Sunday, July 20, 2014


To say that this Thursday, July 17th, has not been a good day would not be accurate. It was probably about as good a day as one could have, who wakes up with 72 cents on him; swills down some instant coffee and honey and then leaves before the dimming light of nightfall would ma
ke doing so more difficult; in respect to finding and donning clean socks; finding hat and shoes stuffing the laptop into the backpack; tying it up; then making sure everything else is grabbed which might come in handy out there -the 72 cents; the flashlight the lighter -and the rest put out of sight; so that anyone on the boat who might want to train a multi candle power beam upon the place would see only the rocks and the rats about to be caught and drowned in the river by the night heron; and the alligtor at just the spot where the bird likes to do so; with only its eyes and nose showing above the water. And the trash bagged up, so that I, at least, would not have to worry about someone finding my camp and determining that I needed to be removed because I was making a mess.
I hope to leave the place to the turtle and the spiders and the rats and the mice and the bird and the gator; for a few months; maybe more.
The romance has gone out of busking for right now.
I had started drinking again; and had lost a sense of direction and purpose and had even lost track of my money; so that, when the tuning machine on my guitar malfunctioned (the same one that I had replaced the last time it happened) I found myself in a situation where the incom was going to immediately stop; and I was subconsciously glad of the fact.
I was going to quit all my bad habits; by default. I would suffer; but would shortly be asking myself things like: "Is your happiness really predicated upon being drunk and stoned and stuffing yourself with unhealthy food?"
And then I would go without all that. I wouldn't feel like playing music initially but, when the urge came back around, I would play at a heightened level and would make money which wasn't going to be at risk of being spent on liqour and weed and cigarettes; and maybe a candle for the place under the dock; although; somebody taught me how to make a simple one out of a small dish; some vegetable oil and a crude wick; which burns brightly enough to read by. Just one more corner to cut in the effort to direct funds towards dissipation, and away from other things. Wash your clothes under the water spout at the dock whenever it rains -save 5 more bucks for drinking and smoking....
Well, that first day I came out broke and with a broken guitar; and sat by Rouses Market.
Somebody came along and offfered me a dollar for 3 cigarettes; and even gave me one of them back; after a quick survey of myself; and an internal dialogue with himself.
I was soon on my way to Uniques for a 24 ounce malt liquor, even though I woke up broke.
I took it with me to the spot where I get wireless, across the street from the Courtyard Marriott. Soon, a guy came along, and stood nearby. I took him in and determined that he was the strangest looking skeezer that I had ever seen.
He was a small guy; white haired and wearing white clothing which seemed to reflect his white hair.
He spotted me there with my laptop and my guitar leaned up near me and he walked over towards me.
I was not in a very good mood, having had only one 24 ounce malt liquor, which made me feel like a grizzly bear which had been shot by a .22 pistol.
"He asked me if I played guitar, but in an Irish Broughe (which should have tipped me off that he wasn't a local skeezer, but at that point I was so sick and tired of skeezers thinking that I certainly had to give them a cigarette or a dollar because; how could I be sitting there with a laptop, just like the rich spoiled brat Tulane students; and look them in the eye and honestly tell them (each) that I couldn't spare (them each) one lousey dollar?!?"
"Sorry, I just spent my every last penny on this computer; saved for years to get it; I just don't have a dollar."
But, this guy asked me if I played guitar, as one was leaning up against the wall right by my head.
I had been in this situation before; and had found that the whole reference to the guitar and to music and to anything else was just part of a skeeze.
"Do I play guitar?, I echoed his question, like I couldn't believe that he had asked it. Then I turned slowly and stared at the guitar by my head with my best "No, I just carry one around with me, you moron?!?" look, said "Yeah, I play guitar."
He told me that he was leaving town and gave me a sack of what turned out to be very good weed, telling me "You can just throw this away, if you don't want it," and then had disappeared before I could either thank him; or appologize for my initial rudeness; and then detail how the local skeezers had turned me into such a curmudgeon.
I sampled the weed; some of it was already rolled; and then gulped down the rest of my beer. When I went to throw the empty away, there was a full Hand Grenade, ice not even melted, atop the trash.
I actually looked for the guy for a while, wanting to appologize for my rudeness and found a full, unopened pack of cigarettes just laying on the sidewalk as I searched for him.
So much for quitting all my bad habits by default because I woke up with only 72 cents....
The weed was so good that I walked the 11 blocks to the Lilly spot and played my broken guitar with only 5 strings and made a couple of bucks, between 1 a.m. and 2 a.m.
Then, I found all kinds of food; and went under the dock; ate; and slept fitfully.
Waaaauuckk ing pneumonia

The upper respiratory infection, or whatever it is keeps me up at night. I can't sleep because I have to make an effort to breath; like being in the gym and pumping weights. If I just lay there and hope to fall asleep, the natural breathing reflex will not be enough to pull enough air into my lungs. I need to lay there pulling air into me forcefully just to stave off the "winded" feeling. And there are all kinds of gurgling sounds and whistling sounds and sometimes musical notes coming from my chest.
When I am upright, i.e. walking around; it almost goes away entirely; but my lung capacity is noticeably diminished.
It started right at the point of my last juice fast when I switched to a mucous producing food (like cheese; I can't remember) abruptly; right out of the juice only phase; and soon had a little tickle in my
It is much worse when I eat foods like the pizza that I had last night, and the whole box of Graham Crackers which I had washed down with almond milk the previous night.
Billy; The Goat?

It has crossed my mind that I have gotten something; probably from Billy, whom I have previously referred to as "smiley" in this blog because his face is frozen in a nervous tick type smile.
He was begging me to pass him my cigarette, as he sat by me one night.
Of course he was begging me.
I did (pass him it) several times. He took drags and then handed it back.
He was annoying me with the drunken comments that he was making to passing tourists; and I was afraie that some husband without a sense of humor was going to beat Billy's ass, after some comment he made, like: "Oh, you like the fat too!!" when the lady may have been 10 pounds overweight.
Well, "Smiling Billy," eventually got to digging in his pack, and producing a few pill bottles, asked me if I wanted any pain pills or muscle relaxers.
"No, they don't help me play," I said.
He rummaged further and found an additional pill bottle.
"Oh, I just got these...I just found out I have hepatitis..." said drunken Billy with a grin frozen on his face; who had just begged me to pass him my cigarette, so that he could pull on it; and then pass back.
"If you just found out you have hepatitis, then why are you asking people for pulls off their cigarettes and then handing them back. Because you're an idiot?!?" I asked.
Yes, because he is an idiot; and one so drunk that the disease just kind of slipped his mind in his desire to skeeze a cigarette.
"I'm sorry I gave you a deadly virus, but I was really nicking!!..."
He was able to placate me with the news that his particular type of hepatits is not contageous; but still, the timing of the onset of the tickling in my throat which has progressed to me feeling like I am drowning whenever I lay down; had me despising Billy on more than one occasion as I lay there. He with that silly grin frozen on his face.

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