Two Nights Away From Much
I have not been entirely neglecting this blog; just not posting to it....
I have doodled around with some cartoons and added to some stories that might make featured posts about the past, etc.
My "month in review" shows that the surge of page viewers in France is more than just an ephemeral phenomenon....
Now I have to wonder is some hacker there has pirated my site to use as a portal to facilitate terrorism, or something.....
"You Can't Play Here Anymore, Did You Hear Me?"
Sunday night, I got to the Lilly Pad at the decent hour of about 9:30 PM, and played for a couple of hours, making probably about 12 bucks.
At a little past midnight, along came this young black lady, whom I haven't seen in 2 years. She hadn't changed much; as evidenced by the fact that she just about repeated verbatim what she had said the last time I encountered her.
She at first, made some kind of ostentatious reference to the fact that she lived "here," seeming to pause to let the information that any young black lady at all could ever live in the block...
Then she said "You've been playing all night, and you're loud," and this is residential, so if you keep playing, I'm gonna call the police..."
This is the same thing that had occurred about 2 years ago, and the solution then (which was before I had the blessing of Lillian) was to show up earlier; and make a decent amount of money before she came out to repeat her message almost verbatim.
Sunday night, I didn't say a thing. I was just starting to pack up, so I just mumbled something like "OK," and then continued to pack up.
She seemed almost disappointed, as if she had been hoping for some kind of confrontation which would give her another opportunity to identify herself as someone who lived there. I get the feeling that one of the perks of being able to live in such a "high rent" neighborhood, for her, is the chance to stoke her ego; and being able to run a musician off (and since so many black people seem to live in a black and white world, I must add: a white musician) off of the block.
After I had almost all my stuff silently packed up; she added "I don't want to listen to you all f***ing night!" It almost felt like my silence was making her uncomfortable.
"You can't play here anymore, do you hear me?"
I looked at her, but didn't respond.
She walked away.
She is perhaps going to repeat what she had done 2 years ago, by appearing again in a few days, to say something like "I thought I told you not to play here!" and then to await an opportunity to tell me where she lives and how much she pays for rent in order to expect that nobody will be playing music in her block.
I got to Rouses Market before they closed at 1 AM, where Treva, one of the cashiers, a heavy set middle aged woman who often teases customers, especially myself ("You got 5 minutes to pick out your stuff, Daniel; otherwise we're gonna lock you in here for the night!") asked me:
"What did you say to her?"
"I hardly said anything; I just packed up my stuff. I think she wanted me to argue, so she could make a big scene about how she lived there..."
"You should have told her 'this is how I make my living' -at least you're not breaking into her house- tell her to f*** off!"
So, I actually took Monday and Tuesday nights off.
I had gotten a letter from my mom, who had stuffed 20 dollars into it; and that money almost afforded me the opportunity to take them off, and maybe even make the lady think that she had succeeded in running me away (maybe giving her a chance to feel guilty over having taken away a guy's means of earning a living).
If she indeed has been living there, then she should know; especially if my harmonica is bleeding through the walls of her house and drowning out the TV, or waking her from a sound sleep from being so "loud," that I play there just about every night; and my absence will become conspicuous.
I am going to call Lilly and see if she has any advice for me.
Should I just pack up and leave and then give Lilly an opportunity to encounter the young lady?
Lilly would know anybody that lived on the block; her ex husband might even own the building...
Or should I tell the young lady that "my lady friend" owns the property where I play and that I have every right (as a family friend and thus and extension of the family) to sit on "my" front step and play a musical instrument.
Lily had been through such issues with the "quality of life committee" which, I guess exists, and has even smoothed things over on the issue with the police; maybe even gone so far as to suggest that I am keeping an eye on her property while I play, ect, and the police just roll past me, even after having just run off another group somewhere else on the street.
I could inform the young lady of all that; could wait for her to possibly call the police, who might tell her that I have permission of the owner, blah blah blah, and quiet the young lady down that way...
What I plan to do will probably change if and when I get Lily on the phone, but right now; I plan to play tonight, and to limit the harmonica after a certain hour, by playing it more softly after say, 11 PM..
I have not been entirely neglecting this blog; just not posting to it....
I have doodled around with some cartoons and added to some stories that might make featured posts about the past, etc.
 |
My "month in review" shows that the surge of page viewers in France is more than just an ephemeral phenomenon....
Now I have to wonder is some hacker there has pirated my site to use as a portal to facilitate terrorism, or something.....
"You Can't Play Here Anymore, Did You Hear Me?"
Sunday night, I got to the Lilly Pad at the decent hour of about 9:30 PM, and played for a couple of hours, making probably about 12 bucks.
At a little past midnight, along came this young black lady, whom I haven't seen in 2 years. She hadn't changed much; as evidenced by the fact that she just about repeated verbatim what she had said the last time I encountered her.
She at first, made some kind of ostentatious reference to the fact that she lived "here," seeming to pause to let the information that any young black lady at all could ever live in the block...
Then she said "You've been playing all night, and you're loud," and this is residential, so if you keep playing, I'm gonna call the police..."
This is the same thing that had occurred about 2 years ago, and the solution then (which was before I had the blessing of Lillian) was to show up earlier; and make a decent amount of money before she came out to repeat her message almost verbatim.
Sunday night, I didn't say a thing. I was just starting to pack up, so I just mumbled something like "OK," and then continued to pack up.
She seemed almost disappointed, as if she had been hoping for some kind of confrontation which would give her another opportunity to identify herself as someone who lived there. I get the feeling that one of the perks of being able to live in such a "high rent" neighborhood, for her, is the chance to stoke her ego; and being able to run a musician off (and since so many black people seem to live in a black and white world, I must add: a white musician) off of the block.
After I had almost all my stuff silently packed up; she added "I don't want to listen to you all f***ing night!" It almost felt like my silence was making her uncomfortable.
"You can't play here anymore, do you hear me?"
I looked at her, but didn't respond.
She walked away.
She is perhaps going to repeat what she had done 2 years ago, by appearing again in a few days, to say something like "I thought I told you not to play here!" and then to await an opportunity to tell me where she lives and how much she pays for rent in order to expect that nobody will be playing music in her block.
I got to Rouses Market before they closed at 1 AM, where Treva, one of the cashiers, a heavy set middle aged woman who often teases customers, especially myself ("You got 5 minutes to pick out your stuff, Daniel; otherwise we're gonna lock you in here for the night!") asked me:
"What did you say to her?"
"I hardly said anything; I just packed up my stuff. I think she wanted me to argue, so she could make a big scene about how she lived there..."
"You should have told her 'this is how I make my living' -at least you're not breaking into her house- tell her to f*** off!"
So, I actually took Monday and Tuesday nights off.
I had gotten a letter from my mom, who had stuffed 20 dollars into it; and that money almost afforded me the opportunity to take them off, and maybe even make the lady think that she had succeeded in running me away (maybe giving her a chance to feel guilty over having taken away a guy's means of earning a living).
If she indeed has been living there, then she should know; especially if my harmonica is bleeding through the walls of her house and drowning out the TV, or waking her from a sound sleep from being so "loud," that I play there just about every night; and my absence will become conspicuous.
 |
| Lilly (artist's rendition) |
I am going to call Lilly and see if she has any advice for me.
Should I just pack up and leave and then give Lilly an opportunity to encounter the young lady?
Lilly would know anybody that lived on the block; her ex husband might even own the building...
Or should I tell the young lady that "my lady friend" owns the property where I play and that I have every right (as a family friend and thus and extension of the family) to sit on "my" front step and play a musical instrument.
Lily had been through such issues with the "quality of life committee" which, I guess exists, and has even smoothed things over on the issue with the police; maybe even gone so far as to suggest that I am keeping an eye on her property while I play, ect, and the police just roll past me, even after having just run off another group somewhere else on the street.
I could inform the young lady of all that; could wait for her to possibly call the police, who might tell her that I have permission of the owner, blah blah blah, and quiet the young lady down that way...
What I plan to do will probably change if and when I get Lily on the phone, but right now; I plan to play tonight, and to limit the harmonica after a certain hour, by playing it more softly after say, 11 PM..
I would not let that lady push you around.
ReplyDeleteBlacks do live in a black and white world, and if you are white you are wrong, no matter what you're doing, in their book. Get lily to give that lady a talking-to, is what I'd do.