My Sixth Sense

Tuesday, this morning, I woke up with 6 cents.


Monday morning, I had about 40 cents (a recurring amount) and went out on the median to play for about 45 minutes during the morning rush hour, and after finding out that The Coffee Club was not to convene, due to some complication, possibly an egg and/or grit shortage.

I had broken a string Friday night, but still made about 20 bucks, switching to My Favorite Horse, the song composed for guitar minus "G" string, for the last half hour or so.


Saturday night, I just couldn't bring myself to play for the masses with a messed up guitar; I found no joy at the thought of it. There is only so much to sing about one's favorite horse.

I fell asleep in the church courtyard, instead, knowing full well that I was going to wake up with $3.40, Sunday morning, which I did. I spent a lot of time reading Sunday.

I was happy to go without breakfast, Monday morning, just to see the other bums wailing and gnashing their teeth. I'm sure their stomachs were growling; I couldn't help smile to myself, as I watched them slowly skulk away, and dissipate into the city, to waste away until 11:30, when the next meal was to come. My attitude has come to that, here in Mobile.

I made 4 bucks on the median, and then left before the police drove by, content with the knowledge that I could buy a few beers, if I wanted to, and mix them with V8, as a substitution for breakfast, should I wish.

I wound up getting some V8 and mixing beer with it, and had drank the 4 bucks down to 6 cents, by the time evening arrived, and my spot became available.

There was no money to be made, on that Monday night. About a dozen people walked by my spot, but they probably smelled V8 on me, and didn't want to support my habit by tipping me.

I was playing with a modified guitar, since I had broken the string Friday night.

(I moved the "B" string to the "G" position, and then moved the "E" string to the vacated "B" position, and then attached a new "E" string, which I had in my case, in the correct spot for it.)
Neil To Appear

The result was a twangy sounding guitar, which lent itself to some interesting music, but made most "familiar" music sound out of tune, as, few recording artists string their guitars like I had mine -maybe that is Neil Young's excuse for his intonation, though.
Neil Young is coming to the theatre downtown on September 26th.

I had a good night when Robert Plant came and played there a few weeks ago.

Neil should draw a similar crowd of well dressed former hippies, who have chickened out and run towards the security of college degrees and jobs with titles, when they could have chosen a life with more meaning; and had the chance to take amusement in bums being denied free breakfast.

This morning, I went straight for the water fountain and mixed up some instant coffee, as, word had it that The Coffee Club would be on hiatus this day, also.

I played at the big clock spot and got one dollar. I was playing pretty well, considering the arrangement of my strings.

I ate at the Waterfront Rescue Mission.

There was first, a short prayer service.

The meal was pasta and garlic bread, salad and cake.

The Real Danger

There was a thing of Parmesan cheese on one of the tables. It was passed to the black guy who was with a white lady, across from me. They sprinkled it in their pasta. While they were doing this, a younger black guy held out his hand for it. I held mine out also, and hadn't time to say "Let me get some of that," before it was handed to the other black guy.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

The black guy mumbled something.

I will never give him a cigarette or a dollar as long as he lives, neither the white lady. I tried to memorized their faces. I am being just as petty as them, I know...

This is probably the real danger of falling into abject poverty -becoming as petty as those who are in the situation for their pettiness, to begin with....