But, I Went Out And Made Five Dollars

It was cold at 58 as I pedaled toward the Lilly Pad, the first night after losing my wallet.
I had balked at spending $6.53 on a new key card, as, half of the building are missing their key cards and rely upon facial recognition on the part of the security people sitting at the front desk to be "buzzed in."
They are a huge nuisance to these security ladies, and now, I one of them.
But, I wanted to busk at least one night in order to put the purchase of the key card into perspective.
I was playing about as well as ever. I find that I have improved drastically on the songs that I had recorded over at Jacob's.
I can remember being very conscious of the fact that whatever I played would be conspicuous in the music if it wasn't right in time with whatever else was going on.
To wit, the drum machine was keeping us in strict time, so I had to make sure that my chord changes were landing right on the beat, and if Jacob was playing a very cool chordal thing then I had to make sure that whatever I played was careful of blending in at the minimum, re-enforcing or enhancing at the most.
But, my playing had improved, with the major improvement being in the way I was attacking the strings, knowing that they were close to the breaking point, I was able to back off a bit, and in doing so, realized that all along I had been kind of over playing.
If you are a golfer who is trying to "kill the ball," then you are likely to be erratic in your placement of the ball on the course.
By playing softer, I had to admit that my voice was better equipped to sing the melodies in their proper ratio to the guitar.
Before, I was playing the guitar loudly to make up for the volume of my voice.
It is better to be balance with the guitar and let the volume of the singing be the meter by which the volume of the guitar is set.
In my case, this is by just hitting the guitar more lightly. This made it easier to play certain things with an economy that I found pleasing. At one point I wondered to myself what I would play if I had to play something for my whole life. If I was given a guitar and taught a song and I had to walk around my whole life with the thing around my neck and play the song as if I were a bird and it was mine. At a certain point, I would want to find the easiest way to do it. I would learn extreme economy of movement. But, most of all, I would figure out how to let the song play while my mind was a million miles away or engaged in something more compelling.
As the playing became automatic, I was able to feel like I was sitting there, hearing music of course but not thinking that it was "mine" and that it was "some Daniel McKenna," as in a band telling the audience "We're gonna do some Daniel McKenna, now" before breaking into one of my songs.
I wanted to avoid the tedium of trying to figure out just what that Daniel McKenna should be, so I watched the people. I tried to match the tempo of my playing to the rhythm of of the legs of a group of about 4 who had slowed their pace, as so many tourists to, as if they had been being scurried along by the sleaziness of the brightly lit blocks behind them and were slowing to the pace of the residential block.
But then along came a skeezer whom I have seen before and who likes to sit and free-style singing over whatever I'm playing. This, I was able to endure for a while. He is an average freestyle singer, and maybe if we ever rehearsed anything we wouldn't sound bad together. But, I basically had to tell him that I did best when I was sitting there by myself.
I pointed out that people were just going to think that we were some kind of team, with myself playing the guitar and him crooning (whatever came into his head that he probably thought extra clever of himself due to his being plastered and stoned).
But, life went on and we were able to shake hands and him walk off. But not before he almost stayed after I had said something additional after have a good night, or stay safe.
I might have just added some aside which caused him to remain and to continue to talk. Lesson learned: If the skeezer is leaving, remain calm and don't do or say anything that might mess it up.
It is Saturday night, getting late and has been cold enough to see your breath all night.
I am "planning" upon going out to busk, but am also aware that it will be much warmer tomorrow during the day at the Lilly Pad.