Quick shameless plug: ye olde myspace page has a new song up that you should check out so it looks like people like me and such. Click on all this gross highlighted text to listen to "In Your Dark." Thanks.
I came home with a completely scarlet, frozen hand after busking for three hours. That was fun. I got to soak it, which gave me a nice, feeble old man look. On top of my usual evening ritual, which involves sipping tea and reading fanatasy novels, this new addition probably aged me at least thirty years. Wish I could say it was worth it, but evidently everyone's wallet was frozen to their cold hearts, so my profit thermostat reached a new low. Okay, so that was pushing the metaphor.
Busking is awkward when you run into people. They tend to think you're homeless, or horribly desperate. I'm not saying those things aren't true...but it's still awkward. All the other pitches were taken up, so I had to set up camp at 28th Street, which happens to be precariously close to the Magnet (where I do improv) and my agency (where I...hope to get work). But hey. I was desperate. And yes, almost homeless.
(The photo is by William Eggleston, who you should also check out.)
No comments:
Post a Comment