board readers and taro card readers. The popular pitches for these buskers tend to be in public places having large volumes of pedestrian traffic, subways, train stations, and urban parks.

LIVING STATUE 

My business model for busking is as follows.

I tend to loll always somewhere outdoors, usually in front of a vendor or in a park, either around noon hour or suppertime. Cap-a-pie, I am hatless with tousled hair, wearing either a white long-sleeved collared shirt or t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and leather work boots.

I strum my guitar whilst blowing my harp, but sometimes I play my banjo. Other times I play my didgeridoo. And when I am weary of making music (Yes, it happens!), I just take out my pencil and sketchpad and draw people’s portraits.

DRAWING IN MARRAKESH

When I am busking some people, especially dance, will dance to my songs. Some people want selfies, some people want to play my guitar (which is not always a grrrr), some people just to chitter-chatter. 

The times they are a changin.’ The artisti di strada have been performing for yonks, but nowadays some of our ilk are ditching the street to test-drive the toll roads on the information superhighway. These cyber buskers are uploading their selfie-videos to YouTube, and then wait for the consumer cryptocurrency deposits to their PayPal accounts. I am not a cyber busker, but I will neither besmirch nor belaud those of us who are. I am just an old-school busker thrumming at the nexus between time past and time future.

YIKES.

BUSKING IN AMSTERDAM MANY YEARS AGO

BUSKING IN MARRAKESH