It is 96 and sunny in New Orleans,
meaning that most tourists are going to wait until well after the 8 p.m. shutoff time to venture out into the quarter.
I did a lot of soul searching last night, as I lay awake, unable to sleep because of the heat; the early hour (4 hours before "normal" cardboard time) that I laid down, and the mosquitoes that seemed to actually enjoy the fragrance of the repellent that I sprayed on myself; and the ants...
Tip #17: Don't sit and eat in the exact spot where you are going to sleep, because you will drop crumbs and attract ants.
It couldn't have been because I didn't make any money for alcohol, because Sue bought me 2 Hurricane Lagers, gave me one 16 oz. cup of Abita, a half of a Hand Grenade, and then another 18 oz. bottle of something like Corona, over the coarse of the night.
It was because of my distorted perception, aided by the ingestion of the above, that the tourists were aggressively showing their disapproval of me by not tipping and had a desire to see me fail and go hungry.
Plus the fact that I was letting a 90 pound lady support me was emasculating and drove home the point that she doesn't really need me, creating insecurity in me.
 |
| We Paid For OUR Ladies Drinks!! |
Instead of voicing my anger at everything around me, I should have explained my feelings to Sue, thanked her profusely for everything that she had given me and told her how much I wished it was the other way around and I was taking her out and spending money on her.
But, I ranted on about a long list of autrocities that I wanted to commit upon the tourists, so that they would never want to return -that would teach this city a lesson- and wound up turning her off, as she was seeing a different and violent side of me; after I had seen a different and crafty side of her after she managed to walk around charming drinks and money (a good amount, though she complained about how slow it was) out of the tourists.
I suppose if they never wanted to come back, that would make it even slower for her...
Not having drinking money had allowed me to do all that sober soul searching.Howard On Page 6C
I have concluded that, having Howard around is like having the answers to the crossword puzzle somewhere in the same daily newspaper (see page 6C for solution). -Bare with me:
You are not going to work as hard on the puzzle; putting in hours; putting it down, returning to it; sleeping on it; thinking really hard...eventually, you are going to flip to the solution because you will really be wondering if a certain answer is right or not, and it will be bugging the hell out of you; and instead of meditating on it like a Bhudda until a light bulb goes on over your head (3 letter word for Automobile....hmmm...) and feeling self satisfied as you ink in the last blank, you deprive yourself of that sensation and wind up feeling like you cheated and wimped out and didn't earn it.
"Do you want me to pay for us to take the bus back to Baton Rouge, you seemed to be doing at least a little bit better there?" could very well be the response of that white haired "solution on page 6C."
"That might turn out to be a life-saver, actually"
"Huh?"
"THAT MIGHT TURN OUT TO BE A LIFE-SAVER, ACTUALLY!"
"OH...OK.....and by the way, have you tried 'car?'"
"Huh?"
You're starting to catch on, albeit slowly.
ReplyDeleteIf you're going to have Sue and Howard supporting you, you have to make it so they WANT to. You have to be very appreciative, almost grovel a bit, after all they support YOU not the other way around. Like the aforementioned very pretty girl who knew jazz chords and would go out and making a living for her BF who's a "genius, and plays the flute, but can't work right now..." you have to convince Sue and Howard, and anyone else you bamboozle into working for you, that you're a genius, and just can't work right now, and are SO thankful... and all the prime bullshit.
I've seen this a lot - another example I've seen was an instantly-stiffy-inducing CUTE girl who'd play violin in Prescott, AZ. Her BF kept her on a short leash, in fact I think there was some fairly serious mental/physical abuse going on there. She made serious money, him, not so much. Mainly he'd hang around nearby and drink while she brought in the bucks.
Surprisingly, there are a fair number of people who are intelligent and attractive enough to make effective street hustlers, anything from panhandling to prostitution, who have low self esteem and will work for a pimp. Your job, at least what I see you drifting towards, is becoming that pimp. You have Howard and Sue because they're fairly "low grade" material; other pimps don't want 'em. But as you drift towards the center of the pimping game, and your ethics get more flexible, you'll move up.
In a way, even the Lidgleys and myself have been used by you. Your "I'm a genius musician and I just need some help to get out of NOLA" was effective in getting both them and myself, to send you stuff. I'm sure the Lidgleys sent more, of course, they sound like nice people. And the sucker who sent you the laptop.
Work on perfecting your skills, and your nihilism, and you'll do fine. I won't want to be within 1000 miles of you, but I'm not too worried about that. As mentioned, I'd rather eat dog food than do what you're doing.
Later - the picture of the hand grenade empty on the street is hilarious, that little face like "Hee hee I got someone shitfaced and they passed out".
ReplyDeleteNOLA at this time of year sounds like Waikiki in the summer. The streets are pretty much deserted during the day, and things happen at night. I grew up on Oahu and seriously considered going back there and just being a guitar bum. Between playing on the street, playing the coffee house circuit, and a little old-fashioned panhandling, I could stay modestly housed. But I'd be up against a real racial barrier, even though I lived there all the time growing up, my skin color means I must have just stepped off of the plane. While in a place like Santa Cruz, I could tell people I was born there and lived there all my life and never be disbelieved. Anyway, in Waikiki the real life is from when it gets dark until 10PM or so, then from 10 until God knows what hour, it's still lively but the more sinister elements come out. Daytime is all about avoiding the heat. It's the same here in Gilroy. From 2-6PM it's just stay inside, in front of a fan, and put up with the heat and flies. With good guitar skills I could at least ride my bicycle the 10 miles into town and park my ass somewhere and play. (Of course it's nice to have this place to live from November 1 until March 1 when the daily high might be in the 30s and no one wants to hear a guitarist play covered with sleet.)
I really don't think you want to live off of Howard and Sue and be angry at the world that owes you a living and refuses to give it to you. You're just in some kind of a holding pattern like a moth around a light. You just need to do something, or more likely have something happen to you, to break the holding pattern.