Wax Off

I made 2 dollars yesterday.

To say that this is not stressing me out, and contributing to a lot of my "problems,' I think, would be a form of some kind of "denial." I came here to make $100 a night, after someone told me that a guitarist he knew who "Isn't even half as good as you," did. Things have "changed," I guess...

Even my cheap AM radio (on which I listen to talk show hosts berating the president, or talking about aliens) is malfunctioning, and, the flashlight fell apart last night, rubber cap came off, spring fell out along with a little gizmo which I couldn't see to replace (without my flashlight.) But, I still have Karrie...for 24 more days. She is thinking of jumping ship, to Texas.

I always wanted to check out Austin, Texas, but; maybe not with the "ball and chain," a term which she has affectionately come to be known by, attached.

As much as I am coming to love her, I often feel like I am in a three-legged race, against unfettered sprinters.
The spot at the Episcopal church, where I used to play, because of its great acoustics, is now banned by the city's new ordinance. The ordinance passed on the 1st of October, when I was in jail.
The cops came by on their bicycles and one of them, stopping in front of me, yelled "Hey!" right in the middle of a Bob Dylan song. I wished it was one of his songs about the oppression of the artist by cops on bicycles; I'm sure there is one in his catalogue.
I kept playing, empowered by my belief in a sense of protection that the constitution, in its "free speech" clause has surely given us all.
The cop grabbed my guitar and stated something like: "I'll take this away from you."
Then I said something like: 'You need to read the United States constitution, especially as it pertains to personal property and the rights of the ordinary citizen."
I was just winging it.
Not backing down, which would, in their line of work be a blunder, the cop threatened to arrest me and bring me to jail. He went on to say that they were only there to tell me to move but, since I wanted to be "Mr. Constutional Rights," they now needed to see my ID. I said that my ID had been eroded away from the friction of passing it back and forth to cops, and no longer existed. They actually dropped the subject at that point!

I went on to tell them that I had always played that spot. They asked me how long ago was that? I told them that it was in August. I didn't say that the interim was spent in jail.
They finally let me move on, telling me that in a battle of the constitution against bicycle-riding cops, the cyclists always win.
Whatever, I'm not an attorney.

And, in the meantime, other musicians are leaving here and the one's that come back are telling great tales about other places, like Ashville, North Carolina.Karrie And I Make Up
Karrie and I made up. I appologized to her in the morning. I know that she has feelings which can be hurt, even though she hides them under her scars, which, apparently shield her from feeling hot wax (it wasn't much, just a few drops.)
She was never aware that wax was poured upon her, and she explained the jacket and the money satisfactorily enough, got up, fetched firewood, water, and made coffee. She ate the tortillas and the grilling beans, but, I'm not hungry in the morning, usually, so, better her than the raccoons.