Ok no, seriously? Again? So tell me NYC…which trains AREN’T infested???? 

“Nowhere Is Safe: Third Subway Line Reportedly Infested With Bedbugs“

http://gawker.com/nowhere-is-safe-third-subway-line-reportedly-infested-1621087254 

A tipster has revealed to Business Insider that a third train line in the New York City subway has potentially been infested with bedbugs. The first subway line to get fumigated—the N train—wasfollowed by the 5 train, and now the pests have reportedly taken to feeding on passengers on the 7.

After riding the 7, the tipster told Business Insider: “I am a regular 7 line rider in New York. I take the line every morning from Woodside to Bryant Park. This morning, I noticed them coming out from under the seat to feed on people’s legs.”

The tipster, Kedem Deletis, said he called MTA officials on a help line after seeing the bugs, instead of starting a panic among other passengers.

Via Business Insider:

“What exactly should I have done? Raised a panic on the train and have people screaming and hurt?” Deletis asked. “Maybe captured one of these bedbugs and risk bringing one home?”

Deletis said he was certain the insect he saw was a bedbug because he had an infestation in his building “about four years ago” and “that nightmare experience made every resident an expert.”

MTA officials say they are looking into Deletis’ bedbug observation. A friend of a Gawker staff writer simply advises to not sit on the wooden seats on the platform, because the disgusting pests breed there. But maybe, for now, just don’t take the subway at all.

http://gothamist.com/2014/08/12/subway_performers_nypd.php

In New York City, it’s perfectly legal, in most cases, for buskers to perform on station platforms—a fact of which many NYPD officers are apparently unaware. BuskNY, a coalition of freelance performers, have grown pretty tired of being arrested, jailed and slammed with pricey summonses for an activity they know to be legal under the MTA’s guidelines, and today they gathered on the steps of City Hall to call for it to stop.

Matthew Christian, a classically trained violinist who was arrested last year for playing a piece by Johann Sebastian Bach on the 68th Street-Hunter College station platform, read from the MTA’s own “Rules of Conduct” the portion that specifically states that “artistic performances, including the acceptance of donations” are permitted “provided they do not impede transit activities.”

The habit of arresting subway performers is not only harmful to the performers, but the NYPD’s credibility, Christian said. It’s also expensive—as many as 15 performers are in the process of suing the NYPD for wrongful arrest, which means the city could potentially owe up to $100,000 in settlements.

Christian argued that the mistreatment by cops is largely to blame for sending performers onto the trains—which is, in fact, illegal. Arrest of on-train buskers has rocketed in the last year, but performers say the punishment for getting caught is extreme.

“If they were safe on the platform, which means if they weren’t at risk of being wrongfully arrested, and if the MTA supported and facilitated freelance and made sure that there weren’t arrests, then I don’t think they would be in the train,” Christian said.

Zenon Laguerre, 34, said he was the first performer to take dancing to the train more than 20 years ago. He and other performers are aware that what they’re doing is illegal, but he doesn’t think the punishment fits the crime.

“We dance because we love doing it—it pays the bills and keeps us out of trouble,” he said. “We dance. We sing. We’re not criminals.”

Several performers said they were optimistic that the wrongful treatment of buskers would diminish with the arrival of Bill de Blasio, and were disappointed to see that bullying by cops has only increased thanks to Police Commissioner Bill Bratton and his “broken windows” police tactics, in which the NYPD aggressively cracks down on minor offenses.

If a dancer receives six violations, it becomes a misdemeanor—five misdemeanors becomes a felony. Laguerre argue that to be charged so extremely for dancing is absurd.

“You’re locking me up for dancing while there’s criminals on the street,” he said.

Saturday morning #BuskerSketch magic from German artist,  Hardy Wilms : ) 

#awesome

As a busker, I never quite know what people are thinking, if there’s a subtext goin’ on when they say they love my voice & singing & then follow it with “I’m going to pray for you” 

 #curiousbuskerblessings

When I’m not underground busking…

I’m above ground growing amazing green friends 🙂

Below is Sunday’s Harvest

#IndoorSustainableGarden

My most favourite Subway maintenance worker came up to me today on the platform &, his words clothed in his thick Eastern European accent, said; “You. You were in the paper”

“What?” I said.

“You were in the paper.” He said, pointing at me.”The newspaper you know? The New York Post. I think not more than15 days ago”

“Ummm, I don’t think I was, really…”

“No, you were. I saw. Hold on’s…I be right back. I go upstairs”

“Ok” I said as I went back to my singing. Not more than five minutes passed & he was back, newspaper in hand.

“Here, see, it’s you” he said as he held up & pocked at the crinkled newspaper picture of …..Katy Couric. Omg,who knew Katie busked? It just goes to show, how we see ourselves is SO not how others see us #peoplearefunny

I’ve always known intrinsically that everything is energy, everything has a vibration no matter the variations in speed. But sometimes that fact of physics & ascension hits me broadside in a manner that’s impossible to deny. Today was one of those days.

The whole NYPD thing over the past few month plus the upcoming hearing I have been preparing for daily for weeks now, s finally got to me not only emotionally but physically as well; the stress manifesting itself in crazy, mind numbing headaches, upset stomach, snot sleeping or sleeping too much & weird pains all over. Though I rarely if ever go to a Dr, I finally went – just to rule out everything else  t (even though I knew it was all most likely due to the non stop harassment & how I was attempting to process it on a day to day basis). After a gazillion tests, some chatting about life, and my Dr asking if he could play my guitar which I’d brought with me in the hopes I’d magically find the energy somewhere in the Dr’s office to go busk on the way home,  he looked down at his clipboard and said: “Well we’ll wait and see how all these tests come back  but between you, me & your guitar here I think you actually do have a ‘touch’ of PTSD from all these encounters  with the cops that you’ve been experiencing”  A ‘touch’ of PTSD? I thought to myself…is that like a ‘touch’ of pregnancy’?

Home I went, and in an attempt to hold myself together & try to keep distracted  I forced myself under daily, despite the knot in my stomach and fear it elicited each time I did. But even if I did get to sing, my vibration was not clear, I was 1/2 present & 1/2 keeping an eye out for which officer I might have to deal with next. People noticed. I made no money.

Then two days ago, in the middle of my third tune one of my guitar strings snapped. I started to change it on the platform when the tuning peg also snapped. Not having a spare peg with me I had to abort & spent the next hour & a half digging an oddly jammed peg out of the bridge of the guitar. It appeared almost glued in there. Finally I dislodged it & too the opportunity to re-string my entire ax. I felt so happy & grateful I’d repaired it & that now my dear ax (who I just know ‘feels’ was all re-strung with a shiny new set of strings. I fell asleep looking forward to the next day & hoping both my physical & emotional symptoms would have diminished & that my newly strung guitar & I could find our respective & joint grooves together.

The next day I walked across town to play in a more distant spot, hoping I’d avoid the cops. The walk was long but I felt it was the smartest thing to do & that it would be worth it once I was there & busking. I set up on the East Side & my guitar, my newly strung guitar….she simply would not play! It was insane. I sat there on the bench of the subway platform trying everything I could think of to stop the twanging, the buzzing, the tinny insane noise that was emanating from my normally full sounding ax.

Again, I went home, stumped on what was up & spent the next 2 1/2 hours taking the entire thing apart, bridge, nut, tuning pegs, truss rod etc. All to no avail, she still wouldn’t play.

Then it hit me – she too has a ‘touch of PTSD’ & does not want to go under. She too has been ‘traumatized’ but the multiple cop encounters. I called my friend who is a master guitar tech upstate to see when he could help her & placed my dear guitar in her stand & went to sleep.

That brings me to today, Memorial Day. I decided I’d skip busking, although I was missing it terribly. I just could not see how I was to play with a guitar which was adamantly, staunchly not into it. “sigh’ I accepted an invite to go to the beach,thinking it’d perhaps do me good to do something different &  took the train downtown & was promptly stood up.

There I was, on the Subway platform beach bag, towel, sunblock in tow, not quite knowing what to do or where to turn next. At my back was the downtown train I just hopped off, paralleled but the uptown at the Fulton St Station. I stood there in a mini daze, letting a few trains scream by, finally deciding to head back home in the hopes of figuring something  productive out for the rest of the day once there.

I hopped on the next A” train going uptown & as I looked around for a place to sit & saw a $1 bill just laying there on the seat right in front of me. A sign? Perhaps, but whatever it was or meant, decision made, that’s where I sat as I hosied the seat $ stuffed the dollar bill in my unused beach bag. One stop later a tall, thin, black guy boarded the train with an electric keyboard hanging form his neck & a Christmas red gift bag taped to the side of the instrument. He sat down perpendicular to me & after a few beats I spoke; “Excuse me, how’s it been? Busking – are the cops ok today?

The guy smiled a huge toothy white grin & said “Yeah, they’ve been rough as of late but no problems yet today, thank God”.  He introduced himself as “Keys” & said “Yeah, I’ve seen you around. You play the Uptown A C E right? The platforms?” We continued chatting about art, music, life, moving a soul, being granted a smile or a pat on the heart & the pure magic that is the world of a busker.

Keys hopped off at 14th St as his batteries had died & he need to replace them to keep on working – more technical difficulties 🙂 He turned around back towards the “A” & shouted “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ Heidi. Don’t ever stop” And the doors closed.

“Ok”, that’s it. Between the lone dollar on the subway seat & meeting / chatting with Keys I’d decided, I was going to try one more time to coax my poor ax back to work.

Once home I spent another hour and a half dismantling over & over my guitar. I asked her what she needed, I listened & coaxed. I tightened this, propped that, replaced that thing over there & once I knew I’d done all I knew how to do I went back under, my still very odd-sounding guitar as a reluctant participant.

I put two capos on the fourth fret in the hopes it would muffle slightly the insane squeaking & buzzing. It kind of, sort of, barely made a difference but I made a ‘deal’ with my ax anyway : “We’re gonna do this, ok?” I conveyed to my stubborn instrument. “We’re gonna be ok & we’re gonna find our groove again. I promise” And I sang.

The platforms were packed. People were happy, sunburned & smiley faced. It was a holiday & the air was oddly relaxed & easy for NYC. The crowd responded with smiles & donations & soon their energy won out over the odd sounds emanating from my guitar. As one bass player said: “Yeah, it doesn’t really bother me, it just sounds like you have a small percussive instrument, like a drum or a symbol playing at the same time”

I sighed but kept on playing, focusing on the happy people. ONe guy threw in a $5 after a song he liked particularly well. Then a few songs later he came back & threw in another $5 after, I guess, was another song he fancied. I looked at the guy at the end of the bench who had watched the repeat donator’s actions & I said : “There are a lot of angels down here” The guy nodded, grinned & I added: “Sometimes they’re good tippers sometimes they’re homeless, but there are always angels in these subways” The guy looked up at me & smiled as he thought about what I’d just shared.

I kept playing. There were tons of kids on the platform being a holiday and all. And I watched as they bugged their parents for something to put into my case & took such pleasure in dropping the donations in. Then I noticed a little boy to my left who was waving his hands wildly in the air up towards me & I realized he wanted to touch the guitar, so I leaned down & held it for him while I watched him run his fingers over her strings. As I watched this tiny person somehow know how to strum a guitar I asked his mom: “How old is he?””He’s two” she responded.”Two – wow. You know your son’s got a gift. You need to get him some kind of instrument, any instrument…” And she chimed in;”Oh he has a karaoke machine” his mom informed me, to which I responded:”Well karaoke is ok but you need to encourage him with an instrument to make his own music, not just sing someone else’s as he has something magical inside & he will share it if you give him a few tools. I promise.” And as we were talking the little boy began to add his wordless singing to the strumming. I was mesmerized. You could tell he just ‘knew’ what to do with a guitar & with music & probably with most any instrument  you put in front of him. I watched him as I held the guitar in front of him to ‘create’ on & asked “What’s his name? “Socrates’ his mom informed me. ‘Fitting’ I thought to myself as his mom quickly leaned over and whispered “Thank you” and they hopped on the train, the little boy’s arms waving wildly towards my ax as the train doors closed.

I continued singing, knowing even if I stopped right there that I’d done s bit of what I love – move energy & been moved right back in the best possible way. Plus, my ax was finally beginning to sound a bit more normal’. Maybe she just needed a little TLC from angels like Socrates 🙂

A few songs more & the E pulled up, the crowd flooded off  & started up the two sets of stairs of the platform.  One guy in a kind of casual business suit thing, stopped, looked back  and stood there for a few seconds while I sang. He then walked back down the stairs, found a seat on the bench closest to me & sat there while I sang. I finished the song, leaned down to pick up my tuner when a hand holding a $20 appeared in my guitar case. I looked up. It was the man, He got it, he really got it, he got what I was saying in the song & was moved. As he dropped the twenty he did that ‘thing’ where an appreciative audience member will touch their heart with their hand & nod a few times in recognition. Then he went back to what he had begun 3 minutes prior, ascending the stairs out of the trains.

By now I did not even notice my guitar’s ‘twang’s’. In fact, for the most part, they had disappeared, along with the headache & the tummy ache – all the ‘glitches’ just fading into, being dispersed by all the love that was shared & exchanged underground tonight. We had gotten a good number of busking hours in & no one with a gun  or a billy club bothered us. For all of that, we were happy.

Everything is indeed energy 🙂

Photo – Henning Fischer

And over in London ~ “Police Spokesman: “Unlicensed street performing” contributes to “anti-social behaviour and is a driver of crime” ….  He’s got to be hobnobbing with Bratton to come up with this kind of bs ~

http://www.standard.co.uk/news/london/londons-best-buskers-row-over-arrest-rages-on-as-community-leader-backs-police-action-9426275.html