I Hate It But I Always Do It

50 Bucks

Saturday night, I started playing early and racked up around 50 bucks. I had a 20 dollar bill and a 5 dollar bill in my case. Apart from these two, it would have been a typical, low paying, Mobile Saturday and I would have made less than 30 bucks. This boon gave me enough to plan upon going for my ID the following Monday. I would just have to survive Sunday without spending too much, or getting begged or robbed too much.

We Don't Carry Cash

There was a bum, well known to me, standing nearby at one point when I was playing, and a group of Christians came by and asked me to play "Amazing Grace."

I sounded out Amazing Grace to mine and their satisfaction, and they then prayed over me. One of them, I think, is the one who dropped the 20 dollars in my case.

I had been telling them about how I had had enough money for my ID, exactly, the previous day, but, getting the ID would have meant not spending a cent on anything else, and I had failed to do that.

They gave me a sermon about how God had given me just what I needed, but the devil had triumphed over me when I bought a pack of smokes and a couple beers. I was just being honest with them and answering their questions.

They prayed that I would make the 23 bucks that night and get my ID and get a job and do God's will. (God didn't intend for His children to be on the street playing guitar) All this happened while the bum stood 5 feet away, listening and watching as more than one of them threw money in my case, and someone gave me some pizza. As the group were leaving, the bum said something to them. I couldn't hear what it was that he said, but I heard one of the Christians say. "We don't carry cash with us" to him.

A Breakfast Fit For Nero

The next morning, the bum was at breakfast at 15 Place. He was telling everyone who cared to listen about how much money "Guitar Man" had made the previous night. "Yeah, he was raking it in...he must have made at least 50 bucks; AT LEAST!"

I can't imagine what service he thought he was doing me; did he think every bum was going to be proud of me, and respect me?

Then, the bums of 15 Place, taking the cue, started The Barrage. "Hey, Guitar Man, let me get a smoke..." "Yeah, Guitar Man; break bread!" They can sound so biblical sometimes. Jesus would give us a cigarette...

I didn't give them anything. I told the loudmouth bum that, what I made was none of his business; though, it is everyone who walks by me and stares into my tip jar's "business," and that's a part of my business which I can't avoid. He accused me of "hustling" Christians, saying that I had manipulated them, and mentioned needing 23 dollars as a manner of begging. He asked me how I felt in my heart to have hustled Christians. Then, the knowledgeable historian referred to me as "Nero."

Up with the sun this morning. I still had some Vault energy drink in my bottle, despite having drank most of it in the middle of the night. This lead to a bizarre dream, in which my guitar strings were tuned WAY too high, causing the neck to bend. I retuned them in my dream, and then, I was suddenly making out with Anna Kournikova. Dreams don't always make sense; even though this one did perfectly (she tunes her racket.)

I walked to the main bus station and got on the right bus to go out to the Division of Licenses.

Upon getting there, I was told that, in addition to my birth certificate and my Social Security card, I needed a "third" form of something. I handed the official my expired ID. She told me that it had expired too long ago. She gave me a list of other acceptable documents. I told her that I had none of them. She told me that I couldn't get ID. I then said: "So, I can''t work?"

"No," she said.

I was ready to go off and make a huge scene. I was going to drop every expletive that I could think of, accuse them of trying to keep the homeless down, so that they (them) could divide the "pie" amongst themselves. I was going to call the President a piece of s*** and ask her how she would feel to have HER right to the "pursuit of happiness" sidetracked by a pencil pushing bureaucrat, who acts complacent and uncaring, to make matters worse.

I was pissed.

Then, I remembered the Record of Adoption paper, which my mom had mailed me. It was being used as a bookmark in a book that I am reading about Joseph Smith (the founder of the Mormon religion.)

I Adopt A New Strategy

I gave it to the official, who had just barely escaped being cussed out, and she was mesmerised by the gold seal upon it. She let me through. I pity all the guys who will never again hold a job because they don't have the right documents and have no way of obtaining the right documents, without the right documents. They will panhandle and pick ashtrays all of their days, or become outlaws, and I have a new found sympathy for them, (except for the one's who aren't trying.)

When the official had told me that, "no," I can't work, she said it with no emotion at all. People walk into places like that with automatic weapons and it's becoming less and less"shocking" and closer to being understandable. They are telling able bodied men that they can't go out and make a living for themselves by the sweat of their brows, because their ID expired more than 90 days ago...pathetic...

I Got The Thing

I paid the $23.50, out of the money which I made on Saturday night, this leaving me $4.75, an amount that I am getting used to being down to, and had my picture taken.

It was hard to smile for the photo, as I had originally planned upon doing, after what I had gone through. I had wanted to outdo Karrie with my photo. Karrie sports a big smile on her ID because, as she put it "I was happy to get my ID." Liquor stores occasionally card her, you see.

The ID will be mailed to 15 Place within 30 days. This is another layer of insulation for them against someone using a non existent address, or one where they don't actually live. Now, I must hope that 15 place extends my temporary membership until such a time that the thing arrives there.

The Garage

Tonight is open mic night at The Garage. I have not done my homework. I procrastinated upon learning the new material which I wanted to introduce tonight. I still have a couple hours, and seem to enjoy putting myself under the pressure of going on stage not sure of myself. I hate it, but I always do it.