Window Dressing Busking

I will return to New Orleans better prepared...

Yesterday's post was dumped
by the computer, as I had not paid enough attention to the clock in the corner of the screen.
It was mostly about the experience of the national championship game at the Superdome.
I found an almost entire bottle of whiskey, after playing for the incoming people and making about 12 bucks, saving me about 12 bucks.
I then helped a young woman in LSU garb up from the sidewalk where she had landed, after the heel of her boot found one of the many cracks in New Orleans. I pulled her up by the hand, and then in the spirit of free whiskey, I found myself kissing her neck and nibbling on her ears, and herself holding me tighter and us making out on the sidewalk by the fenced in area where the large screen TV's were showing her team losing in the first quarter. I found it very enjoyable. I looked her in the eye a couple of times and all I saw was that it would be OK for me to continue. Eventually, I realised that our relationship probably had to come to an end and we kissed goodbye.
Then, basically, I chose not to play outside the stadium and not be heard. The majority of the people were their to see their team lose the game. The Alabama people could have made up for it in generosity, but I just wasn't in the mood for doing that style of busking, which I haven't coined a term for, but which involves trading in the visual of yourself playing, and most of the tips come with comments like "I can't really hear you, but..." or "Sounds good; what I can hear..."
I think I will call it "Window Dressing" busking...
I got so much more satisfaction in Saint Augustine, playing Brittany Spears songs in front of her wax likeness in the window of the museum, with a sign that said "Her the hits and see the t**s that made her a star.." It was "Ooops, I've done it again," and "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" over and over, but...still more satisfying than window dressing busking.

Or the time I rigged up coffee cans with colored cellophane and light bulbs, and a foot switch, and billed myself as a Pink Floyd Laser Light Show, and "freaked out" the tourists.
I have already said that the real money is either in demonstrating unusual exotic instruments; playing more than one -preferably more than three- instuments at the same time; playing more than one unusual exotic instrument at the same time; having a trained animal working for you; or being a pretty Chinese violinist.
On Leaving New Orleans
Howard wants to go with me, as far as "Texas," as he put it. He didn't say which part of Texas, but, if I wind up in San Antonio, it will be the first time since I was 19 years old. There is a photography studio there, where I had portraits made at that age. They told me that the negatives would remain on file and always be available to me, even 30 years later.

San Antonio may be on the horizon...

We are probably going to try to get a train tomorrow. I have been cautioned about the danger of going cross country on the rails, by some. I think I can get to Texas without incident. I think the position of the city with regards to the railroad would be "get 'em out of here!"
Tonight, I will talk to as many hobos as it takes me to get a consensus on how to hop a train out of here.
I've got about 30 pounds of stuff. I will put new strings on the guitar tonight.