Rock and Roll road trip

Update:

The car is FIXED!!! JJ (the dear friend with whom I’m traveling) has gone back to Mahopac, NY to pick up her Volvo so we can get gone to Indiana, only to have the person who transported her to said vehicle have HIS car breakdown.

So… I’m still in Baltimore.

I’ve been training back and forth between Rockville (yep, that’s where I’m staying!) and Washington DC to busk / hang out / meet the locals / munch down on this awesome salad bar called Chopt Creative Salad Company, and now I’m tucked up in bed – home alone – hoping we can take off tomorrow evening. Fingers crossed.

In the meantime, I’ve fallen in love with DC – the people here are amazing!! – and I’m tentatively making contacts; even been invited to an industry shindig next weekend that apparently Jill Scott will be performing at. While part of me is skeptical that it’s all a load of hogwash, (yep. I said hogwash. Because I’m 58) there’s another part of me that is going HOLY FRIGGIN RAD! LET’S GO!!

Except I can’t.

I’ll be working at the next job by then.

Woo.

Today was day 3 of busking in DC too – apparently they quite like me here. Apart from the blisters and newly calloused fingers (it’s been a while, it would seem), I’ve been having an absolute ball; chatting with the homeless and the elite. DC is a beautiful city, and everyone seems to have this really good buzz about them.

The men here are incredibly forward, but it’s always mid conversation-like. It’s so bizarre. While dining with my long lost girlfriend from THIRTEEN YEARS AGO, she was admiring how unapologetic, yet nonthreatening the flirtations in America are. It’s not like you walk away feeling verbally assaulted, but genuinely acknowledged and appreciated.

I have no idea how that even works. Mind you, sometimes it still doesn’t. Haha. 😦

Turns out too that you don’t need a permit or license to busk in DC. You DO, however, need a permit to beg.

How odd.

So I’m hoping to visit Baltimore tomorrow when JJ gets back to do some more street performance, and maybe buy another copy of Amanda Palmer’s The Art of Asking (my copy was lost due to… circumstances), then we’re OFF to see the wizard of Indiana! Though, to be fair, who the funk knows what adventures THAT might bring….

Oh, and I caught up with my long lost friend, Saran today too. We both did songs on a compilation album when we were super young, and have still kept in touch. She now dances and generally just exudes awesomeness. She co-runs the Full Swing Vintage Dance Co in Wellington and tours around the world teaching as well.

She’s 27. And just as terrified as me on this terrifying artistic journey we’ve embarked on.

But that’s another story… πŸ˜‰

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