Support Artists in 2015
It was a crisp fall day in San Francisco when my over-rested muscles pulled me out of my apartment. I jogged and dribbled down Spanish-named streets until I came to one of my favorite areas, Duboce Park. I came to this park often for exercise and in this case to shoot hoops. The grass was green and worn down from where picnicking bodies had rested on blankets. The sky was baby blue and soothing cirrus clouds blanketed the sky. It was quiet for San Francisco but you could hear the flap of flannels and upon entering the park, a couple guys rapping over a beat.
I slowed down to catch a few lines and finally sat down on a bench near them. I watched nearly one hundred introverted San Francisco residents pass by; some half shocked, some mildly amused but most were oblivious.
How many times a day do we walk by aspiring artists and not say anything?
I carried on to the basketball courts and shot around for an hour or so. I listened while I played and caught a good bar here and there. I didn’t love there music, yet, but thought it was badass that they were out here, in the open, working on their craft. I’m uncomfortable singing at karaoke and your supposed to suck at karaoke. So when I was leaving, I tried in the least lame way possible let them know I liked their stuff. So when I was leaving, I said, “Hey, I like your stuff.”
They looked up and it felt like I was in a Disney movie and Bambi and Thumper were looking up at me glowing. I’m sure they’d been praised before, but at this sensitive moment, they needed it.