Saturday night was a strange one.
I was rushing to get to the music store before it closed at 8 PM, only to buy one guitar pick.
The one that I have been playing with for months has been worn to a size smaller than a dime.
I got there to find the store still open, though it was after 8 PM, due to the fact that some customers were in there loading up on vinyl records at 30 bucks a pop; whom I am sure were being told: "Take your time," by the manager who stood to profit several dollars for every additional minute that he stayed open.
So, I slinked in and got my 39 cent pick in the midst of it.
I got to the Lilly Pad, after having passed a busker nearby the Quartermaster on my way there.
I set up my stuff.
It was very early by my standards, shortly after 8 PM.
Alan sat on his stoop across from me, as did Barnaby on his.
I had forgotten the milk crate which I had hidden nearby.
I repacked my stuff and then went to get it, from behind the elementary school where both Richard Simmons and Lenny Cravitz went.
I walked the block back to the spot to find that the busker who had been across from the Quartermaster was now right by Lilly's stoop, playing a Led Zepplin song while a buddy kept time on some kind of tambourine.
I was able to coax him to leave after telling him that I had just gone to get my milk crate, and after flipping the LED spotlight on, which I had left positioned in the vines above where I play.
I was half-way through the night when a medium built black guy came and sat on the stoop next to me.
After he began skeezing people, I asked him if he could skeeze elsewhere. He refused to move, even though I had already been there playing at the time that he came and sat and didn't tip, but was rather positioning himself to skeeze; maybe even thinking that my music could attract him victims.
I took a 10 minute break to call Lilly, who was at Rouses Market and who took all of 20 seconds to get the guy to move on; raising her voice just once, I heard from about 50 feet away on the other side of the street.
I resumed playing, on my way to what surprised me as a 44 dollar night, because it hadn't seemed like I was getting tipped profusely; though I did play a total of 4 hours.
Not long after Lilly had run the guy off; another young black kid came by and asked me if the guy had left, pointing to the stoop.
"I just got back from the store and he wasn't here," I said.
I was rushing to get to the music store before it closed at 8 PM, only to buy one guitar pick.
The one that I have been playing with for months has been worn to a size smaller than a dime.
I got there to find the store still open, though it was after 8 PM, due to the fact that some customers were in there loading up on vinyl records at 30 bucks a pop; whom I am sure were being told: "Take your time," by the manager who stood to profit several dollars for every additional minute that he stayed open.
So, I slinked in and got my 39 cent pick in the midst of it.
I got to the Lilly Pad, after having passed a busker nearby the Quartermaster on my way there.
I set up my stuff.
It was very early by my standards, shortly after 8 PM.
Alan sat on his stoop across from me, as did Barnaby on his.
I had forgotten the milk crate which I had hidden nearby.
I repacked my stuff and then went to get it, from behind the elementary school where both Richard Simmons and Lenny Cravitz went.
I walked the block back to the spot to find that the busker who had been across from the Quartermaster was now right by Lilly's stoop, playing a Led Zepplin song while a buddy kept time on some kind of tambourine.
I was able to coax him to leave after telling him that I had just gone to get my milk crate, and after flipping the LED spotlight on, which I had left positioned in the vines above where I play.
I was half-way through the night when a medium built black guy came and sat on the stoop next to me.
After he began skeezing people, I asked him if he could skeeze elsewhere. He refused to move, even though I had already been there playing at the time that he came and sat and didn't tip, but was rather positioning himself to skeeze; maybe even thinking that my music could attract him victims.
I took a 10 minute break to call Lilly, who was at Rouses Market and who took all of 20 seconds to get the guy to move on; raising her voice just once, I heard from about 50 feet away on the other side of the street.
I resumed playing, on my way to what surprised me as a 44 dollar night, because it hadn't seemed like I was getting tipped profusely; though I did play a total of 4 hours.
Not long after Lilly had run the guy off; another young black kid came by and asked me if the guy had left, pointing to the stoop.
"I just got back from the store and he wasn't here," I said.
Oh geez, I've had a bum sit *right* next to me in Mountain View, on one of the seat/planter things ... frankly I think it was a regular place for him to sit but I didn't let that stop me - I was playing a PVC flute I'd made, plans are online, and since the sound of a flute tends to come out the end, I positioned the end right next to his ear and played as loud as I could. He left.
ReplyDeleteAnother time I had some big (Irish?) guy hustle back and forth in front of me for money for beer, fortunately once he had the funds for a brewski he took off.
I've joined that organization that makes *you* want to drink more, AA, and for me, it's a fit. I'm working on getting back out there with the trumpet as soon as this Tuesday, and I've got my stupid blog going again, http://www.buskinginsiliconvalley.blogspot.com and I've got you linked on there.