It's Time

• Days Sober: 35
• Motivation To Play Mardi Gras: 5%

It is time that is bothering me;

Amateur Drummer

I have gotten to the Lilly Pad the past couple of nights to find that Lafitt's Blacksmith Shop Tavern has positioned PA speakers towards the street, through which blare a disturbing mix of hip hop type music which the predominately white group of people out front seem to know all the words to.
Since there is no smoking allowed inside, and drinks ARE allowed outside, Lafitts is merely expanding the size of their establishment by allowing it to pour into the street. I am surprised that they haven't set up quarts heaters or such to keep everybody warm out front.
So, I have moved down to nearby The Quartermaster, which is quiet, and I have found a good acoustical spot in an alcove in front of what used to be an art gallery, where hung the famous black and white photo of "The Goose Lady," a woman who used to walk the Quarter followed by a family of geese.
I just haven't been able to motivate myself to play very long. It is as if I play for a half hour, make a quick 10 or 15 bucks, and then, as if I have proven that I can make money, and that satisfies me, I have knocked off.
I chose the wrong harmonica last night, the one that was more blown out than the other in the key of C, and that was a problem.
Playing at that new location, has drawn the attention of the staff there, whom I have seen almost every night, most recently in my quest for a cup of coffee, and they always see the guitar on my back, yet have never heard me play. Last night, I knocked off, though I could have made money playing the out of tune harmonica (I could have made money just sitting there; such is the nature of drunken tourists) but I knocked off early, telling myself I would come out earlier the next (to)day, and here I am at the same time in the same place, getting ready to go into the Quarter.
My 24 hour pass has expired because I was fooling enough to wait around the Banks Meat store for a guy who was going to come back "in 12 minutes" with some weed. It cost me a trolley ride to wait for him before giving up.
I will have 36 days alcohol free at the end of tonight.
Last night, I bought chicken liver for the first time in my life and fried it up with onions and ate a lot of it; as if I had killed two dozen chickens and eaten only their livers, my body must be thinking.
I woke up a bit depressed this afternoon; it's probably not a good idea to sleep on a full stomach.
I had set a little piece that I had recorded before going to sleep to repeat ad infinitum while I slept.
I found a snare drum the other night, along with the rest of a cheap drum kit that someone had left on the sidewalk while packing everything else into a moving van and leaving a place on Royal Street. The drum fit into my backpack, and so now I have a snare drum which allows me to get a more "live" sound than with the programmed digital drums alone. I can set the bass drum to hold a steady beat and then kind of liven the track up with snare rolls and accents and off beats and the typical stuff that a "real" drummer might do. A real amateur drummer...