busker about town

i just spilled soy sauce on my shirt.

also, busking sucked tonight. cops were doing a bag check (at 9:00 pm, mind you), and asked me to go to the other side of the station. not one to be told what to do, i hopped a train uptown and tried finding a spot elsewhere. they were not to be had. I circumvented 59th street and headed back downtown, ending up where I'd begun at 23rd street. well, at least i can say i got to see a lot of new york tonight. not that i needed that.

i mostly did originals tonight, but the one story of note happened while i was meandering my way through don mclean's "vincent." I noticed a woman standing behind me, on the other side of the fencing. she stuck around for the whole song, leaning against the fence with her eyes closed, and when I was finished, she got my attention and told me "that was beautiful," and put her hand to her heart. she handed me a dollar through the fence and walked off....that lifted me up a little bit. i'm not sure if she had left the train and heard me on the way out or what, but it was a really...I dunno...artistic/nice/cool thing to do, sticking around like that.

in writing news, i'm going to have all my lyrics (or a sizable portion) on my .mac page soon. click the "rob's music: free" link to the right to download some of the songs i've posted to the aforementioned page. it would be nice to have songs on blogger, but this website doesn't let me do much.

there's been an overload of poetry reading every night for me...i'm a walking cliche. anyone who knows me or my writing well knows i'm pretty obsessed with william blake. i wrote a concept album based on "songs of innocence and of experience" a few years ago, but there were a couple poems that fell through the cracks. i've been reacquainting myself with a few of them, and one in particular really hit me. in case anyone's interested, i transcribed blake's poem "the clod & the pebble" below...it's awesome.

the clod & the pebble

love seeketh not itself to please,
nor for itself hath any care;
but for another gives its ease,
and builds a heaven in hells despair.

so sang a little clod of clay,
trodden with the cattles feet;
but a pebble of the brook,
warbled out these metres meet.

love seeketh only self to please
to bind another to its delight:
joys in anothers loss of ease,
and builds a hell in heavens despite.