Saturday, August 14, 2010


Saturday morning, I woke up with $18.72.

Things To Do

  1. Go to the library and delete all of the racially insensitive, inflammatory and possibly illegal remarks made on yesterday's post.

Friday night, the night of the Art Walk, I was told by a cop that I needed a performer's license in order to play. He told me this at a time when it was too late to go and get one.
They are free.

I told him that I would go to a spot on private property, where I had never been complained against. I did.

He showed up there, shortly thereafter, and told me that I perhaps hadn't understood him the first time. He went on to say that I couldn't play anywhere downtown, until obtaining a license.

It was Friday night, and the potential to make 50 bucks was there. He threatened me with jail if I persisted.

I wondered if this had anything to do with my singing about the people of Alabama, the night before, portraying them in a not so flattering light.

I milled about, thinking.

I went and got a piece of cardboard and wrote: "Police Won't Let Me Play," upon it, and sat right by the pizza place with my guitar propped beside me and the sign slid between the strings.

I got some sympathy and a few tips.

Then, a lieutenant came up to me and asked me how things were going.

I thought initially that he was going to harass me about sitting there with a sign, sitting there with an instrument (though not touching it) or harass me in general.

To my surprise and joy, he was very apologetic, and explained that the first officer was a rookie and was assigned to walk around and discourage panhandlers.

He added that he had seen me playing before and that the law, as he saw it, did not condemn the playing of music. He added again that he had seen me before and had no problem with me.

There was a guy with him, in plain clothes, who threw a buck in my case.

I went to a good spot, energized by having the Law on my side, and proceeded to have a decent night. I drank some, and still woke up with the 19 bucks, or so. Big deal, eh?

Alarm Clock Stolen From Next To My HeadThere were 3 other homeless sleeping on the same marble stoop at the church, when I arrived at about 4 in the morning.

They hardly stirred when I lied down.
In the morning,
I woke up with the sun already pretty high in the sky. I wondered why my alarm hadn't gone off. My alarm clock was gone.

One of the homeless guys had stolen it, I am pretty sure. He may have been thinking that he needed it in order to go to work early at the labor pool. He may even be intending to pay me back by returning it, after he makes his 50 bucks at the labor pool. All I know is that, after having my mood elevated by a decent night, salvaged after all hope was lost, I was once again pretty angry.

I can't help thinking that if they try to sleep there again, I will knock them unconscious, and then search them for my alarm clock. Whoever has it will be set on fire, and raised on a flagpole, as a warning to the other homeless not to steal from me. The police won't care; they hate homeless people.

The one's who didn't steal my alarm clock will get an apology for being knocked unconscious. I'll give them each a cigarette, too, what the heck...
That clock cost me $4.97 plus tax at Wal-Mart.

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