A dollop of crazy
January 10, 2020 § 16 Comments
Last January I started memorizing Chaucer. Which was weird.
I plowed through August, by which time I had The Miller’s Tale and the General Prologue memorized, and I started on The Knight’s Tale, which is a beast, well over 2,000 lines long.
I was in Vienna last August and had made up my mind to do a recitation in the First District, but my son told me it was illegal and crazy. One of those two critiques made me give up.
After that I kind of lost my drive. In late November I picked things up again and found that even though you can remember things quickly, you can forget them even quicklier. So there was a bit of re-memorizing that had to be done.
I decided in December to go to Santa Monica and do a street recitation. Burned from Vienna, I checked the law first, being a lawyer and everything. You can street perform without a permit unless you want to do it on the Third Street Promenade or near the pier, in which case you need a permit ($37) and you have to follow certain rules. The main rule is that you have to move every two hours.
If you’ve never busked, well, it’s intimidating. I found a spot, leaned my bike against a tree, and started in on The Miller’s Tale, which is in Middle English, and which sounds like babble. My heart was pounding.
It’s one thing to memorize something and recite it alone on your couch, where it’s quiet, and a whole different thing to do it with hundreds of people passing by, music in the background, and every variety of noise and racket going on.
Plus, there is performance stress. Even though no one cares, I CARE. And even though no one understands Middle English, I DO. And even though no one is listening, I AM.
A couple of people stopped and listened for a few minutes; it takes about 40 minutes to recite The Miller’s Tale. Mostly people ignored me. Another thing: Projecting your voice in open air over huge ambient racket is hard, and your voice gets tired fast. The whole thing was exhausting, slightly disappointing, but not too much.
I’d overcome a lot of fear and done a public performance. There were a lot of things to work on, things like some kind of signage so that people knew what I was doing in addition to simply being crazy.
My permit expired 12/31/19, and I did a couple of more performances. By the way, they check your permit constantly; I displayed mine in the spokes of my bike, leaned nearby.
Each time I performed it got better and a few more people stopped to listen or to video short parts of the recitation. A handful of people actually knew what it was and seemed impressed.
Now that it’s 2020, I need to go pick up my new permit.
END
Cycling in the South Bay 
Does one need a permit to busk in the City of Los Angeles?
No.
But there are rules for the Venice boardwalk.
If I had a permit for reciting, singing/music, I’m pretty sure that everyone would want me to stick to reciting.
I’m afraid people want me to stick to couching.
Did you make any money? Was this more or less stressful than arguing a dispositive motion in front of a judge? Opening argument at trial?
I was too shy to put out my hat. It was the same but different because of the memorization …
I see that there is no “responsible adult” involved.
Nor has there ever been.
Very cool
Thanks!
There is a Japanese short story I liked that went something like this:
A salary man lived in an apartment complex with several floors.
On level one the apartment doors were each a different color to make it easier to find your apartment …. (hotels could take a clue here.)
However the same color sequence was repeated on each level.
One evening on returning home from work the salary man inadvertently went to the wrong level …. found his color door and walked in.
He went to his favorite chair and his wife brought his slippers and a cup of tea. He read the paper for awhile and then asked his wife what they were having for dinner.
It was not his wife ….. shaken by his discovery that he was in the wrong apartment … he apologized profousely … and went to his own apartment.
The next day he located some dynamite and put a few sticks in his briefcase … which he carried most everywhere …. trying to feel unique in the universe of sameness.
About a month later there was an explosion that killed 4 people in an apartment building near the salary man …. an investigation pointed to dynamite as the explosive …. but the authorities were perplexed as to motive.
A witness noted that a man that lived there had shown him the dynamite he carried in his briefcase for no apparent purpose.
Upon learning of these events the salary man considered seppuku ….
This wound up in spam; it’s free now. I had to read the story twice before I got it!
I am assuming you are familiar with “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs”
Please tell!
To a frere he wende to schrifte, his penance to afonge.