Free Of Money At Last
I finally have run out of money after having enough to have gotten this laptop and an mp3 player and all the adapters and peripherals like headphone to go with the stuff.
I drank alcohol for the first time in 30 days, a few days ago.
Now I am flat broke, my clothes are dirty; I have a bunch of coffee which is the "drip" kind, and all I would need is a Sterno with a bunch of coffee filters to be waking up with the stuff.
My food stamp card was cut off. I went to the office Friday. Now it is Tuesday and my case worker hasn't called for my phone interview yet, so if I want to eat, I will have to find food or buy it out of whatever I make.
I have had a couple of the worst nights since coming here, the few days after starting back drinking.
I had all that prosperity when sober; and now, I guess I must think that the universe is reversing my fortunes.
I am in Starbucks, using the wireless (as best as I can, since Yahoo and Google and Firefox are all mixed up and I am getting error messages when trying to do things which once were simple....
I have more complaints, but need to run to the restroom...
OK, it happened so abruptly; I spent all the money that I had on cigarettes and a couple beers; went out and made almost nothing last night and, voila! going back under the dock with no money no smokes, no weed and not even any olive oil to go with the vinegar to put on the salads which I found copious amounts of.
Deficient C's
Part of it has to do with the fact that I have been putting hours into messing with this laptop, trying to use it as a blogging tool and a musical helper; hours which were previously spent busking up the money for this laptop (which has stuck keys on it, especially the letter "c" and "v," which I have to hit twice -like just then- and which -again- interrupts my flow of typing, bringing me way down from the 40 word per minute average, that I have become accustomed to producing.
I envisioned spending hours cranking out a full length novel on this thing; and now spend most of the time hitting the "back" button, or smacking the "c" key 2 or 3 times, like I just did there.
Could I return the thing for a replacement, or would that one just have different characters which are stuck on the keyboard.
I guess a 150 dollar laptop has got to have deficiencies (and there is the v and 2 c's that I just had to smack -there again...I think they market these things for people who are just going to use the mouse for everything and probably don't know how to type (or write in cursive) anyways, but can tweet and text with their moveable thumbs like the Dickens.
The cursor jumps around the page sporadically for no apparent reason, unless my palm is striking the mouse pad and sending it jumping around due to sensitivity settings. Every time I go to move the cursor, a menu slides in from the side giving me the time and date and a bunch of shortcuts which I don't need at that time on that date.
And the cursor will jump up into a previous paragraph, rendering the text that I am writing into the middle of a previous sentence; until I catch it and delete and reposition the cursor and resist the urge to take the laptop and throw it as hard as I can against a wall...
I am going out flat broke to play and will just take what comes and then will be sure to get to the food stamp office tomorrow and try to turn the food back on; so I won't have to rely upon eating things that give me a stiff neck.
Then, I just might take this thing back to Radio Shack to see if my 30 day limited warranty oers (covers) keys that need to be struk (struck) twie (twice) in order to get a letter out...
I Go Out And Play
I left Starbucks at their closing time of 9 p.m., and walked down Royal Street, sipping on a free coffee which they had given me, after I had mentioned that I would have had a coffee, but that I was flat broke.
I got to Rouses Market, where Tiffany asked me about my food stamps, whereupon I told her about my problems with having missed the phone call for my interview to determine that I was still unemployed and still homeless; she lent me the money for a 24 oz. Tecate beer, to go with the Hurricane Lager, which the guy at the Unique Boutique had floated me.
I got to my spot and played for a few people, one of which, a lady, came and put a dollar between the sharks.
"Thanks, it helps to have something there, I've run myself totally broke..."
She added "some change," which amounted to another 4 bucks.
I went to Sydneys and got a Blackberry Steel Reserve, and then watched some basketball outside bar (a random guy handed me a cigarette, unbidden) and then went along Royal Street, encountering Rick, who plays a Yamaha guitar of the same color as mine. He had made 7 dollars.
He needed a high "e" string, and offered a dollar for one.
I happened to have just that string, out of the 2 spares which I had.
He gave me a buck, plus a few cigarettes.
Rick is from Austin, Texas and remembered me quite well from when he was here a couple months ago. I vaguely remembered the blue guitar.
I went to The Unique Boutique, which is not unique in its preponderance of skeezers perpetually out front.
I got a pack of Pall Malls, a step down from the American Spirits which I had been smoking and stepped outside, where I was immediately skeezed for one. "I don't give away cigarettes..."
"Give Me A Cigarette!!"
Then, another skinny, black, crackhead looking guy said "Give me a cigarette!" He was demanding one.
I totally ignored him, whereupon he raised his voice and yelled to my back to give him a cigarette. I dare say that he wouldn't talk to a tourist in such a manner.
"Are you talking to me like that?," I said, over my shoulder. He was cussing and calling me all kinds of things, designed to make me want to give him a cigarette, I guess.
The implication was that, I was a white boy who was homeless and that I had better give him a cigarette because he was out there, right with me, and if I valued my safety, I had better pay the price of a cigarette to stay in his good graces, because you can't have too many friends "out there" and he just might have my back someday; if I was cool and handed out cigarettes.
"Go to fucking hell, you stupid piece of shit who doesn't even have a cigarette," was my (paraphrased) rejoinder to whatever he was spewing.
I'm sure he is of the "People just give you money," school of thought about buskers.
I went back to Rouses Market, where I found sushi and all kinds of salads of the kind which are packaged with croutons and dressing and cheese packets, along the lines of a particular theme, like Caesar, or Mexican (where the cheese packet is cheddar and the dressing is a little more spicy) and then the security guy came out and told me that they had packaged up the hot food into a bag and had set it atop the trash, where I could grab it from, as soon as he turned his back; and then added that I had been causing a stir by digging through the trash and suggested that I just wait until they were gone "so we don't have to hear about it," to which I replied that I usually did.
The hot bag had a hot turkey drumstick, which I devoured. I gave the rest to a middle aged black guy who was sitting at a trolley stop not far from here. I really hoped that he loved it, I thought, as I walked away; I had told him that they had given it to me personally, so that he didn't have misgivings about its origin...
Now, it is 2:35 a.m., and I am wrapping this up (unless I decide to do another cartoon, which might take another 2 hours) and will make it to the food stamp office tomorrow to hopefully turn the food card back on within a couple of days. I really do seem to be the perfect candidate for the program, as I have been struggling financially ever since the card got cut off. Things like honey and olive oil and instant coffee and apple cider vinegar add up.
I have a lot of mp3 recordings from the Lilly spot (many of which I recorded with my neck craned toward the recorder in order to capture the vocals better, but in violation of the rule about making eye contact with the audience) which I look forward to loading into a program like Audacity and posting onto this blog. I think I am getting better; but you all can be the judges on that....
I drank alcohol for the first time in 30 days, a few days ago.
Now I am flat broke, my clothes are dirty; I have a bunch of coffee which is the "drip" kind, and all I would need is a Sterno with a bunch of coffee filters to be waking up with the stuff.
My food stamp card was cut off. I went to the office Friday. Now it is Tuesday and my case worker hasn't called for my phone interview yet, so if I want to eat, I will have to find food or buy it out of whatever I make.
I have had a couple of the worst nights since coming here, the few days after starting back drinking.
I had all that prosperity when sober; and now, I guess I must think that the universe is reversing my fortunes.
I am in Starbucks, using the wireless (as best as I can, since Yahoo and Google and Firefox are all mixed up and I am getting error messages when trying to do things which once were simple....
I have more complaints, but need to run to the restroom...
OK, it happened so abruptly; I spent all the money that I had on cigarettes and a couple beers; went out and made almost nothing last night and, voila! going back under the dock with no money no smokes, no weed and not even any olive oil to go with the vinegar to put on the salads which I found copious amounts of.
Deficient C's
Part of it has to do with the fact that I have been putting hours into messing with this laptop, trying to use it as a blogging tool and a musical helper; hours which were previously spent busking up the money for this laptop (which has stuck keys on it, especially the letter "c" and "v," which I have to hit twice -like just then- and which -again- interrupts my flow of typing, bringing me way down from the 40 word per minute average, that I have become accustomed to producing.
I envisioned spending hours cranking out a full length novel on this thing; and now spend most of the time hitting the "back" button, or smacking the "c" key 2 or 3 times, like I just did there.
Could I return the thing for a replacement, or would that one just have different characters which are stuck on the keyboard.
I guess a 150 dollar laptop has got to have deficiencies (and there is the v and 2 c's that I just had to smack -there again...I think they market these things for people who are just going to use the mouse for everything and probably don't know how to type (or write in cursive) anyways, but can tweet and text with their moveable thumbs like the Dickens.
The cursor jumps around the page sporadically for no apparent reason, unless my palm is striking the mouse pad and sending it jumping around due to sensitivity settings. Every time I go to move the cursor, a menu slides in from the side giving me the time and date and a bunch of shortcuts which I don't need at that time on that date.
And the cursor will jump up into a previous paragraph, rendering the text that I am writing into the middle of a previous sentence; until I catch it and delete and reposition the cursor and resist the urge to take the laptop and throw it as hard as I can against a wall...
I am going out flat broke to play and will just take what comes and then will be sure to get to the food stamp office tomorrow and try to turn the food back on; so I won't have to rely upon eating things that give me a stiff neck.
Then, I just might take this thing back to Radio Shack to see if my 30 day limited warranty oers (covers) keys that need to be struk (struck) twie (twice) in order to get a letter out...
I Go Out And Play
I left Starbucks at their closing time of 9 p.m., and walked down Royal Street, sipping on a free coffee which they had given me, after I had mentioned that I would have had a coffee, but that I was flat broke.
I got to Rouses Market, where Tiffany asked me about my food stamps, whereupon I told her about my problems with having missed the phone call for my interview to determine that I was still unemployed and still homeless; she lent me the money for a 24 oz. Tecate beer, to go with the Hurricane Lager, which the guy at the Unique Boutique had floated me.
I got to my spot and played for a few people, one of which, a lady, came and put a dollar between the sharks.
"Thanks, it helps to have something there, I've run myself totally broke..."
She added "some change," which amounted to another 4 bucks.
I went to Sydneys and got a Blackberry Steel Reserve, and then watched some basketball outside bar (a random guy handed me a cigarette, unbidden) and then went along Royal Street, encountering Rick, who plays a Yamaha guitar of the same color as mine. He had made 7 dollars.
He needed a high "e" string, and offered a dollar for one.
I happened to have just that string, out of the 2 spares which I had.
He gave me a buck, plus a few cigarettes.
Rick is from Austin, Texas and remembered me quite well from when he was here a couple months ago. I vaguely remembered the blue guitar.
I went to The Unique Boutique, which is not unique in its preponderance of skeezers perpetually out front.
I got a pack of Pall Malls, a step down from the American Spirits which I had been smoking and stepped outside, where I was immediately skeezed for one. "I don't give away cigarettes..."
"Give Me A Cigarette!!"
Then, another skinny, black, crackhead looking guy said "Give me a cigarette!" He was demanding one.
I totally ignored him, whereupon he raised his voice and yelled to my back to give him a cigarette. I dare say that he wouldn't talk to a tourist in such a manner.
"Are you talking to me like that?," I said, over my shoulder. He was cussing and calling me all kinds of things, designed to make me want to give him a cigarette, I guess.
The implication was that, I was a white boy who was homeless and that I had better give him a cigarette because he was out there, right with me, and if I valued my safety, I had better pay the price of a cigarette to stay in his good graces, because you can't have too many friends "out there" and he just might have my back someday; if I was cool and handed out cigarettes.
"Go to fucking hell, you stupid piece of shit who doesn't even have a cigarette," was my (paraphrased) rejoinder to whatever he was spewing.
I'm sure he is of the "People just give you money," school of thought about buskers.
I went back to Rouses Market, where I found sushi and all kinds of salads of the kind which are packaged with croutons and dressing and cheese packets, along the lines of a particular theme, like Caesar, or Mexican (where the cheese packet is cheddar and the dressing is a little more spicy) and then the security guy came out and told me that they had packaged up the hot food into a bag and had set it atop the trash, where I could grab it from, as soon as he turned his back; and then added that I had been causing a stir by digging through the trash and suggested that I just wait until they were gone "so we don't have to hear about it," to which I replied that I usually did.
The hot bag had a hot turkey drumstick, which I devoured. I gave the rest to a middle aged black guy who was sitting at a trolley stop not far from here. I really hoped that he loved it, I thought, as I walked away; I had told him that they had given it to me personally, so that he didn't have misgivings about its origin...
Now, it is 2:35 a.m., and I am wrapping this up (unless I decide to do another cartoon, which might take another 2 hours) and will make it to the food stamp office tomorrow to hopefully turn the food card back on within a couple of days. I really do seem to be the perfect candidate for the program, as I have been struggling financially ever since the card got cut off. Things like honey and olive oil and instant coffee and apple cider vinegar add up.
I have a lot of mp3 recordings from the Lilly spot (many of which I recorded with my neck craned toward the recorder in order to capture the vocals better, but in violation of the rule about making eye contact with the audience) which I look forward to loading into a program like Audacity and posting onto this blog. I think I am getting better; but you all can be the judges on that....
I'm a bit less jealous of your new laptop hearing about its problems .... I'm using an old Thinkpad T60 right now, hot stuff back in 2006, and the keyboard is high speed and flawless.
ReplyDeleteYour skeezer experiences parallel mine, the crackhead guy demanding money, I tell 'em to go to hell, the nice ol' guy who could use a hand, Here, here's dinner, and they are always grateful.
Love the Winovision artwork, you made the crackhead look just like a black, sagging-pants, version of Butthead from Beavis and Butthead!
ReplyDeleteI noticed the glaring error of not having his pants all the way up in the front, but halfway down the butt in the back, when I saw it the next (to)day.
ReplyDeleteThere are digitizing pads that can be used to do computer artwork, they work a lot better than drawing with the mouse or touchpad. Frankly if it weren't for those pads, computer artwork would be nonexistent because you can see how bad it turns out. You might be able to find one of those pads used.
ReplyDeleteThere are digitizing pads that can be used to do computer artwork, they work a lot better than drawing with the mouse or touchpad. Frankly if it weren't for those pads, computer artwork would be nonexistent because you can see how bad it turns out. You might be able to find one of those pads used.
ReplyDeleteWhy the F do I have google+? And why the F is it making me make double posts?
ReplyDeleteI actually do my artwork pixel by pixel, ultimately by zooming in so much that one eyeball takes up the whole screen; if I have the time (it can eat up 5 hours before I realize it)
ReplyDeleteand when you Zoom out it looks "detailed" but, funny you mention those programs; here I am spending all morning on a cartoon and some people are probably thinking; he ran a picture through a digitizer...big deal LOL
You probably have Google+ because you created an account when you created your (sorely missed by used electronics buffs worldwide) blog..
Google bought Blogger and bought your profile info, and now links it to more and more stuff; like as soon as you post a picture to your blog it becomes hosted by Picassa Web Albums, which was also bought by Google to use in conjunction with Blogger; and Google+ seems to be the clearinghouse for all things interconnected...
I already had a separate Picassa account and used the name "Darius Palermo" just for the hell of it; and so I could track spam and junkmail and offers for products which *coincidently* have a lot to do with a photo uploaded ex: Save money on John Lennon sunglasses, Darius!!
When I had the Android phone, I couldn't connect to Blogger because (I think) my free g-mail account, which was foisted upon me as soon as Google bought Blogger, ( an "@gmail.com" address, which I've never even checked for mail) doesn't match the one that I used to join Blogger before Google bought it "@excite.com"...
It's a wonder the whole Internet doesn't crash
And, even though I deleted anything approaching porn off of my Picassa account; once it became married to my blog; some pictures are still "linked" to it; and some pervert? has been admiring a few pictures of Sue the Colombian lady and her little pussy cat, "Cookie" LOL!
Wow, they track us all, I guess, the better to sell stuff to us people with no money.
ReplyDelete