Busking & the Buskers who do it

The Montgomery Station is a cornucopia of local amateur talent that serves to entertain me. This may be an inaccurate statement, as I reckon that there may be some professional musicians in the mix as well. Here are my faves:

1. Really Old Violinist Guy: this man plays his classical music in such a way that I actually feel what he is feeling. For the most part, he makes me excruciatingly sad. This is mainly because I can only imagine how he must have been in his prime. His melancholy strains are so beautiful today – they must have been downright magical back then. I look at him and fantasize about where he grew up & in what orchestra he sat first chair. Whenever I see this dapper gentleman, I always carefully place money into his overturned hat, as tossing it would be wholly insulting to his dignity (though I am sure that I alone think this).
2. Punk Rock Pink Mohawk Guy: this first time I ever saw this one, he was playing a Ramones song. Of course, this was very deserving of my hard earned cash. Since then, he seems to play the exact same Johnny Cash song with the exact same forced affectation. I like Johnny Cash & all, but COME ON!!
3. Handsome Older Clarinet Guy: I love this man…he’s very classily dressed & really makes that clarinet sing. I have never given him money, as he always sits at the exact opposite corner of where I go & I am extremely lazy. Holy crud…I think I just shamed myself. Note to self: give Clarinet Guy a couple of bucks on way home.
4. Solo Mariachi Hombre: oh man this guy is cool. He is a short little Hispanic man in Wranglers & a cowboy hat. He has definitely received some dollars from me – mainly because I always feel like he needs help because he lost the rest of his band.

There are others, but the fact that I cannot remember them means that they are not, well, memorable.

I am shallow

In very good company, I have made yet another startling discovery about myself. This discovery? It is that good looking crazy/homeless people make me more sad than the converse.

Obviously, I know this is very shallow…no duh. That’s my point.

So, I was walking towards the Montgomery Station the other day & I passed the usual “street crew”. I will list them:

a) Bushy Beard Guy: sleeps next to the newsstands at Sansome & California. When I see him in the morning, he is still bundled up in his blankie…head perched just so on his pillow – cup sitting next to him for donations (labeled “please help”). I have walked by him later in the morning just in time to see him opening up the lowest newspaper compartment to pull out his shoes – he’s actually quite orderly. When I spot him on the way home from work, he is generally just shuffling down the sidewalk to some unknown destination (never veering far from the claim he’s staked).

b) Always Passed Out/Looks Dead Guy: his name pretty much sums it up – he resides in Montgomery Station

c) Guy in Motorized Wheelchair: is always on Sansome & is super friendly. I overheard a lady telling him where he can go to get help…dunno if he went.

d) New Guy With Plates of Marbles: don’t know much about this one, other than the fact that he has this elaborate staging around him that consists of plates, marbles, beach glass & plastic dinosaurs. He just does his own thing – doesn’t bother anyone. Oh, he also has a couple of carts full of “stuff” with him.

There are several others, but you get the gist. So, aside from my initial observation of their appearance, these people garner very little of my attention. I feel no pity, disgust, etc towards them – they do their thing, I do mine. A couple of days ago, however, I witnessed a stranger amongst my familiar street folk. The reason this one caught my eye was because he was actually incredibly good looking. I actually felt an odd pang of sympathy. Why the h-e-double hockey sticks would I have more sympathy for the plight of a good looking homeless/mentally ill/drunk addict person over one who is not so comely?! I told my friend Tamara about this & she immediately countered with, “That’s because you’re shallow, Charlene”. She quickly amended this with a “j/k”, but she’s absolutely right.

I will now go back to having zero sympathy.