Saturday, March 23, 2013

Living Like Jean Valjean

Friday afternoon, I went into New Orleans and proceeded with 5 dollars in my pocket to pick my way up Canal Street, brushing by the Harrahs Casino, with its always interesting music from the 1970s, and then along to The Unique Boutique, where I began to exercise my new found resolve to not drink Hurricane Lager, and bought a Red Dog beer; and was standing almost out in front; taking valuable space from a bum when up walked none other than the guy who gave me the copy of Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo, which I am now enjoying immensely.
Lost Pick
I got to Canal Street to discover that my pick was gone; lost.
It had fallen out somewhere off of the neck, where I wedge it between the strings.
I learned a lot of the styles of Paul Simon and Mark Knopfler in the next hour or so and made 6 bucks; but didn't want to continue because I knew I wasn't at my best; trying a foreign approach to the instrument. I got a lot better at fingerstyle guitar out of sheer determination, though.
Gave Me A Pick
I Buy A Pick
This morning, I bought a pick.
I had forgotten that Dorise gave me one on Royal Street; after I encountered her on a spot about 3 blocks down from Rouses Market.
Dorise said that she was tired and didn't smile her normal smile. They were done playing and she had her hands inside one of their tip baskets as I took my guitar out and started to play with pick that she'd given me; which took a little getting used to.
Tanya arrived and wasn't smiling her normal smile.
They might have had a bad day; having played 3 blocks down from Rouses, which is considered the "hot" spot.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Comments are like bottles that wash up with notes in them