Friday night, I was in town, trying to get a feel for where I should sit and play. I had the brand new strings on, and felt good.
There was a guy blowing a saxophone in the middle of things. The saxophone carries pretty far, and I didn't feel right sitting within 100 yards of him. I knew that people tip musicians just because they are making an effort. I walked around with my guitar on my back. I had several people tell me that I needed to take it off my back and try to make some money.
I just wasn't feeling it.
I did manage to make about 7 bucks.
This morning, I woke up with 7 bucks and change.
I guess I spent 15 bucks yesterday, and I can't remember on what, so, it was probably Steel Reserve 211 Malt Liquor, and a pack of smokes.
I slept late and, after my morning rituals, glanced at my clock to see that I had only 15 minutes to make it to my gig at the hotel pool.
I was kicking myself, because, all morning the soft-rock station was playing song after song that I have deemed suitable for my repetoire, but haven't learned. My idleness had lead to me scrambling through my brain for material. I had no idea what awaited me.
I got there right at 12pm. The manager told me to split my time between playing at the pool and in front of the lobby.
I went to the pool and unpacked my guitar near a shady spot. A girl asked me if I knew any Bob Dylan. I played "Like a Rolling Stone."
There were mostly mothers with their children there. They had no way of knowing that I was paid to play. When I sensed that they were leery of me, I had to explain 'Yeah, the manager is paying me to sit here and play for 2 hours."
They calmed down, and stopped whispering to their kids "Don't go near that man," I guess, based upon the fact that some of them came by to listen to me.
I made the 30 bucks; no recording contracts or gigs, or offers to join bands.
I fell asleep in the lobby while waiting for the manager to finish registering some guests, and had a dream about kissing Karrie. I woke up feeling very depressed. I felt it in my stomach, where the butterflies had recently vacated.
I had forgotten that, despite all of her faults, she was giving me love, which I totally underestimated the value of. Now, I am stuck inside of Mobile, with the Karrie Blues, again.
There was a guy blowing a saxophone in the middle of things. The saxophone carries pretty far, and I didn't feel right sitting within 100 yards of him. I knew that people tip musicians just because they are making an effort. I walked around with my guitar on my back. I had several people tell me that I needed to take it off my back and try to make some money.
I just wasn't feeling it.
I did manage to make about 7 bucks.
This morning, I woke up with 7 bucks and change.
I guess I spent 15 bucks yesterday, and I can't remember on what, so, it was probably Steel Reserve 211 Malt Liquor, and a pack of smokes.
I slept late and, after my morning rituals, glanced at my clock to see that I had only 15 minutes to make it to my gig at the hotel pool.
I was kicking myself, because, all morning the soft-rock station was playing song after song that I have deemed suitable for my repetoire, but haven't learned. My idleness had lead to me scrambling through my brain for material. I had no idea what awaited me.
I got there right at 12pm. The manager told me to split my time between playing at the pool and in front of the lobby.
I went to the pool and unpacked my guitar near a shady spot. A girl asked me if I knew any Bob Dylan. I played "Like a Rolling Stone."
There were mostly mothers with their children there. They had no way of knowing that I was paid to play. When I sensed that they were leery of me, I had to explain 'Yeah, the manager is paying me to sit here and play for 2 hours."
They calmed down, and stopped whispering to their kids "Don't go near that man," I guess, based upon the fact that some of them came by to listen to me.
I made the 30 bucks; no recording contracts or gigs, or offers to join bands.
I fell asleep in the lobby while waiting for the manager to finish registering some guests, and had a dream about kissing Karrie. I woke up feeling very depressed. I felt it in my stomach, where the butterflies had recently vacated.
I had forgotten that, despite all of her faults, she was giving me love, which I totally underestimated the value of. Now, I am stuck inside of Mobile, with the Karrie Blues, again.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments, to me are like deflated helium balloons with notes tied to them, found on my back porch in the morning...