Every Banana
Last evening, I had 7 dollar bills on the coffee table in front of my bed...should I move my bed...is the arrangement of the furniture contributing to my depression?..maybe more open space...Do I even want to go out and play on a Wednesday night?
I had 5 cigarettes and one little bud of weed, and was considering staying in.
But while I stay in, I continue to "consume."
Every banana that I smear with peanut butter and eat probably costs me 40 cents. With coconut milk and jam, it probably sets me back a dollar. Add a 10 cent cup of coffee and a 35 cent cigarette afterwards, while Harold munches down 50 cents worth of cat food as my radio drains pennies off its batteries; and it is easy to surmise that it may just be the "night off" that has been sinking me financially, lately. That, and having 9 dollar nights.
Another 9 Dollar Night
So bad it has been for busking that, I left the apartment feeling like I was gambling that I would make at least enough to cover the expense of the outing. My goal was to wake up the next (this) morning with at least the same 7 dollars, 5 more cigarettes, and a little bud of weed.
I got to the Lilly Pad at exactly 9:30 PM.
I knocked off an hour and 20 minutes later, after playing in 90 degree humid air that reminded me of the "C.O.P.D." attack that I had had a couple years ago. I was light headed and dizzy the whole time and just plain out of breath at other times. I did learn how to divert some air into my lungs through my nose during the notes when I am drawing air into the harp rather than blowing it out.
I had a brand new harmonica and brand new strings and really felt like I was wasting them. I gave the one tourist with the 20 or 50 or 100 dollar bill an hour and 20 minutes to show up, who never did.
I am basically right back to where I started last night, money-wise, but I did learn a few things.
I think I will go out and play "just because." I did get a 45 dollar tip from one couple last Wednesday...
I Think I'll Drink
I want to get a pint of tequila when I get to Broad Avenue a little later. 163 days sober is enough. I'll chalk up the experiment as a failure, in general.
I know that alcoholics often relapse at times when they realize that, despite their sobriety, their circumstances have taken a turn for the worse. It isn't a far stretch to wonder if it is actually because of his sobriety.
The tequila would take up just about all the money that I have and I will have to walk into the Quarter, something I haven't had to do in months. But I feel like I deserve that. Then, if I see Leslie Thompson I will tell him: "You win. Let's drink ourselves to death."
I'm not going to wait around for life to deal me my demise. I'm going to take control. Life is worthless now, in 2016.
Last evening, I had 7 dollar bills on the coffee table in front of my bed...should I move my bed...is the arrangement of the furniture contributing to my depression?..maybe more open space...Do I even want to go out and play on a Wednesday night?
I had 5 cigarettes and one little bud of weed, and was considering staying in.
But while I stay in, I continue to "consume."
Every banana that I smear with peanut butter and eat probably costs me 40 cents. With coconut milk and jam, it probably sets me back a dollar. Add a 10 cent cup of coffee and a 35 cent cigarette afterwards, while Harold munches down 50 cents worth of cat food as my radio drains pennies off its batteries; and it is easy to surmise that it may just be the "night off" that has been sinking me financially, lately. That, and having 9 dollar nights.
Another 9 Dollar Night
So bad it has been for busking that, I left the apartment feeling like I was gambling that I would make at least enough to cover the expense of the outing. My goal was to wake up the next (this) morning with at least the same 7 dollars, 5 more cigarettes, and a little bud of weed.I got to the Lilly Pad at exactly 9:30 PM.
I knocked off an hour and 20 minutes later, after playing in 90 degree humid air that reminded me of the "C.O.P.D." attack that I had had a couple years ago. I was light headed and dizzy the whole time and just plain out of breath at other times. I did learn how to divert some air into my lungs through my nose during the notes when I am drawing air into the harp rather than blowing it out.
I had a brand new harmonica and brand new strings and really felt like I was wasting them. I gave the one tourist with the 20 or 50 or 100 dollar bill an hour and 20 minutes to show up, who never did.
I am basically right back to where I started last night, money-wise, but I did learn a few things.
I think I will go out and play "just because." I did get a 45 dollar tip from one couple last Wednesday...
I Think I'll Drink
I want to get a pint of tequila when I get to Broad Avenue a little later. 163 days sober is enough. I'll chalk up the experiment as a failure, in general.
I know that alcoholics often relapse at times when they realize that, despite their sobriety, their circumstances have taken a turn for the worse. It isn't a far stretch to wonder if it is actually because of his sobriety.
The tequila would take up just about all the money that I have and I will have to walk into the Quarter, something I haven't had to do in months. But I feel like I deserve that. Then, if I see Leslie Thompson I will tell him: "You win. Let's drink ourselves to death."
I'm not going to wait around for life to deal me my demise. I'm going to take control. Life is worthless now, in 2016.
I knew going in that getting (and staying) sober would not change the fact that we're in a Depression, that I'm getting older day by day, that there is zero future in the field I'd hung my fate on, high-tech, and so on. But, being sober helps me deal with things better.
ReplyDeleteI've suggested you try playing some slide, some players pick *and* slide, using a smaller slide that only fits over part of the fretboard, or they pick the chord they've tuned to to make sliding sound good, and go with that. People love hearing some good slide. And it won't sap your wallet the way the harmonicas do.
You've also shown a pretty good amount of art talent, once you started using real art materials instead of fucking around on a computer. Computers would make Leonardo da Vinci or Michaelangelo looks like retards painting with their own shit, frankly. Real materials are where it's at. You could have drawings set out when you play, and make a pretty penny on them.
We've also discussed making and selling CDs. Many tourists just go around buying up CDs from buskers and listen to them later, the $5 or so for one is chump change to a fertilizer salesman from Iowa who doesn't drink, smoke, or even play miniature golf because those are all "sinful" and has one time-window every 20 years to "go wild". Mr. McCornpone then spends his money on CD's from unwashed and hairy street musicians in New Orleans to show the world he's still a wild and crazy guy.
You've got everything you came to New Orleans to get - a free apartment, food stamps to spend on booze and weed, and a job where you make your own hours, busking. What's there to be depressed about?