The Couch Hop Hustle - Also - Bacon Mustache Levitating

Back in Chicago - I have begun, The Couch Hop Hustle

Moving to a different couch every week for 3 months may not seem like the most glamorous lifestyle, but 2.5 weeks in - It seems alright.

The Back Story

Article 1: Nathan Scheetz. 

He can Levitate. 

He's also one of my best friends on the planet. 

Nathan and I get along like ranch and pizza. And I really like me some ranch and pizza. You see, Nathan,  has a lease that's up on February 1st. That means, that if I can manage not signing a lease until then, we can move in together.  I'd really like to learn to levitate. 

Article 2: Emily Kurash

She can grow a Bacon Mustache.

She's also one of my best friends on the planet. 

Emily and I get along like dragons and Harry Potter. And I really like me some dragons and Harry Potter. You see, Emily, may be leaving her current place of being, and moving to Chicago around February 1st. Which means, if I can manage to not sign a lease until then, she could move in with Nathan and I.

I'd really like to learn to grow a Bacon Mustache. 

Conclusion:

If  I don't sign a lease until February 1st, I can move in with one of my best friends, and potentially two. 

More importantly - I can learn to grow a Bacon Mustache while Levitating. 

Game Plan:

I have been, since October 31st, and will be, until February 1st - Couch Surfing. 

I have 2 or three weeks lined up at any given time. And send out emails every so often to line up the next ones.  I travel with a hiking backpack, a guitar, and my over the shoulder bag. I have 1 weeks worth of clothes, a bread pan, 5 pounds of flour, 48 OZ of oil, 4 OZ of yeast, 1 jar of raspberry jelly, 1 jar of Peanut Butter, and general knitting supplies, as well as the laptop I'm typing on. I think there is a fun size snickers in that bag somewhere, which, will eventually turn up. 

So. Thank you Rick Adams, Nick Ostrem, Sean Gath, Nathan Scheetz, and Morgan Gire - Who, have already housed me while on my quest of learning how to grow a Bacon Mustache while Levitating. And thank you to the many others who will. 

At the end of this - I am sure, there will be a song. But, then again, I've said that and been wrong before. :) 

Catch me performing my cabaret show - 16 Dollars a Day at Davenport's Piano Bar in Chicago this Sunday Nov 18, and next, Nov 25 at 7:00PM

Here's the link friends :) 

https://www.facebook.com/events/369736893116057/

I love you all, 

Ryan 

A Broken Heart

The time is coming. The End is Nigh. Repent of your vacationing ways.  For tomorrow, you must return to Chicago. 

Last Wednesday, I squeezed into a wet suit, a pair of jeans, pajama pants, some socks, boots, a t shirt, a flannel, a rain jacket, a hat i knit, a helmet, and a life jacket and spent 4 hours rafting down the Clackamas River with these 4 chaps and chapettes. 

Lizzie Schwarsrock was also there, but she took the picture. See her here. 

She's the one without the beard. In case you were confused there. 

While on the river - I caught this little Rainbow Trout - The first fish I've ever caught on a river. It was the first cast on a brand new lure. That lure is stitched into my guitar case now, where, forever it will stay. I felt bad for the little guy. He had to die to fill up my belly. So, closed my eyes, and thanked him for his life. I killed him, I gutted him, I cooked him over a fire burned down to coals, and I ate him. 

"Fish"  as I came to call him - was one of the best I've ever had. 

Here he is. :) 

Will said, Oregon, giving me that fish on my first cast -  it was just another example of how She is calling for me. Maybe she is. 

Several people told me, when I came here, I would never return. Oregon would take me up in her warm, rainy, comforting arms, I would fall in love, abandon all that I know, and stay with her forever. And while I can't stay forever, it has not stopped her from seducing me since I first set a foot on her northern soil. 

A few October's back - I fell in love for the first time. The first, absolutely real time. I fell for my best friend. She fell for me. We loved hard.  Hard and rough, with this fierce passion that I'd never dreamed myself capable of. I made breakfast for her every morning, and she took off my shoes at night. She stitched our hearts together, and I fed us with homemade bread. We never went hungry, and we were never lonely. We opened our hearts,  let our secrets fly, and our fears fly further. Stories ruled the long drives and the late nights. She could talk all day and all night, and I could listen, and never get bored. We dreamed of a life off the grid. A life where we could just love, and and create art, and love. We broke up. And we broke our hearts. I still love her, and, my heart is still broken. 

I feel, in a very similar manner, about Oregon. 

And my heart, in a very similar manner, is breaking. 

My plan was to come here and do Midsummer, not to fall in love. But, it's always best when you're not looking for it I guess. 

This post turned out a little different than I planned. I didn't plan on crying, that's for sure. It was the shoes, definitely the shoes, that got me started. I miss the girl that took my shoes off at night. And, I'm going to miss the girl that tucks me in with a cold wet breeze every night. 

That Oregon. She's a lover. 

How We Opened Midsummer, After Losing 7 Cast Members - Insane

Sorry old friends. I haven't posted in almost 2 weeks. I've been rather busy. You see. I just opened A Midsummer Night's Dream with Oregon Adventure Theatre on the 13th of October. Along the way, we lost 7 cast members, (One of which, 48 hours before opening)  had the cops called on us twice, yelled at from our neighbor from her balcony, had our tarp ripped down by the wind, were rained on for our last dress rehearsal, and had fireworks go off during opening night.

Are you ready? This is going to come fast.

From the beginning - 3 folks that were originally cast did not make it to Oregon. For one reason or another, they had to bail, so, from the beginning, we're scrambling.

We start rehearsal in this beautiful place - Will Steele's backyard. 

Rehearsal number 2 - Cops show up. Will is in the back yard in his swim suit with several other cast members. Why was he in his swimsuit in September? He was teaching fire safety. We were dowsing him with towels soaked in water. Champion that one. At any rate! Cops tell us the noise ordinance is 7pm, and we were being loud. Which, we were. But it was 8pm. So, give me a break.
Rehearsal 3 - The neighbor who called the cops, she comes out at about 9pm and shouts at us from the balcony to stop making so much other noise and several other things such as "Shame on you Bill (Will) for starting a fire every night! Don't you care about the environment?"
Rehearsal 4 - Now, before we started this one we spoke to the chief of police about the noise ordinance. He said 10 pm. We said great. We'll be out till 8, then inside. Cops come about 8:30. What were we doing? Singing Pacabell's Cannon, around a piano. Shame on us for singing choral music at 8 PM.
SO!
Rehearsal 5 - We decide to move to a new rehearsal space! Will's Parents back yard! No more crazy neighbor lady!

Not a bad looking place right? Yes, thats an apple tree AND a pear tree back there. 

This, by all means should have been a great day at the new rehearsal space. HOWEVER, we get word our Lysander and Helena have quit the show. Super. We cancel rehearsal. Take a day to get our bearings, throw the stage manager and dramaturg into the play, switch several parts around and Boom! We're good to go. 

Jump to 10 days before the show. Our Puck has missed at least half his rehearsals due to one thing or another and then he get pneumonia  So, Will asks him if he thinks he'll be able to stick it out, he says he doesn't know, and Will asks him to drop the show, because he can't take the risk of losing him in another week. 

So. we're 10 days out, and no puck. 

Then the wind picks up and rips our tarp out of its, what are those things called? sockets? brackets? little holes on the outside edge that you can GROMMITS. thats it. Rips it out of the grommits. So. No tarp. 

BUT! 9 days out, we have a puck! Yay! Here he comes to save the day!! His name is Matt, and he's great. He's also a senior in high school and president of the school body. So, busy kid. He goes and goes as hard as he can. Everything is looking pretty good. As good as it could with all the shit that has happened. 

48 hours out. This is Thursday. We open Saturday. Matt's parents call Will and pull Matt from the show because he's so stressed out. 

48 hours out. No puck. 

46 hours out. Good News. We have a puck. He's a fly fishing pole, with a light up fairy attached to the end of the line. And almost everyone in the cast is learning one of his scenes. 

So. At this point. I'm playing Bottom, Philostrate, Fairy 3, and Puck. (And yes, They're all going on my resume. ha!) Basically, by the end of it, we're all playing 2 - 4 roles. 

We're putting up midsummer, with a cast of 10. Including director, stage manager, and dramaturg. 

Somehow. SOMEHOW. We all memorize the lines, or most of them. Our lovely dramaturg spends most of the day making cue cards for our puck parts, and we spend all night memorizing them. 

Somehow. SOMEHOW. We get all the props made. 

Somehow. SOMEHOW. Will and Dan, the stage manager, spend 8 hours rigging up a new tarp system to keep us and the audience dry. OOOOOO! And, I need to add this for my mom... I STITCHED the new fabric on because the needle on the sewing machine broke. So. Thanks mom. Bet you didn't know you were going to be keeping 50 people dry when you taught me how to hand stitch. 

We do our second to last dress in the POURING ASS rain, finish our last dress 2 hours before our show Saturday starts. 

We open. There are 50 people in chairs, under a tarp, in Wills parents, Mary Jo, and John Steel's back yard. 

Fireworks go off in Act 2, Scene 3  when the 4 lovers are chasing each other in the woods. City Fireworks. From a bridge opening. There are several adlibs that send the audience into fits of laughter including, "WHY ARE PEOPLE CELEBRATING, THIS SUCKS!", "Helena these Fireworks ring out for you!", and "Run run run! We're under attack!!!!" 

We close. We bow. We run back to the tent behind the apple tree and slam into each others arms saying, "We did it! We did it! I can't believe we actually did it!"

I don't know that I've ever been more proud of a production. We worked for this. We all did. Every one of us. My dad and my brother asked me over and over why I was doing this for free. And more importantly, why were we not charging admission to the show?

After several failed attempts, I finally was able to articulate at least a part of it, to my brother. I said - 

     "Look at this like I'm on vacation. I'm doing exactly what I want to be doing, with the people I wan't to be doing it with, and where I want to be doing it. And I don't have to go to work every day. I get to go play in the backyard with my friends." I think he got it after that. 

 There is theatre that I do to get paid. And there is theatre that I do, because I love it, and I must. This, is that theatre. 

As to the free admission. You'll have to ask Will. It's part of his mission, and it's part of his dream that was producing it, making sure it was free. But. I can tell you this. He woke up the day after we decided Puck would be a fishing pole fairy played by the entire cast (Which, turned out brilliant, by the way) and he said this,

     "Ryan, you know what I realized last night? There will be people at this show Saturday day night that will have never seen Shakespeare before. Never heard those words. The little girls that live across the street that watch us rehearse every day, they're going to see this for the first time, and we get to offer them that."

If you still don't get it, It's probably because, the truth is,  I don't either. Its a little insane. What I do. What we all do. What we all did here in Oregon. I do it, because I was born to do it. 

I've learned one thing about myself in these 26 years, and that's I always articulate myself better when I sing it - So - here it is - The inevitable song attached to the post. I wrote it tonight. It's called - Insane. 

Please - dear friends - Enjoy it, as much as I enjoy singing it. 

That's all for now folks. 4 more shows left. 2 outdoors. 4 different venues. 13 days left in Oregon. Wish us luck, but know, we will overcome what ever comes our way. 

Yours, Always, 

Ryan 

5 Dollars, Mortal Combat, Vaudville, and a New SONG!

(Disclaimer: Dear beloved reader. This post is massive, but I could leave none of it out without waking up tomorrow furious with myself. So, if you do not have to time to read all my ramblings - Do yourself a favor... and at least watch the 1st video in this post. You will not regret it. I guarantee it)

If you would have told me when I woke up Thursday that I would have made 5 dollars, fought a woman in a Mortal Combat costume, seen a group of 9 ukulele players in costumes playing a song, Saw a dog the size small dinosaur, watched my very first Vaudeville show,  jammed folk songs with a group of strangers, and wrote a new song all in one night - I wouldn't have believed you, but you would have been right. 

So - in classic Ryan fashion - Here we go. 

Thursday, I went to a street festival called Last Thursday. It happens on Alberta street in Portland, OR on the last Thursday of every month through the summer. This was the last one of the summer. So it was a blowout! It seemed like every circus clown and busker in all of Portland was there. There must have been 15 thousand people on the street.

I walked onto the street and was greeted by this nice looking fellow: 

Those balls in his hands? He tosses them up into the bucket. And catches them. All of them. INCREDIBLE.  

So, after having my mind blown away by the juggling-holding a stick on his chin-man, I walked down the street and found a spot to play between a hat vendor, and some cool lookin cats selling pipes. No, they were not cats as in furry, four legged mammals with tails, but cool cats as in people that I liked so much, they deserve the title, Cool Cats - I'll explain why later. Remember them. 

I played for about an hour and a half, and with 5 dollars and a free beer coupon, I decided I needed a break because I wasn't making any money. 

SO! This is where things get interesting. One of the problems I'm facing with busking in Portland, is there are always such amazing things happening.... that I get distracted, and stop playing guitar... 

Things like this - 

Imagine you're walking down the street and you turn around to see a man with his shirt off, in a kilt, holding a duct tape/foam sword, with total Braveheart blue warpaint on his face shouting in his best Scottish accent,

            "DO WE HAVE ANY MORE VOLUNTEERS FOR...... THHHEEEEE ARENA?" 

I watched two sets of people arm themselves with Styrofoam shields and an assortment of weapons, and battle each other before I decided - I HAVE TO DO THIS. So I laid down my guitar case and my bag, gave my camera to a bystander, and walked up to this kilted Braveheart man, and volunteered. Right after that, a woman walked up behind me and joined in. I turned around, and, this woman - to say she was terrifying is a rash understatement. This woman was the Lord of Terror,  in Woman Form. She was straight out of Mortal Combat. 

    HOWEVER! I've played my fair share of World of Warcraft! I've played DAYS worth of Mortal Combat! I've swung my fair share of fake swords! I've pretended i was a mega ninja and climbed a tree silently to hide during a game of capture the flag AT LEAST ONCE!.  SO!  Intimidated - I was not. I walked out, head held high and decided I was going to go all out. No mercy, because I thought I'd get the same from this vision of Sonya I was fighting. I was gonna destroy this woman in combat, and that's all there was to it. 

Here, my dear friends - Is that footage. The whole battle, is on tape. All for you. And so my children, once I have them, can have a really, really good laugh at the expense of their old pops. 

The rules -

    - If you are hit in the leg or arm, you have to "Drop" that appendage. So, hop on one leg, crawl, use one arm, what ever you need to do. 

    - If you are hit in the head or chest, you are dead, and lose the round.

    - There are 3 rounds. Best two out of three. 

May the best warrior win....

So, I lost. HOWEVER. At least I knocked down this dual wielding sword master once.  AND, if I am going to lose, I  can't think of a better reason,  than because a ninja-girl with a face maskdive rolled behind me and hit me in the back, because both my arms were cut off and I was holding a sword with my teeth. I THINK that's a pretty honorable death. 

NOW. At this point, I decided, there was faaaaar too much happening here for me to merely stand around playing the guitar. SO, I just started walking west down the street. 

I saw this dog. This Massive, massive dog. 

And I saw this band. Which, more than anything, made me smile and smile and smile and smile for days. 

After that I run into a group of people sitting next to a sign that says "FREE ADVICE". Which, was perfect, because I was actually really torn about something in that moment.  I asked them, "Should I go turn in this coupon for a free beer, or should I go play more guitar?" It was a unison vote. Turn in the free beer coupon, and then ask whoever you meet there if you should buy another, or go play more guitar. Fair enough advice methinks! The beer tent was next to the Vaudeville show. Of course. So. Onward to the Vaudeville!!!

This, is one of the several pictures I took of the ROSE CITY VAUDEVILLE SHOW!!!!!

FIRE DANCERS!?!?!?!??!?!??! Yes please. My camera is very old, and usually does awful things when trying to take pictures at night, but, it really surprised me here. WHAT A FUN PHOTO! 

I got there towards the end, so all I saw was 45 minutes of fire dancers but, I was more than ok with that!

Hoola-hoops on fire, long swords on fire, bowstaffs on fire, balls on chains on fire, and batons on fire, all being thrown and spun around these people. SO incredible. 

Alright. Remember when I told you to remember the two folks selling the pipes? I run into them now. Their names are Britt and Cassandra. 

I'm walking back down the street and I decide I'm going to have a "One cigarette night". However, if I am going to bum a smoke, I am only going to smoke an American Spirit. I'm wishing that I would just run into those folks that were selling the pipes, cause they had them.... AND BAM. I look down, and they're sitting on the sidewalk right in front of me. 

So we get talking a bit, and they tell me Britt blows the pipes, and Cassandra is an artist. A number artist. She uses thousands of numbers to draw a picture. Kind of like those pictures that are actually 1,000 pictures, but make up an image of their own. Well, I asked them to email me a photo and cleared putting it on the blog with them. Check it out. 

Its almost impossible to see in this picture, but if you save it, and zoom in, you can see the numbers. 

Cassandra is still in high school. People still amaze me. I think that's why I like meeting new ones so much. I'm always waiting to be amazed. 

Last, but assuredly not least, as I was waiting for my ride to pick me up, and I spotted a group of people about my age, sitting in front of the Black Cat Cafe, playing a guitar, singing and laughing. I walked over, sat down and just hung out and listened for 15 or so minutes. Then EVERYONE started pulled out instruments from out of nowhere. Really, it was like they were invisible, then all of the sudden, POOF. Instrument. So, I took my cue and pulled out mine. All in all there were 3 guitars, a banjo, SPOONS, and two whistles. I'd be lying if I said we didn't sit there for 45 minutes and laugh and laugh and laugh as we played song after song. Each person would take a turn to lead it, teaching everyone the chords to the next song. 

     My ride showed up, and my newly found, one night only, band mates asked, "One more song?" I said yes, took the lead, and said, "Lets just play E, and B7 over and over and over". What came out of my mouth  - was my newest song - "Smile for me Baby" - it was all on the spot, and one of the girls chimed in with harmony on the chorus. It was magic. It was just magic. I got home that night, wrote down the chorus, remembered about half of the verses (WHICH NEVER HAPPENS with songs I make up on the spot) and made up the rest to fit the song. 

Here it is! ( think is just a dark video recording so I could get the sound in, It will be replaced by a video of me playing it when the sun comes up tomorrow :) 

All in a day's work, as they say, I suppose.  A 5 dollar day's work. I haven't figured out how I'm going to pay my October bills yet, but I've never NOT figured it out, and I don't plan on starting now. There's always selling homemade bread and knitted slippers-- which, I might do. But, 5 dollars or not - I wouldn't change a thing about this night, even losing to ninja-Mortal-Combat girl, because now I can tell you about it. Which, is what this is all about. Writing songs, and telling stories. 

There are more songs, and more stories to come. 

I love you all, 

Ryan 

Ps. Please leave a comment if this last video does not work. Its acting.... odd. 

Portland Town- Four Hours, Nine Dollars and a Story

IT HAS BEGUN. 
Portland, OR has heard my foot Tambourine. 

Yesterday I went to downtown Portland, OR and playing guitar in Pioneer Square for about 4 hours. I made  a whopping 9 dollars after bus fare. HOWEVER, I met some wonderful people. So, here we go.

This is me, Yuri, and his girlfriend Ika. 

As I found a spot to play in Pioneer Square, I asked this artist if he was cool with me playing a little ways down from him. He said, "Oh yes, I absolutely support the arts in Portland." He comes up to me a few minutes later and asks for my name. He writes it down, and heads back to his spot. 5 minutes later he comes back to me, hands me this: 

WHAT??? How flippin cool is this thing?

He says, welcome to Portland. :) I asked him how much he wanted for it and he said, "Your music is pay enough." -----This is 10 minutes into playing. I could get used to this town. 

SO, Yuri and I talk throughout the day and I find out he is a world traveler who starts little businesses where ever he goes. In Portland, his business is this wire art. He teaches 3 people out on the street to do it, lets them keep the profit their work makes, and eventually he'll move on, it seems, spreading efficient ways for people to make money as he goes. I said, "Its like - give a man a fish and feed him for a day, TEACH a man to fish, feed him for life." Cool stuff. Cool cool stuff. 

Also, he played my guitar like a LUTE

So now is where I just start listing off names. 

---Alex - She was this awesome girl giving out tea samples at Teavo, a tea shop in pioneer place mall. We just started talking about traveling - she's from Arizona, only been in town a month, and was very interested in the show I'm doing out here, Midsummer Nights Dream with Oregon Adventure Theatre https://www.facebook.com/events/472729896095023/ (shameless plug)

---Paul - had a guitar, gave me several tips on where the good spots to play are. Also, he gave me some bubble gum as a tip. 

---Jeff - who gave me two of my nine dollars, Said, "Yeah my name is Jeff, but every one just calls me Moose" haha. 

---Leah - met her about 3pm, she loved my "Betsy" song. She said she comes downtown for drug treatment and she's been clean and sober for a good bit. YEAH! As she was walking away she said, "Welcome to Portland, We're glad you're here!"

Have I mentioned I'm in love with this town yet?

Then there's this guy:

See that yellow sign the guy with the green backpack is holding? It says SMILE on it. He just walked around all day waving it around, making people smile. 

When I realized I had only made 9 dollars in three hours, I decided to start walking around playing 2 song sets for groups of people that looked like they would throw me some dollars, which, usually, is always profitable. I rolled around pioneer square, played 4-5 two song sets for different groups, and had only one more dollar and a free drink coupon for Starbucks. 

SO, defeated, but smiling, I headed to the Willamatte River to find out if there were people hanging out in waterfront park. Which, there were. I played for two more groups of people, didn't make a dime, but, judging by their reactions, made 5 people's days. 

One group recorded me playing a song on their IPhone. They said they'd email it to me, but things like that don't usually come through. SO, if I do eventually get it, I'll post it. 

RIGHT HERE.  

(So lets pretend you just saw me sitting with a bag over my should, a guitar in my lap, my guitar case shooting up over my head on my back, while playing a lovely tune.) 

I hopped a bus, and headed home on the bus, and met a guy named Seth, my age, carrying a Unicycle. Now, if you don't know, I'm learning how to ride the Unicycle. Here is a very informative video of my Progress as of day three, hour four:

Coming along nice eh?

At any rate, he and I started talking about what I was going to do while in Portland. Hit the Gorge, hit the Coast.... and then the guy sitting next to him chimes in. Now there are three people, including myself are having a nice conversation on the bus. It goes on for 15 minutes, till I get off the bus. The second guy gets off the bus with me and we continue to talk as we walk home. He lives less than a mile away from me. 

The moral of this story - is that people here talk. Just like I do. They start up random conversations with random people just for the sake of talking. That's it. WHERE DOES THAT HAPPEN? 

It seems like this town is a bit of a dream come true. 

Alright friends, that's all for now. 

Tonight I go to Voodoo Donuts, tomorrow I go to a busker street festival in Alberta, and Saturday, a Vaudville show. 

If you don't hear from me again.... it's because I've joined the Circus. 

Yours! 

Ryan 

Jan, The Quaker

On August 14th this year, 2012, I met a woman who's last name I'll never know, who had hair as silver as snow, and who I'll never forget.

Jan.

So I was playing at the Chicago Red Line El stop. I'd been there for about an hour, when I look to the right and see this woman who must be 70 years old with long, straight, silver white hair in a wheel chair smiling and coming up to me. Now, up to this point, the only person in a wheelchair I ever really see down there, is a sweet, toothless black man that sings along with what ever I'm singing, clapping all along. Which is great, but after 45 minutes, I'd just like to get back to just hearing my guitar instead of claps and shouting. So there's a bittersweet feeling running through my head about this woman.

She wheels up and is just thanking me profusely, "Thank you so much for playing, you're such an inspiration!"
Now I hear this all the time, and for the most part, I'm too damn jaded by it to really listen and I just wait for them to drop their dollar and walk away. But Jan doesn't. She gets real close and says, "But really, Thank you." It was probably the most earnest "thank you" I've ever gotten.
She starts talking to me. I mean really talking to me. Telling me all her problems, and all her joys. She'd have told me her whole life story if we didn't have an 8 minute deadline before the next train arrived.

She told me she was a Quaker, and that she was sending the blessings of the Quakers my way. She said, "The main ingredients are TLC. Tender Love and Care." And, although I have no idea what a Quaker is, I've heard of them, and it seems like people talk about them with smiles on their faces, so, I accepted graciously, these, Quaker blessings.

Jan reached up and shook my hand and I'll be damned if an electric shock didn't shoot right through me. It was the best handshake I'd ever had in my entire life. It reminded me of my Grandma Stanger. Grandma was a firecracker. Full of vitality, life, and love. everyone in my family used to laugh so hard about whoever had to sit by Grandma during the BYU football games back in Utah. Because when BYU was down, and it was 3rd down, and the ball left the quarterbacks hand, she'd be shouting and screaming,"GET IT! GET IT!" or "GET HIM! GET HIM!" all the while, latching onto the leg of the person next to her with a death grip that would leave bruises for weeks. It was that kind of handshake. She held onto my hand for what must have been 5 minutes. But it didn't bother me for some reason. It was like she was grounding me there, with that handshake. I felt solid as a rock.

She told me this story about how years back she got her hand caught in this accordion garage door. It shattered her hand. And while she was recovering from it, she went to this music store. She asked them if they would give her a bow, just to see if she could hold it up. Well, they brought out a cello and put in front of her and barely holding onto the bow, she began to play. Jan fell in love in an instant. While her hand was broken, she said she learned how to play "Dona Nobis Pachem" or "Peace Be With you".

So about this time- I'm officially blown away by this incredible woman and it's me who is being inspired instead of the other way around. Just then, the train begins to arrive. So she says, "Bless you Brother." turns around, and zips down the platform. As she is rolling away, I see this sign on the back of her wheel chair. "WAR IS NOT THE ANSWER!" About 15 seconds later, without thinking, I am running down the train platform with a foot tambourine on one foot after her. CHUNK step CHUNK step CHUNK step. Everyone is looking around like there is some sort of weird flash mob going on. I catch her as the doors were closing, ask her the name of the song she learned one more time, thanked her, and watched as the doors closed and she rode away.

I walked back to my guitar case with the same CHUNK step,  heard a saxophone player setting up on the other end of the platform, and decided it was a sign. I needed to go home and write a song, so I could tell this story. Jan's Story.  This is a photo of the original journal entry where I etched out her song.

I still don't know what about Jan hit me so hard, but, I knew I'd never forget her. Now I've made sure of it- by writing this song, and adding this incredible story to my set.

Here it is. I hope you enjoy it. 

Jan, The Quaker

Turning away from American Idol

So I'm sitting here listening to Bob Dylan and I realized I haven't posted here in a while.
Part of the problem, is that I'm not playing on the street much, which will all change in a day or two because my bank account reads -62.53 right now. Please residents of Portland, help me pay dem bills.

So that picture up there. I drew it. I drew every wonderful line in it on a dry erase board. I couldn't be more proud. Especially of the red beard on the man up there. That's me. Or, is supposed to be me. Work with me here.

I played a show in the black box theatre at St. Ambrose University back on September 2nd.
Now, it's one thing playing a show and sharing your life with people who are enjoying your stories and your music. Its a totally other thing to play that show for people that love love love you. Love you like Garfield loves lasagna love you.

I remember looking out as I told this story about Jan the Quaker ( which should be my next post ) and seeing all these eyes fixed on me. fixed and barely believing what I was telling them. Fixed, and loving every second of seeing me in this element they've never seen before.

To say it was thrilling and wonderful would be such an understatement.

I love telling those stories, and playing my songs. I love it, and that more than anything else is why I do it.

Recently, I was accepted to the 2nd round of American Idol. I waited for 3 months, and just found out a few days back the auditions are back in Chicago in a few days.  Well, I'm in Portland, OR working on a once in a lifetime production of Midsummer Night's Dream, in the middle of the forest, with some of the best people I know. So this posed a bit of a problem.  Do I bail on that and do American Idol, or do I stay?

So, When I got the email, I panicked. How do i get there? who can i borrow money from? what songs? should i play guitar? should i make signs?

As I'm yelling on the phone with Emily Kurash, trying to explain how I could get back to Chicago, she stopped me and started asking me the questions I really needed to be thinking about.
- which were  -
 "Ryan, what do you want from American Idol?" and "Ryan, lets say you win. For just a moment. As crazy as that notion may be, the end all of American Idol is fame, fortune, and a career in pop music. So, do you want that?"

And you know, I've never had a goal of being on Broadway or having a platinum album. I've never wanted to be famous, and I've never even tried to sing pop music. I auditioned for American Idol on a whim, just to see what the auditions were like so I could tell my grandparents about it.

I was telling my dad, all this panic stuff, the logistics, how i could get there...this and that... and he stopped me and said, "Ryan, the one thing I haven't heard yet, is Dad, I REALLY want to do this!" He was right.
I was caught up in this idea of maybe making it big or something. When, in reality, I didn't even really want that.

SO. I decided to stay in Portland and finish out the run of the show. I guess that still sounds crazy to me. And Lord knows there's no garuntee I would be famous, or win American Idol, or get a contract or ANYTHING!
But, the important thing to me, at least, is that I looked at my life, had two paths that I could walk down, and chose one that made me so happy. Jessica Murillo answered the question, "Fame or Farm?" with this, "Fame or farm? Don't think about prizes, just do what you love."

Well Jessica, I love this place. I love this Portland town. and I'm staying. I woke up this morning, smelt the air, played a song on my guitar, had a cup of coffee, and said it out loud. I'm staying.


Life is funny sometimes. You never know when you're going to find out something about yourself. I never do at least.

Alright friends. A song is coming next. Be ready. :)

Ryan

16 Dollars a Day

So here is my dad.

He's on the left there, next to my uncle Bruce

My dad is always telling me I should write down all the stories I tell about my travels, playing guitar on the street and in the subways and in parks and by lakes and in bars and well, all over. So, after reading Steph Delacy's blog http://there-was-a-girl-who-had-a-blog.blogspot.com top to bottom, (I would really recommend reading this. It's hilarious.) I decided I was going to finally listen to my dad. But do me a favor, and don't let him know, cause I'll never hear the end of it. 

This is me: Ryan Westwood. Actor, Singer, Song-writer, Street Performer. I'm playing at my brother Doug's wedding reception as the rain comes pouring down, which, is another story, for another day. 

I make half of my living playing guitar and singing on the streets of anywhere I go. I've been doing it since 2009, maybe 2008. 

It started out just a funny thing to go do. Then I realized I could get PAID to write music. Or to play 3 songs endlessly all day long. Or to practice telling stories for my real shows. Or to play every song I've ever written 3 times a day. Or to stand there with a cigarette in my hand and watch people walk by and STILL throw money at me even though I'm not playing... - The list goes on. The moral of the story - Is I was getting paid to play guitar, and it was ground breaking. 

So - most of my stories are attached to songs. Some I have recorded, some, like this one, I do not. 

I'm going to start this blog off with a story I always tell in every show I ever play. 

16 Dollars a Day 

So. Last October I was living with a good friends Shelee and Brad Frazee on 39th st. in Chicago, IL. Instead of going out and finding a job like any sane person would do, for two months I went down to Michigan Avenue and played guitar for 3 - 5 hours a day for tips. 

I'd take a bottle of water, a thermos of hot tea, a couple of sammiches ( love me a good sammich) and some other munchables. I'd play for 2ish hours, walk to the Marriott Hotel, sneak into the bathroom, then head to the second floor of the lobby and crash down on a green couch to eat my lunch. Then I'd head back out and finish out the day. (Thanks Marriott Hotel for your never ending hospitality)

I figured it out, that if I made 16 dollars every day, I'd be able to pay all my bills. Now - I wasn't paying rent (Thank you Shellee and Brad) I wasn't paying for food (Thank you again Shellee and Brad). But i was paying 2 sizable private loans, a credit card, and a phone bill. 

So there I was in front of the Bennigan's on Michigan across the street from the Museum of Contemporary Art playing my heart out. It was a rough day. I'd probably made 5 dollars in an hour, which, is awful. 5 dollars an hour is enough to make me never want to play guitar again for at least 20 minutes. By the end of a 5 dollar/hour hour,  I am ready to completely "hobo freak out" on anyone who doesn't drop me a dollar, let alone a dime.   However, that day, rather that start screaming at the next coach purse I saw stroll on by - I somehow managed to write this little song called 16 Dollars a Day. 

I wrote it for 2 reasons. 1, to document this amazing, difficult, and brilliant experience of playing guitar every day on the street for 2 months. and 2, to BEG the people eating their hot lunches at Bennigan's for the change from their meals. 

The chorus goes 

     "16 dollars a day will pay my bills, hey wont you please help me out. 16 dollars a day won't buy me no thrill but the landlord wont kick me out. If I make 16 dollars, one little old day at a time, I will be just fine"

So here I am in cold October on a street corner with a guitar and a harmonica, in a grey hoody, an orange and red flannel jacket, and bright blue gloves that make me look like I stole the Cookie Monster's hair dye and used it on my hands - Begging the people at BENNIGAN's for money - through song. A terrific sight if I don't say so myself. 

Whether it was the song, or the ridculous sight of me singing to the Bennigan's crowd that did it, I'll never know. But money picked up, I made my 16 dollars and called it a day and at the end of it - I'd written a new song. 

Good day. 

Its an hour later than I planned on staying up. Stay tuned for next time. I might even have song link in here eventually. 

:) 

Ryan