Like the time of your life, there is no other better moment to make the most of than this one moment we have all been given.
The Small Time Bigger Than You Know
One of the hardest hand to mouth hustles ever invented in this world of hard knocks is busking. No contracts, no off site gigs, just pure hat and more hat shows. I’m talking about hard cold cash you can count in a hat after a performance. The lightning bolt street performing epiphany struck my not entirely completed journey to adulthood fresh and wild. Anxious family and friends thought I was headed toward a cobblestone catastrophe. Destitution and insolvency were bookended plotting points. There is no getting off the road, there are no lucky breaks, no easy streets on this obstacle strewn path. You can’t undo what you’ve bet your life on. An emergent busker is a tangled soul drowning in a world insisting on orthodoxy. There has to be no other way out. This is your fated Tombstone. Conformity is a stinking stalemate. You set out to do so many shows, as far as an eye can see, until you’re at risk of being buried in a sea of nickels, dimes and quarters.
No locked gate at the trailhead here at the Suharo National Park in Tucson.
What part of “He’s a threat to national security…” do you not understand?
Disgust is the automated bot game being foisted upon our citizens. There is a lot of suppression being played so they might tamp down on the outraged and paying attention majority.
We got us a verified Putin puppet boys and girls, men and women, fellow citizens of my country.
You get the benefit of the doubt, I get the benefit of the doubt and he has completely duplicitiously worn his welcome at the no doubt about fresh squeezed for payoff bar of kickbacks and under the table dirty rotten deals.
We’ll attend the womens march in at the state capital in Phoenix on Saturday.
Until then I’ll be hiking here in Tucson, south to Patagonia then north in the Superstitions. I’ll be visiting folk I know that live on a ranch right on the Mexican frontier. I’ll hike out to the fence for look see.
Hope you’ll join me in keeping a close eye on our democracy. Patriots we are right on the edge of risky times our signers of the constitution worried might come to pass.
Long dusty trail in our park
Like-Kind Desert-Dwelling Art Brained Dune Drifter
Gathering a crowd on a sidewalk for a street show requires guts. Buskers look for flow. If there is enough foot traffic it’s worth a shot. Transcending this issue is an intangible. I won’t try to name the mystery. We either hold a key to the pedestrians curiosity or not.
In 1967 Jeff Sheridan stepped into NYC’s Washington Square and met the moment. The silent slight of hand magician’s public setting gave the act a sense of mystique.
The impromptu, serendipitous street show’s were given room to run, but as the formula took root the initial exuberance of the performing form began to dissipate.
In this moment in our evolving global culture gathering an audience for a sidewalk show has shifted from places where it is expected to be found— think inner urban areas, performing arts festivals— to less easily predictable settings— rest areas, campgrounds and farmers markets.
Gather them where you find them
It isn’t just movies being hit hard by the cultural shift. Music has been disrupted. Journalism has been hard hit. The book business, especially fiction. I find much to admire in the work of Ann Patchett, Isabel Allende and Jonathan Friesen But, in this moment none are moving the mass markets imagination, none strike a blow at the sales counter as did James Michener.
Our appetites have been supersaturated. Street show or best selling author, once venerable film directors or rock and roll stars— for all of us the work we do and our ability to connect is murky. Our formulas feel spent and harnessing our content to whatever form has the sensibility of being forced. There is the risk of predictability.
Put Art Everywhere
The birth of Dixieland, the impressionists or Shakespeare’s Hamlet, I wonder now how it struck and moved the audiences in the present moment then? How far did they go? How long were they moved? When the new work was exhausted did they cling to the past or let go? —and trusting something new would catch them then leap? —
As ever buy a book, book a show, poke around here at my site. Hope you’ll come back and spend more time with me.