Sunday, March 6, 2016

Does He Have Any Sense Of Smell?

I'm in the computer room, ripping a Linda Ronsadt CD, to my data stick. The movie wouldn't rip to a CD, at least not through the functionality of the built in DVD viewer. That sucks; I have an Elton John concert disc that would be cool to watch, but I would have to sit in the computer room to do it.
I am stuck in the 70's with those selections that I made in the library.

  • 12 Dollar Friday
  • 6 Dollar Saturday

Thursday night, I had packed up and went to the Quartermaster for an Arizona Energy concoction; then decided to play for another half hour or so; which netted about 25 of the 46 that I would make that night.
Friday night, things seemed to be going pretty much the same way, with the exception of the one 20 dollar tip which had come Thursday night; after I had sat back down to play some more...

Last (Saturday) night, I farted around the apartment, as the time got later, and as I saw each particular starting time at the Lilly Pad, in turn, become an impossibility.
I finally left, planning upon arriving there just before 11 PM, and seeing what happened.
I was almost broke.
I started out playing and the tips started flowing, then I broke a string and replaced it.
Then and older skeezer came along and sat next to me; after asking me if it would be alright if he did so.
I should have probably shoo-ed him away; I was soon hit with the nastiest of funky odors that was coming from his direction and, which was so strong that I could see it reaching a radius of up to 25 feet from around "us."
It was one of those instances when I wondered out loud: Does he have any sense of smell, himself? How can he stand his own stench. There was a definite smell of urine; but also more. Much more...
Then, the skeezer began talking about how he is a musician; of course he is; and how he lost his guitar somehow; of course he lost his guitar some how.
Then, I broke a second string, and it was one that I had no replacement for.
"We could tie it up!!" said the skeezer who plays guitar but doesn't have one.
At that point, I called it quits. I had made a quick 6 bucks in about 25 minutes; fixing the string would have taken about 10 minutes; and I could easily have done it; but the Rouses Market closing time was fast approaching; and the smell from the guy had already drawn a few looks from tourists, who were looking at me as much as at him; and I knew that I would not only have to "tie up" my string, but to get him to move along also, if I were to turn the night into a productive one.
I went to Rouses Market and got some food, leaving there just before 1 AM, and went by the Lilly Pad to see that the skeezer was still sitting on the same stoop.
He was probably skeezing, and probably succeeding, probably getting drinks from people so that he hadn't even had to think about getting up and walking to the store to spend his skeezings.
I think he had some kind of designs upon skeezing me some way.
First of all, he had told me that he had been laying down on the sidewalk across the street and "listening" to me.
Something made him want to come and sit next to me.
I didn't like the way that he said that "we" could tie the string up, after it had broken.
There was no "we" going on at all; only in his skeezing mind was there....
So, it is Sunday evening, and I have been giving some thought to playing the open mic night at Checkpoint Charlie.
I am down to 3 dollars and change, so I perhaps don't have the luxury to do so.
I eventually plan upon making a live recording in there, using their equipment; in an open mic environment; and it would be good to make a test run of it.

1 comment:

  1. I actually know/knew a guy who's like that, ultra-stinky, and he programs computers and stuff. Not the typical skeezer/hobo, but I swear I watched him wear the same pair of brown slacks and same t-shirt with a computer logo on it for years. He was a great guy otherwise, and I was always nice to him, even if I had to take care to remain upwind at times.

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