FACEBOOK BUSKERS

As an admitted addict, I am well familiar with the professed desire--to quit or curtail one's Facebook habit, presence, etc. Feeling somewhat whorish, smirk-y, embarrassed, like I've imbibed entirely too much, said a bit more than I meant to, eaves-dropped on one-too-many conversations, I swear to go cold turkey, to clean up my act, to at least set a limit, a curfew . . .

Of course, I am a man of few traditional bad habits--I don't smoke, drink (one glass, cheap date) or gamble.

Ah, but give me an audience . . .

In these tough economic times, being on Facebook is like being a street busker--performing your act to the crowd that passes by, sometimes attracting attention, maybe even winning a crown or two from a generous onlooker, entertaining the masses . . .

And sometimes, with too much time on my hands, I will I.M., add the witty quip, upload my latest twisted animation or my newest antique photos, lovingly hand-tinted, all with the assumption that my "friends" on Facebook can't wait for another of my bon mots, my special treats . . . and sometimes, I get so disgusted with myself, the sheer unmitigated ego of it all! I suddenly want to hide in shame, thinking what a needy cuss I've become!

But then, if I'm truly honest with myself . . . I am born to entertain, it's what I do, or rather, what I love to do. I live for wit and words and visual arts--and sharing those experiences with an audience. Whether this is a good thing or not, for me or for the assumed audience, is irrelevant. It is what I do, as medicine is what a doctor does, rocket science is what a rocket scientist does, etc.

And in an age where it is tough to get produced, tough to get presented, tough to even make a living no matter what the field, Facebook is providing a soap box, a street corner for FREE (at least for now, thank God!), and the passersby can either watch or not, throw a coin in your cup . . . or not . . . and you can put your wares out there: your wit, your opinions, your visuals, your projects, your connections, your dreams . . . it may not shake up the world but at least you are putting it out there INTO the world, and who knows . . .

The street performer is slightly sad. We'd always wish him/her a better venue to make performance dreams come true. And like Bert in MARY POPPINS, we know that those chalk drawings, no matter how beautiful and inviting, will disappear with this afternoon's sudden rain burst . . . but for the moment, it is lovely and the fact that it is there for us, however fleetingly, makes life a bit more lovely for the moment . . .