Bottom of That Barrel

I hope it’s not an ill omen that my first blog post for buskny recounts a day of botched performances. It’s been a long hop and a skip since the last day I went to work and only actually made $1. But I’m going to count this as one of those penitential days you have to pay to get the sucking out of your system in preparation for torrential landslide success… and I do generally share the suspicion that if I go out to warm up on Thursday, even if I don’t do that well, I’ll play better on Friday.

Anyways, after a seemingly endless and fruitless search for a pitch, I set up my little box on the far end of a platform this evening wearing my regular collage of burlap and pink rags, and did a few new “puppet shows”. Excerpts from the captions scrawled on my chalkboard include “I understand everything,” “horrible ontology family tree,” and “P03xx1mM0Gft7x0LN28”. A new addition, the Gutted Dolphin Hat, happily bobbed beside my regular pacha mama tiger, and most of my onlookers seemed generally interested, but distracted. Say Lah Vee. There really is no math in this line of work.

I did however reconnect with several old friends and compatriots underground, with whom I shared information about buskny, and also landed a flier for the upcoming NYC Busker’s Ball on the 24th, which portentous happening oozed auspicious coincidence (let’s go there). Nice to meet you!


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