A Spot Of Rain
Friday, It rained. Twice.
I got caught on Dauphin Street, after I left the library, and was on my way to pick an ashtray; I guess I got what I deserved. Things like that never seem to happen to non-smokers.
I waited under the overhang in front of the "Spot Of Tea" place. The "Spot Of Tea" manager once asked me to play my guitar on the balcony, which overlooks Cathedral Square. I thought about it, but then figured that I could do better on the street, as, there were not many people on the balcony overlooking Cathedral Square.
A Poor Man's Santa Claus
I was joined by the guy who carries a huge trash bag everywhere he goes. The bag contains all his stuff. He looks like a poor man's Santa Claus, to me. (His "sleigh" would be a shopping cart, pulled by 8 shiney rats.)
He claims that he carries all his belongings everywhere he goes, because he doesn't trust leaving anything hidden anywhere. When people tell him "Why don't you stash most of your stuff somewhere, and just carry what you use everyday," he becomes suspicious of them. I said that to him once, and he shunned me for a couple of days.
He soon got over it, though, and resumed talking to me, mostly about the constellations, which he watches nightly from Cathedral Square, and his observation that the stars are moving around, subtly enough to escape the notice of astronomers, but not so he, who has more time to devote to their study, as he sits there next to his huge plastic bag.
Orion's belt is tighter than it used to be; is he losing weight, or is something going on, that is being covered up by the government?
I Get A Guitar
Firemedic Rescues Me
I was caught in the rain a second time, and ducked into the fire station, to eat peanuts, and read Henry Fielding.
Scott, one of the firemedics was there, and I told him about the guitar being stolen. We talked for a while, and then he told me to return to the station in the evening.
I went back in the evening and he gave me a Johnson guitar, like the one which I had, only a different model. He said that it was just laying around his house and that he had no need for it. He cautioned me that I might need to put strings on it.
I walked to the church where I sleep, and messed around with it. It was raining lightly. A few minutes of playing it made it evident that it definitely needed new strings, at least. One of the strings had been replaced with one which didn't belong in that spot, and it was very much out of tune.
It being Friday night, and the rain having stopped, I thought about trying to make some money, but I hadn't solved the intonation problem, and I figured that one more day without any cash wasn't going to matter much.
I slept, with the guitar strap through the strap on my backpack, which I use for a pillow. I lay there, thinking about things and hatching a plot to punish whoever stole my guitar....