It's on. A rumble. A knock-down, dragout skirmish spar destruction-o-rama beatfest. I might even go to the gym for this.
The last three times I've gone busking, I've either been forced to go to another station because this way-too-smiley asian guy playing a two-string fiddle is paying rent at the 23rd Street station he's there so often, or because a crazy drunken homeless lady takes up residence near me while accurately shrieking out the author of the song I'm playing, effectively frightening away anyone who actually wanted to contribute to my dinner fund (I mentioned her awhile ago, I think). Long story shot, I keep relocating to 28th Street. Which I don't like as much.
Tonight was not so bad, however. Despite being out for a brief time, I did all right, and I even managed to attract a fan! A nice woman skipped probably five trains just to stick around and listen to me...she even told me that I was very talented and that she couldn't believe how bad some of the people are on American Idol when there was someone like me in the subway! I was definitely flattered...I've had one or two people skip a train before (I say that as un-egotistically as possible), but this was a first. I'm grateful that it happened...I guess everyone has a day or two of self-doubt, and I'm smack in the middle of it. It's always nice to get a compliment.
But I'm still really pissed at that fiddle player and that drunk lady.
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