|It will be the last ticket you'll have to give me...|
I thought I sounded pretty good and got about 6 bucks off of the twenty or so people who walked by who were not carrying musical instruments. You have to be really in the "void" to get a tip from another musician, or the other musician has to be someone you are friendly with who has just gotten a hundred dollar tip, themselves.
Then I went to Stanley's and got one of their Mardi Gras Bock beers. They are nothing to write home about, unless you are writing home to say that you just saved 75 cents. I think I am the only one buying them; the bottles seem to be in the same relative position each consequetive night, even though they are on "sale" at $1.25 plus tax.
Stepping out onto the sidewalk with my Mardi Gras Bock, I felt the presence and stares of some "travelling kids" who were parked on the sidewalk.
One of them had a banjo. I guess they were making no pretenses about where the tips for the banjo playing were going as they sat right next to the beer store.
I say that I felt their stares and figured that they saw that I was drinking what they probably assumed was one of the expensive beers; and their envy was palpable. I almost wanted to say "These are only a buck twenty five," to assuage their beer envy. I wasn't trying to rub their noses into the fact that I actually know how to play an instrument and thus, do better than those who just use them as panhandling "props."
The one with the banjo said "Hey, Bring that guitar over here!"
I supposed that they were hoping that I could maybe get someone to throw a buck (essentially, a beer) into their empty case (essentially, bottle).
I had already done the same for a guy in Jackson Square who was playing a cello. We jammed on "I Know You, Rider," by The Grateful Dead and two bucks had fallen into his case -ostensibly one for each of us- but I told him to keep them both. When he asked me to jam, he said that he needed money. I told him that he could keep whatever was thrown. I was trying to make him some money. After all, I had pulled in a whopping 10 bucks that night.
"Unless someone throws something ridiculous," he said, "Then, we'll split it."
In that spirit of charity did I sit down to play "one song" with the banjo guy.
That was all the time it took for a cop that I am now familiar with to pull up and give us each tickets for "obstruction of a public passage." My fourth, if you are keeping track of them.
In about and hour, I will meet with attorney Mary Howell, and hopefully discuss a way for me to get out of town without having warrants haunting me wherever I go "You know you have warrants in Florida, don't you?" is bad enough, hearing it every time I hand over my ID to cops.
|The Church That Build The Rebuild Center|
I was late arriving at the courthouse this morning.
Attorney Howell had already been there and pushed it ahead to March 7th, as well as adding to it the one that had been set for the 27th of March (the day before my brothers birthday).
She told me just an hour ago that, had I been there, both would have been dismissed.
However, by the 7th of March, the one that I got last night will be in the system and all three may be thrown out, allowing Howard and I (yes, he's coming along) to make our way west, with San Antonio the planned first stop.
Howard has been patiently waiting for me to settle my legal matters. He told me at the end of January that he couldn't see himself being here until March.
I have a new reader, Julie from the Rebuild Center staff, whose blog I now "follow." I will try to put the link on my front page.