A Busker on Every Corner of the Corner

I write from my tower of song in Little Italy, "the Beach" as Kerouac called it, across from Chinatown, San Francisco, U.S.A., at a 3 way intersection infamous for buskers being on every corner of the corner. Right now at roughly twenty after four on a sunny November afternoon there is a busker, energetically playing what appears to be a homemade set of bongos and singing "Proud Mary."  Only in California...where people's sense of perfect timing and synchronicity seem to be raised to new heights.  And so he provides the background for my late afternoon musings as my clothes tumble dry around the corner and I get ready for my evening busk.

As the sun dips below the Pacific Ocean horizon the San Francisco skyline lights up before my very eyes.  Passed the Cathedral-like steeples of the National Shrine of St. Assisi, the modern day pyramid, erected just a couple years before my birth in 1975, the Trans-American Pyramid lights up like a Christmas tree.  A moment ago, in the twilight dusk of the Beach, another moment of California-style synchronicity occurs as I walk out of the laundromat and around the corner singing the Beatle's "With Love From Me to You", complete with Paul McCartney falsetto, and suddenly out of some North Beacher's abode comes another Fab Four song "Glass Onion" blasting out the window, and at that moment began to feel the oneness between myself and the city and everyone in this wonderful city.  Strolling through Little Italy on my way home on Veteran's Day, I felt a healthy sense of patriotism.  There were American flags rippling like a Hollywood movie picture against the setting sun sky.  American flags on buildings on my block and up the way on the Gothic rooftops of Knob Hill skyscrapers.  Then to remind us of our cultural diversity in this international melting pot, Chinese flags rippling against the pink sky in Chinatown, and Italian flags painted on every lamppost on my block.  

And so off I go on my busking trail.  Still some chores around the old hotel to take care of but then I will walk my way through Chinatown, through the Stockton Street "singing tunnel", and then off to an acoustically resonant underground railway station where I will tune up and play some fiddle music for the good people of SF.  I will probably end up in the Mission after awhile to check in with Classical Revolution, a twice a week classical music renegade experience and listen to some chamber music in the comfort of a coffee house.  Unless of course I catch busking fever which happens frequently and is a very welcomed sensation by yours truly.  Till next time friends, stay on your paths, as I will be on mine, and thank you for supporting your local buskers.