Which Are The Dirty Dozen?

Zen Principle

Sunday, I woke up with $19.83.
I proceeded to a port-o-let, to reflect upon and give thanks for all the free food, which is provided for us poor people.

Then, off to Serda's Coffee, for a coffee, before going to 15 Place for their breakfast offering.

They often have coffee there, but, as I am not inclined to rush the door, as if it is the stage at a The Who concert, in order to get a low numbered food ticket, the coffee is usually gone; gone to those who bring their own 40 oz. cups and fill them, without consideration for those who have numbers in the 100's.

The irony is not lost upon myself that, the more selfish a person is; the more likely he is to have "less" in life. There is some kind of zen principle in action there.


So, I went to Serda's and spent the $1.76 for a "grande" sized coffee, knowing that I would come back later, and refill it freely and then sit in the air conditioned posterior, reading "Tom Jones," by Henry Fielding.

I arrived at the trough, and got number "135," I think it was. I tried to ignore the derisive looks from those who, upon seeing my Serda's coffee cup, think that I am trying to show off my status as one who can afford a coffee from Serda's.

I sat and read Tom Jones, while waiting for them to call the numbers in the 130's, trying to ignore the derisive looks from those who thought that I was trying to show off my literacy, and that I was intent upon belittling them, who never quite made it through The Cat In The Hat, back when they were 6.

I smoked a cigarette, at one point, after settling upon "This is my last one," to be on the tip of my tongue, in preparation for the inevitable entreaties.
Ashton And Gloria
I went back to Serda's to pass the hottest part of this day upon which the library closes and is unavailable for this purpose. There were a guy and a girl sitting at one of the tables out front, as I exited. The guy was playing a guitar.
It turned out to be Ashton ("I hate my name,") and Gloria ("That's what my mother calls me;" but I hate it.)

I took out my guitar and played along with his original songs, after tuning to his original tuning.

We "hit it off" musically, and were soon on our way to a place to get pizza.

We walked into the pizza place, and started heading towards the back, to look for a vacant table. The restrooms were also in the back.

The waitress confronted us with "The restrooms are for customers only!"

"We are customers," replied Ashton.

"No, you're not, I've been here since we opened and I haven't seen you, I'm the assistant manager!" said the assistant manager.

Ashton then told the lady, "We're about to buy something!"

"Sure you are!" was her not entirely unsarcastic* reply. Her voice quivered with pent up hostility, frustration and resentment. She was anticipating us using the restroom, leaving a mess and then walking out, without buying a pizza, I'm pretty sure. (*I realise that this is not a real word)

Ashton was livid, and after uttering an oath for the enlightenment of that worthy, said that he wanted to "leave."

I argued that we should stay and order a pizza. That way, she would have to admit to herself that she had been hasty in her assessment of us, based upon our appearance, and probably would have to bite her tongue, eat crow (maybe she would bite her tongue while chewing on the crow,) and serve us at our table. An inquiry about pizza prices settled the matter, as they were charging 10 bucks for an 8 inch pizza. We left anyways, never once setting foot in t;he restroom. Pizza should never be more than a dollar per inch.

We went and had vegetable subs, and then to my playing spot, where Ashton proved to be a rather formidable "busker."

Not content to wait for people to pass by, he began to holler across the street to anyone whom he saw. "Hey, come over here and hear some music; c'mon!"
His outgoing-ness touched a note in at least a few people, one of which left about 9 dollars (in change,) and another couple who danced to a loud raucous original ditty of Ashton's, and then were about to walk away, when Ashton said "Come on, now, that was worth at least a dollar, wasn't it?" It was apparently worth 3 dollars, as that was what went into the case...

I learned a lesson about taking the angle of being very outgoing and engaging the victims, er, people, as they pass by.

I had known about this approach, but had never seen it in action, at least not up close, and I had never been the beneficiary of it.

Ashton and I may play again soon. We talked about working out some songs, where we can use vocal harmony (very powerful against the listener.) It would be interesting to see how we could do given more than the handful of people who walked by on that Sunday afternoon, which was overcast and replete with distant thunderclaps.

This morning, I woke up with $8.83 (I spent about 14 bucks all of Sunday...)

Last night, we drove out to where Ashton lives (he has a truck,) almost in Mississippi, so that he could go to his parents house and grab sandwiches and things. We slept on cardboard in a spot nearby, it being 30 miles out of Mobile, and late at night, and him not wanting to bring 2 other homeless people to his parents house then.

I made it back to Mobile in time for The Coffee Club. There were no altercations there this particular morning. And here I am..how 'bout that?

New Orleans
As soon as my replacement food card arrives in a day or two, I plan upon going to New Orleans, on a contingency basis. Contingent upon my not being beat up and robbed of my guitar and my money and left for dead more than a couple times within the first few days there.

I want to try the city; I want to try riding a freight train, and I want to decide for myself if the dozen people who have told me to go there were right, or if the dozen who have told me not to go there were right.