Let's Go

Like, Ricky the clarinetist, I have gone "worldwide," I guess. Below and to the  (if my HTML is up to snuff ) left, are part of my "stats" showing where the "audience" came from and how many pages they viewed...

Ricky, the clarinet player. Has played with famous
musicians in big halls all over the world.
He had a 100 dollar bill in his bucket, probably
the one visible.
He has been very encouraging and supportive, despite
us having gotten "off on the wrong foot."

United States  258

United Kingdom 43

Ukraine 28

Russia 20

Canada 15

Germany 10

Bulgaria 3

Malaysia 3

Argentina 2

Spain 2

I ran into Ricky, the clarinet player Thursday night, on Royal Street. He had a hundred dollar bill prominately noticable in his bucket..."You got a hundred?"
"Of course, I've been out here for years doing this!" *resumes playing traditional jazz*
I guess Ricky's point is that perennial tourists who come here just to hear people like Ricky, and who see them just once per year maybe, will drop a hundred bucks on him, because it has to last him until "next year."
When I had only been in New Orleans for a couple days, I was playing on the exact spot where Ricky is shown. He approached me and said something to the effect that he had been planning upon playing at that spot.
I stood my ground and was actually kind of rude to the world famous clarinetist, who has been "doing this for years."
To his credit, he became a good friend, either through having garnered a respect for me for my having stood my ground, or through forgiving me for the same....
The Letter We Didn't Want To Get
I don't mind that much because I was leaving to go to Mobile anyways, but, this morning a group of police officers came to visit The Occupation and handed out the flyer partially shown. They were very nice officers. The ones who came to our particular spot were very polite.
The skinny of it is, we must leave the park by 10:30 p.m. each night, or be subject to arrest. We can not have tents, pallets,  structures or any "other items." (why didn't they just say that we couldn't have "any items?") Oh, well.
I am leaving this afternoon at about 2:30 for the railyard, with a final intended destination of Mobile, where I hope, by fortune of having arrived early enough, to do some busking on Dauphine Street.


Last night, I blew off hopping the train for one more night.
The reason was mainly that I still had the "same" 10 bucks, which I had on the previous day, and I just didn't want to try to do Mobile on 10 bucks a day.
I went to Decatur, to see that the guy who strums open chords on an acoustic guitar was at my favorite spot, strumming away.
This meant that The Great Music Spirit wanted me to play on Bourbon, which I eventually did, and made about 30 bucks in two "sets", which were broken by a brief intermission during which I replenished myself, and ran into the nice Helen (the artist formerly known as the girl with the shaved head who plays the mandolin), who let me take her picture for my blog.
She had just "beaten up" her roommate, who is a guy named "Stoker." Stoker rides a motorcycle upon which he perches on Royal Street, and plays and sings blues on guitar and harmonica. He has a couple portable amps, which he totes around on the motorcycle.
He is kind of a skinny guy; how skinny you might glean from a look at Helen "I beat the @$%#$@ out of him, because he's a mysogenist and a racist," the artist formerly known as the girl with the shaved head who plays the mandolin.

Self Explanatory

I didn't notice any abrasions on Helen's knuckles, but that might only mean that she is a clean puncher who has developed callouses.