After The Deluge

Monday afternoon, it is; and I am at the Westin Hotel Starbucks, where I am blogging, and where I will soon run to the restroom to shave, and return to blog some more.....

*goes and shaves and returns*

I have thrown water on my face and shaved.

The sun seems to be "trying to come out" outside, after a morning rain shower; which was kind of an addendum to the heavy thunderstorms which raged pretty much through the night.

Where To Stay In NOLA

I had gotten to the "water resistant" spot under the dock probably around 10 p.m. Sunday (last) night; to discover that the cardboard was wet at the spot where I had stone-crafted the crude bed where I have been passing these past few rainy nights.

I had to move the plank and cardboard further under the dock, and higher up, away from where the Mississippi lapped at the bank of rocks. It was like moving the cardboard from Seattle to Spokane in Washington state, away from the ocean and higher in altitude.

Here, I fashioned another crude bed; and found it to be easier than I had envisioned it would; even in the dark.

 First, I had stood still and let my eyes adjust to the darkness.

Then, as the forms of rocks started to materialize before me, I carefully scanned  and studied the landscape, looking for and soon finding a spot which was already  relatively flat in an area about the size of my body.

By moving just a few rocks around, I was able to improve upon it.

After putting down a triple layer of cardboard then laying upon it; to discover where there were "lumps"; and then filling in the gaps with smaller rocks (carefully chosen for their contours), I threw the cardboard back down and found that I had a comfortable bed, which had taken all of 15 minutes to craft.

I guess I could have brought Howard there the other rainy night and quickly made him a bed on the rocks, had he only a few sheets of thick cardboard, and a "pillow."

He may have even decided to make that his permanent sleeping spot. 

It boasts a good level of darkness, protection from the rain, privacy, and the soothing sounds of the muddy waters lapping at, or breaking over, the lower layer of rocks.

It is convenient to shopping (CVS and Walgreens on Decatur Street) and property can be hidden there as effectively as just about anywhere else.

Why, by moving some of the heavier rocks (about the size of an average pumpkin) around, one could construct a "safe" to hide things in; and someone would have to walk the entire 30,000 square foot expanse of rocks, flipping over ones the size of an average pumpkin in hopes of finding the lid to it.

I had run to the dock as it started raining Sunday night; accompanied by thunder and lightning.

That ended my busking day, there on Royal Street, by Rouses Market (where Tanya and Dorise and Doreens Jazz Band play). I didn't make anything, but had a guy sit next to me and tell me how awesome I sounded.

People were desperately hailing cabs left and right.

There was, thankfully, a lull in the rain which was just about long enough to allow me to get to the dock, before the violent thunderstorm commenced.

Late Afternoon, I had played on Canal Street, and made about 5 bucks in about an hour. I was playing on a guitar which was missing the top (E) string; and exploring my catalog for songs which were not only feasible with, but were actually facilitated by the absence of that string.

This had the effect of conjuring songs from the past which had been lying unused in the recesses of my memory. "Moving In Stereo," by The Cars being a prime example.

I switched to "China Cat Sunflower," by The Grateful Dead, which started the tips flowing; and then into "Not Fade Away," the Buddy Holly song which the Dead, also covered.

A Young black man yelled something like: "Yeah, play that thing, white-boy" during that jam; and it made me remember that there had been some relationship between Buddy Holly and African American music. He was the first artist to chart a song on the "colored" top 40; or maybe the first to appear on Soul Train, or something like that.

Then, an extended jam on "The Music Never Stopped," by The Grateful Dead, during which another group of young black kids stopped, with one of the them recording video on his phone and another one rapping over the (hopefully) infectious groove that the missing string was not missed from being a part of.

Before that, I had been on Decatur Street in the morning.

People had been saying things like: "You'd better make some money before the rain comes!" and there were people swarming everywhere.

The Rock and Roll Marathon had run in the morning, and there were still plenty of families who had brought their daughters here to participate in a dance and cheer competition somewhere in town.

Do You Know Any Kelly Clarkson??

The preteen girls walking around everywhere were a visible admonishment to me for never having took the time to learn at least one song by Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, Justin Beiber, Adele or their ilk.

The morning had only produced 3 dollar and change, as I did songs like "Imagine," by John Lennon.

If I could have imagined the weather which was on its way, I probably would have gone to Algiers and grabbed a couple more fleece throws and maybe even brought Howard to the dock where we could have built him a bed.

Love On The Rocks

I passed the night with a full pack of cigarettes and the two fleece throws which provided just enough warmth so that I could fall asleep; but needed to be re-adjusted every time I wanted to change my position.

I woke up a couple of times when the storm was at its most intense. A bit of moisture was managing to ride the wind to where I was, about 50 feet in and 25 feet up the bank of rocks.

Right Now. Howard Will Have To Fend For Himself

I made up for the broken sleep by going back into it at about 8 a.m. when, despite the overcast skies, the temperature rose into a more comfortable range; and I slept until about noon; when the Natchez Steamboat arrived; and the steam organist began playing that particular instrument; fashioned as a (potentially) entertaining way to let the steam pressure out of the boats boilers.  

It sounds like 4 or 5 very out of tune recorder players, going at it; which is what I thought that it was the first time I heard it. "Wow, those guys suck!," I remember thinking at the time...

Plans For Monday Night

Now, it is evening. I am letting the guitar and case dry out beside me as I blog. I am on my second can of Rock Star "Punched" energy drink (high caffeine).

Outside, it has started to rain again, and I overheard someone to say that it is going to rain hard once again, soon.

To Save Howard?

I have half a mind to go across the river and try to find Howard. At this hour, he would be just leaving one of the library branches, and probably headed to his choice of rain spots.

I would probably be doing him a favor if I brought him to the dock with me. The question is: How soaked would I become in running that particular errand of fetching him.

I think I answered that question by getting the above weather map.

My Woodchuck Joke

Before I go:

Somewhere between Decatur and Canal Streets yesterday, I stopped and got a Woodchuck Hard Cider from Sydneys.

The cashier had a name tag identifying him as "Chuck."

So, I couldn't help holding the bottle up for his viewing and saying:

How much would be a Woodchuck, Chuck; cause if a Woodchuck I could chug, I would...?