Skip to main content

Crazy

The veins bulged on his neck. Sweat trickled down the side of his mohawk. Concentration was etched on his face as he butchered one chord after another.

"Oooohhhh woooah, we're never gonna survive, unless we get a little bit, craaaazy"

I'm not sure what drives a rotund, middle aged man with a moustache and peroxide blonde mohawk to stand in the middle of a busy street and perform an under-rehearsed 15 minute punk rock version of the song Crazy by Seal. Whatever his motivation, he provided something that couldn't be ignored by the customers of Starbucks on Second Street, downtown San Jose.

The performance had it all; soul, passion, drama, rawness, pathos and violent energy. He was a man wrestling with his inner demons and how to play bar chords in equal measures. His struggle on both counts was captivating. And that was only the warm up where he tuned his guitar.

Little did I, a young mother breast feeding her child, three off duty Nigerian taxi drivers and two Latino guys with a very small dog know what was about to hit them.

The busker had a sign in his guitar case that said "Will be your boyfriend for food" and he had the hangdog expression and pain in his eyes of someone who'd been dumped for the price of a Big Mac in the past.

I watched him play for well over half an hour, whilst sipping my iced tea, and in that time nobody gave him any money whatsoever. He'd also purchased a coffee, so his busking revenue for the day was actually in the red.

At one point a guy on a skateboard went past, with a guitar strapped to his back. Our man abruptly stopped the song and challenged him to a guitar dual. I even heard him use the phrase "Me and you kid, one on one"

After finishing a song, he went into Starbucks to use the facilities and perhaps gear up for another burst of Crazy.

I took that as my cue to leave and I dropped a few quarters into his case on the way by. As I walked down the street I turned and looked behind and saw him return to find his new found wealth, neck craning from left to right around the street to see who had been the distributor of these riches.

And then he began again...

"OOOOOHHHH WOOOOAAAAH........"

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Life in Tokyo: Days 1 and 2

For no apparent reason, I'm spending a month in Tokyo. I feel really lucky to be able to take a random trip like this to somewhere I have never been before and thought I may never get the chance to go to. I got a great deal on a flight from Birmingham to Tokyo via Amsterdam and everything goes well. I get my vegan meal on the plane (trust me, go vegan when you fly, you always get extra salad and fruit, plus you always get your meal first which is my favourite thing ever!). I get to Watch The Social Network again and it is just as good second time around. Arriving sleepy in Tokyo, I have the friendliest bag search of my entire life, with the customs guy laughing at everything I say and my four guidebooks, as he inspects my bag thoroughly. He is highly amused by the six Dairy Milk chocolate bars that I have brought along to give to people I meet or stay with. When I arrive in the US I am always tired and scared of saying the wrong thing and being turned away or getting back roomed, b...

The package

Recently I went to collect a parcel. In Germany, this is not so straightforward. After trekking across town, we locate the Berlin DHL delivery depot, nestled in between a dual carriageway and a quite frankly scary looking building complete with gargoyles and an ominous sense of authority (that now seems to have been turned into the HQ of a German Radio station). Upon entering the building we were greeted by a scene that looked like a doctor’s waiting room. All the classic signs were there. Chairs in rows of five or six with that little bit of extra space between them to stop the spread of disease. People sitting on their own, or occasionally in pairs, nervously flicking through several month old magazines whilst repeatedly glancing at the clock and eying the person who came in before them. The occasional cough or shuffle. All it needed was some posters about herpes and the picture would have been complete. My partner and crime and I join the queue for the counter and eventually get to ...

This ain't Vegas

"I've always thought there was something really dirty about that girl" says the semi-well known British pro in seat ten to nobody in particular, as an attractive female casino employee walks past. The World Series of Poker is getting under way in Las Vegas. The best players in the world along with thousands of wannabees to play for astronomical sums of money and a chance for a shot at fame and glory. But I'm not there. I'm in Walsall, deep in the heart of the Black Country, playing a £100 freezeout . And to be fair, there's a pretty big turnout for a Bank Holiday Monday - 165 runners makes it a tournament worth winning for sure. I'm here with my friend Joe, somewhat of a veteran of these casino crapshoot tournaments, having spent his time in the trenches in Coventry, Birmingham and *gulp* Dudley. Sadly for Joe, he busts within the first half hour and after doing half my stack to the aforementioned known pro when I flop two pair with 4-5 suited and relucta...