Too Much Far

Saturday, after leaving the downtown branch
of the library, I bent my steps towards the bus terminal, about a mile walk.
I needed to go to Guitar Center to purchase one guitar pick; the commisioned salesfolk would be overjoyed!
I walked to the bus terminal, past the ramp where I had played for about 20 minutes Friday, before breaking a string. I was tempted to break out my rig and wail for a while; there was nobody "flying a sign" at the time.
I continued to the station where I discovered that I had an hour and a half wait before the next #44 bus, headed toward the Cortana Mall would embark.
I went to the Oriental-run little convenience store, kaddy corner to the bus terminal, where I asked those far easterners, how far to the east was the Cortana Mall.
I was actually thinking about saving the bus fare and walking there; I had an hour and a half, after all...
"Oh, too much far!" which I was able to distill down to "10 miles, maybe more" was their estimation of the distance to the Cortana Mall. Even if they had confused kilometers with miles, I decided that a walk like that was not worth pocketing the $1.75 bus fare.
"I could walk 10 miles -I've walked about 40 miles, twice in my life- but, I think that, as soon as I got to the mall, the bus would pull up at the same time, making a mockery of my effort"
"Ya, too much far..."
The nice Asian lady behind the po-boy and fried other stuff window, was curious about my "job" as a busker.
"Why don't you join band?"
"Because band is like relationship; like family; It can be great, or it could be dysfunctional. When you're solo, you can always play to your highest level, other musicians can't hold you back, but it's hard to find people whose idea of what makes music great, jives with your own.."
"Ya, you want po-boy?"
"Naw, I'm good, just this beer..."

Downtown
I got the bus out to the mall, after reading a few chapters of  "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," which I recently acquired off of the librarys 25 cent table (I'm up to the second book of that series; should have all of them read by 2020) and returned to the downtown area with a handfull of the cheap plastic picks which they give you for free, because they have "Guitar Center" printed on them, and are thus free advertisement for the place.
The other picks, the Jim Dunlops in green and yellow, were only sold in like 12 packs, and I didn't inquire about the price of a pack, knowing that it would exceed the three bucks that I had budgeted for a pick and a G string (plus the bus rides, back and forth)
I got to Third Street and started playing across the street from where a hot dog cart has been setting up regularly. There was a saxophone player and a trumpet player on the corner diagonal to me, not loud enough to drown me out, but loud enough for me to determine that they must have been the musicians whom the hot dog cart guy had been talking about the previous night, describing them as "There's a couple guys who play over there sometimes, like two horns, but they really suck; I think they're trying to play jazz."
I hadn't even tuned up when a young black man and lady came and put 5 bucks in my case. I had to hastily tune and try to reward them with something. "China Cat Sunflower" by the Grateful Dead fit the bill, as I was able to stop my slightly out of tune playing in the middle of the second verse and appologise for the song being "kind of psychedelic, and the words don't really have much meaning, like some poetry" giving me an excuse to tune some more.
I had 13 bucks in my case, when I took my first break and walked the almost mile to the nearest open store, and back. It was about midnight, when I returned to find that the two horn players had moved from the corner "over there" to the spot where I had been playing, in the entranceway to a clothing store, which is cavernous and lined with glass (glass being a good reflector of upper mid-range frequencies).

I need to remember that I
know "Purple Rain..."

I thought it interesting that the guys who "usually" played in another spot, had taken over the place where I had been. Could they have been spying on me and noticing the 13 bucks going in my case, while they might not have been doing so well?
I decided to prove to myself that it isn't the spot, so much as the music, that earns tips, by moving to the next block up, in front of another clothing store with equally good acoustics, where I managed to make another 10 bucks, or so.
When I walked back by the hot dog cart, there was now, in addition to the horn players, another guitarist/vocalist almost across the street from them. He was singing "Purple Rain," by Prince, over some chords which bore a slight resemblance to the harmony in Purple Rain.
He seemed to have about 8 bucks in his case, I noticed, when I walked over to see if I might sing along for a few verses, since Prince's music is like a fertile field for harmonising (him being known to multitrack up to seven of his own voices, singing seven different parts -as in the song "All Seven") but the kid with the acoustic guitar, whose singing was a hybrid of singing and shouting, wasn't open to the idea of me trying to sing along and harmonise. I went back to the hot dog cart, where I met someone who was selling medicinal herbs, whom I spent 5 bucks with, and then retired to the courtyard of Saint James Church. I had made the most money of the three buskers on 3rd Street, and felt like the cat that ate the canary.
Early this morning, I took the #10 bus back to Scotlandville, where I took about a 3 hour nap behind the boarded up building. I then saw Howard, who asked me the same questions, "How'd you do last night?" and "How'd you do Friday night?"
The "booty" that I brought back from the weekend sojourn: A pack of (5) razors, one new G string, and a bit of medicinal herb, and a roll of tin foil to cook Whiting on, tonight..
Pretty Much Downhill, Now
I am going to bring up the subject of moving out of here in the next few days. I'm getting the feeling that I can make enough money to eek by, like I have been doing here the past few weeks, almost anywhere I "land," and Howard, of course can find a McDonalds and a store that sells Cheetoz and Pepsi, almost anywhere he lands.
And, should things take a turn for the worse, there is always the chance to come back here, though, I think that things are "pretty much downhill" from Scotlandville, Lousiana...