Adam And Eve

Now, with the passing of Sherman Hemsley, one of the three Shermans that I have ever heard about have gone on to their eternal rewards. Sherman who played alongside Peabody doesn't count; being a cartoon.

Free Ride

I got a courtesy bus pass from the driver of the #54, which I used to take the #10 downtown yesterday afternoon.

My first stop was at Shermans where I hoped to leave off ten pounds of laptops, which I did. I found 26 cents in the road on the way there.

We sat and talked. 

Free Coffee

Before I knew it, it was almost 10 p.m. and I could have easily gone to my spot, claimed it, and played for 4 hours and made more than the $14.78 that I would end the night with.

Sherman suggested a stop at the casino for a cup of their free coffee first, though.

I agreed to go along, but became anxious when one cup turned into two and there was no light at the end of the tunnel of our conversation. There had been nobody playing at my spot when we had driven past at about 10 p.m.
Although I was enjoying hanging out and chatting, it soon became apparent that, unless I said something, we could easily have sat there until after the last straggler from the bars walked past my playing spot, leaving me with 26 cents in my pocket after a Friday night, and dreading the coming week without cigarettes or beer or anything.

By the time we got downtown, we were greeted with the sight of the saxophone player standing in my favorite spot ("pretty expensive free coffee," I thought).

"How To Love," is like 3 chords, Daniel!

Sherman dropped me off at my alternative spot, where the club not far away had its front doors propped open, ostensibly so that people could feel the conditioned air pouring out and hear the music pouring out, and would pour in. Then he left to go get his bike at his apartment.

I was fighting the volume of the club and also at a loss for a song to play. Everything I started to play seemed vaguely inappropriate. I suddenly felt ill prepared (why didn't I learn one Lil' Wayne song, just one, I had the time!").
I felt like a runner who had missed the starting gun and was running just for the sake of it; with no chance of winning.

Free World

Then Sherman arrived on his bike. With his "Need A Pick" tee shirt, advertising his photography business.

He parked the bike next to me with a dollar in its cup holder, which he had illuminated with some kind of green glowing light.

I had two dollars in my case, reminiscent of a couple weeks before, when he had said "Only two bucks, you're not doing so well," after about a half hour of people walking past (us) and giving (us) a wide berth.

Then he stood there, his bike helmet flashing a red strobe, his "Need A Pick" tee shirt probably making it seem like he was working with me and trying to get me a guitar pick, and glared at the people passing by; the chip on his shoulder that he seems to carry around, glowing under the street lights.

People started to walk past, giving us a wide berth; just like the previous time.

Eve Looks Like On Of My Crazy Ex Girlfriends

I had even more trouble settling upon a song to play as I wondered what people were supposed to make of the whole scene, me a traveling musician, alone and on the road with only my guitar and my music for comfort; but then a nice ten-speed bike right behind me with a glowing dollar in the cup holder and Sherman standing there not appearing to be "rocking out" to the music at all, rather, full of hostility.

Free Flight

I packed up my stuff and made a bee-line for the beer store, giving him a chance to work his business without the distraction of a street musician. He rode along beside me.

I struggled for a nice way to say "Gee, it seems like there is something about the presentation that the both of us in the alcove makes, that seems to deter people from stopping to listen to me."

He finally said that he would leave me alone the rest of the night and (through clenched teeth said) that he had no hard feelings. Then he mentioned that, since he wasn't charging me room and board to crash at his place, if I had a shitty night, then we would be "even."

Nothing Free

And my late fathers words, given to me at an early age and then reinforced throughout my life came back to me: "There's nothing free in this world, son. Adam and Eve made sure of that..." 
It is now late afternoon, Saturday; 4 p.m as a matter of fact.
The chance of getting anything accomplished here will have to be put on hold until at least such time that Sherman wakes up. He sleeps like a manic depressant sometimes and I think it is contageous.
I will probably run to the store for cigarettes and a couple beers, spending myself down to under 10 bucks and pissing myself off.