9 Dollar Tuesday Night

Tuesday night, I made it to the Lilly spot, after having spent all my money, except for one quarter.
I had only had a couple of beers and sat down to play, and struggled.

It was pretty dead, but I attracted the attention of a few of the 25 or so people who walked past.
They stopped to listen, but, as I struggled; I wasn't even really entertaining myself; and so, wasn't surprised that nobody threw me more than a dollar or two.

Barnaby was sitting on his stoop, drinking gin, and offered me a beer which was better than the one which I was drinking; and then suggested that I learn to play "Careful With That Axe, Eugene," by Pink Floyd.

I am listening to it now; and can pretty much say that, unless it has lyrics (which it hasn't had yet; 3 minutes into it) then nobody is going to recognize "Careful With That Ax, Eugene," except hard cores. And, to arrange slide guitar and bass and keyboard synthesizer, and the whispered lyrics (which have now started)....yikes.

He also advised me NOT to attempt to sing "Closer To The Heart," or any other Rush songs. I guess Geddy Lee's voice is sacrosanct to him. I wouldn't have to try to mimic the guy; there are lower keys...

A couple from Halifax, Canada stopped and talked for a while, requesting Steve Earl (whom I have only heard of, but never heard) and I was able to get a dollar out of them by playing an original; and then another dollar in change, after joking around with them and warning them about the "shoe shine guys" on Bourbon Street, who will bet you 20 dollars that they can tell you "where you got your shoes" ("you got one on your left foot and one on your right," or "You got 'em on Bourbon Street in New Orleans, now pay up).

I knocked off with about 9 dollars for 2 hours of playing, minus one Canadian quarter, which is non-spendable here (...wonder where THAT came from...)

I then spent a cold night at the sign spot, sleeping miserably and watching the time, so as to go out and forage for more blankets, or thermal underwear from the VA Center.

I got there around 10 PM, and was informed that "We're not doing clothes, today."

Of course they weren't doing clothes today; and seeming to derive pleasure from telling me so.

There is one black lady there, in particular, who seems to love enforcing trivial rules. "You can't put your bag there, you're blocking the hall!" "You can't put it there, either, you're blocking that entrance." "You can't take off your sweatshirt there; go in the restroom to do it."

Yesterday, she had seemed to enjoy telling me that the hygiene kits (razors, shampoo, toothpaste, etc.) were all gone. "You have to come early for them; they all gone by nine.."

They must judge me as a draft dodging hippie, rather than the veteran that I am.

Tonight will be equally cold, and I have only two additional tee shirts, and a pair of heavy wool socks to add to my ensemble. And, it wasn't really my top half which was chilly last night.

I might just play until way into the morning (there are always those who stagger out of Lafitt's Tavern at their 4 AM closing time) and then get most of my sleep in after sunup, as the temperature rises.

Pretty depressed is the mood here; at 8:12 PM on a chilly night, barren of tourists.

I am thinking of playing the off ramps where sign "flying" skeezers perpetually stand; jumping on the spot when they run for their free feeding at the Rebuild Center; and holding my ground until I have hopefully made the 35 to 60 dollars per hour that I used to make in similar spots in Jacksonville and St. Augustine, and Ocala, Florida.

Getting out to Tucson, where I have friends, to pass the coldest months, then returning here for Mardi Gras in late February would be the tentative plan....

9 Dollar nights can get a man thinking such thoughts....