Busking | johnozed

Apparently it’s hump day. That’s the word on the street. I am still hamstrung by what a friend said to me back in May. I was trying to do something that was out of the ordinary and thought I was doing well with it, until I got the phone call. The friend was annoying and perplexed and irate and wouldn’t listen to my explanation, instead telling me how they would do things which were opposite the direction that I was going in. It did my head in and the train of thought was derailed, enough so that I have not been able to get back to what I wanted to do.

I think if I didn’t take the phone call I would probably be in a better writing place right now, further ahead than I had ever been before. Thinks would be progressing quite nicely. Or perhaps I would have derailed myself eventually. But in any event, the concept is still in the back of my mind, quite a distance from my fingers on the keyboard. Why they didn’t just write their comments in the comment section instead of calling me and stopping the train is beyond me. I am resentful.

So that’s my hump. Today was a laundry day, lots of t-shirts and underwear and socks. And shorts since it’s been months since I’ve worn pants. And also months since I wore a suit & tie. The job listings are slim. I get emails about jobs in Hoboken and when I check, they’re in Rumson or Princeton or Roseland. Any place besides Hoboken. The resumes dutifully go out, nothing biting, no responses. I can understand why certain people would be reluctant to suggest me for a job at their companies since they read this here blog and figure I would write about their job.

So it goes.

After the laundry I headed out to do some busking. I was a bit anxious about running into Tariq and the drunkard set and it was unwarranted since they weren’t around. I did figure out how to play Can’t Find My Way Home by Blind Faith and I played that for a while, even doing my best to approximate singing like Steve Winwood. It really is a beautiful song, beautiful enough to make me forget that the dreaded Eric Clapton is in on it. I prefer to ignore that fact and concentrate on Steve Winwood.

The first time I heard Can’t Find My Way Home, was on a stellar episode of the long forgotten television show Homicide: Life on the Street. The way it was used was brilliant and obviously it struck a chord with me. It wasn’t until last night that I figured out what those chords were. And don’t forget I did meet Steve Winwood while working at the cigar shack in 2010. Nice guy, a day off a tour and did not want his photo taken which I was cool about. I did shake his hand though and I do have the memory.

I did see the toddlers again. They get so excited to see me, they clap and jump and attempt to dance to whatever upbeat things I play. It really is a highpoint to my busking afternoons. The women who watch over the kids seem to like it as well. But once the kids settle down and sit on the curb to listen then it is time for them to go. The idea of being out and about is to keep moving, not to sit down. They always wave and yell ‘Bye bye’ when they are heading back to day care.

A few adults watch it and are generally amused and for me I’ve been timing my busking to coincide with the toddlers outing. I was hungry when I finished and decided to treat myself to Mamoun’s Falafel on the way home. I hadn’t been there since Annemarie left the east coast and I am glad I went. I sat inside and read James Wolcott last book, ‘Lucking Out: My Life Getting Down and Semi-Dirty in Seventies New York’.

Now I am home, probably in for the night and it’s not even 7:00. Not much to do and no one to do it with. Bill will probably be home soon, so that will be nice. That’s it for my plans.

So it goes.

Can’t Find My Way Home

Well it’s been an interesting 24 hours I think. Last night I wound up DJ’ing at local tavern Louise and Jerry’s for about 4 hours. It went fast. It was a reggae thing in celebration of Jamaica’s independence 50 years ago. That enabled me to go back to my reggae roots in the 1990s and get down to it. Rand joined me and we ‘spun’ records with the bartender Brian. Of course I wasn’t there, it was all done via the internet. My choices as well as Rand’s were queued up with Brian and it was all playing live at the tavern.

Bill enjoyed it but went to bed really early due to exhaustion. I picked tracks from around 6:30 until 11:00. Both Rand & I quit at the same time, which means we might have left Brian high and dry. I did hear the Easy Star All Stars version of With a Little Help from my Friends and Radiohead’s Karma Police which was a real treat. So much of a treat that I snagged both the Sgt. Pepper and Radiohead dub versions. Very cool I think. At 11:00 came the news and of course it was mainly all bad.

I slept fairly well, under a sheet with the air conditioner on. Bill was out cold of course by the time I joined him in bed and I had to make sure he was alive since his skin felt a bit cold. But he lives and I was greatly relieved. Once again he kissed me goodbye in the morning, leaving me with a smile on my lips and words of encouragement in my ears. I of course was grouchy. I made up for it hopefully by getting Bill his unsweetened Almond soy milk which isn’t cheap by the way. Plus Bill knows I am not a morning person.

The Airwalks I bought a while ago have finally bitten the dust. At least I could feel the dust through the hole in my sneakers. I guess I wear them often enough and they served me well. The only place that sells Airwalks these days is Payless and luckily there is a store in the Newport Mall about a mile or so away. I was going to go yesterday but decided not to, so it had to be today. I walked over to the mall around 11:00 this morning after sending out the resumes once again.

I listened to the Easy Star All Stars on the iPod and picked up a few cigars at Hoboken Cigars by the Path train. It was a lovely morning as I walked and inside the mall it was not crowded at all. I was the only customer in Payless and picked out my new Airwalks and after I bought them, I put them on, throwing out the older pair in the garbage bin. They served me well. Some window shopping before heading back to Hoboken on a lovely afternoon.

I came home and had some lunch before heading out for some busking. I walked over to the promenade and saw Tariq with another dude. Tariq’s guitar was in his gig bag and I set up next to the other dude’s bicycle. Tariq is fond of playing songs that all the other buskers play, I am not. He’ll see a kid in a stroller and play for them Guns and Roses, Sweet Child of Mine. I play Roadrunner by the Modern Lovers.

Some toddlers made their way and I dutifully played for them. They were soon on their way and I decided to pack up my stuff and move to a location where I could be alone. I didn’t want to infringe on Tariq’s space since he was there. And some of Tariq’s friends came by with a guitar and a conga and a fifth of vodka which was passed around.

I declined and started to make my way. Tariq and the others said I didn’t have to go but I lied and said I needed to practice. The guy with the vodka said there’s no rule that says I had to move to practice, and I said I know and I don’t play by the rules anyhow and headed farther away. I don’t think it went over well but why would I care what a bunch of drunks think?

I walked away from Pier A to Pier C and found it sufficient enough to play there. And I made some money while playing so I was happy. It is a nice thing to make a couple of bucks and seeing people enjoying my playing. I think my time spent with Tariq is dwindling. I don’t like the crowd he hangs out with. I certainly enjoyed my playing and I think I will spend more time at my new spot rather than the spot where the other buskers usually play. Perhaps I will play on Washington Street eventually.

Perhaps.

02. With A Little Help From My Friends