Glibby Glop Glooby

Nappy And Watermelon

It is Friday morning, and I woke up with 10 cents on me. 

I could have had more money on me had I busked Thursday evening, but I instead chose to hang out with a couple of traveling kids, whom I ran into on Water Street on my way to get my first beer of that day. A guy and a girl, both in their late teens.

The guys "traveling kid name" was "Nappy," the girls, "Watermelon." It was obvious where the guys moniker originated from a glance at his hair. 

Not so obvious was where the girls traveling kid name did. 

 I sat and talked with them for a while and then saw them to the tracks and showed them where to wait for a train to New Orleans and points beyond. 

The girl was very pretty, with brown eyes and brown hair, and in conformity to the traveling girl convention of having half of her bosoms exposed by a tight-fitting shirt. 

In fact, the girl's beauty was such that it was a liability in their traveling ways. She told tales about men who offered her rides but then balked after her traveling companion was factored into the equation. 

She said that she had dropped out of college and gone out on the road hitching rides everywhere. 

She and Nappy had just come from Wisconsin and were trying to get to Baton Rouge for the LSU/Alabama game. 

I gave them a quick synopsis of that particular city with special emphasis on the police and the "homeless sweeps" that they conduct downtown. 

Nappy gave me a whole pack of menthol cigarettes after he saw me lighting up one of my ducks from the Regions Bank ashtray. 

I turned around and spent one of my 4 dollars on a beer for them, out of gratitude. And one for myself. 

Watermelon is from San Francisco, where she had dropped out of San Francisco State University and left behind "50 pounds of clothes" to jump out on the road. 

They had many stories about buskers that they had seen in various places. New York and Boston, to name a couple. 

Nappy had some of the first LSD that I have seen since 1985. I just looked at it; I didn't ask him for any. I did tell them the story of how I did acid in the 80's until I finally saw God and God told me to stop doing acid... 

It was kind of depressing to hear them talk about the AMAZING buskers that they had seen, like a group of young Chinese kids who played bass, cello and violins in a subway tube and "tore it up," and had a whole crowd of people around them, clamoring to get closer and their huge case was just full of money. Nappy said that, in his opinion, there were only two bands in the whole world: The Grateful Dead, and The Jerry Garcia Band.
This was the cue to take out my guitar and play a couple Dead songs as we sat behind a building with a view of the rail yard.

I couldn't really get a reaction out of either of them, as I played. The Jasmine was still tuned very low, due to the screw which needs to be fixed, but I was still able to coax a rendition of Sugar Magnolia out of it. 

I actually expected Nappy to voice some kind of approval at hearing a song by one of only two existing bands in the world, but he was quiet. I had to tell myself that he was probably jealous and afraid that I might steal Watermelons heart if I played too well, so I stopped. I couldn't think of another reason why a guy with 5 hits of blotter acid in his wallet wouldn't at least say "Hell, yeah!" at hearing the signature opening riff of Sugar Magnolia...

I Thought About Jumping On With Them

After I showed them where to wait for a train and then waited with them, while I worked on my second beer of the evening, and after the train came and stopped where I told them that it would, and after I walked them to a suitable grain car which they loaded up upon and then I told them how to know when it will be stopping in New Orleans (...you will cross a huge lake...) and after the train began backing toward the yard to grab some more cars, like I told them it would, and then after I shook Nappys hand then recieved a hug from Watermelon, as the locomotive strained to tear her away from me, I went to my sleeping spot and built a discreet fire behind walls of cardboard, cooked some Pollock and some Tilapia, rolled it in tortillas and ate it; then went to sleep.

 Up With The Birds

Having gotten to sleep so early, I was awake by the time the birds came to finish off the bits of fish and tortilla that I had thrown for them. I don't like to eat the piece of a sandwich that I am gripping in my fingers, as part of my "Daniels Rules For Hygiene In The Field" and so the birds that have a nest about 10 feet above my head have become the beneficiaries of bits of beef, turkey and now fish in the past week since I have devised a way to build discreet fires. 

I used to throw grains and nuts for the birds and I was starting to think that they just didn't like me. Come to find out, they are meat-eating birds and they like me just fine. 

Clocking In

After letting a couple spoonfuls of instant coffee dissolve in my mouth, I was ready to start my day and finally follow through on my plans to play at The Big Clock Spot, early in the morning, for the benefit of business people who were already up and had their instant coffee dissolved in their mouths and were on their way to do "the 9 to 5." 

The big clock said 8 o' clock, exactly, as I uncased my guitar and then began to play "Norwegian Wood," by The Beatles. 

Within a short time, a well-dressed man came by and said "'I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me'...That is probably my favorite John Lennon line!" as he put a dollar on top of the dime in my case. 

We then talked about what we each thought the meaning of that song was. 

The man pointed out that, up until that album (Rubber Soul), the Beatles had written only "love" songs. He said that the song I was playing, along with "Nowhere Man" represented the bands first departures from the constant writing of love songs. 

I said "Thank you for reminding me of 'Nowhere Man,' I had forgotten that I once played it. 

I then fumbled for the chords to that song and another 2 dollars went into my case as the man sang along. 

Then, after he left, I continued to find the "exact" chords to that song and played it some more, during which time a lady came over and handed me a 10 dollar bill, saying "Don't let it blow away!" 

Then, it was time to play Good Morning Starshine, which fetched another 5 dollar bill from someone behind me, whom I never saw. 

Then, at 8:50 a.m., the nearby construction site came alive with the sound of power tools, such as jack hammers, and the session ended. 

50 minutes; 18 dollars, or $21.60/hour; supporting my theory that people on their way to work and jacked up on caffeine appreciate the fact that a busker was up with the birds (i.e. wasn't sleeping off a hangover) and was already "on the 'big' clock" and sending the message that, yes, this is my job! 

I can now set my sights on the hardware store and the possibility of fixing up the Jasmine with a few turns of a screw.

Tomorrow will be Saturday, but, come Monday, if I'm still in town, I plan to be at The Big Clock Spot bright and early, even if I have to purchase a little alarm clock to help that come about. 

And, I think the business people will come to enjoy hearing "Nibby Nabby Nooby" at the same time each morning...

This Just In

Someone has told me to stick a toothpick in the hole that the screw has stripped on the Jasmine and then to put the screw (covered in super glue) back into the same hole.
A toothpick?!? I must be on Spy TV or something....