Happy To Get Away From Cellophane Man

Somewhere in the shadows of Pravda,
content to have Sue back in my life, if only for
two and a half hours...

• Friday Through Sunday
• Days Away From Leaving

Friday night, I made about 30 bucks
but spent it down to about 12; probably thinking that Saturday would be as good, if not better.
Saturday the temperature dropped into the downright frigid range, especially so, for those tourists from south of certain lattitudes. It was a slow money night, even though I jammed with Jeff From San Francisco (the guy whom Sue and I argued over letting stay at the sign spot) and an accordian player.
We had two acoustic guitars, the accordian and two "G" harmonicas all going at the same time and got a good response during the 20 minutes that we played and wound up dividing 10 bucks three (ouch) ways.
Techno Speak
Jeff said that I was the best guy that he had ever played with (in all his 20 years).
He plays original songs that other musicians have had hard times assimilating, but I am familiar with the types of chord constructs that musicians who compose by ear often come up with; based upon moveable symetrical shapes on the guitar neck, causing one of the chords to have a non diatonic tone; this is the "defining" note in the progression and it is childs play to exploit it in a solo...

Not exactly "top shelf," but "middle shelf,"
none-the-less...

A Crustacian Sensation
Sunday, I got out in the late afternoon and made about 8 bucks before a guy came by and threw a bracelet into my case, which would allow me to eat all the crawfish that I could, at The Pravda Bar/ Restaurant -a $15 value.
I headed towards that venue, planning upon getting a beer at Stanley's before going in.
A guy, who had set up a piece of visual art* on the corner asked me to watch the thing (and his tip bucket) for a minute while he ran to Stanley's, offering me a free beer in return, which materialised into a Sierra Nevada "Torpedo" IPA. *it was a figure of a man made out of taped together cellophane, wearing surfer attire and sunglasses and stuffed into a trash receptacle with only his head, arms and legs hanging out, and a sign stuck on the front of the can which read "Trashed in New Orleans."
His tip bucket was brimming over with ones, as it seemed that every tourist wanted to take a picture of the thing and then threw a buck into his bucket.
As I stood there in embarrassment (I thought it was sophmoric and was glorifying dissipation) I wondered how he worked a "hustle" off of it. Did he prompt people with "If you like my art, feel free to leave a small donation?"
He answered that question by saying that "every person is different," but that if they started to walk off without tipping, he would politely say "This is how I make my living, folks, as pathetic as that may seem," or words to that effect. I didn't think to get a picture of the thing, myself.

Pravda, an establishment which is up to Sue's Standards

I was happy to get away from the cellophane man!
And then Sue, the Colombian lady came bounding across Decatur Street, "from out of nowhere,' which is her style; wearing a red hoodie with the hood pulled tightly over her little head. She said that she needed to talk to me.
She asked me where my stuff was.
I told her that it was in The Pravda Bar, where that I had access to all the crawfish that I could eat, as soon as the next batch was ready. As is typical with all-you-can-eat specials, there is a wait of about 20 minutes (the time it takes for the brain to realise that the stomach is full) between servings.
I invited her to join me in eating crawfish.
She voiced concern over whether or not she would be allowed in the place, carrying her bags and all.
I assured her that I had found the staff to be very amicable people. The fact that they assumed that I had forked over 15 dollars for the bracelet may have warmed their hearts a little towards me.
Sue and I had about 100 crawfish each, over the course of an hour.
"This is the first time I have eaten in a place like this, since I came here. I heard so much about how good the food was in New Orleans, but I couldn't even afford to try it!," said Sue, in between snapping tails and sucking heads of what looked like miniature lobsters.
It seems very important to Sue that she is treated equal to the beautiful wealthy tourists.
I think that she was a "lady" once -in the 1800's sense of the word. Her teeth are perfect, at least...
Then, we sat on a staircase and I tried to get her to come sleep at the sign spot.
Sue kept repeating that she didn't want a relationship. Time ticked away and the window of opportunity for me to add to the 8 bucks in my pocket was fast closing.
I think Sue wanted me to persist in begging her to come with me until such a point that she determined that I had paid my dues. Every time I kissed her neck, she moaned with pleasure, before saying "No, Daniel. We can't do this!"
We started drifting aimlessly towards Bourbon Street, which was also the general direction of the sign spot.
I finally told her that I was going to go play, because I was down to 8 bucks, but she was welcome to either come with me, or to just go lay down "you can use my sleeping bay" at the sign spot.

I sat and played and a couple came by and stopped to listen. They were both Physicians, explained the husband.
They envied my "freedom," and told me not to discount the life that I lead as being substandard. And then they raised my standard of living by about 20 bucks to go along with about another 8 bucks; all of which I would have forfeited, had I pursued Sue...
Court Wednesday
Meanwhile, Howard and I are awaiting the outcome of my court proceedings on Wednesday, after which we will either try to hop a train out of City Park and have a one-in-three chance of landing in Houston, San Antonio or Austin, Texas or having the train derail and kill us, or taking a 5 dollar bus ride to Baton Rouge, where (we have been informed by those in the know) it is easier to discern the correct track to take to a chosen destination. San Antonio is our choice, for at least a temporary stay.