I Meet Louise The Tarot Card Reader

• Catch 22
• Rick Goes Away Mad
• 9 Dollar Monday

I'm stressing over money as I sit here not making a cent; and blog instead; about stressing over money because I am sitting here not making a cent as I blog about not making a cent because I am not making a cent blogging about not making a cent because I am blogging about it instead of being out there trying to make a cent.
Sometimes I think this blog gives me another mechanism by which to procrastinate; like being paralyzed by fear of going out and not making a cent.
It's a Catch-22.
Drinking alcohol is a factor.
I don't really think that God, as I understand Her, is withdrawing all of the blessings of the past sober month, which I was quick to attribute to Her, because, if that were true, then she is punishing all of the other buskers citywide, as well as the skeezers...that's an awful lot of power to be wielding by cracking open a Hurricane.
It is possible that my song choices have been more poorly decided; and, instead of feeling more in control and more facile as the night wears on and I gain a mental advantage over the intoxicated audience; I begin to fade right along with them; and once they reach the point where any sloppy little ditty will fascinate them; that is just about what they are getting out of me...with a capital "s."
As far as the money spent on booze, it has just been shifted over from the Energy Drink Account and The Endowment For American Spirit Cigarettes and its ilk; so I'm not hurting myself there...
As far as bathroom runs and the time taken to break down for which and then set back up after which; that is about even, too as I had been pounding a gallon of water at my spot.
A Double-Whammy
As far as waking up progressively more depressed in the mornings, there is a biochemical connection to the consumption of 48 to 64 ounces of a "depressant" each evening; but there is also a connection to the economy which, the last time I checked, is pretty much mirroring last years performance at this time.
A year ago, my friend Ted, wired me 50 bucks from Boston, after a phone conversation that we had during which "It's been pretty dead here, lately," was probably uttered on my end.
I picked a rough time to spend 160 bucks on a laptop, 30 on an mp3 player, 20 on a charger for that; while trying to keep myself in food (with the card cut off) and water and candles and instant coffee and briquets and guitar strings and new harmonicas and clean clothes and 64 ounces of a depressant each day; and then to start spending 4 or 5 hours each morning on the things; instead of putting "extra" time into busking, to combat the effects of the slow economy now...
It's a "double-whammy."
And it's the little things which bother the most; such as not having water and instant coffee and candles and a newspaper each morning; nor briquettes to cook a lot of free food which I have had to throw to the aquatic life in the river.
Early this morning, I spent myself down to under a dollar with the purchase of a gallon of spring water, but then decided not to start a driftwood fire because the sky was already lightening by the time I got to under the dock and nothing reveals smoke like the first orange-yellow rays of the rising sun glimmering off the river.

The End Of Us...

I could have had fresh pasta with real butter and a huge salad on the side with olive oil and vinegar and then boiled some ground coffee and filtered to so it would be ready when I woke up. Except, I was out of olive oil.
I instead, saved the butter and the rest went to waste. I had some sushi and went to sleep.
Food
The food stamp lady called and did our 10 minute phone interview which I waited 15 days for; and then gave me a website where I am required to register on, so that job opportunities will be e-mailed to me.
Then, I need to call the customer service number and inform them that I am indeed registered there; and they will e-mail my caseworker that she can go ahead and turn my account back on; maybe tomorrow.
Rick From Austin
Rick showed up at the Lilly spot at around 10 p.m., and basically wanted to "borrow" 3 of the 7 dollars which were between the sharks.
He showed me some kind of  "Green Dot" card which he had purchased so that he could load money to use for the cheapest Megabus fare (plastic only) but then showed me that, somehow the numbers had already been scratched off the card (something he inexplicably didn't notice when he bought it) and he had some kind of problem which sounded more and more convoluted as he went on; It almost would have been better had he just asked for it; minus the story. He needed the money in order to get at the 29 dollars which he had already put on the card; was what I gathered..
At one point he said that he could pay me back, because he was going to go to the Walgreens on Canal Street which "is open all night," (which it isn't) and when I suggested that he break his guitar out and we would play for an hour or so and maybe make the 3 bucks that he needed; he said "I don't feel like playing at all right now!"
The End Of Us
When I suggested that "when the going gets tough, the buskers get busking" he looked up and down the street and complained that that would be useless "because it's dead."
This started me thinking.
Then, why, after not having been able to make 3 bucks on Royal Street, would he come to the Lilly spot, see how "dead" it was but still expect that I would have made enough to have 3 bucks to spare?
"Can you at least smoke me up?" I asked.
"I don't have any weed at all! Not even a bud!!" he said, in a tone that suggested that that may have been his biggest problem of all.
He got pissed off, and said "F*** it; I'll go and busk and make 3 bucks, one way or another!" and stormed off. Now he wanted to play. It just didn't seem logical; and I wondered if he had done a hit of crack and was now jonesing for a 5 dollar sack of weed. "This is the end of us!" he added.
Coming Soon: I meet Louise the tarot card reader...