Street Angels: Busking Chronicles in TLV

Dancing Demigods at a Vaporwave party, Levontine7 By Photographer : Amit Mizrachi

Music really makes you raw; it really does

I decided to say,” to hell with it”

I’m like a broken angel

An Angel -Stuck Flickering

I don’t feel too shabby

Though I’m going to just go on up to these buskers

They don’t look lizard petrified crusted from the sun

Have a nice set-up and amps in fact

I had a third-eye-vision

One guy straight up looks like Quinn Christopherson

Singing ,”Erase Me” for the NPR tiny desk

I love his wavering figure yet presence

David Byrne like gait ; spastic yet cool

The slow build-up , till he wails and the force of what he is saying rocks his figure

His lyrics cathartic and topical  “I used to think I was a woman
So I got used to pulling the short stick”

Yet humble ,” I don’t know what to do with all this privilege
Cause I got a voice now
I got power and I can’t stand it”

The guitarist said, “ Hey, I know you” , I couldn’t place it so I dropped it

I tend to Matrix people out of thin air sometimes ; though music takes precedence

I told him ,” you look like the winner of NPR Tiny Desk Concert”,

“oh , yeah?”. What’s he look like?

I didn’t want to have him be hung on the fact that Christopherson isn’t a traditional beaut

His attractiveness is inherent in his intensity

So I said , “ I Dunno” and walked back

I didn’t have a mic… I can’t project my voice well… I’ve been strangled before.I’m wasted from pushing myself and no one to catch me , I’m burning both ends faster than Wiley Dynamite

The two guitarists are laying out some well-waxed-surfboard rock

I’m just going to Amy Winehouse it and Belt out to Rothschild Avenue

Loud enough someone will hear me; rap truth enough someone will feel me

People are tossing in- coins into the hat

A jolly Russian woman wants to take a video ;holds her phone up smiling

A random electric scooter arse harasses her thinking it’s the bike lane

Her husband holds her and they laugh it off ; they’re together at least

I know I look Like I’m asleep wearing clothes like PJ’s oversized black floral pants

Made to look like a skirt, My favorite T shirt grey with a faint indigo outline of a turtle with a skull for a shell .I bought it ; after a psychic told me it could be my guide out of sheltering

I don’t give a fuck ; I got presence

I keep running everyday though I still feel like a water bloated drowned corpse in deep fried oil

Am I? or is it just distortion ? Maybe my flame doesn’t have enough oxygen at the moment

Until I’m in a dark room ; dark minimal techno, letting the energy spike through me

Fuck it I’m going to dance ; in the middle of the Avenue at least move my arms like they’re waves

I got a temporary glitch in my identity thinking, “I hope these two guitarists don’t kick me off”

My imagination has me feeling sexy, my presence, let my hair hang greasy before my face

Invisible smoke and cast shadows as if stage lights through thick smog

Usually I just non-stop font up lyrics

I sang ,” lose your head and go into your heart”, “ Don’t let Corona , have you feeling wrong did I get smthn in ; It’s just the Corona of your Eye”

Don’t remember what else sometimes I feel like I’m spitting tongues

I felt en li koach ; I quick hopped like a Bunny to cucumbers from ampm ; that’s all I eat its phallic

Finally ! the tones getting dark cabaret ; I picked up a tambourine to keep my hands busy

Walked behind the two guitarist’s ; behind the rail , on the limestone lookin fountain wall , curling my finger around the stones as I crept n projected where I felt ,”safer”

 till he asked for his Tambourine back ;

“rats” I snapped my fingers; to save me from my heart ;wanted too fall into Alice flooding tears

We ended and as I sat beside the guitarist closest to me with kind eyes he split the change with me !

It wasn’t much yet to me the kind gesture override the fear of an endless tidal wave of green foreigncy

I wanted to hold back and keep this moment kept yet

I was looking for closure or more of it ; saying we could make it big ! be on the stage !

The guitarist said , “I prefer making music alone”, Oh , ..okay , He cant see what I have to bring?

He began a chord , “ woah that sounds like Joy Division”.

“ Who? You know we’ve met before”,

Did I care? I squinted and walked over to him …

“ You where my Tindr date , and you and your friends where too turnt up and I was uncomfortable and left”,

I thought of the photograph that was snapped of me at Levontine 7 at a Vaporwave party. With my shirt stretched over my head after I poured water all over myself and danced like it was the harlem shake , Andy and I must have looked like a troupe of Dance Demigods … how he looked so feminine with his silk ascot and long glossed hair, now his hair is skinhead short ; Intrigue

“ Woah! How is that possible !? “.. “ you were so sachi and now you’re raw , I guess music makes you raw”.

Why would I say this aloud , I cant process . How I felt like the highest in the room , he was a skirmish

Now I’m all nerves and a hidden black panther tied by a chord to a post in my shadow

And he’s Joy Division

So I went out to Levontine7 where I met him and used the busking coinage from my entry

I’m in a dark room ; dark minimal techno, letting the energy spike through me

I must seem like I’m on something yet I feel weary and this energy needs to throttle through me

I’m in a vacuum no one’s talking to me ; my oversized pants keep falling down , bra straps like a hooker

I don’t care If I look spunked or electrocuted-looking , Napoleon Dynamite or Dmitry Krasilov

I’m seeing waves so I’m dancing, letting it unfurl up beneath me , cranking , aerobics and a disco inferno in space half humanoid

I dance the skin of my feet, friction like an illegal street race

The nights over; I say goodbye to the woman hosting ; too crushingly sweet? Like everyone’s long lost fam  , “ heart is open ; come and find me”, sings Birdy

About the Author
Samantha Blake is a eloquent more imaginative version of Anthony Bourdain . She's always out and about , exploring and subverting spaces , so that when she talks with you everything becomes comedic and lit-up like a t.v show.
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