85 Dollar Saturday ﷺ
I still didn't get to the Lilly spot and start playing until after 12:30, even after having left the apartment at 9 sharp, en route.
I wound up walking the whole way as, the streets and sidewalks were strewn with post parade trash; it was hard to walk because of the beads laying everywhere. Crews were working with rakes and trash bags; and there was a small tractor with a scoop in front, pushing stuff along the street. The cable cars were definitely not running.
I had left the apartment with $18.40 in spending money, and dropped a buck on a Rip-It energy drink at the Big Easy Market, which is a 7 minute walk from the apartment, which would make it about 25 minutes from there into the Quarter, and another 7 to the EnVie Cafe.
So, doing the walking math, I could have been at EnVie by 9:40; but posted at 11:23 PM, so I lost an hour somewhere. ﴾
Probably when I splurged on a Monster energy drink at The Unique Grocery; then milled about; seeing if any of the weed dealers would approach me. None did.
Ж I somehow walked into the EnVie Cafe at around 11:00 (and have done the same tonight) and was there for just 25 minutes.
I went to the Checkpoint Charlie area at about 11:30, recalling the nature of that area; and noting that my new coffee/blogging hang out is just one block away.
A tall thin young man, dressed in a black jacket with black pants and with his head shaved told me that "nobody is selling nicks out here," after I told him that I had 5 dollars.
"Well, is anybody right here with dimes, or is it a walk to somewhere?"
It was a walk for his hand to one of his pockets, where he fumbled for a while, then bent over and placed an object underneath a large plastic lid to a wide mouthed bottle or something, which was at his feet.
I squatted down, and pretended to tie my shoe while grabbing what was under the plastic lid; then pretended to scratch my nose while sniffing what had been under the plastic lid; judging its mass at the same time. I then layed 10 one dollar bills, folded together near my foot; then stood up and stepped backwards a pace, allowing the shaven headed young man to move forward a pace; placing a foot over the folded bills, probably allowing him to judge the thickness of them at the same time.
I walked off, towards the Lilly spot; leaving him to apparently tie one of his shoes.
It was 12:30 when I was at The Quartermaster, spending myself down to about $1.50 with the purchase of a large can of iced green tea. Energy drinks, espresso, weed...where does the money go?
I Play Until 4 AM
It was the large can of iced green tea which sat next to me as I played under the influence of what turned out to be "the blueberry," which is one in a sea of nicknames for bud around here. It smells, and tastes, like blueberries; or like Boo Berry cereal, more accurately.
I made 85 dollars in the 3 hours and 20 minutes that I played; sparked by one 50 dollar bill from a group of young African Americans who shot a video of themselves rapping over a vamp which I played; I guess they were happy with it; and (of course) they are going to post it to YouTube, where I will never see it.
I am pretty sure that they had partaken of some "blueberry," themselves. Or some "kush," "fire," "gas," ,"chronic" or maybe just some of "the good," who knows..?
Again, the guy had to point out to me the fact that he had put a 50 in the tiposaurus' jar. I had been in total concentration when it had been put in there; in the zone.
I wonder if I do some kind of magical trance kind of thing which makes money materialize, and I could to it right now to make money appear on the coffee table in front of me; or do I have to actually play instruments and sing?
Other small groups came along; and I was actually able to hold some of their attentions for a few minutes. The Takamine has new strings on it; and sounds good. There is still a kind of hum close to the Lilly spot, and I continue to step out into the street to tune the guitar.
I am thinking of getting an electronic tuner; it would make tuning "a snap," and would be "accurate."
I always had taken pride in being able to tune without the aid of one; and I have had plenty of guitars with quirks to them whereby, if you tune them "perfectly," then they will be slightly out of tune as you play, due to the neck and the frets, etc.
I have had to slightly flatten strings, so that they would be in tune while fretted.
But, it has been taking me too long to fine tune; and a lot of money has walked past, in the meantimes.
ػ The Skyye Is The Limit
As I was packing up my stuff, I saw, sitting on Lilly's stoop, an almost full bottle of Skyye vodka. I had told a few of the groups of tourists that I hadn't been drinking (for 13 days now) when they had offered me drinks. One of them absentmindedly, I guess, left an almost full 500ml bottle of sky (a 20 dollar value) just sitting there.
I stuffed it in my backpack; thinking that I could at least give it to David the water jug player. The bottle is the same color as the blue guitar which I gave him after I had gotten the Takamine.
Now the bottle sits on a table in my bedroom where I don't sleep. I finished off a bottle of olives last night, leaving in the jar my favorite mixer for vodka or gin, olive juice; and had to smile at how the ingredients for one of my favorite drinks (the Dirty Martini) had conspired to be with me after I had completed 13 days sober.
Cautiously Optimistic Sunday Other than that, it is now approaching 1 AM, on a Sunday night. A Sunday night 2 days before Fat Tuesday; and one upon which I can reasonably expect to play until 4 AM again. There is a light drizzle falling outside. It is pretty warm, perhaps 58 degrees, also.
Words: 1,101
I still didn't get to the Lilly spot and start playing until after 12:30, even after having left the apartment at 9 sharp, en route.
I wound up walking the whole way as, the streets and sidewalks were strewn with post parade trash; it was hard to walk because of the beads laying everywhere. Crews were working with rakes and trash bags; and there was a small tractor with a scoop in front, pushing stuff along the street. The cable cars were definitely not running.
I had left the apartment with $18.40 in spending money, and dropped a buck on a Rip-It energy drink at the Big Easy Market, which is a 7 minute walk from the apartment, which would make it about 25 minutes from there into the Quarter, and another 7 to the EnVie Cafe.
So, doing the walking math, I could have been at EnVie by 9:40; but posted at 11:23 PM, so I lost an hour somewhere. ﴾
Probably when I splurged on a Monster energy drink at The Unique Grocery; then milled about; seeing if any of the weed dealers would approach me. None did.
Ж I somehow walked into the EnVie Cafe at around 11:00 (and have done the same tonight) and was there for just 25 minutes.
I went to the Checkpoint Charlie area at about 11:30, recalling the nature of that area; and noting that my new coffee/blogging hang out is just one block away.
A tall thin young man, dressed in a black jacket with black pants and with his head shaved told me that "nobody is selling nicks out here," after I told him that I had 5 dollars.
"Well, is anybody right here with dimes, or is it a walk to somewhere?"
It was a walk for his hand to one of his pockets, where he fumbled for a while, then bent over and placed an object underneath a large plastic lid to a wide mouthed bottle or something, which was at his feet.
I squatted down, and pretended to tie my shoe while grabbing what was under the plastic lid; then pretended to scratch my nose while sniffing what had been under the plastic lid; judging its mass at the same time. I then layed 10 one dollar bills, folded together near my foot; then stood up and stepped backwards a pace, allowing the shaven headed young man to move forward a pace; placing a foot over the folded bills, probably allowing him to judge the thickness of them at the same time.
I walked off, towards the Lilly spot; leaving him to apparently tie one of his shoes.
It was 12:30 when I was at The Quartermaster, spending myself down to about $1.50 with the purchase of a large can of iced green tea. Energy drinks, espresso, weed...where does the money go?
I Play Until 4 AM
It was the large can of iced green tea which sat next to me as I played under the influence of what turned out to be "the blueberry," which is one in a sea of nicknames for bud around here. It smells, and tastes, like blueberries; or like Boo Berry cereal, more accurately.
I made 85 dollars in the 3 hours and 20 minutes that I played; sparked by one 50 dollar bill from a group of young African Americans who shot a video of themselves rapping over a vamp which I played; I guess they were happy with it; and (of course) they are going to post it to YouTube, where I will never see it.
I am pretty sure that they had partaken of some "blueberry," themselves. Or some "kush," "fire," "gas," ,"chronic" or maybe just some of "the good," who knows..?
Again, the guy had to point out to me the fact that he had put a 50 in the tiposaurus' jar. I had been in total concentration when it had been put in there; in the zone.
I wonder if I do some kind of magical trance kind of thing which makes money materialize, and I could to it right now to make money appear on the coffee table in front of me; or do I have to actually play instruments and sing?
Other small groups came along; and I was actually able to hold some of their attentions for a few minutes. The Takamine has new strings on it; and sounds good. There is still a kind of hum close to the Lilly spot, and I continue to step out into the street to tune the guitar.
I am thinking of getting an electronic tuner; it would make tuning "a snap," and would be "accurate."
I always had taken pride in being able to tune without the aid of one; and I have had plenty of guitars with quirks to them whereby, if you tune them "perfectly," then they will be slightly out of tune as you play, due to the neck and the frets, etc.
I have had to slightly flatten strings, so that they would be in tune while fretted.
But, it has been taking me too long to fine tune; and a lot of money has walked past, in the meantimes.
ػ The Skyye Is The Limit
As I was packing up my stuff, I saw, sitting on Lilly's stoop, an almost full bottle of Skyye vodka. I had told a few of the groups of tourists that I hadn't been drinking (for 13 days now) when they had offered me drinks. One of them absentmindedly, I guess, left an almost full 500ml bottle of sky (a 20 dollar value) just sitting there.
I stuffed it in my backpack; thinking that I could at least give it to David the water jug player. The bottle is the same color as the blue guitar which I gave him after I had gotten the Takamine.
Now the bottle sits on a table in my bedroom where I don't sleep. I finished off a bottle of olives last night, leaving in the jar my favorite mixer for vodka or gin, olive juice; and had to smile at how the ingredients for one of my favorite drinks (the Dirty Martini) had conspired to be with me after I had completed 13 days sober.
Cautiously Optimistic Sunday Other than that, it is now approaching 1 AM, on a Sunday night. A Sunday night 2 days before Fat Tuesday; and one upon which I can reasonably expect to play until 4 AM again. There is a light drizzle falling outside. It is pretty warm, perhaps 58 degrees, also.
Words: 1,101
Now's the time to at the very least look into one of those mic and Bluetooth setups like street preachers use because then you can stop straining your voice. You gotta croon, bro. I'm normally anti amplification, but except for opera, voice has been aided since it was possible, almost 100 years ago, and street-shouting is out.
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