Desperately Seeking...

I went to the rail yard,
happy to have $10.78 in my pocket, after playing Mobile that one last Friday night.
It had been a struggle until about midnight, when a guy came up and threw me 5 bucks, even though I was unable to accommodate his requests for Jane's Addiction, John Mayer or Sound Garden.
I would, at least, be entering New Orleans with at least the 10 bucks in my pocket and wouldn't have to walk the 5 miles into the French Quarter. My goal was the fix the flat tire on the bike, so I could ride it into the quarter, but, I have learned my lesson about expecting goals to be met in Mobile, Alabama.
It was as if the train was waiting for me. I saw the two power units (engines, locomotives) pointed towards New Orleans, like prized stallions chomping at the bit, and just a few cars behind was an empty boxcar with its door gaping open, ready to swallow me, my guitar, pack and bike.
I got on, and, within 10 minutes the train jerked forward. About 5 minutes after that, I was sound asleep on my spread out towel, with my head on my backpack, which contained water and peanut butter.
I didn't wake up until we stopped in the swamp in Mississippi, but then went back to sleep again until I woke to see that it was daylight, and we were creeping through the expansive junkyard, which is East New Orleans.
I got off and walked toward the intersection which the engineer had stopped at.
He opened his window, asked me which car I wound up riding in, and how was the ride; gave me two bottles of water and told me that there was a place right up the street where I could get rice and beans; you know, food.
I went to the road, after hiding the bike behind a Shell station, and took the bus all the way into Canal Street, marvelling at how long it took the bus to traverse what I had been prepared to walk, had I not made anything my last night in Mobile.
I got to Canal Street and began to walk down it, feeling more at home than I did in Mobile, after only having spent two weeks in this city. There was an energy about the place.

I have to admit, I was looking for Sue. I went to all the spots that I had ever ran into her before, most of them within a block of Canal Street.
I got a beer, and then another one.
I sat and started to play on the other side of Canal Street. I had walked past some musicians who only had a few bucks in their hats, but this only told me that I would have to take a different approach then they.
They had sour looks on their faces, to go along with their tip hats, but I was happy to be back in New Orleans, and I guess it showed, because I quickly had a couple bucks in my hat; and not long after that, I got another dollar from a very interesting person; none other than Sue.
I didn't see her approach until she had grabbed the money out of my case and feigned to run off with it.
"You would let me take your money?" she said.
I smiled.
She replaced the money, slipping her own dollar in at the same time, which I wouldn't discover until after she walked off.
"Are you still mad at me," I asked.
She started to change the subject, but then said "You hurt my feelings when you left my cat unprotected."
I explained about how I was new to the city and hadn't yet learned that "they" will steal anything; yes, even a cat.
We went and sat at PJ's Coffee, where we had once kissed.
It is going to take some time to heal the wounds caused by my reckless endangerment of Kooky. I think she has substituted the cat for anything else to bestow her maternal energies upon.
I told her that I was going to go play somewhere. She said that she was going to go down by the river, where she had left Kooky, un-tethered.
"If I tie her to a tree, someone can come along and take her, but if I let her loose, she won't let anyone come near her; but she won't go far from her carrier."
I was afraid that she had someone watching Kooky; someone with a penis, I have to admit.
I offered to buy her food. She said that she was "alright," but did take a can of sardines that I had bought after I got off the train, not realizing that they were in soybean oil. I wondered if she had someone else buying her food, too.

...Look for a while at the china cat sunflower...

I played that night in front of the casino as if possessed. I must have been happy to be back, and happy that Sue was still speaking to me. I got a 20 dollar tip from a guy who stopped and listened to me rip up "China cat Sunflower," by the Grateful Dead, which had meaning to me because of the cat reference. Another lady put a dollar in, during the same song, which is a complement from these New Orleans tourists, who might think that the first person already "took care of" the performer.
I'm playing better than I ever have in my life right now, I must say. I could smoke my 25 year-old self "right off the stage!"
I had about 30 bucks, Sunday morning, this after spending God only knows how much. I went to church.
The preacher was harping upon how we should go out and make disciples, so, after about 20 minutes of it, I left to go do just that.
It was a decent Sunday night. I played well, though not to the level of the night before, which couldn't be expected.
Monday Morning's Mission
Monday  morning, I was woken up by the construction workers who are on the site where I sleep. I was under a plywood ramp, with just enough room for me and my stuff. There is room for a Colombian woman and a cat, too, actually, I've noticed.
The bike was on my mind. I got an all day bus pass, and have already gotten a tube and a spoon at Wal-Mart. Now I take another bus to the bike to repair the tube and then pump up the tire and maybe ride to explore potential camping spots, so that I don't have to stay under the temporary ramp, because, well, it's temporary...