I had called earlier in the day and he told me that he had a brake light out and didn't want to drive; he also voiced his opinion that a guy that didn't have $1.75 for a bus ride to go and make 45 bucks basically didn't have his shit together; and kind of implied "what did you do before you met a friend that has a vehicle"
Well, he got me there.
I said "Before I started walking the 8 miles to downtown, I figured; I might walk all the way there and then run into you and you would say "Why the hell didn't you just call me, I was in the area...you walked 8 miles for nothing!
Well, I sat down and played and almost instantly had about 8 bucks, just like the previous Friday night, and the one before...
I took my customary break at about midnight to run to the store for my first beer of the night, returned and wound up with about 45 bucks for the night.
Someone gave me a bag of fried chicken.And now, I am at Shermans place. It is 8:39 and almost time for me to go busk.
I now have a desire to work on the Mel Bay "Mastering The Guitar" book. That always happens when faced with the uncertainty and the insecurities incumbent upon going out to a spot where I wasn't invited to and playing music that I wasn't asked to play.
I went and got strings and a pack of butts and suddenly 45 bucks didn't seem like such a great amount....
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Comments, to me are like deflated helium balloons with notes tied to them, found on my back porch in the morning...