Nancy and I spent (I'm guessing here) about 7 hours playing guitar and singing on the streets at the Ann Arbor art fair on Friday and Saturday. I will provide you with the highlights of the adventure that brought about nasty nasty blisterycalluses on the fingertips of my right hand, making it very painful to type, play trumpet and piano, and anything else that involves pressure there.
We started Friday out with a little photoshoot in a graffiti-bedecked alley. 'Twas fun. The cop who walked by was probably really confused. Nancy jumped higher than I did. I blame my choice of footwear.
In location number 2 (sitting on a curb) on Day 1 of our experiment, a mother, father, and young daughter stood and listened for a while. Eventually, the mother came up to us with her arm around her daughter. "She has a request....you'll never guess what it is." "Whatever it is, we most likely can't play it." "Hannah Montana." Nancy: "No...but I've seen her brother in concert!" Mother: "She doesn't like boys, she's 6!" So we told her we'd just play a happy song for her. Mama stood there smiling a huge smile, bouncing and singing along with the chords.
In Location 3, which proved to be the hot spot, a guy and his daughter stood and listened for a while as we played a Bob Dylan song. "You know who wrote that?" "Bob Dylan..." "You know what her name is?" "....Dylan?" Then he said yes, stood there for a second, and walked away without giving us a tip. Jerk. While playing the same song in the same spot at a different time, an old guy informed us that "That song was played in that very spot in the 60s to protest the war."
On Day 2, an email forward rolled up in front of us in his motor scooter to listen for a while. Then he smiled and pulled a laminated sheet with the alphabet and some words on it (no, yes, thank you, etc). He gave that to Nancy to hold, then pulled out another with his life story on it. He was a Vietnam vet who had a bunch of lousy things happen to him, eventually causing him to not be able to speak. He told us (by pointing to letters on the sheet) that he could hear our singing. I think he was trying to convert us to Christianity or something, as he made us read a big long prayer, too.
Also on Day 2, a creepy blues musician guy sat down on the other end of the step thing as Nancy and I played behind her mom's booth in our own little amphitheater. He listed to several songs, then told us how great we were- that we sounded like the Everly Brothers with our great harmonies. "But can I give you a quick free lesson?" Then told us to be loud. When he finally left, he shouted at us to keep being good or something. Creeper. Another toothless creeper gave us a couple dollars. I told Nancy perhaps he should keep it to buy teeth.
A friend of mine from BG was wandering around town playing in a New Orleansy jazz band. I happened to see another BG friend between 2 tents, causing me to throw my guitar and Nancy and go running before he disappeared. A professor walked by and listened, as well.
I bought art for the first time, ever, yesterday! It was a wonderful way to start out the day. I felt like I had really contributed to my past choice of future profession. It's super super super nerdy. It's a little etching of a wooden boat alone on water. Words above and below read, "A Picture of a Dory in Gray." The title is "Literary Punishment." Emphasis on the PUNishment. I'd have gotten a different one had I not just finished reading the book 2 days before.
I helped 3 people take down and load up their tents yesterday. I'm STILL exhausted, even though I slept for 11 hours. I'm sure I'm missing something in this story, but you get the picture. It was a great weekend!
