Not Enough Juice

There they are; half of them there for the free food...
Duncan Park, New Orleans, 2011

Monday morning,
it is, and it is sunny and in the low 70's in the city of New Orleans.
Blog Reorganization Considered
I am considering organizing the blog in a different manner, perhaps designating each day of the week for a specific focus.
Perhaps Monday could deal with things financial, Tuesday, romance. That would make for two very brief entries on those days.
I woke up this morning in Duncan Park when Sue kicked me in the head. It was a light kick, but a kick nonetheless, fraught with all the symbolism that a kick in the head carries.
I had chosen NOT to sleep by her, after I rode up on the bike to the spot where we had slept the night before, only to see that she had repositioned herself, just enough so that if I were to lay where I had been the previous night, I wouldn't be next to her. I interpreted this as her trying to move away from me, or maybe to test me to see if I would reposition myself similarly, to remain by her side; but that would be like stalking her. I chose a spot on the grass, on the other side of a hill, out of her sight.
I don't know if she went looking for me in the morning, or if she had business around the area that I was in, maybe getting something to eat from the "kitchen" area of the Occupy New Orleans center. She could have come looking for me, in order to kick me (lightly) in the head, I'm not sure.
She chastised me for the little bit of trash which was strewn about me. There was a Popye's Chicken container, containing the remains of chicken, which I had gotten, intending to give to her cat, which was now being devoured by ants. There was an empty plastic cup which had contained a hurricane drink the night before.
Sue told me to "Get your act together" and throw away the trash.
I replied that I always picked up my area before going off and don't leave trash laying there. This is the same thing that I had told her the last time that she had said the very same thing to me, in the same circumstance of me having trash on the ground near me. For someone who doesn't drink, Sue seems to repeat a lot of things as if telling them to me for the first time, ala drunks....
My phone battery is practically dead; not enough juice to upload photos at this time...
I played at Checkpoint Charlie's open mic night Sunday night at about 11p.m.
It was a marginal success. I had to fuss with the soundman to make sure my lyrics would be intelligible, so that I wouldn't be just one more guy up there strumming a guitar and singing something that nobody can make out, especially over the noise of conversation and glasses clinking, which their ensueing boredom would engender...