Why Should I Leave You?

Here They Come Again...

Let Me Count The Ways...

Busking has been shut down at my favorite spot, despite the fact that the residents in the condos around me are cool with it. 

The cops came by Wednesday night at the same time as Tuesday night, and gave me the "Didn't we discuss this with you last night?" thing, and I was given a "summons" to go to court next Monday (25th) at 3 p.m.

"Next time" I am going to jail.

I can play up until 8 p.m.

I have made 5 times as much money on Bourbon Street between the hours of 11 p.m. and 2 a.m. as I have ever made before 8 p.m.

I made 52 bucks in downtown Baton Rouge on a Friday night; most of it after midnight.

My goal is simply to get 5 bucks today, before the last bus leaves for Baton Rouge, and to be on it, and not looking back.

I probably won't go to court, because of several reasons.

Reason One: I'm starting to relish tye notion of living in a place until I "f" it up for myself and then, just getting the hell out. 

The "system" is set up to encourage it. They only run a local warrant check on new faces, as if certain that no other jurisdiction is going to want them back, now that they are somebody else's problem.

There is no way that the City of New Orleans can add 15 or 30 or 45 days back to the end of my life should I sit and waste away in jail for any of those lengths of time.

In those same 45 days, instead of having my skills a trope and then needing an additional 15 days afterward just to get my callouses back, along with my timing, I could be in a new place, being "productive."

I still don't know if I have any outstanding "attachments" from when I lived here before and cops wrote me up over things, but never handed me any paperwork. It's incumbent upon the individual to check with the Clerk of Courts periodically to see if they have any scheduled court dates that they were not made aware of.

Reason Two: See above. Without being able to busk past 8 p.m., New Orleans becomes a big party that you aren't invited to, simply put.

The "day shift" buskers mostly play on Royal Street, and all have amplifiers, even the guy who plays classical stuff on a nylon string guitar runs the nylon string guitar through an amp.

At such a time as I find my fortune when the tide turns and my ship comes with Lady Luck smiling down upon me from the deck, then I can always come back and patch things up using U.S. currency as a fixative.

Reason Three: Sue.

I haven't enjoyed the times that I have spent with Sue.

There was no laughing, no playing around, no sense that we belonged together; just Sue sitting and telling me everything that is wrong between us, starting with the fact that I don't care about her that I am the one that is ashamed of her and I only want to cuddle with her at night, but don't care about her during the day.

I am starting to agree with her. 

The worst relationships that I have ever endured were the ones where the majority of the time that we spent together was in discussing our relationship. There is something unnatural about that.

The situation keeps arising where I am about to go to my spot, and Sue wants to know if I want her to go with me. I answer that I want her to go with me, but only if she wants to go; I don't want her to be bored.

Then, she answers that she only wants to go if I want her to go; and the clock ticks away and I feel like I have a giant key in my back and am being wound up.

I sat with her yesterday after I "happened" to have run into her near Decatur Street.

I couldn't think of anything to say. I was numb of all feelings of affection. I had just been blindsided with having my playing spot and all hope of making a hundred bucks that night, taken away.

Every time she spoke it was to rehash some wrong that had been done to her about which she had already told me more than once.

I sat and stared straight ahead, finishing a beer that I had gotten, thinking that it might put me in a better mood and I could then, in turn, cheer her up.

She wanted to know if there was something wrong, and if I was upset with her.

"I'm just bored," I finally said. I didn't really care if she took it to mean that she was boring me, because that was the truth.

She wanted to explain to me all of the reasons that she was unwilling to come with me to Baton Rouge.

"We always end up arguing, and if that happens in Baton Rouge then, I'll wind up stranded there." ...Yeah, you'll be up the creek without a paddle, Sue...

In between telling me all the reasons that she didn't trust the situation enough, she talked about how desperate she was to get out of New Orleans. 

At one point, she mentioned wanted to improve her diet and eat "real" food, instead of junk.

I had told her repeatedly about my grilling pit behind the boarded up building and all the stuff, from hot coffee in the morning, omelets, eggs, French toast, rice, spaghetti, fish, chicken, stir-fried vegetables and even popcorn(!) which I have mastered the preparation of in the past ten years, during which I cooked over a fire.

I didn't want to repeat it.

I got up and shouldered my backpack and grabbed my guitar and said "Well, I'm going to walk down Royal Street (it was just past 8 p.m.) and see how many people are out and I might play some."

"Your just going to walk away?" she asked before I was out of earshot.

"I didn't just walk away, I told you where I was going and said that I'd see you later"

She then started to say "This is the reason I don't want to go with you to Baton Rouge.." then hesitated.

She asked me if I wanted her to go with me.

I wasn't even going to start the "chicken and egg" logic of saying "Only if you want to..."

"I don't know, I'm bored out of my skull, I'm just walking; I don't care if you come!" And, with that, I walked away.

I don't know if she followed behind me, but if she did, she saw me stop to listen to Tanya and Dorise; Tanya whom she is jealous of...

I couldn't be bothered over the fact that I was pretty sure that I was sending a clear message to Sue, or that she would see it that way, at least: I want someone more like Tanya; she's not boring and I even know more about her than I do you, Sue, like her last name....

Howard Arrives

This morning, I went to take a shower at The Rebuild Center, and there, was greeted by none other than Howard.

I told him about the curfew and the horse cops and the library no longer allowing guitars inside and my woes with Sue.

When I got out of the shower, he had left. He has most likely fallen into his New Orleans routine and is at the library and will be until about 3 p.m. when he will go to the sign spot to read for a while and then take a short nap.