Starting From Scratch

I went to sleep pretty early Thursday night.

There wasn't much to do without any money*, so I sat and practiced using downloaded drumbeats as a metronome. Those songs and exercises intended to school a 3rd year student can be sobering if taken at too fast a tempo.

*There was plenty of reading, writing, studying, and practicing to do, but nothing to drink or smoke, or grill. 
Uncle Sam Throws A Shin-dig

On the night of August 1st, there was a din coming from a huge all-night party at one of the businesses a couple blocks up the street from the boarded up building. There had also been one last month on the same night- a celebration of the checks which are "awarded" upon that day; it is -with drinking and smoking and hip-hop music and women running around, and, of course, a fight. Whenever the government hands out money, a fight usually ensues.

There were the couple of amputees in their wheelchairs that are common sights panhandling around the convenience stores, during the last few days of each month. They seemed to be the stars of the party. Their checks are probably larger than most, due to the fact that they are missing limbs, and so they get to be the big-shots, if only for one day a month. I wouldn't trade one of my limbs for any amount of money, so, give them their due.

There has been an overall festive mood in Scotlandville, since the first of the month. This only exacerbated my anxiety over being flat broke, but, going three days without cigarettes and beer didn't kill me; and fasting for three days (except for a plate of spaghetti) was kind of conducive to sitting and thinking and soul searching.

The Walk

I left at 9:50 from the Chevron, on my way downtown. I could have asked anyone for $1.75 for the bus fare, but I would rather walk 8 miles.

By 10:05, I was sitting under a bridge drinking a bottle of warm spring water that I had found by a construction site. There was a little creek running by, and for a minute I thought about how nice it would be to sleep under the bridge, use the acoustics to practice the guitar, and to fish out of the creek for fish to eat.

Something made me think of the time that I was with Karrie, and how much more ambitious I was then, having someone to support, if even only emotionally. It was so much the opposite of getting up at night and tip-toeing to the bathroom because someone is letting you crash at their place and you don't want to disturb them. I would get up at night, break sticks and light a fire and make popcorn when I was with Karrie, and she would just sigh and roll over and go back to sleep in the comfortable bed that I had made, by the sweat of my brow.

I realized that I have basically two modes; one of supporting, and one of being supported, and that most of my creativity came out of the former...these are things that one thinks about under a bridge.
Then, I thought about how far in life I had fallen, in order to be thinking that any bridge would be a nice bridge to live under.

I resumed walking and arrived downtown at about 11:30.

Starting With 4 Cents

I am now at the downtown library. I have 4 cents in my pocket, and I guess I am waiting for the evening to arrive, so I can busk some.

I ate at the One Stop Center, and am now groggy for the first time today. I had woken up with a lot of energy this morning. I should have just drank the apple juice, eaten the cherries and then the baked potato and left the soybean-oil laden Sloppy Joes alone...

One gets a good chance to think during an hour and a half walk.

I had half a mind to stand on the off-ramp and play my guitar and harmonica with my "Street Musician Stimulus Package" sign in my case, but, on my way there I ran into a couple of "travelling kids" who said that a third traveling kid that was with them had been arrested for standing at that spot holding a sign. I guess the police are on high alert during this first of the month government money fueled chaos on the streets.

Do You Feel Trapped?

I had my One Stop Homeless Center ID made, while I was there (still no word on the Louisiana state ID, but they said that it could conceivably take more than the two weeks that it has already taken) and they handed me a 5 page "intake form" to fill out.

It had all kinds of questions on it.

One of them was "Do you feel trapped, lonely, hopeless and sad?" and similar ones which looked to me like a crazy check on a silver platter. They provide the service of all kinds of mental health counselors, and "spiritual" and "behavioral" advisors; and I guess these people don't get their checks unless they find the crazy people and put them on the government dole.

I could sign up, and, based upon my not having earned a paycheck since I started busking in January of 2007, argue that I am just too disoriented and mentally unfocused to take care of my responsibilities, and that I should get a crazy check. Then, I could busk in a place like New Orleans (or California) and double my income. I know I would be playing a nice guitar through a nice amp in that scenario...