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