Monday, September 29, 2014

If The Mood Strikes

Friday, I manged to drink nothing but water, until well into the evening when I found a cold cup of Abita, as I was coming up upon John, the classical guitarist, who was sitting with Marshall, the classical tenor (who sounds like Caruso) and who (the latter) was drunk, and that spirit kind of infused me and I drank of the cup.
I went to the Lilly spot and soon arrived a guy who worked "in the oil field" and his wife, who tipped me 20 dollars as we smoked a joint provided by a young black guy with a Haitian accent whom I thought was trying to skeeze my audience until he lit up the weed.
I finished the night with about 40 dollars, found a lot of food, went under the dock to sleep (so that I could grab my can opener and a sweater or a sweatshirt, as it is starting to get cold here at night).
I slept well into Saturday, as rain poured down outside.
I had a return of some of the respiratory ailment symptoms, like a tight chest, confirming my opinion that it is something that is under the dock which contributes to this.
Sunday night, I slept at the sign spot but wore the sweater which I had retrieved from under the dock which was redolent with the smell of rats and night herons and my symptoms worsened to the point where I was even starting to wheeze a bit.
I took the sweater off as soon as it warmed up a bit in the morning.
Saturday, I made some decent money, having bought batteries for the spotlight, which I employed.
It was one of those weekends where everything that I had want of kind of fell out of the sky.
Tonight, Monday; I will be able to watch the Patriots game from outside the Royal Sonesta without going broke in the process.
And, who knows, I might play afterwards if the mood strikes.

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