Day 8 Without Solid Food
I left the library yesterday and walked over to the thrift store, to buy a book for 50 cents. They had just closed.
I then decided to go to the Dauphin Street bookstore, where they have a cart out front, carting books which are 25 cents each (cutting the throat of the thrift store in a vicious price war.)
I bought "The Prince And The Pauper," by Mark Twain, and "Tom Jones," by Henry Fielding.
I then sat and read from them at my playing spot, until I thought that I might play some.
Opening my case, I discovered that my pick was gone. I tried to fingerpick "Dear Prudence," by The Beatles, but soon tired of it.
A guy, who recognized me, but I not him, came by and wound up giving me a pick, after asking me if I needed anything. It was a much thinnner pick than what I use, and I tried to adapt to it, with moderate success. He also threw a buck and change into my case.
Earth To Flip Over
I called it a night, and went to drink spring water and listen to AM radio talk about how the world is going to flip over on December 21st, 2012, so that the north pole will become the south pole (and, I suppose the water in our sinks will start to spiral down the drain counter-clockwise , also.)
Off To Get A PickI woke up bright and early. I had $24.69.
My mission was to get a pick. I knew that it would cost $2.50 to take the bus both ways, to get picks, which are 45 cents a piece. I considered getting several, so as to "cost average" them.
I skipped The Coffee Club -except to go in and get a tray and give it to a balding guy whom I see in the "seconds" line every morning.
Free Breakfast And A SlapWhile we waited to go in, an argument broke out between a large black man and a 65-year old white man.
The large black man was being taunted by another young black guy, with repetitions of (like dogs repeat their bark) "..Yeah, but you won't slap him, though! You won't slap him! You talkin' all that bull****, but you won't slap him! You won't slap him" (woof!, woof!, woof!..)
The large (fat) black man finally "slapped" the old man, who then fell to the concrete and lay there motionless, with a pool of blood widening on the sidewalk around where his head lay. He man was conscious, and soon began to semi-convulse, and have a semi-seizure.
The fat black man had already walked past me, as he was leaving the scene.
Another man, who was waiting for breakfast and coffee, took a spare shirt of his and used it to stop the bleeding from the old man's head, while yet another, young black guy, who was waiting for breakfast and coffee in the church basement, where grace is said before the meal, called "911," and caused an ambulance to arrive shortly (within 3 minutes, by the way.)
One of my new firemedic friends, Scott was on the crew, and gave me a wave.
The "firemedics" went to work on the old man, while the white man who had held his shirt on the man's wound stood nearby, and remained "mum" about the fact that the injury had resulted from an assault and battery, probably over a cigarette. He later told me "If I told them what happened, then I would be next." He was up in years a little himself.
If I hadn't been ignoring the incident and writing it off as just another altercation between two black men, who would face off and bark at each other like dogs; and had witnessed the thing, I surely would have told "them" exactly what happened. I saw the perpetrator, as he walked past me, mumbling something undecipherable. I would fear not his retaliation. I would use him like a punching bag. He was big, fat, soft and dumb.
I had a notion to catch up to him on the street and say: "Yo, dude! That old man died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital! The police are looking for you for second degree murder or something..." -Bad enough that he was going to miss his free coffee, but a 25 to life sentence on top of it, bad day... -I would have loved to see the look on his face!
FYI
If a 65 year-old BLACK man had been the victim, I would feel the same way and do the same thing, by the way...
After The Coffee Club, I took the early bus out to the music store (to get a pick, remember?,) It was not yet open, and wouldn't be for another hour and a half.
Dan The Can Man
To kill the time, I sat and read, but the ants and the sun ganged up on me, and for some reason, I decided to go into a patch of woods nearby, behind a fence.
I discovered a great number of empty cans. I got something to stomp them upon, and I spent a good hour crushing them and putting them in a large box, which I had gotten out of the dumpster. It was the kind of work which could build up an appetite, yet, I found that I had energy for it. I took the whole thing back with me, on the return bus, riding it to the end of the line, which is near the recycling place.
The cans netted me 5 dollars, covering the bus and the picks, with a dollar to spare. The Can Man would have been proud of me.
I then went to the thrift store and bought a thesaurus for 50 cents. There were 4 more books there, which I want. I just didn't want to carry them at the time, or try to hide them at the time; though, I am thinking up a good place to do just that, so I can stash them away from other homeless people who have affinities for classical literature. There was a hard cover Ken Follet novel, which looked brand new, for one dollar. It was almost a thousand pages, weighed at least 3 pounds, and will probably have to be registered as a "dangerous weapon."
Spring Water Eternal
This is day three of "spring water only."
After the thrift store, I went and hid my stuff in the secret spot, and, instead of coming to the library, I walked the 2 miles to the Winn Dixie and bought natural vitamins, in the forms of honey and apple cider vinegar, molasses and cayenne pepper. I was unable to get the wheat germ oil. I have been researching it and looking for a substitute. It is a rich source of vitamin E. Sesame oil may be a fine alternative, though it is $11.49 per little bottle.
Porsha Unable To Find Me
I usually hide my stuff in the secret spot before coming to the library, because they won't let me in it with my backpack, or guitar. The reason for this is that some others have spoiled it for us all by asporting beer in their backpacks and drinking it in the restrooms. They threw their empties in the trash. The maintenance guys, perceptive as they are, spotted the cans and bottles, and the jig was up.
Now I have to hide my pack, (and my guitar) at my secret spot before coming into the Ben May Branch Library. (I could probably get a whole 18-pack in my guitar case WITH ice...)
Porsha must have seen my stuff, hidden in the secret spot, (even though it is nowhere near the fire station,) and thought that I had come to the library. She went there, looking for me, but I was at Winn Dixie, looking for wheat germ oil at the time. I got a message from two different librarians, that "a paramedic" was looking for me.
I left the library yesterday and walked over to the thrift store, to buy a book for 50 cents. They had just closed.
I then decided to go to the Dauphin Street bookstore, where they have a cart out front, carting books which are 25 cents each (cutting the throat of the thrift store in a vicious price war.)
I bought "The Prince And The Pauper," by Mark Twain, and "Tom Jones," by Henry Fielding.
I then sat and read from them at my playing spot, until I thought that I might play some.
Opening my case, I discovered that my pick was gone. I tried to fingerpick "Dear Prudence," by The Beatles, but soon tired of it.
A guy, who recognized me, but I not him, came by and wound up giving me a pick, after asking me if I needed anything. It was a much thinnner pick than what I use, and I tried to adapt to it, with moderate success. He also threw a buck and change into my case.
Earth To Flip Over
I called it a night, and went to drink spring water and listen to AM radio talk about how the world is going to flip over on December 21st, 2012, so that the north pole will become the south pole (and, I suppose the water in our sinks will start to spiral down the drain counter-clockwise , also.)
Off To Get A PickI woke up bright and early. I had $24.69.
My mission was to get a pick. I knew that it would cost $2.50 to take the bus both ways, to get picks, which are 45 cents a piece. I considered getting several, so as to "cost average" them.
I skipped The Coffee Club -except to go in and get a tray and give it to a balding guy whom I see in the "seconds" line every morning.Free Breakfast And A SlapWhile we waited to go in, an argument broke out between a large black man and a 65-year old white man.
The large black man was being taunted by another young black guy, with repetitions of (like dogs repeat their bark) "..Yeah, but you won't slap him, though! You won't slap him! You talkin' all that bull****, but you won't slap him! You won't slap him" (woof!, woof!, woof!..)
The large (fat) black man finally "slapped" the old man, who then fell to the concrete and lay there motionless, with a pool of blood widening on the sidewalk around where his head lay. He man was conscious, and soon began to semi-convulse, and have a semi-seizure.
The fat black man had already walked past me, as he was leaving the scene.
Another man, who was waiting for breakfast and coffee, took a spare shirt of his and used it to stop the bleeding from the old man's head, while yet another, young black guy, who was waiting for breakfast and coffee in the church basement, where grace is said before the meal, called "911," and caused an ambulance to arrive shortly (within 3 minutes, by the way.)
One of my new firemedic friends, Scott was on the crew, and gave me a wave.
The "firemedics" went to work on the old man, while the white man who had held his shirt on the man's wound stood nearby, and remained "mum" about the fact that the injury had resulted from an assault and battery, probably over a cigarette. He later told me "If I told them what happened, then I would be next." He was up in years a little himself.
If I hadn't been ignoring the incident and writing it off as just another altercation between two black men, who would face off and bark at each other like dogs; and had witnessed the thing, I surely would have told "them" exactly what happened. I saw the perpetrator, as he walked past me, mumbling something undecipherable. I would fear not his retaliation. I would use him like a punching bag. He was big, fat, soft and dumb.
I had a notion to catch up to him on the street and say: "Yo, dude! That old man died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital! The police are looking for you for second degree murder or something..." -Bad enough that he was going to miss his free coffee, but a 25 to life sentence on top of it, bad day... -I would have loved to see the look on his face!
FYI
If a 65 year-old BLACK man had been the victim, I would feel the same way and do the same thing, by the way...
After The Coffee Club, I took the early bus out to the music store (to get a pick, remember?,) It was not yet open, and wouldn't be for another hour and a half.
Dan The Can Man
To kill the time, I sat and read, but the ants and the sun ganged up on me, and for some reason, I decided to go into a patch of woods nearby, behind a fence.
I discovered a great number of empty cans. I got something to stomp them upon, and I spent a good hour crushing them and putting them in a large box, which I had gotten out of the dumpster. It was the kind of work which could build up an appetite, yet, I found that I had energy for it. I took the whole thing back with me, on the return bus, riding it to the end of the line, which is near the recycling place.
The cans netted me 5 dollars, covering the bus and the picks, with a dollar to spare. The Can Man would have been proud of me.
I then went to the thrift store and bought a thesaurus for 50 cents. There were 4 more books there, which I want. I just didn't want to carry them at the time, or try to hide them at the time; though, I am thinking up a good place to do just that, so I can stash them away from other homeless people who have affinities for classical literature. There was a hard cover Ken Follet novel, which looked brand new, for one dollar. It was almost a thousand pages, weighed at least 3 pounds, and will probably have to be registered as a "dangerous weapon."
Spring Water Eternal
This is day three of "spring water only."
After the thrift store, I went and hid my stuff in the secret spot, and, instead of coming to the library, I walked the 2 miles to the Winn Dixie and bought natural vitamins, in the forms of honey and apple cider vinegar, molasses and cayenne pepper. I was unable to get the wheat germ oil. I have been researching it and looking for a substitute. It is a rich source of vitamin E. Sesame oil may be a fine alternative, though it is $11.49 per little bottle.Porsha Unable To Find Me
I usually hide my stuff in the secret spot before coming to the library, because they won't let me in it with my backpack, or guitar. The reason for this is that some others have spoiled it for us all by asporting beer in their backpacks and drinking it in the restrooms. They threw their empties in the trash. The maintenance guys, perceptive as they are, spotted the cans and bottles, and the jig was up.
Now I have to hide my pack, (and my guitar) at my secret spot before coming into the Ben May Branch Library. (I could probably get a whole 18-pack in my guitar case WITH ice...)
Porsha must have seen my stuff, hidden in the secret spot, (even though it is nowhere near the fire station,) and thought that I had come to the library. She went there, looking for me, but I was at Winn Dixie, looking for wheat germ oil at the time. I got a message from two different librarians, that "a paramedic" was looking for me.
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