Here it is, Wednesday evening.
I skipped busking yesterday; although I did go to the Lilly Pad, arriving around 11 PM.
I had an all day bus/trolley pass; and so I had nothing to lose in that regard by taking a trip into the Quarter.
Heavy rain was in the forecast, but when it hadn't started by 9:45 PM, when it was supposed to; I hopped on the trolley. There was a light mist coming down as I waited for it.
Arriving at the Lilly Pad and setting up seemed to bring the rain into fruition, as it started to drizzle just hard enough to wet a guitar in a matter of time.
I walked to the Quartermaster, upon this 5th day of fasting, thinking that I would get the only thing that I was consuming: water. I had $5.85 left of the 27 dollars that I had made Monday night.
I blew off buying a bottle of water, thinking that for half the price, I would get a whole gallon at Rouses Market, which was closer to the trolley stop.
So, I never played a note, and went back to the apartment with the brand new harmonica in the key of A still not even broken in.
I passed David the Water Jug player, whom I informed of being on my 4th day sober, after he mentioned not seeing me for a few days.
This brought an almost angry reaction out of him.
He basically told me that I was playing games with myself; "not with anyone out here;" and seemed to imply that, since I "was" an alcoholic like he, that I was ultimately just going to go back to drinking myself to death, and so why make things harder by wasting time on these stretches of sobriety which ultimately always end.
He told me that he himself had made peace with God and believed that his name was written in the Book of Life and that he and the Lord had an understanding that he was just going to drink himself blind every night and pass out for the night on the bench of a trolley stop, but he is still one of God's children.
The trolley drivers all know to not stop for the skinny old black guy who is laying prone with a guitar wedged between the bench and the Plexiglas, should he be the only one at the stop.
David suggested, since I have an apartment which is paid for, that I not even walk around the Quarter with a backpack and a guitar on my back, but rather, get a haircut and a job.
He was pretty drunk, as usual, and I really think that he has some kind of paranoid suspicion that I quit drinking in order to deprive him of my company, and ultimately my generosity; as I have been much more prone to show up with a bottle (obviously) to offer him a gulp off of, when I was drunk; and much more prone to spend half of the money that I made that night on a sack of weed to share with him in that state.
The implication was that I shouldn't even busk at all if I am not living "the life" and doing it in the spirit of debauchery.
I told him that, on just my first night back playing sober, I had made enough to get a new harmonica, plus feed the cat; which I then told him about.
I also alluded to the fact that Dorise Blackmon hasn't touched a drop in 20+ years "...and she's doing pretty well..."
"Well, you talk the talk, but let's see if you can walk the walk," he then added, as I monitored myself for signs that he was trying to lay some kind of psychology upon me that might lead me to say: "You know, you're right; why fight it!" and then skip off to The Unique Grocery, to return with a pint of vodka to share with him, after proposing a toast: "To The Life!!!"
I skipped busking yesterday; although I did go to the Lilly Pad, arriving around 11 PM.
I had an all day bus/trolley pass; and so I had nothing to lose in that regard by taking a trip into the Quarter.
Heavy rain was in the forecast, but when it hadn't started by 9:45 PM, when it was supposed to; I hopped on the trolley. There was a light mist coming down as I waited for it.
 |
| "Don't fight it, Daniel!!" |
Arriving at the Lilly Pad and setting up seemed to bring the rain into fruition, as it started to drizzle just hard enough to wet a guitar in a matter of time.
I walked to the Quartermaster, upon this 5th day of fasting, thinking that I would get the only thing that I was consuming: water. I had $5.85 left of the 27 dollars that I had made Monday night.
I blew off buying a bottle of water, thinking that for half the price, I would get a whole gallon at Rouses Market, which was closer to the trolley stop.
So, I never played a note, and went back to the apartment with the brand new harmonica in the key of A still not even broken in.
I passed David the Water Jug player, whom I informed of being on my 4th day sober, after he mentioned not seeing me for a few days.
This brought an almost angry reaction out of him.
 |
| "I'll drink to that!!" |
He told me that he himself had made peace with God and believed that his name was written in the Book of Life and that he and the Lord had an understanding that he was just going to drink himself blind every night and pass out for the night on the bench of a trolley stop, but he is still one of God's children.
The trolley drivers all know to not stop for the skinny old black guy who is laying prone with a guitar wedged between the bench and the Plexiglas, should he be the only one at the stop.
David suggested, since I have an apartment which is paid for, that I not even walk around the Quarter with a backpack and a guitar on my back, but rather, get a haircut and a job.
He was pretty drunk, as usual, and I really think that he has some kind of paranoid suspicion that I quit drinking in order to deprive him of my company, and ultimately my generosity; as I have been much more prone to show up with a bottle (obviously) to offer him a gulp off of, when I was drunk; and much more prone to spend half of the money that I made that night on a sack of weed to share with him in that state.
The implication was that I shouldn't even busk at all if I am not living "the life" and doing it in the spirit of debauchery.
I told him that, on just my first night back playing sober, I had made enough to get a new harmonica, plus feed the cat; which I then told him about.
I also alluded to the fact that Dorise Blackmon hasn't touched a drop in 20+ years "...and she's doing pretty well..."
"Well, you talk the talk, but let's see if you can walk the walk," he then added, as I monitored myself for signs that he was trying to lay some kind of psychology upon me that might lead me to say: "You know, you're right; why fight it!" and then skip off to The Unique Grocery, to return with a pint of vodka to share with him, after proposing a toast: "To The Life!!!"
And interesting site regarding alcoholism is hamsnetwork.org it's a "harm reduction" site, and quite interesting. The truth is, an awful lot of people who drink hard at our age spontaneously slow down or stop their drinking as they get older. In my own experience, vigorous exercise correlates with less to no drinking. You could consider hitting the weights.
ReplyDeleteharm reduction is like telling a pedophile he can have 15 minutes naked with an 11 year old, but then he's reached his limit...in my opinion
ReplyDeleteI got to where a couple of drinks didn't give me a buzz, or a "glow" but just made me want a couple more, and then I lost interest in every activity except stuffing my face with food and then passing out...I was becoming Leslie Thompson