On the corner the musician must become more than just that: they must become the magician, the Shaman, the Jester Holy fool, jesus on the cross for Christ's sake (literal not figurative) and of course never forget, Cold straight up Hustler. Like the GodsEye on a Paracide, not only the living observe, as the surroundings take on a larger stage. The great Spirit favors (and torments) those whom bring the drama. Take very little personal and certainly step into your metathespian shoes as you rewrite the flow of reality around you......it's an ancient little understood artform- streetmusic. The money one earns is often blessed transforming a dime to a dolla, twobits a portrait of Lincoln. On a real good night dollars metamorph cubed into fur coated Franklins wry lusty smile. The true blessing is the authentic egolessness of that sense of automatic; one becomes a filter for EtwasAnderes, something other. The gleam of a child's eye listening to real live music for the first time is THE greatest treasure beyond any material wealth for something immortal is exchanged in the light of the glimmer.