Tuesday After St. Patricks Day

Wednesday After St. Patricks Day

Flashback Photo...

I woke up with about 44 dollars (20 less than Tuesday morning) on me; but had a brand new harmonica in the key of F to show for the previous day..
The girders were lined with food and condiments; I had drank a Bob Marley relaxation drink in the middle of the night; and then switched to pineapple juice which had kept at about 60 degrees, as that was the mean temperature.
Plans for the day were pretty simple: pack all the dirty clothes which were at that spot into my pack, so that I could add them to the ones at the sign spot, so that a trip to the laundromat will be simplified; and find some fresh cardboard to re-do my signs, which have become dog-eared; throw one of the boxes of crackers into my pack so I could feed the pigeons (which still pine for Sue the Colombian Lady and still come around when they see a human being there) and to post to this blog and to basically try to make it as good a Wednesday as can be.
I have spent time reading (the daily paper, which will perform a second function after I stuff shreds of it in the gaps between the rocks which I recline upon) and writing and working upon my finger picking skills and it has been a semi-productive day already.

9 Dollar Tuesday

Last night, I sat down with the brand new harmonica in the key of F, and had quickly reacquainted myself with the various keys which work well with it, at the Lilly spot.

There was just not enough foot traffic, if you subtracted skeezers, to warrant my continuing to play; even by 10 p.m.

I wound up moving to a spot on Royal Street, the one vacated by Jake, who plays guitar and harmonica and whom I was told was dead by one person; and alive but sick by another.

I somehow had about 9 dollars thrown to me; along with the good feeling which came by knowing that on "the street of a musician on every stinking corner," I had made 9 dollars.

Food
Then, I realized that I had played until midnight, and I headed for Rouses Market.
I found a lot of swordfish, which had exceeded its expiration date by minutes. As well as a lot of

sandwiches (which I relinquished to a guy who had walked up and expressed an interest in sandwiches), two containers of sushi out of a bag which was laden with what I would guess to be 20 pounds of it; boxes of crackers and multi-grain cookies which must have been too wholesome to have sold; and a bunch of raw meat which owed its presence to the butchers lack of attention to detail as they slashed and lopped away.

Swordfish is a pretty tough fish, which probably warrants it an extension of the typical expiration date, but it is treated like every other fish at Rouses Market.

I headed for The Unique Boutique for a large beer to sip while I tended the fire and flipped swordfish steaks.

I had 8 blocks to walk, but had only traversed 3 before I found a strong drink, nearly untouched and just "sitting there."

I had 3 tin foil basting pans full, which I alternately put on and off the fire and was able to wrap up the leftovers and remove them to the highest girder (one which the rats have not yet been able to get to) where they will be ready to reheat tonight, should nothing else materialize on this Wednesday night.