This May Be The Beets Talking

Songwriting Contest In 9 Days

The clock has just struck 2. In 7 hours, I will have been 7 days without drinking alcohol of any kind.

Yesterday, (Sunday) I was more tempted to spike my energy drink with vodka than I had been at any other time since deciding to stay sober and pour energy into the songwriting contest.

This may have been triggered by the fact that it was Sunday, and the football games were to come on the radio, and, even when I hardly drank much at all (1990's), I would be likely to reserve the practice of it for Sunday, when football games come on.
Another factor arose after running into "Pyro," the train hobo, who wound up sitting next to me, again, when I was playing on the street in the late morning, after church.
Before this happened, I had met him in Cathedral Park, where I had mentioned my 6 days without drinking. At which, he said that he hated to "discourage me," but that, in his opinion, I would start to drink again soon. "Someone is going to piss you off, and your going to need a drink," was his rationale.
I got away from him, and left him to foment in his hatred of disappointing people, and walked down Dauphin Street, where I decided to play just for the fun of it at the acoustically superior spot. It being Sunday, the business was closed, and I had the place to myself. 

This song is called "Can You Spare Some Change!"

Pyro found me in short order and sat next to me, as he had done the previous evening. He was noticeably drunk, as he had been the previous evening, and was panhandling people as they walked by, ditto.
He asked me to play a certain song by Iggy Pop. When I told him that I didn't know this certain song by Iggy Pop (right), he said that it wouldn't be a problem, because the song only had two chords.
This did not surprise me because, judging by the photos of Iggy Pop which I have seen, and which make up 99% of the body of knowledge that I have about him; he looks like a "two-chord" man.
I decided to just pack up and leave the spot. There weren't many people walking around, and Pyro was saying at that point that if I played the two chords, he would sing the Iggy Pop song.
I then realised that I had practiced and studied music too long and hard to have things culminate in me playing two chords while a malodorous train hobo belted out an Iggy Pop song, for the edification of all.
As I walked off, Pyro called me names and threatened to beat me up, because I didn't want to play the song. This really pissed me off and I stopped and turned back towards him, with my hand in my knife pocket.
I would have gone into the Dauphin Store and gotten a strong beer, had I not remembered that it was Pyro who had foretold of someone angering me to the point of driving me to drink.
I solidified my ever growing suspician, at that point, that there may be some credence in what certain people say about Satan being alive and real and roaming the earth, seeking to devour and destroy people.
I wasn't going to let Pyro be my undoing, though. I've resisted better demons than he will ever be; though he is young, and has time to improve his skills.

That afternoon, I watched the Patriots game on the TV at the Hardee's on Government St. I bought a large ice tea, so that I wouldn't be freeloading off of them. The Patriots won, and so I went to Save-A-Lot, to get some things to celebrate the win with, things like canned beets.
In the evening, I ate instant potatoes with green and pinto beans, along with beets and sauerkraut. I then lay down and munched on cashews, while listening to the sports station on my cheap AM radio. They were talking about the New Orleans Saint's victory, but mentioned the Patriots periodically.  
This morning, I woke up at about 6:45, before John the Preacher did. He seems to sleep in later when it is cold outside. It was a chilly 55 degrees or so last night. We went to get our hard-boiled eggs and mandarin oranges (not blueberries, today).
Today, I study and practice, and may play at The Garage, tonight, to further practice my material for the contest in 9 days.