Setting Off

Hi all!

If you're reading this, you are probably an esteemed member of my family and/or friends, so you'll likely know that I departed less than two days ago across the Atlantic for a grand Adventure. This Adventure begins in Edinburgh at the Fringe Festival, and continues on as I travel across Europe by train, selling poems-to-order on the street from my Hermes Rocket portable typewriter. This blog will let me keep everyone up to date on my journeys, and give you all a glimpse into my day-to-day life as a nomadic poet/busker/backpacker/insane person.

But enough exposition, no one has patience for that. I leapt right into life here, so there's no reason you shouldn't plunge in just as swiftly.

I arrived in Edinburgh at 11am yesterday morning, after just about every airport mishap possible and a redeye flight. Finally, I made it into the city center due to the kindness of a benevolent stranger who bought my bus ticket into town (my debit card chose an inconvenient time to have a tantrum), and settled into my friend Rebecca's apartment, who will be housing me for the month. The rest of yesterday is a blur-- all I know is that it involved the Muppets movie, some cereal, and a seven hour nap between the hours of 3pm and 10. Jetlag 1, Genna 0. However, by evening I had gotten a smidgen of my spunk back, and enjoyed some rooftop stargazing.

Rebecca's flat, currently under construction to fix a sagging roof, is laden with scaffolding. If you slip out the kitchen window, you can climb a ladder and find yourself on a shabby wooden loft smacked onto the rooftop. From there, the city stretches out in front of you, chimneys craning their necks against the ruddy clouds, a stone skyline jutting like rows of jagged teeth. Imagine the chim-chimney song from Mary Poppins-- it's pretty much like that. In the distance, fireworks from the military tattoo blossomed against the sky, and then, at last, settled into dark.

The next morning, it was time to get straight to work. My busking booth is comprised of the following items:

-a Hermes Rocket typewriter

-a collapsible table

-a collapsible stool

-copies of my two latest chapbooks

-a lace tablecloth

-laminated signs decorated with pressed Vermont flowers

-carbon paper & regular paper

-pens, change, and other odds & ends

Here is a photo of me at my poetry stand, taken by a customer:

All of this fits into my backpack, mind you. It's rather miraculous.

I set up on Middle Meadow Walk, which is a busy footpath running though the center of Edinburgh's biggest grassy park. As the festival is on this month, the footpath sees thousands of passersby every day. It was a beautiful day-- 70 degrees and sunny-- and I sold a whole slew of poems. A homeless man in a pressed suit told me of his life working in the coal mines and told me with conviction, leaning in close to my face, that poetry needs to come straight from the heart. I sold a poem to a couple on their 20th anniversary. I sold a poem about Merlin and a poem about lunch and a poem about something called "wubbling," which involves wiggling from side to side when you get really happy. I wrote a haiku about eggs.

I should probably explain how this whole thing works, to those who haven't seen me in action before: customers give me a topic of their choosing, and then I write a poem on said topic as they go for lunch, or see a show, or wander about town. Then they return, collect their poem, and pay me a donation they feel is appropriate for my work. I still need to do a bit of troubleshooting with the process (for example, some people never return to collect the poem, causing me to do unpaid writing and leaving them without their desired poem...) but other than a few issues that could use smoothing, the process works quite well. I even worked out a deal with a local bookshop/cafe (from which I now sit as I write this entry) who will let me busk from their store on rainy days.

I wrote this poem below in exchange for a steak and squash crepe and a strawberry smoothie from a nearby food vendor. Good deal. 

So that brings us up to date, I do believe. Writing, exploring, living... And on it goes.

Love,

GennaRose