About 28 Bucks

• Late Start On Bourbon Yields $28
• No Sign Of Sue By Sign
• The Weather Plays Its Hand

I woke up around 9:30 a.m. behind the building on the corner of 8th and Main Streets in Baton Rouge.

I had about 19 dollars left of the 22 and change that I had made Friday night on 3rd Street, having spent $2.50 during a dash to the beer store at 12:30 a.m. and then $2.00 on a hot dog from the cart of the guy across the street from where I play, who lets me park my backpack and guitar in the back of his pickup, so that I can quite literally dash to the beer store at a trot.

This is important, as the beer store, affectionately referred to as "the hood store," is in what is not so affectionately referred to as "crack town."

A guy half jogging and passing by so quickly that the bums can only get "Excuse me, do you have..." out of their mouths before he is out of earshot, is better off than a guy hobbling along under the weight of a backpack containing a laptop (50 dollar crack rock value) and a guitar (20 dollar crack rock value) and whatever cash he has in his pocket (redeemable at face value for crack).

At 12:30 a.m. I had made a whopping 6 dollars and hadn't had a beer all night. I was poising myself to return in time for the "stretch run" of 1 a.m. past 2 a.m. (when the bars close) until about 2:45 a.m. (when it has finally dawned upon the last stragglers that, indeed, the bars have closed, nothing more to be done here; throw the busker a couple bucks and then go home)

It was during this stretch, invigorated by the exercise and fortified by 40 ounces of beer, that I made another 16 bucks

At about 3 a.m. I asked the hot dog guy if he had any "stray dogs," to which he replied in the negative; sensing that I was asking for a hand out.
We agreed on a price of 2 dollars, which was a 33% discount off of the regular price (of 3 dollars).

After eating, I helped him load his tables, chairs, tent, coolers etc. in the back of his truck and then hopped in myself to be dropped off nearby 8th and Main to sleep for what amounted to about 6 hours.

Saturday morning, as I walked towards the bus terminal to get an all day bus pass, so that I could "shoot" to Scotlandville to pick up some clothes and grab the two computer books that Sue had checked out for me and which are due this coming Tuesday, I started to think that leaving that stuff there was a tactical error.
Tactical Errors Costly

First, I should have ran behind the building Thursday night when rain began to pour down, instead of standing under the overhang watching it, thinking ...look at it come down! instead of  I'd better hurry up and pull all my clothes off the rack and under the overhang so that they will be dry enough for me to take with me Friday afternoon, so I won't have to burn 2 dollars on a bus pass to come back and get them Saturday...

And, I had left Sue's books there, which probably weigh about 4 pounds, because I knew that I was going to walk about a mile from the terminal to my playing spot, not having in my possession that Friday afternoon, the 25 cents required to transfer to the "Downtown #14" bus.

(...this is something that I can't seem to get the bums to understand when they look at me in abject incredulity after I tell them that, no, I can't spare a quarter...You can't spare one quarter? One quarter?!? ...you a greedy, stingy uncaring @#$%!!)

I was thinking that I probably should have bitten the bullet and lugged the books with me as I headed towards the terminal.

As it turned out, my backpack would become loaded with books anyways.

The Yard Sale

The Society of Saint Vincent De Paul had a big Yard Sale going on in its parking lot.

I went in, and the first thing that I saw were a couple of laptop cases, 3 dollars each, but, unfortunately they were sized too small probably made for notebook computers.

My 19 dollars was still intact, but then I saw about a dozen boxes containing books of all kinds, paperbacks 25 cents each.

I thought of Howard.

I wondered if He would reimburse me should I grab a couple dollars worth of books on the speculation that he would like the looks of them, or that he would not already have read them.

After setting aside about 20 books, I whittled them down to 7 in an excruciating process when great feelings of sadness, loss and regret were stirred in my heart as I left behind, for practical purposes, such gems as The Tibetan Book of the Dead, and an Ann Tyler novel, an Aldous Huxley and others that I wasn't familiar with, but which had "New York Times Book Of The Century*" and similar encomiums emblazoned upon their obverses.

*How long is "The New York Times Bestselling Author" list, anyways? I only found a few paperbacks which were NOT written by one of those inductees! Maybe whomever donated them only reads "Great" works...

Laden with the 7 books which had now supplanted Sues computer manuals (I knew there was a good reason I left them behind...), I went to the bus terminal, after taking advantage of the noon "feeding" at the very same Vincent De Paul soup kitchen (I was in the neighborhood anyways).

I saw the 12:45 LA Swift bus to New Orleans just boarding passengers, and had an additional twinge of regret for not having packed for that trip on Friday.

But, I had invested $1.75 in hours of reading pleasure, and was doing a good deed in bringing Howard in on the deal.

The Greg Iles and Michael Connelly titles that I had picked out, met with Howards approval ...hmm, I don't think I've read this one...but I couldn't bring myself to ask him to reimburse me 50 cents for them.

But, the good deed was rewarded as, the guy who washes cars in front of the boarded up building washed about a half dozen cars that afternoon, as I cooked spaghetti over a fire out back, and he gave me 10 dollars, for "watching my stuff for me, back there."

He gave me the advice to run off the guy who takes our aluminum cans, and to call the police if we have to, because we have permission to be there, while he, along with being a terrible car washer was just "rotten" and "won't take no for an answer; you can't be nice to him, he'll take that as weakness; you need to get right in his face and tell him to get the !@#$ out of here!"

I made it downtown with 20 minutes to spare before the last (6 p.m.) running of the LA Swift to New Orleans.
Just A New Orleans Thing
Arriving in "The Big Easy" around 7:45 p.m., I went first to the "sign" spot, where I was made uneasy after seeing no sign of Sue.

The tree limbs were barren of all bags of clothing, books and all live animal carriers. It looked like she may have gone for good, and took her pigeons with her.

I was confronted by my emotions and only then realized exactly what proportion of my enthusiasm for coming to New Orleans lay in the hope of seeing Sue, and what was left over for sitting by myself and playing music for strangers on Bourbon Street.

I felt a little bit alone in a sometimes hostile and uncaring city; but then pushed the thoughts away by telling myself that Sue wouldn't even come to Baton Rouge with me; she is always going to be just a New Orleans thing, I'm starting to think...

Named After The Bourbon Family

I began my traditional walk, picking butts off of Canal Street, making a left on Royal, stopping at The Unique Boutique where I recieved a chorus of "Acarlu!" from the staff there, who hadn't seen me in two weeks, and spending myself down to about 6 bucks with the purchase of a can of Cobra Malt Liquor.

The Cobra, which was a passable brew in Scotlandville, tasted watery and flavorless on Royal Street.

I stopped to talk to the older "grizzlied" guy with a gray beard and a cowboy hat who sits on the corner of Iberville and Royal and plays a pretty nice Takamine guitar and sings through an amp and who sits aside a large "menu" of songs propped on an easel which he does barely recognizable renditions of; who told me that he has had nights where he had made "only about 7 bucks, up until midnight, and then some one drunk guy will come over and hand me a 20."

I soon told him that I had better get to my spot. I didn't tell him that, on my spot, there were nights when I had made only about 23 dollars up until midnight, and then some drunk couple will come over and hand me 40 or 50 dollars.

He plays for about 12 hours each day. He is there when I am on my way out; and he is just getting warmed up when I am on my way back to the sleeping spot.

Tanya And Dorise

Then, I walked along and heard Tanyas violin before I even saw her or Dorise.

I stopped and listened on the opposite corner.

Tanya played one of only a handful of sour notes that I have ever heard her play, during a song that I had never heard them play.

Maybe it is new material that she is struggling with, or an off the wall request ...maybe she rises to the occasion and plays flawlessly when she knows that I'm listening...

Then Dorise spotted me.
I approached during a break between songs and she gave me a very curt, almost masculine sounding "What's up?"

Tanya was more warm in her greeting.

After she turned around to see who Dorise had greeted, she smiled and said "You're back!"

Tanya Apparently Roller Bladed To Work This Day

She was dressed for the heat, with denim shorts which revealed tan lines on her silky smooth looking legs. She just keeps getting more beautiful. I almost complemented her upon them (her legs), but hesitated because there is some speculation that her and Dorise are in a relationship of some kind... 

I couldn't help notice the correlation between beautiful violin playing and those two baskets that you see in the photo having to be emptied every 3 hours of so, to make room for more money.

I also noticed their apparent indifference to money.

They never acknowledge people who come up and put tips in their baskets. Some people, wanting to show their appreciation on a more personal level, will hold a 20 or 50 up in front of them before dropping it in the basket, as if to tell them "this is how much I appreciate you," and that person won't even get any eye contact from either of them.

They act that way, but, I wonder if they were in jeopardy of losing their houses and their cars and their hot tubs and ski trips to Colorado, if they would then even pay attention to the money going in the baskets.

Maybe it's a ruse to make it appear that they are so "into" the music that they are oblivious to all else EVEN MONEY! -which of course produces more money, because people love to see performers get "into" their music.

And, Dorise has the apparent attitude that the universe is providing for her (of course I own a house, why shouldn't I own a nice house??) and she has no attachment to possessions (type of philosophy) but, I really want to ask her, in a way that wouldn't imply anything negative. "Have you ever tried busking just by yourself, no Tanya?"

I think the income that she would be ignoring would adjust itself down from $1,500 a day to, maybe what I make; maybe...

She is a very "competent" rhythm guitarist, don't get me wrong; and the black and Chinese combination is enchanting and exotic...

Well... judge for yourself click here to see the video that goes along with the picture above, and tell me if you think that Dorise should say a special prayer of thanks each night for having Tanya by her side. 

She just seems to take it for granted, that's all I'm saying; and yes, I would love to accompany Tanya on guitar (and am even down for the "relationship" part, too) so I know this might sound like sour grapes. I would be more aware of the two baskets, I must say though, call me worldly or materialistic or addicted to alcohol and tobacco...

I swung by Sidney's and spent myself down to 4 dollars by buying a 2 dollar bottle of Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA Ale, to take the taste of the Cobra out of my mouth; and in keeping with my habit of only drinking brews named after things that can kill you; Hurricanes, Cobras, Colt 45's, Torpedoes...and I suppose Mickey's (if someone slips too many in your drink).

I took a lesson from the grizzlied guitarist and decided to bump my playing time up to about 5 hours (from 3.5, average) -there is something to be said about the "numbers game" in New Orleans. The longer you are out there, the better the chance that that "big fish" will swim by. And, the big fish are out there; people set aside thousands of dollars for their trips to The Big Easy.

I reaped dividends last night when a girl threw me 2 bucks "for the Tom Petty song" that I had played 2 hours earlier, when they had been passing in the opposite direction.
I was thrown one 10 dollar bill, and one 5, both from the same group of people. I was playing "Crazy About A Crazy Girl." 
In The Interest Of Brevity
Well, I don't want this post to run very long...
It's 2:06 Sunday Afternoon. I have $25.55.
I am at Starbucks, where I still have about $13 on the gift card which The Lidgeley's sent from London back in January...
I will head towards the spot and take a path to get there, which passes some of Sue's known haunts -I'll see if she might happen to be in the beer store, looking at Sierra Nevada Torpedo IPA Ales, too. She might be...