Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Beatles Songs, Too; And Conspiracy Theories

  • It gets worse.
  • The Clean Guy Back In Town
  • More Brian Hudson
When we last left Daniel; he had spent most of Easter night drinking and walking around resenting the money that other people, in other positions, were making.
Nobody said "Happy Easter;" nobody tipped him for playing music.*
*In case you're wondering; yes, I myself did say "Happy Easter" to the sides of a few peoples heads...
Having almost a couple dollars on me; and having just discovered that my laptop had been rendered almost useless because the screen is messed up; I left the library and headed for Royal Street.
I had already picked up tobacco and a beer and was passing near The Hotel Montleone, when I saw none other than The Clean Guy; sitting in a foyer and playing a pretty decent guitar.
He looked like he had aged more than the year or so, since I last saw him, would warrant; but he was also devested of his "clean" dinner jacket and slacks and polished shoes, etc. and his hair was cut so close to his head as to prevent him from combing it into the "Steve Martin" style of 2012; and that may have given him a more aged apperarance.
He seemed to indicate that the reason he had left New Orleans about 9 months ago, and went to Daytona Beach, Florida was because he "just had to get away for a while" from certain habits which often age a person; If I was reading "between the lines" right.
He said that he made very good tips in Daytona Beach, and "of course there were beautiful girls everywhere; with Spring Break there..."

On The Photo:
I took the eyes and eyebrows of Jeff Gordon (the NASCAR race car driver) and pasted them over Steve Martins to approximate what The Clean Guy, whose goes by "Johnny B." looked like to me; a year ago when I blogged about him.

Johnny B. gave me the 19 cents which I needed for my second Hurricane Lager, as the sun was setting and I made my way in the general direction of Bourbon Street and Barnabys spot.
"Excuse Me..."
I couldn't bring myself to ask a stranger. I thought about saying "I'm 19 cents short of a beer!" to nobody in particular as I walked; that way, I wouldn't have to say "excuse me" to anybody before asking them for 19 cents.
I think the reason that bums say "excuse me" is because their need of being excused by the person is a real one; and the bum actually should feel bad about imposing upon a persons time.
Johnny B. say's I'm Goode"
Johnny B. told me that I was a good musician and that he thinks my "comedic" stuff is my best. He added: "You just need to work through whatever issues you're having..."
Decatur Street?
I was walking down Decatur Street, after deciding that the 45 minutes that I had left before the curfew on Bourbon took effect; when I almost came upon Brad, the acoustic guitarist who doesn't read music nor know the names of the notes on the strings, but who tunes his instrument in a very unorthidox way based upon his ear; and then proceeds to play music unlike anyone has ever heard; but who is unable to accomodate any requests for songs familiar to people; and who I owe 5 dollars to; and I stopped short before he could see me, then crossed the road and disappeared.
I enjoy our jams together; but I just think he is a very one dimentional musician; and I didn't even like our odds of us making enough so that I could pay back the 5 bucks and then have some money left.
When I am playing a standard Beatles song, for example, his contribution diminishes as he grows very much softer and gingerly seems to be searching for notes; and when he is playing his very lively and fast paced syncopated rhythms using very exotic sounding chords spawned by his tunings; I am able to blend in and we sound very much like we are playing avante garde modal-Latin-influenced-jazz-fusion; and it is pretty cool, but...
People like to hear Beatles songs, too.
I went towards Canal Street
Canal Street
I didn't make a dime.
I decided to just get out of there and took the next to last ferry back over the river, mumbling and cussing and feeling like I was being pressured by some one or thing (Oh, I don't know.....SATAN?) trying to get me to snap and go off on someone or thing.
More Brian Hudson
How do you make 300 bucks per night on Royal Street?
How good do you have to sound? How interesting should your lyrics be? Does a Martin guitar make a difference?
Well, click on the link below Brian and, if I pasted it correctly you should hear almost exactly what his street sound has been here, these past couple weeks.
As I mentioned, his fingerpicked notes jump out of the speakers and down the street...
I've heard him do this song "The Shield" a few times and it is pretty representative of his "Paul Simon meets John Mayer in Austin Texas and they hang out with Don McClean" type of sound.
Nothing Matters
This morning, I woke up with nothing in my pocket.
I ran into a young very tall thin black man, who asked me if I wanted to sell my laptop. ...How do know I have a laptop?..
I told him that it needed a new screen.
The Energy To Be Lazy
I got across the river and went to Walgreens, where the cashier, an older short heavyset black lady got an error message on her computer screen; which very well could have meant that she keyed my 16 digit number in wrong; but she claimed that the problem arose because "energy drinks" aren't supposed to be bought with food stamp cards.
In the past, cashiers have re-keyed the number and it has almost always gone through the second time.
She didn't want to re-key the number. "I'm not going to keep putting it in!"
Her namecard said "A team member since 1983" on it. 30 years is a long time for a person too lazy to tap 16 digits on a screen to be with one company, I thought.
I went to the next Walgreens (there are 4 in the Quarter) and got the energy drink.
Today, A Bummer Already
Then, I was walking along Bourbon Street near Canal and there was a guy sitting in the classic begging position.
He sat with knees apart, a hand on each, looking left and right alternately, as if ready to pounce.
He locked onto me when I was 50 feet from him.
At 25 feet, I felt like I was being rudely stared at.
At 10 feet, he said "You got a cigarette?"
After I shook my head, the said: "Can I have the rest of that one?" referring to the one in my hand.Not That It Should Matter...
Now I am at the library and soon it will be evening and I will be faced with sitting somewhere and playing on strings which are ready to break; for perhaps nothing.
I guess I will stick with the Bourbon Street spot across from Barnabys
Tuesdays are the days when lesser musicians come out to take over the spots that the likes of Tanya and Dorise vacate.
T & D work 12 hours Thursday through Saturday and then 4 hours on Sunday; giving them a square 40 hour work week, and then 3 days off.
I have to admit that they are very professional and have a sound business plan.
Getting Ready For My DateWith my date in Homeless Court fast approaching, I can't help wonder if things aren't conspiring to have me there in a disheveled state; dirty and broke and perhaps even wet after walking there in lieau of paying for the bus.
Then, the judge can say: "Surely you must be miserable, living like (this)..." and then start the process of finding "housing" for me through any of the fine organizations which work in New Orleans toward that very end.

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