And, I am back at the Westin Hotel,
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| Looking "Down" Upon All The Buskers From The Westin Hotel |
I played on the Bourbon Street spot for just a little over an hour, and got one handful of change.
I started to realize a lot of things...
My personal pride, and the one Hurricane Lager that I bought by combining the handful of change with the few pennies that I already had, makes me want to start walking the 7 miles to the Gentilly Rail Yard and get on the first freighter that stops in front of me. Hungry, sweaty, broke, with rusty strings, one of which has already snapped, and get out of here.
There's no such thing as a city being able to trap you within its confines. Sure, "Nobody's going to give you a ride," there aren't even any ramps to stand on with your thumb out, everything is elevated 25 feet, so that people can evacuate during; I don't know; another Katrina, perhaps.
I knocked off at 8 p.m.
I stopped where a guy was selling roses.
"Is there a national convention for Cheap Pricks of America in town?"
"Yeah, there is," he said."They won't even buy roses for the ladies, they're insulting them..."
Sue And I "Off" Again
Sue had let me sit next to her at this very spot and blog earlier, before she got up and began packing her stuff.
"Do you have any plans for tonight?"
She mumbled something.
With all her stuff on her shoulders, she started to walk off. No Goodbye, no hug, no smile from the lady that had her arms wrapped around me last night.It must have been my angry ranting about everything the night before that turned her off this time...
I am now back at the Westin. I am seriously thinking about what I should do.
I would ultimately feel better (and reap dividends) if I pay the price for my mistake in coming here and just walk the 7 miles to the rail yard, no thumb out; no asking Howard for $1.25 to get out there on the bus...
What am I going to do this coming Thursday; go to court and tell them that I don't have the court cost of $15 because all I got was a handfull of change when I was playing my best (until I switched my lyrics to "That's alright, I don't have to eat; I can go 15 days on just water."
I can understand now why people discipline themselves to get college degrees, blocking out distractions; seeing people who invite them to parties as the enemies; sent by Satan to sabotage their lives; then being ruthless and cut-throat in the World of Business, kissing ass when appropriate, acquiring spouses that are going to help them advance through the ranks, regardless of true compatibility; and then, when they come to New Orleans for a vacation, mostly so they can brag about having spent a couple weeks here and eaten incredible food and stayed in a room overlooking the river, they won't throw one dollar to a busker, because it's important for the busker to fully realize his station in life; how can he wish that he was them if his life isn't so bad, afterall, because he makes do?My father used to lecture me about keeping my grades up being the most important thing; and not letting "friendships" get in the way, because: "They might be your buddies now, and it's great to have friends, but, after graduation you're all going to go your separate ways and it will be every man for himself in a dog-eat-dog world; and if you haven't done anything for yourself, nobody is going to help you; they'll have their own lives to worry about. You'll be surprised how soon they forget you." -My Father, 1976
I am considering telling Howard about the situation and seeing if he has any ideas, like financing a trip for both of us to San Antonio (or Austin, which has nearby hills where the summers are cooler) on the Megabus, which would only put him out $10 on my account.
A Sign Of The Times
Right now, I am back to praying that a category 6 hurricane hits this place and after it's over, all they can sift from the sand is a few strands of Mardi Gras beads and a Hand Grenade container full of seaweed.
I stop just short of saying "And Sue's bloated corpse, its arms locked around a drowned cat, up in a tree."
It's 9:10 p.m. and I don't know what I am going to do next...
I just might busk somewhere and throw "By the way, this is my sole source of income" at the backs of those who have walked past and totally ignored me...
That just might be an example of "Doing What You Have To Do To Survive...." and a sign of the times.
Just get used to being in and out of jail, it's the price of living in NOLA. See if you can become the Cambodian/Columbian chick's poverty pimp, and see if you can get Howard holding a sign or something while he reads a book, so he can turn the proceeds over to you. Then you'll have two streams of panhandling income going on while you sit in jail, and when you get out, you can blow it on something big and stupid, instead of small and stupid.
ReplyDeleteLather, rinse, repeat.
Oh, I just read the last part. Yeah, remind everyone that they OWE you a living, dammit.
ReplyDeleteThen take time out for the next "feeding" at the soup kitchen. Because they owe you a living too.
In fact, I suggest you get up in people's faces and intimidate them, after all, they OWE you. They should know that visiting NOLA means an obligation to support you. It's in the fine print in their plane/train ticket or on their hotel receipt.
In fact, you can bill yourself as the World's Oldest Crusty, and tell 'em all about how you were a crusty to whom the world owes a living back before it was cool, back when it was merely disgusting and pathetic, and then DEMAND they pay up.
I'm talking about people who have no idea that that is how I make my living like "Isn't it nice of the city to pay these musicians to sit and play, so that everywhere you go, you hear music..."
ReplyDeleteLike the equivalent of the "We play for tips" signs that you see on a lot of guitar cases...or the more direct "stay and hear me play, but if you gota split, leave a tip" (I'm paraphrasing)..Do those signs translate to "You OWE us a living?"
or the horn players who walk over and look in the box after someone drops a bill in, without interupting their solo, bent at the waist,seeing what it was and (sometimes putting on an expression like 'you've got to be shitting me; one friggin' dollar?!" sending the clear message "we ain't out here just to practice, we can do that at home...
I had my best luck with a sign that said, "THANKS For Listening".
ReplyDeleteI tried using a sign once that said "Lesson Fund" and got almost no tips, and it actually pissed one guy off.
Next time I'm out, I'm sticking with the "THANKS For Listening" sign. They see the THANKS and it's obvious I'd like a tip, but when they read closer, instead of the smaller print being some stupid spiel about being homeless, traveling, hungry, broke, etc yadda yadda, they see I'm thanking THEM for listening, and anything else is extra, and appreciated.
As for the horn players, well, "the world owes me a living" only works for black people. Sorry buddy, that white skin of yours means you have to work, and appreciate what you get.