Get Along

Yesterday, after it became obvious that I wasn't going to be on the last bus to Baton Rouge, I went down towards my Bourbon Street spot.

Arriving there two hours before my curfew, I played for an hour and got about 5 bucks.

I am playing Kid Charlemagne, by Steely Dan, determined to make it one of my best songs.

One guy, who threw me a couple bucks said "You're playing good music." ...he didn't say "You're playing it well..."

and he must have been referring to the Steely Dan piece, because I was in "learning mode," and playing it repeatedly.

I knocked off and went to Sidneys for a Sierra Nevada Torpedo Triple IPA Ale, drank it behind the building across the street, out of the mere habit of hiding somewhere to drink a beer, which has been conditioned into me from living in other places, and then emerged back onto Decatur Street, to see none other than Sue, sitting on one of the benches in front of me.

We wound up walking all the way back to the sign spot and sleeping, not under the sign for fear of Southern Flannel Moths, but nearby.

It is Friday, and I am about to say my goodbyes to Sue and get on the bus for Baton Rouge, where I will busk tonight and tomorrow night, and then will finally hop the train to Shreveport, as soon as I score my photo ID out of the homelessness place.