A Strange Monday

• I Lose My Capo
• I Attempt To Play Sober
• A Dog Skeezer Spits In My Face

Last night, I started towards my busking spot; totally sober.
I stopped to get a Monster Energy drink off of my food card; because I was totally broke as well as totally sober.
It occurred to me that I have a compulsion to feed some kind of addiction which the mere thought of busking triggers.

Coming Soon: A dog skeezer (left) spits in my face in front of Rouses Market!!

I had no tobbacco.
I sat down and drank the Monster and saw that Bourbon Street was pretty deserted; though it never is empty.

Tanya Huangs words came to me:

"When it's slow; it's a good time to practice and learn new songs..."

So, I took out my guitar and started to work on about 5 songs that I had been "kicking around," as possible additions to my repertoire.

• Ruby Tuesday, by The Rolling Stones
• Time Is On My Side, by The Rolling Stones
• Glory Days, by Bruce Springstein
• Terrapin Station, by The Grateful Dead

I was half halfheartedly playing through "Time Is On My Side," when a tourist put a dollar on top of my case.
I hadn't even set up my signs or toys or even opened the case to put my piggy bank in it.
It occurred to me that he might have given me the dollar regardless of what I was playing.
"Thank you, I'm just practicing..." I said.
"Your welcome, that's OK..."
Then, it felt like the one dollar was like a test to see if I would immediately run to the store for my first beer with it.
I didn't, because I wanted to continue the experiment; but the "enthusiasm" was slow to come.
Then a man, who might be a local came by.
I had stopped playing and was just staring at the sky thinking "Why do have no ambition?"
He put 5 bucks in with the dollar and said "You need to play more..." and walked off.
I took that as a sign that he might have known what I was going through -it could have been that the can of Hurricane High Gravity Lager was conspicuous by its absence.
Maybe he walks past me all the time and has on occasion thought; that guy seems like he is really "feeling it," but I think he's just feeling the Hurricane High Gravity Lager...
The piano player in Lafitts Blacksmith Shop Tavern started to play; signalling that it was about 9 o' clock and so I knocked off to get my first beer, after playing for almost two hours and making 6 dollars.
I was happy about the 6 dollars, but happier that I had received encouragement from a local resident and happier that I had discovered that I could learn and retain new material "on the job" and on only Monster Energy.
I had "Crazy Fingers," by the Grateful Dead almost down, as well as "Drunk On The Moon," by Tom Waits.
Monday night football was on in a bar; outside of which I stood and drank the 24 oz. Hurricane; and watched.
Then, I grabbed one more small can and went back to the spot and played.
Barnaby arrived at his door and went inside without his usual greeting and wave.
Small slights like that make me wonder.
Lilly never materialized.
It was soon almost chicken bag time.
I got to Rouses around midnight.
There was only one guy waiting for the chicken bag.
Treva, one of the cashiers, gave me a hug and told me that there was going to be a chicken bag and that she was going to hand it directly to me and added "Don't let them grab it from you, Daniel!" (She pronounces it Day-nyell).
Well, soon the dog skeezers shown above arrived.
They weren't interested in any chicken bag; as they had food galore and were on their way to "the hotel," I overheard.
I thought about their sign which they sit with for hours; as they stuff their faces with food and swill down alcohol and feed their dogs.
It reads "Homeless, Hungry, and Broke."
They cover themselves legally by making childish drawings on any kind of cardboard that they can find; and advertising it as "Cheap Ass Street Art For Sale," making them art vendors; not beggars...not at all.
Well, I was standing near them when one of them asked the other "Are you going straight to the hotel, or are you going to hit the liquor store?"
I muttered; half to myself "Gee, I guess dog skeezing is a booming business."
One of them must have pretty good ears; or maybe I am in the habit of speaking loudly from being around Howard so much, but she was instantly in my face.
"What did you call us...dog skeezers?!?"
"What's that?" asked the one who was on her way to the hotel which would be the only one in the direction that she set off in -the one right on Royal Street; the expensive one (and they allow dogs?).
"Are you implying that I exploit my dog for money; just because I'm homeless and I don't want to leave him in an abandoned building so I take him with me?!?"
"Here's 20 dollars; make sure that dog gets some of that whiskey, now." I said in a mocking tone.
She spit in my face.
I saw a very short video; less than a second; play in my head.
It was of my right hand slapping her face with rattlesnake quickness.
I could feel it as if I had already done it; like when Ben Hogan; the great golfer said "When my game is on; I feel a sensation like I have already hit the ball; before I even swing the club..."
I looked at her and all I could think was: "I've never hit a woman in my life; I just don't" Even if the "woman" is a butch-dyke-lesbian type (see photo and "judge" for yourself) who spits.
She spat in my face again; and her dog began to growl.
All I could think of was to say "Get your HIV positive shit away from me!"
That gave me an idea.
I remember hearing that; if an HIV positive person spits at anyone then it is considered "attempted murder," through certain interpretations of The Law.
I opened the front door of Rouses Market and said to the cop who had been standing 15 feet away the whole time, but who had not seen the incident. "Officer, this lady just spit in my face; twice. The one with the dog.
The skeezer was already on her way down the sidewalk with her gormet food and her dog on her way to the swank hotel.


To Be Continued.