We've all had shows like this: You're set up in the corner of a bar/brewery/coffee shop/arcade/auto dealership/art gallery sometimes near the restroom/kitchen/buffet line/information kiosk. Besides getting annoyed looks from the staff you're almost certain to be in someone's way at some point of the performance. Funny - you're as real, as corporeal as the patrons you've been hired to entertain, but, aside from the annoyed glances you've gotten, damned if you don't feel ... well ... invisible.
It's OK. Really. Not every show can (or will) be a performance for a rapt listening audience, for people hanging on your every turn of phrase. You won't always get those sweet three seconds of stunned silence as the last note of your song fades away before the room erupts in cheers and wild stamping of feet and showers of cash and underwear. Nope. Some of us will never experience that. But that's OK too.
Because why do we make music? On a purely visceral level I bet most of us make music because we LOVE making music - whether it's an original work of unrecognized genius or a novel interpretation of a classic tune. My point here being that we are never truly invisible. And when I can't find any engagement at all with a single audience member, when I've annoyed everyone in the room I could possibly annoy, I can close my eyes and play ... for ... me.
We here at the House Of Strays wish you a wonderful musical week. May you annoy fewer people than you enchant.