Lost Weekend
It is Monday morning; the aftermath of a pretty lousy weekend.
I feel the kind of depression which usually spurs me to make some kind of positive change. Thank God for depression.
How Did I Get Here?
I woke up at around 9 a.m., at the sign spot; after I had gotten about 8 hours of sleep.
I had 25 cents in my pocket.
I thought about how I should find a spot to busk during the day.
It cannot be on Royal Street; as I have heard too many non amplified players (excuse the pun) complain about making very little or "I've made nothing; nada; zilch and I've been here since 9 in the morning!"
Then, there is the guy on Royal Street who sings loudly and is amplified through a little Roland Micro Cube with the reverb and the chorus effects pegged; who claims to make $1,000 per week.
Tourists on Royal Street seem to expect a "production," and many will glance at a musician and see that "it's just a guy with a guitar; big deal" and walk on...
Food, Exercise,
There was a half eaten container of sushi next to me.
Ants were eating the other half. They must have been the ones that hadn't gotten any of my right arm that morning.
There was a container of "bbq pork rib sandwhiches" and another of sushi, up in the tree above my head; which I had been too full to eat.
I feel like I am regaining some of the weight which I felt like I had lost, during the 11 days that my food card ran out...
It wasn't that I didn't have food during that time (in a way I had more food because; when it is free, you grab more) but it was as if the food was just going through me without being metabolized.
This is from the combination of eating with fingers and drinking cheap malt liquor which makes things go through you, as if you were a goose.
I miss the spot on the other side of the river for its .75 mile track along the levee; and its cedar limbs which are good for doing pull ups and ab crunches.
I can do push ups at my present spot; but that doesn't yield the same effect as a jog along the levee to the store for an energy drink and then a couple sets at the cedar gym.
I think my friends, Tanya and Dorise see me as being in decline, as I had worn the same torn jeans the whole weekend; and well; have been losing weight; and was in a foul mood most of the time.
By the time I was ready to go to the Barnaby spot each of the nights; I was in a moody drunken state and had to get the "I don't want to entertain these bastards" out of my head and try to replace it with "Once I start playing everything will be alright..."
Chicken Bag No More
Friday night; I played at the Bourbon Street spot; and wound up making about 35 bucks.
I took a break a little before 1 a.m. to go by Rouses Market; to see about the chicken bag.
There were about 20 people sitting around waiting on the chicken bag.
Seeing the potential for "a gang fight," (they later told me) the staff of Rouses never brought the chicken bag out; and, one by one the 20 people gave up upon it and skulked off.
I went back to my spot and made 20 of the 35 dollars between 1:30 and 3:00 in the morning.
Day Playing Spot
The next couple of nights were sabotaged by my having spent most of the day walking around talking to the other musicians on Royal Street and in Jackson Square and drinking.
I was on my way to go start playing on Saturday night as Tanya and Dorise were packing up to leave after having played for 12 hours.
Their tip baskets were almost full to the top.
"12 hours?!?" I said.
"Cake," said Dorise. "A piece of cake..."
Dorise had been only consuming water that day; as part of some kind of fast, I think; and she is thus a role model for me.
If I were to take up her habits; or rather, drop my own, I would greatly improve my chances of making it here.
D'uh...do you think?
When someone throws money in their baskets; they don't think "...There's another beer, and a sack of weed..."
They think: there's some more security with a roof over my head and the chance to truly relax on my days off...
I've told them that I usually make most of my money after midnight at my spot; and so there was no sarcasm intended when Tanya said: "I hope you make a lot of money out there!"
But I couldn't help re-assessing just what "a lot of money" is, after seeing their baskets.
A guy who was playing a banjo on Royal Street during the day was surprised to hear that one could make 80 dollars in a night; after I told him that I had averaged that, during the busy season.
He had been playing for about an hour and had made 4 dollars.
He was sandwiched in between Tanya and Dorise (who were making 4 dollars every 20 seconds) one way; and Dave and Roselyn (who do OK) the other way.
Sunday Debacle
Sunday all hell broke loose.
I didn't go to church in the morning; which makes 3 Sundays in a row.
All 3 ended poorly.
The Saints were playing at the Superdome; which had always given me the opportunity to make around 30 to 35 bucks.
They only have 8 home games; or 8 opportunities.
I actually got there too late.
It was a short game, time-wise and the place was empty
I feel the kind of depression which usually spurs me to make some kind of positive change. Thank God for depression.
How Did I Get Here?
I woke up at around 9 a.m., at the sign spot; after I had gotten about 8 hours of sleep.
I had 25 cents in my pocket.
I thought about how I should find a spot to busk during the day.
It cannot be on Royal Street; as I have heard too many non amplified players (excuse the pun) complain about making very little or "I've made nothing; nada; zilch and I've been here since 9 in the morning!"
Then, there is the guy on Royal Street who sings loudly and is amplified through a little Roland Micro Cube with the reverb and the chorus effects pegged; who claims to make $1,000 per week.
Tourists on Royal Street seem to expect a "production," and many will glance at a musician and see that "it's just a guy with a guitar; big deal" and walk on...
Food, Exercise,
There was a half eaten container of sushi next to me.
Ants were eating the other half. They must have been the ones that hadn't gotten any of my right arm that morning.
There was a container of "bbq pork rib sandwhiches" and another of sushi, up in the tree above my head; which I had been too full to eat.
I feel like I am regaining some of the weight which I felt like I had lost, during the 11 days that my food card ran out...
It wasn't that I didn't have food during that time (in a way I had more food because; when it is free, you grab more) but it was as if the food was just going through me without being metabolized.
This is from the combination of eating with fingers and drinking cheap malt liquor which makes things go through you, as if you were a goose.
I miss the spot on the other side of the river for its .75 mile track along the levee; and its cedar limbs which are good for doing pull ups and ab crunches.
I can do push ups at my present spot; but that doesn't yield the same effect as a jog along the levee to the store for an energy drink and then a couple sets at the cedar gym.
I think my friends, Tanya and Dorise see me as being in decline, as I had worn the same torn jeans the whole weekend; and well; have been losing weight; and was in a foul mood most of the time.
By the time I was ready to go to the Barnaby spot each of the nights; I was in a moody drunken state and had to get the "I don't want to entertain these bastards" out of my head and try to replace it with "Once I start playing everything will be alright..."
Chicken Bag No More
Friday night; I played at the Bourbon Street spot; and wound up making about 35 bucks.
I took a break a little before 1 a.m. to go by Rouses Market; to see about the chicken bag.
There were about 20 people sitting around waiting on the chicken bag.
Seeing the potential for "a gang fight," (they later told me) the staff of Rouses never brought the chicken bag out; and, one by one the 20 people gave up upon it and skulked off.
I went back to my spot and made 20 of the 35 dollars between 1:30 and 3:00 in the morning.
Day Playing Spot
The next couple of nights were sabotaged by my having spent most of the day walking around talking to the other musicians on Royal Street and in Jackson Square and drinking.
I was on my way to go start playing on Saturday night as Tanya and Dorise were packing up to leave after having played for 12 hours.
Their tip baskets were almost full to the top.
 |
| Dave and Roselyn |
"Cake," said Dorise. "A piece of cake..."
Dorise had been only consuming water that day; as part of some kind of fast, I think; and she is thus a role model for me.
If I were to take up her habits; or rather, drop my own, I would greatly improve my chances of making it here.
D'uh...do you think?
When someone throws money in their baskets; they don't think "...There's another beer, and a sack of weed..."
They think: there's some more security with a roof over my head and the chance to truly relax on my days off...
I've told them that I usually make most of my money after midnight at my spot; and so there was no sarcasm intended when Tanya said: "I hope you make a lot of money out there!"
But I couldn't help re-assessing just what "a lot of money" is, after seeing their baskets.
A guy who was playing a banjo on Royal Street during the day was surprised to hear that one could make 80 dollars in a night; after I told him that I had averaged that, during the busy season.
He had been playing for about an hour and had made 4 dollars.
He was sandwiched in between Tanya and Dorise (who were making 4 dollars every 20 seconds) one way; and Dave and Roselyn (who do OK) the other way.
Sunday Debacle
Sunday all hell broke loose.
I didn't go to church in the morning; which makes 3 Sundays in a row.
All 3 ended poorly.
The Saints were playing at the Superdome; which had always given me the opportunity to make around 30 to 35 bucks.
They only have 8 home games; or 8 opportunities.
I actually got there too late.
It was a short game, time-wise and the place was empty
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