Lost Will To Blog?

Have I finally lost interest in the art of the blog?

For the past few days, and the first time in almost 7 years; I have not felt like posting. Every cell in my body has been transplanted by a new one in the past 7 years; a totally different physical person started this blog.

The reason could possibly be due to the 2 out of 3 miserable days, money wise, which befell me here in the week that everybody is saying is going to be the last slow week here.

After Friday they (long standing residents) say that "it" will turn into a frenzy of activity with 100 dollar bills blowing down the streets.

The 2 days have been interesting.

Yesterday a young guy on the ferry asked me to play my guitar on the ferry and, though I think it is technically against one of the rules of the ferry boat to do so, I played the first music of the morning; and the young man said that he enjoyed it and pointed out that I was playing "aggressively."

I explained that the 90 dollar Jasmine actually needs to be worked like a plow with a rusty blade and a sorry, sorry ass pulling it. (I might be the metaphorical ass in the scenario).

I was then able to switch gears and played over the chords to Eyes Of The World as delicately as a spring mist landing upon daisies in the morning.

The kid was very complimentary about my playing, which made me happy for the sake that I seemed able to warm up almost instantly and none of my notes I deemed to have been compromised due to my lack of dexterity; and/or the firing of nerve synapses; either in the regions that control imagination; or the regions that control dexterity.

"What 'Cha Got In That Case??"

He didn't give me a tip, though.

I recently read that the first human being that picked up a rock and used it as a tool to open a nut; set in motion a process of "selection" which favored the genes for dexterity and imagination.

Breaking nuts open with rocks doesn't pay much better now than it ever has; I would point out.

So, I went into the city (sure it was Monday; but it was Martin friggin' Luther King Jr. Day!) and I thought that I actually played well on Bourbon Street in the residential area. I was playing for the benefit of the people in the structure across the street from me at about the 1 o' clock position as I sit; who had sometimes come out upon their stoop and ate and drank and apparently listened to me before. I thought I have heard encouraging words reverberate down from that stoop.

So, I was playing for the benefit of those people, but it was early afternoon; as early as I have ever played at that spot.

I guess I might have had "Pride, In The Name Of Love" by the band U2 all polished up and (key dropped about 4 steps so that I can hit all the "Bono"s) ready to go, if I was a consummate professional who takes busking at least as seriously as if it were busting nuts open with rocks. I might have been able to "Early morning, April 4th..." my way to a dollar or two.

I still had the fresh 20 dollar bill, earned a couple days past on the same spot, just a little later in the day, in my pocket; but I was really trying to make more. I knew that the challenge was to remain on that spot and keep trying until something was made out of it; but... 
I Can Read Minds
I think every tourist that walked past was thinking this: "Let's just walk around and see where everything is located and kind of formulate a loose itinerary; then, we'll come out tonight and really paint the town red; and even throw Bob Weir a 5 spot, perhaps...