She Looks Lethargic Today

Yesterday was not the greatest day in busking history.  In addition to being so sick of my songs to the point that I was incredibly bored, the "repairs" I did during the week backfired and the setup did not work.  I'm also sick of the turf "wars" (not wars at all) and limited pitches, so the take-home lesson of the day was that I'm ready to start busking somewhere other than Northampton.

1. The week before I installed pulleys and attached thicker cable to the segments that went through the pulleys.  But last Saturday the upper pulley chewed through that cable, and it would get stuck.  I replaced it again with this even thicker cable which seemed to work smoothly, but in reality it was too thick so the rubber band had trouble pulling the mechanism back into place  Also, it's a little bit stretchy which threw things off. 

2. This one worked!  I wanted a system for strapping the signs onto the trolley other than duct tape which was too harsh on the contact paper of the signs.  So I installed velcro strips, and when they were too slippery to hold the signs in place, I glued on rubber bands to hold it in place.  Voilá!  They slid a little, but this will work.

3.  I was worried about the bell which is mounted on a Popsicle stick.  I had been using a screwdriver to remove the device (held in place by a thumb tack hammered in), but the stick was cracking more each time and I feared that it would soon snap.  And so my dad found this little two-in metal thing which I attached under the stick to reinforce it.  Unfortunately, moving the bell out an eighth of an inch meant that Flaca didn't hit it, rendering the day frustrating.  I will have to just find a metal object to mount the bell on, or invest in a big bag of Popsicle sticks and have extras painted black and ready to go.

4. (Not photographed).  I also replaced the elastic on my left foot's string.  The right has thicker black elastic so it matches my shoe and doesn't stretch as much (due to the width).  The left had thin white elastic (all I could find in the hardware store in Vienna) which stretched often and stood out against my shoe.  It looked nice having them match, but the whole thing was too tight so Flaca's arm was far out to start with and didn't have smooth movement.  It was really hard to get her to hit the bell.  I think the thinner elastic works better in that case.

Luckily the linoleum I glued down stayed down!

These tweaks' failure to function was so annoying, and I really ought to have bailed for my own sanity and just played accordion.  But people didn't know it usually works better, and they still liked it, so I kept going.  It was a short day, though, and I have my work cut out for me this week.  I'll have to undo/change those adjustments and learn some new songs!

The other variable is pitches.  I'm really only interested in my favorite pitch, since we proved I can't play on the other side of the street due to the incline, and around the corner is less lucrative and I have to deal with Synergy.  I'm glad it's Steve that gets my spot instead of the new girls, but I'd still like to just have it myself.  I arrived around 11:10 and he said he'd pack up at either 12:00 or 1:45.  I decided it wasn't worth setting up somewhere else for less than an hour, so I hoped the Red Sox game would lure him into taking the earlier departure, and I sat in the sun, guarding the Synergy spot in case he didn't, until he made his decision.

Luckily he did decide to go early, so I got to take over there.  He was planning on coming in Sunday as well and I decided not to do the same.  I had been planning to come in early and beat the Smith girls to my spot, but it would just be aggressive and rude to come in earlier than Steve.  Time to leave Northampton.

And so I played, in my favorite spot, for about two and a half hours until I couldn't take it anymore.  And here's what happened:

Saturday, April 6, 2013
1. Once I knew I'd be waiting for a spot, I went over to Bruegger's for a bagel.  The man working, who isn't hugely chatty or warm, acknowledged me and said, "You're off to do your monkey thing?"  Cool!  Close enough.

2.  Then, when I was sitting in the back-up pitch eating my bagel, a man stopped to comment on my box: "There seem to be dancing pigs on your box."  And so I helped him see that they are a dog and cat, and he said, "Pigs would have been cool."  True.

3. A man walked by between songs and sang, "Roll out the barrels..."  I told him, "I've retired that song!" and he yelled back, "I don't blame you!"

4. A guy walked by and said, "She looks lethargic today."  I thought it was a serious comment, and I was happy to have someone know that she wasn't her usual self, instead of having to satisfy myself by telling people "She's not really working today!" But I think it was a joke, because he continued..."All that dancing wears you out!"  I chose this as the title of today's post, because it applies to me as well.  Jokes aside, Flaca was just nonfunctional, not lethargic, but I was unquestionably the latter.  Even though that statement wasn't directed at me, I have to remember to always look like I'm having fun even when I'm not, as was the case today.

5.  A fellow local musician stopped to talk.  I had seen the middle-aged, liberal button-adorned man walk by holding his guitar before, but we had never spoken.  He said he wanted to show me something, and presented a laminated paper, declaring that he had permission to play outside of one particular business whenever he wanted.  He said the mayor had approved it, and it overrode the normal permit in terms of hours and rules.  He could start playing at 6:00 am if he wanted!  This didn't seem like good news to me.  I could only see it promoting competition and tension between buskers, because that particular business is quite close to my pitch, and would wipe it out.  But it turns out he was telling me about it with positive intentions, because he could get me one.  He cited his background in human rights, and uses this knowledge to do such things as get his ideal busking permit.  He said it's a travesty that the town charges us for permits; that they should pay US to play.  I have mixed feelings about this, but I generally prefer when a city does have rules and restrictions, since I find that they're more of a boon than a bane (it's too bad my dad doesn't read my blog, since I learned the word "boon" when he played it in Scrabble yesterday).  Anyway, it's nice of this man to fight for busker rights and for offering his assistance in beating the system, but this was another episode that contributed to the "time to move on" theme of the day.

6. A man said, "That was an interesting vehsion of 'Dynamite!'" in an English accent.  I liked this because I already rock the irony/juxtaposition of unsophisticated Top 40 and sophisticated accordion, and the accent just added to the sophisticated side of it.

7. "Didn't the Young Rascals use one of those?"  (Accordion)  I don't know, did they?

8.  "I love you and I love your skirt."  Well, phwa, aw shucks!

9. A man stopped by and began what he was going to say to me with "I just got back from Iceland."  I told him, "I could tell by your sweater" because he was totally wearing an Icelandic sweater, on which I'm an expert after agonizing over which ones to bring home for my family!  Anyway, what he was saying about Iceland was that "nobody cares."  I forget the relevance of this, but it must have been a busking thing.  Cool story, bro.

10. I met the roommate of someone I've been hanging out with for the first time, so we agreed that we've been ships in the night since I've been over a few times when he wasn't home.  He said something like "I'm always a ship in the night" except way more deep, and it struck me as the most poetic thing I'd ever heard.  Too bad I didn't write it down verbatim.

As I said, I quit because I couldn't take it anymore.  I decided to pack up and go right into the bank I play outside of, for the last time.  I'm switching banks because my current one is a big one that supports/funds the Keystone pipeline, and local banking is good anyway.  Buttttt the old one has the coin machine.  I dumped my coins in for one last hurrah, and won one final prize.  You see, this obnoxiously animated machine gives you the option to guess how much money you've dropped in, and if you guess within $1.99 you get a prize.  I've gotten in a few times, since I'm now really good at guessing coin value based on weight, and I've won such things as chap stick, hand sanitizer, mints, etc.  Today, I got a squishy baseball.  Awesome.

Going to the bank also yielded a nice busker moment, since a fellow busker was waiting to use the machine after me.  He's a saxophone player (the one who recently had a photo in the paper), and we haven't actually met or spoken.  Ships in the night.  But he looked so cool, dressed for a Saturday afternoon/evening of work, and he dumped a familiarly large pile of coins in the machine, and began to prepare his bundles of singles.  Even though I was grumpy and sick of busking and in a bad bank, it was a moment of peace watching him calmly using the annoying machine to do what I had just done.  We really are a big global busking family, you know? 

That inspired me to exert less energy on the "time to move on" theme but rather prepare for the "summer camp" theme.  By this I mean I must hone my ability to not only be fair and civil towards other buskers, but love the shit out of them.  The Edinburgh Fringe was a game-changer in that regards, and I equated it with themed summer camps of my youth, and I'm going to try to bring that sentiment back even if it doesn't present itself.  Buskers are so often alone, so we've got to stick together when we can.

For now, all I can do is get the act working and arrange new songs to keep my sanity the next few Saturdays.  And luckily I've just gotten the wonderful news that my brother is coming up this weekend, so I have an excuse to take a weekend off!  Hooray! 

So, Northampton, I'll see you soon, but not for much longer.  Det var det.

Easter Busket

Get it?  Like Easter Basket?

Happy Easter/Passover/spring!  This was my first Easter weekend busking, and what a day it was.  I've decided to get out earlier on Saturdays so I can hit the farmers market/hair appointment crowd, and that sort of happened.  By 11:30 I was set up, decked out in fluffy pink bunny ears that my friend Joslyn had given me, a little pink nose, and whiskers.  Here's a photo:

I was glad to see that Steve was set up in my favorite spot.  This is good news, of course, because it's not these two new Taylor Swift singers.  Steve said he'd pack up around 1:45, and reminded me how important it is to be friendly and supportive to other buskers, like he is.  That's really something I have to work on, especially as I prepare for the summer.

First I set up in front of the Michelson gallery, where I did once before, but the hill was just not working.  My foot action simply tugged Flaca's box off it's supports.  So I moved across the street to where I had been the previous Sunday, outside the Main St. Cleaners.

I stayed here for the first half of the day, in the blaring sun.  I didn't dare take my sweater off and get a sunburn like I had the previous weekend, so I experienced the phenomenon of being too hot for the first time in a long time!  Finally, as Steve promised, he packed up and I took over there, just the way I like it.

Saturday, March 30, 2013
The first order of business is a negative one: Synergy.  I have been boycotting Synergy, the shoe/overpriced accessory store, for a couple of years since they first voiced their opposition to me.  And I will certainly not stop that anytime soon.  I was set up across from Synergy, but one storefront down.  They were blaring pop music out the door which I was able to ignore/drown out.

A lady came out and asked if I could move down a bit.  I told her I could not, since there were other buskers.  She explained that my music was drowning out the music they were blasting out the door, and therefore interrupting their flow of shoppers.  "You're disrupting our customers!"  She heightened her threat, saying, "My boss is going to call the police.  I don't want her to, but I'm afraid we'll have to if you don't move."  Oh what a saint, she doesn't want her to!

The people around me were outraged, but it didn't really bother me because I do indeed have a leg to stand on if the police showed up.  I wasn't violating any of the busking rules.  One man who overheard it said I should challenge their license for playing music.  What would make me really happy is to have others join the boycott/voice their opposition for their negative treatment of buskers.  I think I will organize people to email them, saying "I support street art in Northampton, and I will bring my business to stores who do so as well."  Send an email if you want! :)

I have no idea if they actually called the police, but the woman who had come out before poked her head out and looked up the street as if to assess whether the police were coming or not.  I moved, as planned, when the other pitch opened up, but I'd hate to think they thought they were scaring me away.  Get with the times, Synergy, this is Northampton.

1. I'm pleased to announce that the Bee Gees' "More Than a Woman" has been pulled out of retirement.  It was a big hit in 2010, but for some reason I stopped playing it.  Welcome back.

2. A college-aged man and his friends stopped by, and he said, "Sorry, I don't have any money."  For the first time (unless it's happened before), it came to mind to ask him, "Well do you have any jokes?"  He contemplated this and his friends encouraged him to tell me a science joke.  He finally asked if I know my neuroscience at all, which I do, a little (Psych major, woo-hoo!) but he couldn't remember the setup of his neuroscience joke.  The punchline, however, is something like "Keep on [s]myelin!"  Nice.

3. A guy who had walked by several times, and who would walk by several more, stopped and talked sort of incoherently.  I could make out, "Wanna bet?" and asked what he wanted to bet on.  Something about a Jay-Z song.  So I said I didn't know any.  Is there a Jay-Z song called "Wanna Bet?"  Does it have a distinct melody that one could play on the accordion?

4. "All right, you win my dollar."

5.  A group of three of four Latina teenagers stopped by and asked if I live here.  When I said yes, one asked, totally earnestly, "Do you know where is the sex store?" "Sex store?" "Yes."  So I pointed out "Oh My" across the street (or is it "Oh Myyyyyyy?").  They confirmed the name and location, thanked me, and headed across the street, giggling only slightly.  I really think it was serious, that they chose me as the person to ask as a young female (or I like to think that).  If it had been boys I would have assumed someone had put them up to it.  And there would have been more giggling.  Good for them!!

6. For the first time ever, a sort of corny middle-aged guy said, "She's better than you," indicating Flaca.  I tried to come up with a clever response, but failed and just acted awkwardly.  I'll have to come up with something for that situation.  But then as he departed he said something about her making all the money (since the tips go in front of her) and I retorted, "She gives me a pretty good cut" and he was satisfied.

7. Some people were genuinely interested in me, which was nice.  Asking about what I do and other work and such.  The Cape came up twice, since I include waitressing in my description of other work that I do, so I had some nice Cape chatting.

8. A nice man who I've seen around a lot complimented my repertoire, citing Taio Cruz and Downton Abbey as specific polar opposites, and the other people around murmured in agreement.  That felt nice, because I think my #1 actual skill is choosing songs.

9. "I really liked your rendition of the 'Downton Abbey' theme at the Really Big Show!"  Yeahhhhhh megafamous!

10. A man took a photo and didn't tip, which I hardly notice anymore because it happens so rarely in Northampton.  But then he came back and said, "Steal your image and give ya nothing?  That's not right!" and dropped a tip.  Hear hear!  Then his friend walked up again and said, "I can't just give you a quarter!" and dropped a dollar bill.  I guess the sun makes people do good.

11. A girl I recognized opened a canvas bag to me and asked if I wanted fruit.  She explained that her meal plan [at college] is such that she gets a lot of fruit, so she likes to share.  I took an apple and a banana, which hit the spot.  Thank you!!

12. Three little girls with matching t-shirts stopped by, and when I saw their parents I realized who they were.  Their mother works at ARHS, and I was aware of the oldest being born while I was a student, then the twins being born later.  All I knew about them was that they all had beautiful names that start with S.  They were super cute, with pretty braided hair!  One of the twins was the most talkative, and asked me questions about every part of my setup: the lights, the bell, Flaca's shoes.  "And why do you have all these?" she asked, fingering some quarters.  They took turns pushing keys on the accordion, especially during my demonstration of what the bellows is for (one of the easier questions to answer).  I love little girls!

13. A little boy came by perched on his father's shoulders.  He saw me and covered his ears.  Classic.

14. The girls from Springfield were out, as always, collecting donations for their anti-violence campaign.  I've talked about getting to know them, and I'd like to ask their names but they always seem to disappear before I get a chance.  The oldest, whom I see the most, sang along with my pop songs today ("Dynamite" and "We Are Young"), which I liked.  Their dad/chaperone came by to check in with them, and commented on my setup.  The littlest girl told him all about it, since she knows the deal.  They're a great added essence to the street scene for me.

15.  Every once in a while I'll play the Indiana Jones theme, even though I haven't quite learned it yet.  Yesterday was one of those days, and a little boy came up to me right after.  "I know what song you just played!  That was Indiana Jones!"  Right-o!  Glad little boys know that.

16. A was aware of a phone next to my accordion, and realized someone was letting the folks at home tune in (really, the phone clearly showed "Home" was being called).  The man picked up the phone and said, "It's the Easter Bunny!"

17. A little kid with a big personality (and badass leather athletic jacket) said "You play really well, ........" in a way that sounded like an adult would (ellipsis because I can't read my notes to finish his quote).  He also noticed my lights, currently being used as weights to protect money from the wind, and said, "Oh no!  Your lights fell down!" and put them back in the corners where they belonged, although he'd never seen them there.  He totally just got it!  Awesome.

17.5. I took a food/chai break which ended up being long.  I didn't want to give up my spot so I sat right at it and it felt really good to stretch out.  Eric, a character who hangs out on the streets, joined me, and worked on one of his drawings.  He does political cartoonish drawings, and gave me the one he was finishing, featuring the Wizard of Oz duo.  I forget the point it was making, but it was nice.  He has a lot to say, so it made for interesting conversation.  This other guy with painted pants stopped by and talked to us, saying that he had come in for the day to walk around the obnoxious town.  When he said that I felt defensive towards Northampton at first, then remembered my sentiments a couple of posts ago, when I felt that way as well.  I certainly feel that way about Synergy.  But that's exactly why we need street artists and cool bands and fun events, to "keep Northampton weird."  ("Keep Clark Weird" was an initiative my college friends started to counteract the higher admission rate of boring white athletes non-alternative/artsy people to our institution.)  When I'm living here forever, I'm going to keep Northampton SO weird.

18. "There's so much going on there that you deserve a tip."  Nice.  He's the less decisive version of the people who tip specifically for the dress, for the novelty of the dancing puppet, for the fact that it's an accordion, for whatever song I was playing, or for the bunny ears, this time.

19. I absolutely can't read the next note.  Looks like "Yl. un lurd."  Hmm.  I need a personal assistant to write notes for me.

20. A man walked by with two boxes of pizza.  He stopped and put them down near me....(oh my god, two whole pizzas???)...and took out his wallet to give me a dollar.  That's nice too, but PIZZA!!!

21. All day, people were walking by in weird costumes.  Some had name tags, some didn't.  I didn't recognize any specific costumes, but a friend of mine recognized an Anime character.  Finally, after a few hours of this, I asked one group, "Okay, WHAT is going on?"  They told me there's a SciFi/"dorkiness" convention at Smith this weekend.  I learned that it is called Conbust, and this is the website. It seems cool, since it's for all sorts of dorks, but particularly female ones.  A girl with a dark cape and fangs gave me the pricing information for non-students, and a man in a blonde wig and poofy blue dress informed me that there's a burlesque show that night.  It was really quite fun having all sorts of strange characters walking by me all day!

22.  After one of the hoards of nerds, two guys came by and commented on them.  One of them was singing and asked me to assess his singing.  (I think they were drunk.)  I explained the Conbust people, and they were excited to go until I said it was $12 to get in.  They were outraged, and one of them said, "If there's no money in the future, why do we have to pay to get into a SciFi convention?" or something, and he cracked up.  These other innocent passersby went by, and the guy stopped them and said, "Tell me if this is funny: If there's no money in the future...."  They politely nodded.

23.  Two people gave me pansies!  So nice, except for the fact that they were clearly picked from the flower thing outside Faces.  

24. Some people saw my whiskers and thought I was a cat, especially when I walked around because I had to carry my ears so they wouldn't blow off.  These were some things said:
          -"You're a cat today!"
          -I discussed a muffin with a Rao's employee, and she thought for a while then said, "A
           meowffin?"
          -I talked to a guy, and one of the many things we talked about was how he wasn't allowed to
           have cats at his college.  "You wouldn't be allowed," he said.  I had no idea what he meant.
           Women aren't allowed, either?  Oh, I'm a cat. 

I finally quit, after 5.5 hours, because I was super exhausted and also for a new reason: my left fingertips hurt!  Usually I only do the marathon days when it's gloves weather, so there isn't that much skin-on-accordion contact.  But today they were puckered and tendered, and it hurt a lot when I tried to play a guitar later.  Hmm.

I really love the feeling of exhaustion after such a day.  I can't think straight, I can't string words together properly, and I certainly can't move very swiftly or gracefully.  I certainly can't use my smiling muscles.  Busking, as it currently is for me, is a full workout for body and mind.

I had a very lovely dinner with David, my parking attendant friend from holiday season blog posts, and a friend of his who is a local writer, then mustered up all of my strength to drive home and wait for the real Easter Bunny.  The ears are going in the dress-up box for next year!   

Puppets on Pulleys

Happy Spring!  We have now crossed the equinox so my opportunities to play atop a snowbank are numbered.  I played two days this weekend to celebrate.

The exciting news is that Flaca is now on pulleys!  That was the original plan for the design but I couldn't find them in my quick Scottish construction days.  I finally got two little brass pulleys from Cowls and some thicker cord (the regular cord slid off and got stuck).  I was pleased with myself for getting the pulleys attached on my first attempt (nails, duct tape, brad fasteners, staple gun), and they make such a big difference!  Rather than Flaca's strings going through eyelets which are jerky and cause the strings to erode and snap every couple weeks, the strings now slide beautifully through the pulleys.  Her dancing looks noticeably more dramatic, even, and overall better.  I also poked a new hole for the bell, which she hits consistently.  I'm feeling good!

Also, I pulled out the ol' poster board and paint pens to make a new sign directing folks to my Facebook pages.  I no longer display the big Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox sign and my business cards have been disappearing quickly, so I decided to try this.  Here it is:

There are four super-subtle homages to 2012 in the border, as I like to do.  They are "KAIHO" written on top, a tiara (for the queen) and an erupting mountain range (for Iceland) in reference to my travels last year, and there is a T with whiskers and fangs for Tallulah, the new cat.  We'll see if this works!

So out I went Saturday, and got my spot.  It was colder than I expected it to be, and I had to wear gloves.  Boooo, this is late March!  Here we are:

Saturday, March 23, 2013
1. The highlight of the day was seeing some of my favorite relatives, the Minnicks of Connecticut.  I hadn't seen them since the Fall of 2011, although I almost ran into Scott in Paris last spring!  They are intrepid travelers, so we always seem to be in touch, which is nice.  So great to see them!

2. I was also greeted by a group of travelers from Japan.  Their local liaison explained that they're here doing a documentary and that they don't speak English.  They took some photos of me.  Now, a lot of people don't know my Japan connection because it was before the years of Facebook/rampant internet connection.  Amherst has a sister city in Japan, Kanegasaki, and there was a student exchange program for many years.  I went to Japan in eighth grade, and we hosted numerous teachers and students from that town in my youth and teenage years.  Therefore, Japan has a special place in my heart, and I still remember a few phrases.  Throughout this interaction I uttered a few Japanese phrases, including my favorite, "Do itashimashite."  I also attempted to play "Sakura" for them, the traditional Japanese song I used to know every word to.  They liked it :)

3. A punky teenage girl sat down with her friend in front of Faces, and asked if I could play "Carry On My Wayward Son."  That's a new one!

4. There were a lot of funny overheard statements today, and my favorite was "The last thing I need to do is go COMPLETELY insane.  Mild insanity I can deal with."  Wise words.

5. A man I recognized walked by an said something.  I didn't quite catch it, but it might have been, "Puppet's good today."  I really hope so, because she was!!

6. A guy walked by reading a book.  Then he walked by again reading a comic book.  I hoped he would walk by a third time, reading something even smaller, like a leaflet on famous Jewish sports legends (anyone??).  He did walk by twice more, though, once drinking coffee and once eating a clementine, so at least we have for different activities.

7. A car behind me was honking.  I had no idea why the person persisted.  Finally I turned around, and the old man inside was waving a dollar out the window?  Awesome!

8. I was talking to another busker when two cops stopped by.  They lingered a few feet away, then came over to me.  Uh-oh.  One asked if he could see my permit, but it turns out he was just explaining protocol to the other cop.  He asked the other if he had seen me play, and he said, "No, but I work midnight to 4:00 AM."  There we go.  He showed him the proper way they like to have permits displayed.  Glad we're keeping everyone up to the task!

8.5. A guy named Zach (?) stopped and explained that he works for a non-profit, and his task that day was to stamp people's money.  He asked if he could stamp mine, so I granted him access to the few dollars currently in my box.  The stamp was large and read, and said "Not to be used to bribe politicians" with some fine print.  I meant to keep one, but it seems they're all in the bank.  Cool!

9. I finally quit because I was cold, but I still had a half hour until I had to leave to babysit.  So I went to get a warm drink, and ran into Dan, a "regular."  He joined me for a beverage, and suggested I learn "The Universe Song" by Eric Idle, made famous in The Monty Python's "Meaning of Life."  He thought it would be a crowd-pleaser.  I'm not super versed on my MP, but I'll give it a try!  Dan and I also discussed gadgets, because I showed him my not-quite-patented accordion gloves.  He thought I could do a whole heated chamber that covers the whole keyboard (aw look at that, he's seen me play enough times that he has faith in my not needing to look at the keys).  We also discussed an idea I had once, of using the air flow from the bellows to power something else, like lights.  He suggested using a CBI (three letters, not sure what) fan to collect the energy.  Cool!  Always nice talking to the people I see a lot.

And then I babysat in Northampton for one of my favorite families, spent the night, and headed out again Sunday afternoon!

Sunday, March 24, 2013

The striking thing about Sunday was the warmth!  The sun was out and the air felt great.  This meant a ton of buskers were out too: a steel drum player, Downtown Dan and his guitar, a new human statue, the two girls from Smith who fancy my spot, the other guitar player Dan, and Jesse the harp player.  I had to settle for a spot outside the Main Street Cleaners which was okay because it was in the sun and the shop was closed so people could stop and watch in its alcove.  I would have much preferred my normal spot though.  I was in the direct line of sun, and sure enough, I stripped down to just my dress.  Wow!  I had forgotten what my arms looked like!  You won't believe this, but I actually have a sunburn on my back from it.  I really need to find more fabric and make a new dress for the summer that covers my back.

I was greeted with a surprise when I unpacked everything: a little round plastic red thing.  What could it be?  I had no idea!  Finally I realized it was Flaca's nose that had come unglued.  That had never happened before!  Lacking glue, I folded some duct tape to adhere it temporarily, but it didn't look great.

Here's what happened:

1. I talked to a man I've talked to before, and he told me to Google him to find his music online.  Jimmy Sizzle.  He said there were many Jimmy Sizzles online, and that sort of amused me.

2. Many people referenced the large number of buskers out, and one specified that he chose me to tip because of the dress.  Woo-hoo!

3. I had a bit of an awkward moment.  A high school classmate and his girlfriend walked by and stopped to talk.  We were catching up a bit, and I made a lame joke*.  They politely smiled, but this random guy who walked by behind them, walking the same direction as them, cracked up.  So I pointed to him and said, quietly, "That guy LOVED it."  But since I was pointing to him, I was also pointing in the direction these people were walking in, and it seems they interpreted my pointing as me sending them off!  They were like "Cool, nice to see you!" and took off.  Oh no!  Hopefully they didn't think I was totally rude...

4. A guy stopped: "...Russian?  Or........Czechoslovakian?"  I haven't gotten this in a while!  Hey, at least the guy knows about the Czech marionette tradition.  "100% American."

5. I played for a nice family, and they wanted to hear one more song.  I asked what they wanted to hear, and a woman said, "Fiddler on  the Roof!"  A man said, "Something Italian!"  I'm not sure how this happened, but they compromised to "Chim Chim Cheree" which is convenient, of course, because I already play it.  After, the man sang, "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie..." and his wife nudged him and said, "Give the lady a break!"  Ha.

6. A couple walked by and stopped and listened, then continued into Synergy.  I guess the wife was taking a while, because the husband kept popping his head out to listen.  At one point I saw him appear as I was playing a certain Rolling Stones hit, and afterwards he declared, "I came out for Paint it Black!"  He could hear it inside!

7. An ancient couple maneuvered out of their car and hobbled by.  They seemed like the types to love the accordion or even puppetry!  Unfortunately I was playing "Dynamite," of all songs.  It was too late to change it, but the lady deemed Flaca "cute" anyway.

8. I recently started putting stickers on my accordion box, originating with one from the Lübeck, Germany marionette museum.  It's a round white sticker with a colorful jester marionette in the middle.  A man who I see all the time noticed it.  He pointed down and said, "What's that?"  The answer could have been any of "my set list," "pizza," or "concrete," but he specified the sticker.  He recognized the jester because he has his sister's "treasure box" which included all sorts of things.  (I'm imagining the one in Amelie that she finds).  One of the sister's "treasures" was a card with a jester on it that looked just like mine.  Hmm.  I hope he brings it to compare!

*Bonus: my lame joke!  Like I said, I was down to just my dress.  Everyone was ecstatic about the sun, so when people mentioned it I said something like, "Yeah, I had forgotten what my arms look like!" or something.  I delivered it a few times, and, as you know, it was VERY well received by one passerby.

I decided that I'd be better off doing Friday nights and Saturday mornings, like I've done in the past, to get the prime dining/shopping crews.  Then I have some weekend time for myself!  I have something this Friday night, but I'll see you Saturday morning :)

Green

INTRODUCTION--MARCH 16, 2013
This is a text-heavy post, so I'm going to try to divide it up under headings to make it easier to digest. 

Hm, there isn't a perfect green font.  Last year's green font seems way greener; I wonder why they got rid of it:

Edit: I just outsmarted technology.  I pasted some green from that post in front of my new green and retyped it touching the pasted part, and that green continued on!

Anyway...

Happy St. Patrick's Day!  Now, "Green" would have been the perfect title for this post if everything had gone according to plan.  In fact, I decided in the car ride to Northampton that it was the title I would assign this post.  It's extremely clever, if I do say so myself, because "green" signifies three things which all have large roles in St. Patrick's day busking when you are sick.  That sentence just spoiled all of them, but I'll explain anyway since I'm not one to be concise.

Three Sources of "Green:"
1.  St. Patrick's Day, of course!  
More on this, but I expected there to be a ton of green in general.

2. Money
Because, since it was St. Patrick's day weekend, I expected to make a lot of money

3. Snot!
Sorry!  I'm coming down with a cold, so I discovered this third meaning of "green" while blowing my nose earlier in the day.

So, as you can see, "Green" would have been the perfect name for this post IF people had been super into St. Patrick's Day; IF I had made tons of money; and IF I had been a brave martyr and kept playing despite being incredibly snotty and ill.

But, instead, I didn't feel that sick, I didn't make a crazy amount of money, and people were apathetic about the holiday.  In the early afternoon, that is.  I'm doing this post all out of order!  Here's the story:

PLANS
I geared myself up for a big weekend when I saw that St. Patrick's day was on a Sunday.  I could busk Saturday, spend the night in Northampton, and busk more on Sunday.  But then, I felt a tickle in my throat Friday morning.  Not to brag or anything, but I worked a lot last week.  In seven days I did one of busking, three nights and one morning of babysitting, two days of substitute teaching, and one afternoon of art-assisting which equals...you got it....forty hours.  I had to wake up before 7:30 AM on three of those days!!!  Oh, the horror!  So, due to the hours, labor, and exposure to children, it was a surprise to no one that I've gotten sick.

And so I made up my mind to skip the weekend of busking entirely.  I would take it easy, stay warm, and work instead on some art projects which I will announce sometime.  But then I saw them....my green, LIGHT-UP, FLASHING, shamrock earrings that I had bought in San Francisco two years ago tomorrow.  They were beckoning to me, and I eyed the world map on the wall with my future destinations circled; destinations that will require money to see (thematic exaggeration).  And so I greened up: the normal outfit but with a green sweater on top, the aforementioned earrings, and a string of emerald mardi gras beads wrapped around each wrist.

MEMORIES
My expectations for pre St. Patrick's day busking were based on past years, when celebration was in the air.  Oddly enough, I don't have a blog post for San Francisco.  I was leaving for Mexico in a week, so I suppose I was busy.  All I could find was this small section of notes in a saved draft:

This did help me remember though: I had a nice green outfit (pre piano dress days) which was complete when I stopped in Walgreens on the way out to busk and bought the legendary flashing shamrock earrings.  I had long-ish red hair then, and I remember getting references to my apparent "Irish heritage" (don't have it) due to my hair color.  As I walked to Valencia St. (as those notes reminded me), I passed an Irish bar on 24th St. headed East, and a middle-aged man who was already inebriated despite the daylight encouraged me to stay and celebrate the holiday there.  But there was work to be done!  I do vaguely remember the Irish vibe, mainly in the form of songs, but also in friendly [drunken?] interactions with revelers, some of whom wore matching flashing shamrock earrings.  After I packed up I went to Amnesia, the gypsy bar, to hear a person I knew and his band play Irish tunes, then I randomly ran into a friend from high school on the streets.  Finished off festivities with my SF friend Cat.  Oh yes, it's all coming back.

In Edinburgh, I indeed had a whole post about the day.  I suppose it was to be expected, since I was closer to Ireland than ever before, although still not quite there.  People come into Edinburgh for partytime, which was most notable in the stag/hen parties that traipsed by me every weekend.  I donned my green sweater, earrings, and braided my long red hair.  The old post says that I improvised Irish songs I used to play and got in one rowdy drunken rendition of "Whiskey in the Jar."  Here are my observations of green outfits in Edinburgh:

"Over the course of the day, I saw some classy green: hats, scarves, green patent leather doc martens. One girl really nailed it down: emerald skinny jeans, white blouse with green flowers. Chic, right shades, not in your face. This was in contrast with the obnoxious stuff, on the mild end green t-shirts that read things like "Kiss me, my friends are Irish!" to the full out huge green leprechaun hats, shamrock tattoos, fake orange beards on women, tiny green skirts, green garter belts, huge green sunglasses, etc." 

So with these fuzzy memories on my mind, I drove the [green] car into Northampton.

REALITY 
What happened was that I got there too early.  I assumed my position around 1:30 pm, which I try to do to ensure that I get my spot, but it's spring break at Smith and it was cold out so I wasn't really in danger of not getting my spot.  It was too late, though, for the early shoppers/farmers' market crowd, and even for lunch-goers.  It was actually surprisingly quiet in town.  I later learned that everyone was probably in Holyoke, where there was a St. Patrick's day road race and parade.  

I discussed the lack of people with a random man, and we agreed that on a day like this, the night would be better.  And indeed it would have been.  There were a few people wearing green and the rogue pair of shamrock earrings, but celebration was certainly not in the air.  One man who usually requests "Amelie" requested The Pogues, so I suppose that's the highlight of the day.  If I had just come out later I'm sure I would have had more people in general, and certainly more people in green, bellies full of green beer, and hearts full of song.  Whiskey in the Jar, specifically.  I would have actually turned on the flashing feature of my earrings, and they would have looked awesome.  When the rowdy people moved on, I would lull the city to sleep with the sad ballads of Eire, offering tissues when I hit the high note on "Oh Danny Boy."  

To bring in the other sources of green...my tip box would have been billowing with aptly colored notes, and my precautionary tissues would be filled with the third green source as the temperature dropped. This is really quite obvious, as is the fact that I would never have made it from 1:30 to past 9:00, as I thought I might do if it was really lucrative all afternoon.  When all this became clear around 1:42 I considered going to a friend's house and veging for the afternoon and resuming later, but I also sort of wanted to go home.  Drunk people can be funny and charming when they tip on a celebratory evening, but they are also a drag.  And because of my crazy workweek I only had two dinners with my family last week, a cherished part of the routine, and I wanted to be home for it.  It was also cooooold.  I wore gloves on both hands and even activated a pair of hand-warmers, something I hadn't done in a while.  Winter isn't over, folks.

ANECDOTES
Regardless of the tumbleweeds rolling by, I have a couple of stories:
1. Someone complimented my performance at the REALLY BIG SHOW!  I felt like a total celebrity after that, so it was nice to feel a taste of that again.

2. A man dropped me a tip and said, "Okay, serenade me!"  I asked what he wanted to hear, and he said, "Something snappy."  My brain was too cold to think of the perfect song, so I played "Paint it Black."  It did the trick, though: "That certainly got my toes tapping!"

3. A little girl stopped and said, "Wait a second...did you do New Year's Eve?"  What I liked about this is her verb choice: "did."  She totally understands busking!!!

4. A homeless (?) guy I didn't recognize set up across the sidewalk from me, super close by.  He seemed friendly and smiled at my songs and stuff, but then yelled, "I bet I need the money more than you do."  I thought of so many witty comebacks when it was too late, of course.

5. Flaca broke :(  One of the strings, that is.  It's weird, I just replaced the strings for the REALLY BIG SHOW less than a month ago, and they usually last longer.  But the important one snapped and when I tied it, the knot interfered with the eyelet, so she couldn't dance.  I flipped the box upside down and just did Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox.  That also explains the smaller amount of green (you guess which one).  

6. The little kids from Springfield were out, of course, collecting donations.  We recognize each other now and say hello, which is nice.  Today, one noticed that Flaca wasn't strung up, and she asked about it.  I explained the predicament, and the girl explained to a younger girl what Flaca usually does.  She even picked up the bell and held it in place to demonstrate that feature.  I liked that.  
  
CONCLUSION
Today's lesson, on this Green-less St. Patrick's Day, is that when I do holidays, I ought to do them right.  There's no point wearing light-up earrings in the daytime!  I'm sure that philosophy can be applied metaphorically as well.  

The other conclusion is that I'm tired, and I am sick after all, so although there's more I can say I am calling this post complete and hitting the hay.  Maybe I'll dye my orange juice green tomorrow. 

Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit!

Potion of Petulance

Spring has sprung!  Since this is the third year I've kept this blog, it's possible that it is the third post that has begun with that exact phrase.  Of course, spring sprang in January in San Francisco and July in Edinburgh, so it's hardly consistent.  March 9th is a reasonable time to feel such a sentiment at my current latitude, and I certainly did today.  The sun was shining, melting away the previous day's snow, as I left the house with only one layer of leggings and one sweater.  The digital display at Silverscape Designs announced that it was 56° out as I drove into town.  Wow!

Town was hopping.  On one hand, locals were out.  Students who might normally avoid the walk into town passed by, as did my own parents who stated the reason for their journey to Northampton to be that it was too nice out to not do something special.  Fair enough.  Additionally, the famous bulb show is on at the Smith College greenhouses, which always draws spectators.  I put on my Sherlock Holmes hat when several people walked by with the thick, hard-cover maroon books that I deduced could only be the Sacred Harp songbook (yeah, I dabble in many things).  Sure enough, one person's copy was facing forward so I could see the title.  Huzzah!  I know of the Sunday and Tuesday sings, but not Saturday.  Maybe there's a big regional Sacred Harp (shapenote) sing thing this weekend?

On the other hand, it must be parents weekend at a college.  The people walking by were clearly out-of-towners because they were holding Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts cups and they were surprised to see me (more on that).  Although it isn't yet Spring Break at all the local colleges, I hypothesize that it must be vacation at other universities, specifically those with grad programs, because I saw an extraordinary number of people I went to high school with who I don't usually see.  Therefore, the only explanation is that they're in grad school and it's Spring Break so they're visiting their hometowns.

Things were good (on paper).  I got my spot, I was in the sun, and there were ample people.  More on that later.  Here's the easy stuff:

Saturday, March 9, 2013:

1. "Was that the Rolling Stones?"  "Yes it was!"  "Wow!  I was thinking, 'She could sit in with the Stones' and there we go!"

2. A guy came up to me and asked if I know any Korpiklaani.  I said I do not.  He told me that they are a "Finnish folk metal" band.  Sounds cool!  Apparently they heavily feature accordion.  I'll have to look them up.  He also told me about a website, Jellynote.com, that is supposed to be really good for sharing Midis.

3. Someone asked for Radiohead.  I've got to step it up!

4. Two little girls hung around, commenting that the puppet looks like me except for the hair.  I told them that I used to put my hair into two braids when it was long, and that I looked more like the puppet then.  I suggested that I could still try, but that the braids might stick straight up.  They were not amused by this idea.  Tough crowd!  One of the girls pointed out that Flaca is a tap dancer, and revealed that she, too, is a tap dancer (and a ballerina).  She told me she has a pet snake who dances.  The other girl enthusiastically told me that she was on her way to the first girl's house for a sleepover.  Sounds awesome, snake and everything!

5. I used the student loans sign this week, since I sensed the out-of-town snobbiness of some people who would think I'm homeless, and I got a few comments on it.  One man asked, "Are the student loans yours or [Flaca's]?"  Ha, I'm surprised I didn't get that one sooner.  Flaca's of course.  I told him she was studying Modern Dance.  Next time I'll choose an irrelevant major for her.  Organic Chemistry?

6. I received suggestions to play in a few places, which include Woodstock.  On Sundays.  More on this later.

7. A friendly old woman who I didn't recognize tipped me, put her arm around me, and said, "I'm an accordion player and you're never going to get old--pay it back!"  (I'm not sure about "pay it back" but the first part is verbatim.)  I was a little bit puzzled by this.  Was she saying that accordion music is immortal, so as long as I play my soul won't age?  Or is she a Good Witch and her touching my arm granted me eternal youth?  Hey, I'm freaking out about turning 25; I'll take it!  I realized a second later that she must have seen me several times before, even though I didn't recognize her, so she must have meant "never going to get old" in regards to her being accustomed to seeing me.  Yeah.

8. A young man in a Haverford sweatshirt tipped me, then hung around with his friends for a while.  Then he tipped me again during the "Wallace and Gromit" theme!  Must be his fave, cooool.

9. "Tico Tico?  You have to be my age to know that!"  Eek, I'm older than I thought!

10. This is uninteresting to any non-Wellfleetians, but I finally met Martha's oldest son!  (I'll refrain from writing other names in case someone Googles him and this comes up.)  Martha is one of my Wellfleet mamas, and I know her younger two sons.  I have heard a lot about the oldest, and his adorable son, and I know they live in the area.  I recognized him from photos when he walked by, and we talked.  Excellent.

11. I've mentioned this before, but my favorite spot is across from the bank, and once it closes people can still swipe their cards to enter the atrium and use the ATM.  People, however, have trouble finding the card-swipe thingey, so I've taken it upon myself to shout "behind you to the right!!!!!" at them.  This works like 15% of the time.  Usually they don't realize I'm talking to them (or ignore me).  But today, one man heard it but went to far: to the ATM behind him and on the right but a block down, and from another bank.  I bellowed at him (see what I did there?  An accordion player bellowing?) and he found it.  Another young man heard me and found the swiper, but he was so amazed that I knew that.  He seriously asked, "How did you know that???"  I know things.  Probably too many things.....

12. A dad who had been listening asked if I could play the Star Wars theme.  I said I'd try, assuming he was just a nerd.  It turns out it was for his little son who's obsessed with SW.  Much better!  I did okay with it, and the kid recognized it but then hid behind his dad.  I've really got to prioritize arranging my John Williams medley!  I've also got to search this blog for the word "prioritize" to see what else I declared top priority but haven't followed up on.

13. Down a little ways, Girl Scouts were selling cookies.  They were predictably cute, and they took turns parading around holding signs advertising their goods.  This was going to be the first year in a while (except for when I was out of the country) in which I didn't consume a single Girl Scout cookie, but luckily these girls prevented that by bringing me three Thin Mints as I was packing up.  Score!

14. Finally a local, someone I recognized, walked by with people and said something like, "This is legit.  She's the only one who knows how it's done."  High five, Flaca!

15. I was sooooo sick of my songs, so I decided to play one that I'm still sort of learning: Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie."  I had the idea when I brainstormed songs about dancing that would be fitting for Flaca.  But as I played it today, I was worried people might perceive it as being sort of racist.  "I never really knew that she could dance like this, she makes a man wants to speak Spanish, como se llama (si), bonita (si), mi casa (si), su casa."  It's a song about a Latina woman looking really hot while she dances, right?  Flaca is a Latina woman.  Are people going to think I chose the song because Flaca is Latina?  Or that I'm stating that all Latina women are good for is hotly dancing?  Or something?  What do you think?

16. Someone recognized "Werewolves of London."  That is all.  It happens so rarely that it's worth noting!

17. My grumpiness, which I will explain in this post's conclusion, came to its apex when I smelled a horrible smell.  I finally turned around and identified it: a dog had just had diarrhea on the road behind me.  It was yellow and stinky and horrible (but generally solid enough to pick up).  Some people commented on it, commiserating with the woman who identified herself as the friend of the dog's owner.  Naturally, she was going to wait for the dog's owner to reunite with the pooper and let her clean it up.  So, yes, that meant I had to stand in the stench until this friend arrived.  And do you know what the woman did while she waited for her friend?  She lit up a cigarette.  This is right next to me/behind me.  So now I have to try to earn my living in a cloud of both horrible diarrhea scent AND secondhand smoke, the latter of which can't be great for the accordion.  Congratulations to this woman, for she is the new recipient of the "worst passerby ever" award.  This has actually been awarded twice before, but I can't be bothered to go back and find the past recipients.  I was very happy to see a friend of mine right then who agreed to watch  my stuff while I could go get a chai, stop myself from strangling this woman with a trolley bungee cord, and take my beloved accordion away from the toxic air.  Thank you, Nora!!!  Eventually, smoky the bear finished her cigarette (which she dropped on the ground, unextinguished) and her friend cleaned up after her pooch.

So...despite the sunshine and hoards of people, I was pretty grumpy all day.  Here's why:

1. Reason #1 for being grumpy: 
People I don't know were suggesting places for me to go.  If you meet a busker and you feel strongly that she should play in Paris, here's what you do: You ask her if she's ever played in Paris (or in Europe in general). You ask her how she feels about it.  Finally, if her answers to the former questions indicate that it might be appropriate, you may gently encourage her to try playing in Paris someday, IF AND ONLY IF you know a single thing about busking in Europe.  (FYI, I did not play in Paris because I had strep and I slept through Paris in 2012.  I did, however, play in other parts of France, and in Europe, as you know.  It is highly unlikely that I will ever play in Paris because...you know why?  Yeah,  it's pretty obvious.  Accordions are big over there.  I could be the 14th and worst accordion player someone sees on a given day in Paris, or I could be the only and therefore best accordion player someone sees somewhere else in the world.  Like, in Reykjavik.  So there.)

(No, rant not over yet.)  Same thing with Glastonbury....consider the fact that it's a possibility that the busker knows the UK.  Maybe she lived there for a while, had the opportunity to go to Glastonbury, and chose not to.  If you're a pro busker and actually have good advice, then you know better than to give it to another busker unsolicited.  If you're NOT a pro busker, you shouldn't be giving buskers advice.  Period.  (I put that in bold and blue because it's super important.) Either way, don't just walk up to people and tell people where they should go busk.  I could go on, but I'm getting mad again.

2.  Reason #2 for being grumpy:
Legs.  Bare legs.  It drives me nuts when it's 57 degrees and suddenly the girls are bearing all.  57 degrees means you swap your winter coat for your spring coat.  You don't freaking get naked.  I know I'm too young for a "kids these days" speech, but I found it super depressing.  In addition to baring their legs, all these girls paraded by with their sundresses and full makeup and stuff, and you could so easily tell how hard they were trying to look good.  Like, glittery eye shadow.  It sort of made me sad.  Who are you trying to impress? I've actually always had a weird thing about warm weather; it stresses me out.  Like, the perfect nice days.  Maybe it's just the societal norm thing of wearing a sundress and studying on the green, two things that don't do much for me, but I get uneasy.  Actually, I think this Springtime Sulks phenomenon is the sole reason for today's grumpiness, but I haven't sufficiently psychoanalyzed myself to be able to correctly report it.  Stay tuned.

3. Reason #3 for being grumpy (the unreasonable one):
Snobs.  The past two weekends have been full of [rich] out of towners, and it wasn't until this evening that I figured out why they distress me so.  It's because they don't appreciate the Valley (maybe).  I love the Happy Valley so much.  I feel it even more this time after a year abroad; it is just so clearly a good part of America, and full of good things.  I love the earthy crunchy bumper stickers and the unshaven legs and the people who recognize the Wallace and Gromit theme song.  I feel so at home here, and I fit in so well.  Then people come from out of town with their straightened hair and fancy clothes (THAT'S a generalization, sorry) and walk around with Starbucks and Dunkin' Donuts cups, get excited exclusively about the Eileen Fisher store and Urban Outfitters, and say patronizing things loudly about the beggars and the buskers.  Do they realize what kind of environment we have here?  Do they care?  This is in stark contrast with the people who come for a Saturday knowing perfectly well what the Valley has to offer, and happily get their fix of Haymarket coffee and Deals and Steals deals and steals.

Now, the reason I changed Reason #3 from "snobs from out of town" to just "snobs" is another demographic of people: former high school classmates.  (Now, just to warn you, this one is a total overreaction, and I know that, but I get off on victimizing myself occasionally, and this scenario is as good a chance as any.)  If there's one reason I don't like playing in my general hometown (and avoid playing in Amherst), it's running into people from the periphery of my past.  Old bitchy high school classmates.  I often run into people I went to high school with and they stop to talk, surprised by what I'm doing, but up for a smile and a chat.  But other times, like today, they just walk by.  Since it's the [girls] who were cold and unfriendly in high school, it's easy to assume the worst, that they're thinking a holier-than-thou "Oh...THAT's what she's doing now?" and whispering mandates to their friends not to look up.  In this line of work, silence is interpreted as disapproval (although disapproval is not always silent, in the case of my grandmother).  What, worried what their cool new post-high-school friends/partners will think once it's revealed that they know me?  (Although, in a moment of victory, one boyfriend indicated that he wanted to stop and listen but the girl I knew dragged him along.  Ha!)

Don't get me wrong; at seven years out of high school, I don't give a shit.  Without knowing their situations, I can say for certain that I am happier, more fulfilled, and more successful than any of those "****y ******s," as my badass former boss would call them.  It's purely sad that they haven't outgrown their adolescent "girl on girl crime" stuff (and I have.  Yeah, totally).  I'll spare you (and, telepathically, them) the "I am woman, hear me roar" speech, since 80% of this blog is that anyway, and just leave it with my pride and joy and all that.  But you'd think the ones with whom I shared the experience of a student exchange program in a foreign country would at least stop to say "hola."  Two of them.  So yes, snobs both from high school and out of town joined diarrhea, secondhand smoke, undesired geographical destinations, and bare legs in the potion of petulance.  (Isn't that good??  It was initially "potion of grumpiness," but I couldn't think of a good title for today's post, and that was the best candidate, so with the help of a thesaurus I nailed the alliteration, if I do say so myself.) 

4. Reason #4:
I'm used to it.  It's as simple as this: I know how Flaca works, I know she's cool, I know we have matching outfits, and I know that I play "The Final Countdown," so that stuff doesn't take me by surprise.  It's completely flattering every time someone takes the time to stop and comment on these things, and I cherish each comment, but for some reason today I couldn't simulate the novelty of hearing them.  I have a lot of experience being sick of my songs, but I believe the phase of my career where I'm sick of Flaca's current role is upon  me.  It's been five months now with her.  So I either need to start drinking on the job or revamp the act to feign/procure my own interest in it.

I talked to a friend about this, and he told me about his friend that ran into Steve Martin once.  Mr. Martin merely handed him a card, the text on which I just Googled.  The card says, "This certifies that you have had a personal encounter with me and that you found me warm, polite, intelligent, and funny" with the great man's signature.  That made me smile, on a grumpy day like this.  I should just post a big sign that answers the FAQs: "Psychology.  Minor in Music.  No, but I made her outfit.  Mexico.  Yes, with some help.  That was "Paint it Black."  Thank you!  Oh, your grandfather used to play the accordion? NO, I DO NOT WANT TO BUSK IN PARIS!!!!!!  Yes, I would love a hot beverage!" etc.  What am I talking about again?

I discovered recently, in the context of open mic, that the one song I'm always up for playing, despite my mood, is the theme from Twin Peaks.  It's wonderfully, eerily, secretly depressing, but random people walking by don't know that.  So it's my cheeky way of projecting my irritability, yet if someone recognizes it and stops to say so it cures my grumpiness, so it's a win-win situation.

***

In conclusion (finally), the weather will only get warmer, and there will only be more bare legs.  Therefore, I have to brace myself for Saturdays, and start doing an additional weeknight to get the true locals.  I need to get Flaca working better, eliminate the songs I can't bear to play from my repertoire, and have a marathon song arranging session.  Alternatively, I could start pretending I don't speak English on these parent weekend days.  In the immortal words of The Count, "I see a rrrred doorr and I vant to paint it black...ah ah ah!"

Till next time.

"Take My Money!"

It's a double post!  I have four things to report on: busking on 2/16, the REALLY BIG SHOW, busking on 3/2, and recording.  This double post covers two of them.  See if you can figure out which two!

Part I: Busking at the Amherst Winter Market, Saturday, February 16, 2013:
(It says "today" because I wrote this chunk that day, but it was too boring to publish on its own, so I decided to hold off until I had more material.)

Today was another fabulous day playing at the market!  The Amherst Winter Farmers' Market, that is.  I loved it last time and I loved it this time because of the nice general atmosphere, friendly people, acoustics, temperature, and this time because I was playing really well.  There's this sweet spot on the "amount of sleep" scale in which I play well, and I was just tired enough to hit it.  Getting right to it...

1. A guy complimented my performance and said, "You're ready to hit the street this summer!"  Ha, good idea.


2. A nice lady [from Leverett] complimented my piano ensemble, then changed it "accordion ensemble."  Yessss.  ("Ensemble" because I wore my piano headband too).  I hadn't thought of insisting that people call it an accordion dress.

3.  I played my newest song, the theme from Downton Abbey.  No one recognized it Thursday night, but that was not the case today.  It all started with a woman about my age who was working at a stall.  She came over and said, "Can I ask you a favor?  Would you play the Downton Abbey theme song again?"  Yesss.  Other people recognized it as well, and it had a good response.  I'll be playing it at the Really Big Show, so it's good to practice.  In case you missed the unveiling, here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=in9OtWrAtTA

4.  A lady from the Valley Advocate asked if she could take my photo.  Keep an eye out! (Editor's note: someone told me I'm in the most recent Advocate!  I haven't seen it yet, have you?)

5. A couple came in, and one of them immediately rushed up to me and said "It's my fiancee's birthday.  Will you play a special song, but not 'Happy Birthday?'"  I showed her my set list, and she chose "Ring of Fire."  They danced and it was adorable.

6. I played some songs I haven't played for a while, and people commented on them.  I really have to keep playing everything!  They were...Wallace and Gromit, I've Just Seen a Face, Don't Stop Me Now, etc.

7. "I Believe When I Fall in Love..." is one of my favorite songs to play, but I didn't think it was great with Flaca, since it isn't really a dance song.  But I realized today that Flaca really adds to it, building the drama before the chorus with her tapping feet.  Going to play it a lot more now!

8. I had already done the whole set list twice, and I didn't want to bug the vendors by continuing to repeat those songs.  And so I thought about other songs I sort of know or used to play that I could pull up, and decided to play the Pirates of the Caribbean theme.  I haven't played it for almost a year, and never fully declared it learned, but I was able to play it pretty well today.  I've got to bring it back too!

9. A little girl who had been watching on and off came up as I as packing up and asked why I was wearing a dress that looked like a piano.  I gave her a long-winded response, and she seemed satisfied.  I asked her to "help" me pack up, and let her play with Flaca once she was detached.  When it was time to put Flaca away I told the girl I was putting her to bed, and when I asked her to fold the curtains back up over everything, she did it really gently as if she was tucking everything into bed.  Cute.

That's it for the market.  All the remaining Saturdays are booked, so no more playing for organic veggies for a while.  Too bad, I have a little crush on one vendor who gave me spinach.  But soon the outdoor market will begin!

Part II: Busking in Northampton on Saturday, March 2, 2013

I was very happy to do my first Saturday in Northampton since January 12, I think.  That seems like such a long time, but between snowstorms and snowstorms I had a bit of a hiatus.

I was disappointed to see that other buskers were at my spot.  New ones.  Two young women who I took to be students, playing guitar and ukulele, doing like Taylor Swift covers and stuff.  I tried (okay, not very hard) to be nice, but they were a little rude when I talked about the spot.  Busker 101: defer to the regular buskers.  If it's your first day out you don't take the best spot.  And if the regular inhabitant of that spot comes, you give it up.  Harrumph.  They said they'd be there for "many hours."  I almost snottily told them you can only stay two hours in one spot, but decided that might come back to haunt me.

So I begrudgingly set up on the other side, outside Thornes.  And the Thornes manager came out and told me I had to be on the bricks, which I know, but it's too wobbly for Flaca.  So I was grumpy.  It was also colder than I expected.  It ended up being a good day, though.  People were out and the parking garage was full.  I stopped only because I was tired and had plans, not because it was slowing down.  I later learned that it was Parents' Weekend at one of the colleges, which explains the influx of people.  It also explains why I didn't recognize most passersby, why they like dressed in designer clothes and didn't look like Valley folks, and why one told her friend, "Don't believe what's written on [homeless people's] signs; it's all lies."  Ouch!  Anyway, I should check the other colleges' schedules!

I lasted about four hours, partially at the first spot, and partially back in my spot once the girls left (they packed up and walked by me without saying hi or telling me my spot was open.  Northampton really ought to issue a buskers' etiquette handbook). 

Here are the highlights:

1. "The Final Countdown" was its usual hit!  One man proclaimed it "his theme song," another made a reference to Arrested Development, and a third just reacted to it by yelling "Take my money!"

2.  Since I was downstream from a homeless lady (I'm assuming), a woman asked me "Are you homeless, too?"  I didn't use the student loan sign because it was windy, but maybe I should have.  That doesn't happen much.

3.  A man stopped to listen for a bit, then told me something interesting.  He said that with many buskers, especially women, he feels a little uncomfortable staring at them while they play.  Or rather, he worries he makes them uncomfortable, especially if he's the only spectator.  This wasn't a concern for my act, though, because he could just stare at Flaca!  Perfect.

4. I had a brilliant idea (one that I think I might actually implement).  Many babies parade by me while I'm playing, and I often think about the fact that I may very well have provided the first live accordion music that baby had ever heard.  Sometimes I'll check in with the parents about it.  My idea was that I should print out little certificates, with blanks for the name and date, that say something like "Congratulations!  ___(name)_______ heard his/her first live accordion music on __(date)_____.  Signed, ______________ (my signature), Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox."  Yeah?  I ran it by two baby-havers, and they liked the idea.  I'll try to have them ready by Saturday.

5. Everyone commented on Flaca's and my (what the hell is that grammar rule anyway?) matching outfits!  It's rare that anyone notices, but it was happening all the time.  Cooool.

6. One person yelled out "You should be on TV!"  Don't mind if I do!

7. A group of young people lingered for a few songs, include the Final Countdown, which they predictably liked.  They came by again later and asked if I liked Gogol Bordello, showing a t-shirt one was wearing.  I said I do.  As they walked away, I had the idea to play the accordion intro to "When Universes Collide."  The t-shirt wearer turned around when he recognized it and flashed me a big thumbs-up.

8. There is the constant relationship between buskers and beggars.  I don't have any wisdom on it, other than that many Northampton beggars are pretty cheerful and greet me or at least wave when they walk by.  There's one young man however who isn't.  We sometimes "work" in close proximity.  Anyway, he walked by on Saturday and muttered something.  I assume it's something negative.  I won't reprimand him for not being cheerful, I just feel bad in any situation where there's tension, which there must be if he says something under his breath.  I wish he's just speak up and talk to me about it.

9. Two cheerful young women asked me where to go for food.  I gave them suggestions, mostly promoting Sam's pizza, since that's where I go and they're so nice to buskers.  We talked specific slices, and they headed in that direction.  Yeah Sam's!  I guess I'm the go-to direction giver, since some teenagers also stopped and asked me how to get to the music store.  That makes sense, ask a musician!

10. I had another brilliant idea, but this one's really boring.  Now, people put tips on the linoleum surface in front of Flaca.  It's tricky to pick up lots of coins at once, so packing up takes a while.  I found myself lamenting this, thinking about the days where tips went into the main part of the box with its squishy cushion bottom.  It was so easy to pick up a whole handful.  So, on Saturday, I realized I could just close the box the wrong way, turn it right side up, and the coins would be so much easier to pick up!  Voila!

11.  This was also the first day busking with Flaca's bell.  It didn't work perfectly (since the original thumb tack snapped and I can't use its hole anymore), but I think it added something.

12. Statler and Waldorf (see Valentine's Day entry) came by.  I was glad to learn that the missing bracelet turned up!

And one more thing....

Black Sheep Open Mic Night: Thursday, February 28, 2013
I've started going to a regular open mic, and I love it.  It's a really nice, small, environment, with great musicians.  Last Thursday was especially nice.  It was only my second time playing, and I didn't think the first had gone over that well.  Oddly enough, I wasn't really in the mood to play.  I had been playing a lot, and I was just sick of my songs.  I was also in sort of a bad mood, so I decided to play only "Morir Soñando" (about death) and the theme to "Twin Peaks" (indirectly about death).  But then a friend came in, and for reasons I won't bore you with, I let him pick my songs.  I have keys written on my setlist, so he chose three in the same relative key and suggested a powermedley.  And so I did it.  First was "Chariots of Fire" which I don't play much, but folks knew it and liked it.  Same with Twin Peaks.  Finally, I've found the American Twin Peaks fans!!  I tried to do Laura's Theme too, but couldn't remember the beginning.  And ended with the Tetris theme, which I just play really well, so I was happy.  I've been working on a new song on which I sing, but I didn't feel like doing it.  I met a new musician there, a girl with an amazing singing voice.  So I'm thinking of handing off the vocals to her for that one.  I'm excited for this week!  That is all.  

Calling the Mayor Tomorrow: Valentine's Day 2013

Happy Valentine's Day!  Or Galentine's Day, as many of my Facebook friends were celebrating...a day where I would be happy to let you "Be My Valentine" or "Free My Palestine," as one candy heart declared.  

It was so nice to get back to busking after nearly a month off.  My last "outing" was in Washington, of course, the day before the Inauguration, which feels like forever ago.  I'd like to say I used that idle time for ample professional development, but it is not the case.  I learned only two songs, and had only one brilliant idea.

Anyway, I've said this before, and I'll say it again: busking is the best thing to do on holidays.  Holidays are pretty disappointing, right?  There are societal expectations of what one is supposed to do on said holidays, with St. Valentine's Day being the most extreme of all, I daresay.  Therefore, you can get swept up on that roller coaster of either celebrating Valentine's Day or defiantly NOT celebrating it, or you can put on the pink socks with hearts on them, smile, and make some money.

I got pretty lucky weather-wise, by which I mean it was dry and above 30°.  (My Valentine's Day busking in San Francisco rained out.)  However, New England got a little snow last week.  By which I mean several feet of snow that still towers over sidewalks on huge plowed snowbanks.  I was worried about being able to set up, since my act requires a few square feet of level ground.  But the brilliant Sasha figured out what to do:

So I set out with that plan, to climb atop the snowbank.  It would mean only playing accordion, but I thought that was better anyway, since I could maximize my romantic song selections by playing my entire repertoire.  Additionally, one of the busking tips I picked up in Edinburgh is to be elevated, so I often played atop a footstool over there.  This vertical boost gives the performer the appearance of being on stage, and genuinely superior to the mere mortals shuffling along below, so tips come flying in.  Or something.

I set up my tip box with the old Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox sign, just like the good ol' days, and ungracefully climbed on top, getting a bit of snow in my impractical shoes (of course my boots were just in the car).  I really liked the effect of being up there, seeing farther than usual, attracting more attention.  Since I was quite visible, I found myself really performing, feeling the dynamics and using the whole bellows and stuff (see "Passionate Mode," 2/18/12, Part 2).  If there's a day for Passionate Mode, it's Valentine's Day.

Punters seemed to like the change of scenery as well.  One made a comment about me on my "alp," and it did give me a "climb every mountain" sensation.  Previously I was just in more of a "fiddler on the roof" mindset.  For the rest of this post, I will refer to my snowbank as my Alp.  Another called my ethereal accordionist-on-the-alp routine "surreal."  Many took photos, and I secretly hoped one would make it into a news article about Valentine's Day going on with or without snow (and the brave heroes that made it possible?)

Although my toes did get cold standing in the snow, it felt great to be out again, staring at the big red hearts in the window of Faces, hearing Tim's accordion music wafting across the street, and celebrating the day with my #1 Valentine: my accordion*.  (Awww.)

*About that: I found it interesting that people assumed I don't have a "sweetheart" because I was out playing.  That busking is a back-up plan.  Do waiters not work this night if they're in relationships?  Bartenders?  Police officers?  Oh, Hallmark, you've done it again.

Thursday, February 14, 2013:
1. As I was setting up I talked to this guy who was asking for money.  He was very cheerful and offered me his spot, also showing me his well-rehearsed routine: saying "Happy Valentine's Day," flashing a peace sign, then smiling broadly, exposing his tooth, and finally cupping his hand for donations.  He's someone I've talked to before, and it was nice having him as a companion on my block.  Nice of him to usher people over to me!  Before he took off he surprised me by dropping a dollar into my box.  Well, I guess good feeling was in the air.

2. A woman walked by holding a beautifully-decorated mini cupcake.  She and I talked a bit, and some young women walking by asked where she had gotten it.  Sh told them where, and I "joked" that they should bring me one.  LOL!  A couple minutes later, after they all departed, the original cupcake-tease came back, held out the cupcake, and said something.  I thought she was asking me to hold the cupcake for her friend for 15 minutes.  You've got to be kidding me!  But actually she had said that there was no reason to hold it for 15 minutes for her friend, so she was in fact giving it to me.  I guess she got the super-subtle hint.  It was perfect and delicious, and the whole world watched me devour it.  (Usually I crouch down or turn around for snack breeaks, but that wasn't an option on my Alp.)

3.  I got a few requests: a man filmed me for his mother, requesting "Mama's Got a Squeezebox," of course.  Another couple filmed me (I vamped the pre-chorus for "I Believe When I Fall in Love With You..." until the camera was rolling to dramatically do the chorus) and they asked if I could do any Zydeco.  I can't, but I sometimes wing this one song off the Putumayo Zydeco CD: Rosie Ladet's "You're No Good for Me."  I've had Zydeco on my mind, being Mardis Gras season, so this quick dabble satisfied me as well.  Lastly, a nice couple asked if I had seen the Fillini film "Amarcord," which I haven't.  They say there's nice accordion music in it.

3.5. A man walked by with a "Paint it Black" t-shirt, but I noticed it too late.  What an opportunity!

4. Two older men stopped and lingered for a while.  I'll call them Statler and Waldorf, since their commentary reminded me of the Muppets' classic hecklers with those names.  They were very silly, commenting on people who went by and singing along to some of my songs.  They ridiculed a man (after he had departed, of course) who asked me what I was doing and asked a lady with a pizza box, "Is that your pizza?" due to the obviousness of the answers.  It was evident that they like to make each other laugh.  They showed their sweet sides as well.  Statler brought me a hot chocolate, and Waldorf assisted me with my gear when I came down from the Alp.  On the subject of Valentine's Day, Waldorf announced that he recently celebrated his 40th wedding anniversary.  Wow!  That was also the explanation for why he wasn't home with his wife; they had done the Valentine's Day thing many, many times.  Later in the evening Waldorf came back, looking for a very expensive bracelet that had gone missing off his wrist.  It was nowhere to be found.  He was quite upset about it; I hope it turns up.

5. Finally, a police officer appeared on the horizon.  I discussed with Statler and Waldorf that my minutes on the Alp were numbered.  This prophecy came true when the officer arrived, and nicely asked me to get down before I hurt myself.  I tried promising not to hurt myself, but eventually gave in.  It was okay, since Tim was playing as well I figured it would be good to diversify the entertainment that night and enlist Flaca, which I could only do on the ground.  After passing Waldorf my accordion and climbing down, the cop asked for my permit.  That doesn't usually happen!  But we were good to go.

6. Later, a man walked by and commented that I had come down from the snow bank.  I told him that the police had asked me to.  He yelled "Fuck the police!" and continued saying something, but I didn't hear what it was because I was desperately trying to communicate to him non-verbally that the police officer in question was right behind him.  Oops.  I hope he heard enough of the conversation to understand the context, but Statler and Waldorf insist they saw the officer puff out his chest before following this innocent man across the street.  

7.  This guy wasn't the only one outraged by the censorship (if that's what you want to call it).  I explained to another inquisitor why I was no longer on the Alp, and he exclaimed, "That's ridiculous!  You should be able to play wherever you want!"  I began justifying the rules regarding liability and stuff, but he interrupted me to say, "You're the best thing that's ever happened to Northampton!"  Well, in that case....go on.  "I'm calling the mayor!" he promised.  "No, no, that really won't be nec--"  "I'm calling the mayor.   TOMORROW!"  And then he dramatically turned on his heel and walked away, justifiably knocking into other passersby.  Hey, maybe I'll even get a heated letter to the editor!  But honestly, I don't care whether or not I'm allowed to play on snowbanks.

8.  Speaking of calling the mayor, I'm going to do so as well.  Or rather, I'm going to write a letter.  My visitors/patrons last night included David, the ever-so-friendly parking enforcement man (see "Changed My Opinion," 12/31/12, #5).  He's one of my all-time favorite "people in my neighborhood" employees with whom I interact while busking, and he delivered the news to me that he is no longer employed on the parking enforcement team.  I told him, sincerely yet jokingly, that that occupation is for mean people, and he's not nearly mean enough.  He corrected me, hinting that he had been "quitted," as he said, for being TOO mean.  I offered to write a letter to the mayor, and he didn't argue.  If anyone can write a reference for this guy citing achievement of both profession and character, it's me.

9.  A young man stopped and asked, "Do you chew gum?"  What kind of question is that?  At first I thought it was a euphemism.  But I said yes, and he put a piece in my box, explaining that it's a "really nice fruity kind."  Oh, awesome!  It wasn't the only candy I received last night: as expected, I also got a little bag of candy hearts.  I also got a home-made Valentine featuring a message along the lines of "Chris Rock loves you."  Hey, that's all I need!

10.  There was a chatter.  Maybe the worst one yet.  He was a standard slightly-over-the-hill man smoking a cigarette and demanding my attention.  I'm okay with quick breaks and conversations, but when people are walking by, I don't need to hear about all the opinions and quotes you got for your car, and how you finally got the best deal.  Etc.  This one was particularly bad, since he actually said, "I should let you get back to work" a few times mid-story.  But didn't.  He also proclaimed himself a social butterfly, mentioning examples of his people skills.  "I could be cooped up at home, but I prefer to come into town, hear people like you play, and be a social butterfly."  Hear people...what?  Play?  Well, I haven't played for about 18 minutes...  You'd really think people would get the clue when I start just actually playing, or looking at the clock.  I suppose I have to stay positive and take it as a compliment, that I'm easy to talk to.  This man, as many others have done, confided his former struggle with addiction** to me, so I suppose my Psychology degree can be put to use when I offer words of encouragement.

**I originally wrote "addition."  I think I need a break from elementary school subbing!

11.  Many people commented on the fact that there were two accordions out that night.  We were the only two buskers, and there was just a road separating us.  Luckily Tim and I are friends, and our acts are very different.  We're not in competition.  Afterwards, we had compared the comments we got, always including the classics of "Ooooooh, you've got competition!" and "You should play together!"  Why would we possibly do a thing like that?

After I packed up I checked in with Tim, and we both spoke to a young man who also has a Bachelor's in Psych.  He writes a blog, and his Valentine's Day project was to go on a bar crawl and assess the numbers of singles vs. couples.  Interesting; I'd like to read it since I'm so into breaking apart the psychology of holidays (sounded sarcastic, isn't).

Before I sign off and go to bed, in preparation for playing at the Winter Market tomorrow, I will confirm my mother's worst fears by sneaking in the final professional inquiry I was asked by a "passerby," delivered from the passengers' seat of a moving car speeding behind me: "How much?"  Oy.  Happy Valentine's Day!
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