felix felicis

Yesterday: got a job, booked a music gig, and had an awesome busking experience wherein I met a kindred busking soul.

I've been looking for jobs for nigh on two months, after being, quite frankly, given the runaround by my former employer, Apple. Unemployment came to the rescue (for the first time....I'm cautious about things that could be mistaken as "freeloader" activities), and I've been busking on the side to get some extra green stamps though it's been too cold to do it often.

After weeks of polite harassment, the Chess Shop in the village hired me yesterday at a rather low salary, but heck man, it's chess! I love chess. And just by virtue of working there I'm gonna become a chess superbrain, right? I'm pretty sure that's how it works. Plus, it's going to be a job that's fairly easy and entirely enjoyable. Me don't do restaurants. Anything resembling soul-selling kinda turns me off.

I auditioned for a performance gig at my girlfriend's restaurant two days ago, and found out yesterday that I booked it! Yes, Rob, there is a Dollar Claus. He just likes to ignore you for months at a time. I'm not sure if this place (a Kosher steakhouse) will exactly "get" my amateurish spin on american folk music, but why not give it a shot? I mean, I LOVE pickles.

As the final move in a day filled with luck, I decided to go busking, presuming my good luck would pay off in spades and I'd make a king's ransom in singles. Instead, I couldn't find an available station anywhere between 145th and 23rd streets. Yoink. I started heading back uptown, resigned to make tea and play video games for the duration of the eve, when I saw a guy playing Dylan songs at 42nd Street. He was around my age, clearly had enthusiasm for the material, and....I dunno. I was feeling ballsy. So, after first going to 59th (no dice), I came back to 42nd and asked him if he'd mind me accompanying him for a little while. He replied that his night was almost over, but he'd give it a shot.

He started up "Blowin in the Wind" and I played along with my mandolin and harmonica, flubbing a little here and there on solos (par for the course). He asked if I knew "Suzanne" ("sort of" was may response), and we went through that and then "SO Long, Maryanne" as per request. Honestly, it was a blast. This is what busking's supposed to be like! Chance meetings. Music no matter what! Woody Guthrie woulda been proud. I think.

Anyway, at some point I introduced myself to Jeff, and him to me. A few songs later he peaced out, but we agreed to meet up again soon and play. It was instant gelling, no denial. I was glad I hadn't wussed out and kept my lip buttoned when I first saw him.

I stuck around for a while and played solo. There were some really nice people who told me I wasn't far from being on American Idol (do they have folk episodes of that? if so, I'd do it), and got an Eric Clapton request. Wish I knew some.

I made pretty good money for only playing around an hour, and I have to say that I musta drank some luckjuice yesterday because I haven't had a day that serendipitous in a long time.

rubbing one out

I put off busking all day for mini projects, both real and necessary, and imaginary and a waste of time. Planning which variety of tea I'll drink next? Yep, I definitely spent a few minutes on that. Restringing mandolin after not changing them since October (purchase date of mandolin)? Slightly more necessary. But 8 strings doesn't equal 8 times the restringing fun. It equals 45 minutes.

Around 1 am on my way home I decided to step off the train and busk. Luckily, my mandolin found its way into my hand (busking with my skin flute has become increasingly difficult in the cold). However, no one found their way into my station, so I hopped back on a train one and a half songs later.

It was good, though. I was feeling musically pent up, and it was good to sonically ejaculate all over the Museum of Natural History murals in the 81st Street subway station, then dart back into the night cackling and counting my zero dollars.

I'm again struck by the fact that I wasn't invited to my five-year high school reunion. I mean, do these people READ THIS BLOG?!

Erroneous Rock

This is a random post no matter how you look at it, but it's especially random when you consider that I haven't updated this site since June of 2008, and then only to write an ode to Weezer/my dog.

I was away in CT for a few months this fall doing theater and writing a bunch, and I've busked from time to time since then but haven't felt the need to blog about any of it. A feeling of same old, same old kept me away I guess.

But no more!

Here's a new song that's a collaboration between my buddy Jeb Heil and myself. He wrote the lyrics, I wrote the music (earlier tonight, actually). It's a little haphazard and a lot ugly, but I've been wanting to make something careening and unsightly. My part was written in about fifteen minutes, so I'm not gonna judge it too much.



butterflies, butterflies
beautiful butterflies
chocolate covered and bite sized
a pound of them is the grand prize

skinny men and fat women
walk around holding hands
do they love each other?
well i guess they do, but don't we all?

oh i guess we don't (x4)

advertise, advertise
subliminal advertise
sell you looney tunes neckties
hold back my desire to modernize

shit water, piss water
we'll put through this machine
and we'll drink it
will it make us sick?
well i guess it will, but aren't we all?

oh i guess we are (x4)