I am at the library; where I have just encountered Karrie; who was pulling a large trunk on wheels,
full of her worldly possessions, past, on her way to get "a banana and some yogurt," at a place across the street.
I offered her a Benson & Hedges cigarette, out of the brand new pack that I had just opened.
"I have cigarettes," she said, but allowed me to stuff one in the pocket of her jacket. "Yeah, but these taste really good," I said.
Not wanting to impede her progress towards a banana and some yogurt, I told her that I had to come back into the library because my computer session was about to start.
As she walked away, I said "My place is 70 degrees..."
"You're trying to aggravate me," she countered.
"You should come and check it out, at least..."
"I need to get a bus ticket."
"I have enough streetcar money for the both of us."
It had been pretty cold last night, and she had on what looked like 3 jackets.
"You could keep your stuff there, so you wouldn't have to pull it around all day," I said, playing another angle.
This produced a brief flash of interest upon her countenance, before she went off, across the street.
Then, I lit up another cigarette before going back inside.
Immediately, I heard "esscuse me," from a young black lady, who had been standing nearby.
I stifled an impulse to turn to her and say "I don't give away cigarettes, what?" Why else would she even have spoken to or acknowledged me at all.
Somehow, I was in a generous mood, though, having recently been blessed with an apartment; and having just picked up the Christmas parcel sent by the Lidgleys of London, which had arrived at the Rebuild Center during the time that they had been closed for 11 days over the holidays; and which had contained 2 packs of the excellent cigarettes.
I decided (after she of course asked me if I had an extra cigarette) to bless her with one -what the heck; happy new year...
I thought that she might even appreciate the quality of the cigarette, which exceeds that of the Kool or Newports that she probably smokes.
I thought that she might even say "Thank you."
Now, I think I will go back to saying "I don't give away cigarettes!" as soon as "they" open their mouths, because she just took the cigarette from me; as if I owed it to her.
I stifled an impulse to berate her with a loud: "You're welcome!," but didn't, and just went back inside the library to write this.
Before coming here, I had gotten the already mentioned parcel at the Rebuild Center, after having walked there from the apartment in 21 minutes; after having miraculously awoken at 7:45 AM, after having gone to sleep at 3:45AM.
I hadn't even set my alarm because I was sure that, in only my 4th hour of sleep, I would refuse to budge after it went off.
But, I had woken up, and felt pretty well rested, and almost energized; and after a cup of coffee, I was walking through the cold; excited over the prospect that the parcel might be waiting for me.
The previous (Sunday) night, I played (sober) and made about 9 dollars; in about 2 and a half hours
It took me a while to get the rust (of playing sober) off.
I ran to the store for a beer, as soon as I had enough for one, plus streetcar fare.
On my way into the quarter, I had run into Paul, of Doreens Jazz Band, whom I discovered, lives in the same neighborhood as I.
We talked for a while.
He knew about my getting an apartment. "It's all over the internet," he said (he reads this blog, when he is on break, or bored or both).
He told me a funny story, which I will have to save for later....
 |
| Wael, who almost makes "Tanya" type money... |
I offered her a Benson & Hedges cigarette, out of the brand new pack that I had just opened.
"I have cigarettes," she said, but allowed me to stuff one in the pocket of her jacket. "Yeah, but these taste really good," I said.
Not wanting to impede her progress towards a banana and some yogurt, I told her that I had to come back into the library because my computer session was about to start.
As she walked away, I said "My place is 70 degrees..."
"You're trying to aggravate me," she countered.
"You should come and check it out, at least..."
"I need to get a bus ticket."
"I have enough streetcar money for the both of us."
It had been pretty cold last night, and she had on what looked like 3 jackets.
"You could keep your stuff there, so you wouldn't have to pull it around all day," I said, playing another angle.
This produced a brief flash of interest upon her countenance, before she went off, across the street.
Then, I lit up another cigarette before going back inside.
 |
| Tanya, who does. |
Immediately, I heard "esscuse me," from a young black lady, who had been standing nearby.
I stifled an impulse to turn to her and say "I don't give away cigarettes, what?" Why else would she even have spoken to or acknowledged me at all.
Somehow, I was in a generous mood, though, having recently been blessed with an apartment; and having just picked up the Christmas parcel sent by the Lidgleys of London, which had arrived at the Rebuild Center during the time that they had been closed for 11 days over the holidays; and which had contained 2 packs of the excellent cigarettes.
I decided (after she of course asked me if I had an extra cigarette) to bless her with one -what the heck; happy new year...
I thought that she might even appreciate the quality of the cigarette, which exceeds that of the Kool or Newports that she probably smokes.
I thought that she might even say "Thank you."
Now, I think I will go back to saying "I don't give away cigarettes!" as soon as "they" open their mouths, because she just took the cigarette from me; as if I owed it to her.
I stifled an impulse to berate her with a loud: "You're welcome!," but didn't, and just went back inside the library to write this.
Before coming here, I had gotten the already mentioned parcel at the Rebuild Center, after having walked there from the apartment in 21 minutes; after having miraculously awoken at 7:45 AM, after having gone to sleep at 3:45AM.
I hadn't even set my alarm because I was sure that, in only my 4th hour of sleep, I would refuse to budge after it went off.
But, I had woken up, and felt pretty well rested, and almost energized; and after a cup of coffee, I was walking through the cold; excited over the prospect that the parcel might be waiting for me.
The previous (Sunday) night, I played (sober) and made about 9 dollars; in about 2 and a half hours
It took me a while to get the rust (of playing sober) off.
I ran to the store for a beer, as soon as I had enough for one, plus streetcar fare.
On my way into the quarter, I had run into Paul, of Doreens Jazz Band, whom I discovered, lives in the same neighborhood as I.
We talked for a while.
He knew about my getting an apartment. "It's all over the internet," he said (he reads this blog, when he is on break, or bored or both).
He told me a funny story, which I will have to save for later....
That's what bugs ma about begging, its too easy to begin seeing people as cash, or cigarette, dispensing machines. At least when I an playing music, or hustling awareness ribbons, there is a value for value exchange.
ReplyDeleteBit why bother with music or ribbons at all, Alex, you have work in electronics! Yes, I do, but it's only because I'm a personal friend of my employer, its a job that only pays $200 a week in perpetuity, er, actually no, because once something happens to my friend, who is in his mid sixties, I'm high and dry. There is no future in the high tech fad.