Tuesday, August 20, 2013

This Just In...

United States

27
Canada

3
Poland

2
United Arab Emirates  

1
Australia

1
Switzerland

1

A Comment On A Comment
Todays "audience" (left) [excuse the pun].
One of them "left" a comment (below):
I honestly think the best thing for you is to stay in NOLA (as if you can leave) and try to get housing and a job.

Casual labor outfits suck. You'll get the racial thing like your trumpet playing friend has, but also, the *white* people who work for those places are no treat - meth-heads and so on.

The best position is to be "the" cleaner for a given building, or the janitor, something where you become "the trusted guy".

Once you have a job, busking can be a fun thing rather than a grim necessity. And you can experiment with a nylon-string guitar etc because you'll have the $100 to get one.  -Alex In California
 
I almost tend to agree with Alex.
For The Love Of Blog...
I have been asking myself why I want to travel so much; and one of the reasons is that I have put it "out there" on this blog that I am about to do so; and I looked forward to the blog becoming much more interesting; or at least not about the same people and places each day....
Escape
Another reason is that NOLA needs to be escaped from every once in a while by someone in my situation.
Everywhere that you go in the Quarter; you are being watched.
Watched, of course, by the cameras which have every angle covered -people have had their purses or cellphones snatched and have gotten them back the same night because police are able to seal off every avenue of escape; the thief can't hide in any building unless he looks like a tourist; and someone sitting in front of a bank of monitors can rewind to the time and place and then go from camera to camera to follow him...
And watched by the hordes of hustlers; like they guys who converge upon you as soon as you take a pack of cigarettes (money; or almost anything) out of your pocket; or the guy who was salivating over my little USB chip after I started to walk away from the computer I was on before this one and left it in the slot.
Luckily I thought about it before I had taken more than a few steps and got back to the computer just as he was getting to it. He sat down and acted like he had a reservation on it; the big green word "Available" on the screen belying his actions...
The constant watching gets to me after a while.
There is no place where I feel like I can sit and meditate; so my mind never becomes centered and my thoughts are like scattered energies. I don't get as much done because of it. It's hard to clear your mind when you know that any second someone is going to approach you; even if you are by the river; way down the walkway.
Some skeezer is going to walk up and "try" you. What does he have? What can I get from him? Is sitting peacefully by the river a sign of a gentle (weak) and kind and, most importantly; giving nature?
It wears upon one...
Even if you go to a remote and isolated place; you have a hang-over from P.S.T.S. (post skeezer trauma syndrome) and you imagine eyes upon you...
There is no place that I can get the kind of deep sleep which fosters peace of mind and psychological health, and the days and nights blend into chaos.
Musical Ambition
In addition to the fact that the chaos alluded to above is not conducive to learning music; walking around the Quarter one is bombarded with music of too many different styles to be absorbed at once. From any number of locations, one can literally hear a sound like 10 bands playing at once.
I would like to work on my Delta Blues, my Zydeco, my Travis-picking, my singing, my songwriting, take up the violin, record a CD, join a band etc.
All of this has to be done on the fly.
Last night I sat across from Rouses Market and tried to sound like Nervous Duane.
I used his alternate tuning and played the blues and tried to make up lyrics at the same time; and made my share of mistakes; and made my share of 3 whole dollars.
I know at least one person thought: He's not as good as that other guy who was here on Sunday... which is just the humble pie which needs to be eaten around here...it helps to thicken the skin.
There are not enough hours in the day, on top of reading and blogging and busking and eating and staying as clean as possible, and dealing with skeezers.
If I can get to Boston and meet up with my friend Ted, I might be able to use his recording studio as a stress free practice place; and if I come back to NOLA with a stack of CDs for sale, 10 bucks each, welll


A Job?
It is Tuesday, August 20th and I am not in a position to ride out of here, having $1.65 on me, although I feel like I could stand by the off ramp (where the "homeless" and "stranded" and "anything helps" guys stand) and come up with at least a day's worth of money by playing a Dylan song repetitively on the harp and guitar.
Another musician who I met in Baton Rouge and who plays the saxophone found work cleaning a building; just by walking around and asking people if they needed help.
"You should go for it. Some of them pay pretty well," he said to me.
He is black and in his early 20's.
Another friend, who plays a trumpet and is white and in his early 50's works out of a labor pool and said that, on several jobs, he has been run off by the other workers who were all black and who made it unbearable for him by constantly pestering him and bossing him around; even though, on one job, they were just picking up loose concrete and throwing it down a chute.
"They made me feel like I wasn't qualified to pick up a rock," he said.
I could utilize some free time on this Tuesday to go see my Unity caseworker (who would be trying to find housing for me if I was showing any interest) and get the "homeless paperwork" stating that I was indeed homeless, so that I could bring it to the Rebuild Center and let them help me get an ID. That is one of the ways that they "rebuild" lives.
It is quite thinkable that my life has fallen apart and needs rebuilding after a day like yesterday, when I basically drank up what little money I made (to take my mind off of the fact that I wasn't making anything).
At least none of my strings broke; and I got a 2 dollar bill as a tip, which was cool.
Breaking it 10 minutes later for a Hurricane was pathetic, but by then I just didn't care.
Maybe my case worker at Unity can give me some advice or point me in the direction of a job sweeping out the Superdome or holding a sign all day which reads "slow" on one side and "stop" on the other...
I think one 8 hour shift like that would renew my enthusiasm for busking and make me appreciate the opportunity to do so...

4 comments:

  1. I honestly think the best thing for you is to stay in NOLA (as if you can leave) and try to get housing and a job.

    Casual labor outfits suck. You'll get the racial thing like your trumpet playing friend has, but also, the *white* people who work for those places are no treat - meth-heads and so on.

    The best position is to be "the" cleaner for a given building, or the janitor, something where you become "the trusted guy".

    Once you have a job, busking can be a fun thing rather than a grim necessity. And you can experiment with a nylon-string guitar etc because you'll have the $100 to get one.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow man glad you like the comment.

    Funny, I was looking up Doreen the Clarinet Queen and it seems that she spends the summer out here in San Francisco. I was checking out her page, and wow, 20-odd CDs etc. But she's put a lot of work in, so she's getting the results out.

    What you might be able to do, once you have a job and a place to live, is gradually build up CDs that you record. Stuff like The Carcass Song and My Favorite Mule and other originals you come out with. Someone will want to listen to them, maybe not me lol, but someone.

    ReplyDelete
  3. One year it was Seattle, according to Paul, her guitarist "We made more than anyone else," he said about playing at some spot where there were lots of others...Like you (or someone said) she is the real deal..sounds like she looks and looks like she sounds; I'm some kind of "deal" which I'm still trying to figure out...look like a burned out hippie; sound like one...?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Yeah Doreen's band is *tight*. She's a very good player, classically trained and then worked for years learning to play jazz. She's the real thing and people know it.

    Your look and sound are a match too, sadly. I mean, you look awful. When I was finally able to listen to some of your stuff, well, it's a match. Sort of a burned-out hippie (although the real ex-hippies are people a decade older than us) on the edge of skeezer. Like, someone who doesn't know you might be worried that if they stop 'n' listen, you might stop playing and start hustling them in a whiney voice: "Hey mannnnn.... I need money for a Greyhound ticket outta town to visit my baby sister's wedding, yeah, my ex is waiting for me, ... did I mention my great-grandmaw's sick?"

    This is why I suggested you move out here to California. NOLA's where you go to hear black people play jazz. As far as I'm concerned, nowhere is a good place to hear whiney white burnouts on guitar and wheezy voice, but if there's one place that hates them a bit less, it's the west coast. I still feel you'd do best on your own power out here. But, it seems impossible for you to leave NOLA, and I actually think NOLA vies with the west coast as Best Place For Burnout Danny. This is because, as you're showing, you can live fine in NOLA on people's leftovers, cigarette butts, $1 Hurricanes, half-finished drinks, etc. You can wheeze along making $5 a day or whatever it is you actually make, indefinitely. As you're proving. For a bum, I can't imagine a better life. Almost like being one of the M'buti people for whom Mother Forest always provides. Sometimes they have to sing and dance a bit when Mother Forest slacks off, but generally their concerns are very day-to-day.

    ReplyDelete

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