It is Tuesday and I was up early in the morning; like a regular person.
I am turning my attention towards getting some kind of job which is not busking.
Labor Staffers
During a brief stop at the Labor Staffers place right down the street, I was informed by a guy that he was "being honest" in telling me that they had no work.
You would think that, given the percentage of the population here that has spurned ever working again because they have discovered skeezing, that there would be some work available.
I have rusty strings on the guitar and a blown out harmonica.
I opened up the harmonica this morning, after Troy the electric blues guitarist at the corner of Iberville and Royal had told me Sunday night that "they pop right open." It popped right open. The fasteners, which looked like the kind screws that would require a jewelers screwdriver to remove, were more like thumbtacks that came right out of the wood that they were stuck (screwed) into.
I could see no physical abnormalities about the reeds that had been malfunctioning, but when I flexed one in particular which had been refusing to sound, it snapped off along a crease which became apparent as I started to bend it.
So, the Marine Band in the key of C, which I paid 50 bucks for about 2 months ago is, to use a nautical expression, on the bottom of the ocean and beyond salvage.
I have about 10 bucks in cash.
I have another 15 in the 17.5% jar which is supposed to be for the saving up for a new laptop.
And, the 1% jar, which is current back to March 12th, probably has close to $20 in it.
I had hoped to have a new laptop with a functioning battery before taking a summer trip to New England, so that I could use it to blog, take pictures, record music and generally stay in touch with society.
My friend Ben from Massachusetts has not contacted me further about coming down here to visit New Orleans and stay at my apartment.
I have to go out and stop at the Labor Staffing place to complete an application with them.
I have to go to the "Workforce Louisiana" place, maybe with another notarized letter stating that I busk "40 hours a week" so that I won't be required to go through the 60 hours of "training" that is otherwise a prerequisite to continued food stamp assistance.
Teeth
I have to go back to the dental clinic "for the homeless" and make another appointment. The last time, I had to wait 5 months to see the dentist, who had referred me to the University Hospital with the instructions to remove all of my teeth.
She (the dentist) basically told me, without telling me, that if I were wealthy, then I could have my original teeth capped and crowned and bridged and filled and restored; and that it was "always better to keep your original teeth."
I balked at showing up at the University Hospital in order to have all my teeth pulled out, at that time. I at least want to wait until I have a head of gray hair before getting dentures.
I had no tooth pain, and decided to give myself more time in order to win the lottery or otherwise come into enough money to keep my original teeth.
I want to set another appointment, which would probably be for sometime in the fall, just to give myself another opportunity to decide if I want to go ahead with the teeth pulling, or in case I develope a toothache in a month or two. That wouldn't be the time to set the appointment for 5 months in the future.
Eyes
Then, I need to stop at the Rebuild Center to see about prescription eyeglasses. The ones that I am wearing are no longer my exact prescription and are not even close in the left eye; plus, the lenses are scratched and the frame is missing an arm. I've had them since I was homeless. They are also marred by some more recently inflicted marks from Harold the cat, who got to them right after having torn the subwoofer out of my bass cabinet with his claws.
I have a ton of things to do which are suitable for a day off, yet I don't want to spend my days off running around doing stuff like that; I want to smoke a joint and mess around with the guitar missing a string; maybe re-record my voice mail greeting, which is currently a little bit of myself playing guitar and singing "I'm not home, I could be anywhere..." or something similar.
I am pretty sure that I need to quit smoking weed, to go along with not drinking. The weed makes me think that I sound better when I play; and I'm pretty sure that the music appeals to other stoners, but it seems to have the effect of making one day blend into another, and of making me opt for activities like soaking in the tub while listening to classical music, rather than taking care of business like setting appointments and showing up and getting things out of the way and off of my "I really need to..." list.
That list of items seems even more daunting and overwhelming in the fog of pot smoke and, a lot of times, for the inability to be able to decide which is the most important to do; I do none of them.
 |
| My place, when I got it 16 months ago... |
Labor Staffers
During a brief stop at the Labor Staffers place right down the street, I was informed by a guy that he was "being honest" in telling me that they had no work.
You would think that, given the percentage of the population here that has spurned ever working again because they have discovered skeezing, that there would be some work available.
I have rusty strings on the guitar and a blown out harmonica.
I opened up the harmonica this morning, after Troy the electric blues guitarist at the corner of Iberville and Royal had told me Sunday night that "they pop right open." It popped right open. The fasteners, which looked like the kind screws that would require a jewelers screwdriver to remove, were more like thumbtacks that came right out of the wood that they were stuck (screwed) into.
I could see no physical abnormalities about the reeds that had been malfunctioning, but when I flexed one in particular which had been refusing to sound, it snapped off along a crease which became apparent as I started to bend it.
So, the Marine Band in the key of C, which I paid 50 bucks for about 2 months ago is, to use a nautical expression, on the bottom of the ocean and beyond salvage.
I have about 10 bucks in cash.
I have another 15 in the 17.5% jar which is supposed to be for the saving up for a new laptop.
And, the 1% jar, which is current back to March 12th, probably has close to $20 in it.
I had hoped to have a new laptop with a functioning battery before taking a summer trip to New England, so that I could use it to blog, take pictures, record music and generally stay in touch with society.
My friend Ben from Massachusetts has not contacted me further about coming down here to visit New Orleans and stay at my apartment.
I have to go out and stop at the Labor Staffing place to complete an application with them.
I have to go to the "Workforce Louisiana" place, maybe with another notarized letter stating that I busk "40 hours a week" so that I won't be required to go through the 60 hours of "training" that is otherwise a prerequisite to continued food stamp assistance.
Teeth
I have to go back to the dental clinic "for the homeless" and make another appointment. The last time, I had to wait 5 months to see the dentist, who had referred me to the University Hospital with the instructions to remove all of my teeth.
She (the dentist) basically told me, without telling me, that if I were wealthy, then I could have my original teeth capped and crowned and bridged and filled and restored; and that it was "always better to keep your original teeth."
I balked at showing up at the University Hospital in order to have all my teeth pulled out, at that time. I at least want to wait until I have a head of gray hair before getting dentures.
I had no tooth pain, and decided to give myself more time in order to win the lottery or otherwise come into enough money to keep my original teeth.
I want to set another appointment, which would probably be for sometime in the fall, just to give myself another opportunity to decide if I want to go ahead with the teeth pulling, or in case I develope a toothache in a month or two. That wouldn't be the time to set the appointment for 5 months in the future.
Eyes
Then, I need to stop at the Rebuild Center to see about prescription eyeglasses. The ones that I am wearing are no longer my exact prescription and are not even close in the left eye; plus, the lenses are scratched and the frame is missing an arm. I've had them since I was homeless. They are also marred by some more recently inflicted marks from Harold the cat, who got to them right after having torn the subwoofer out of my bass cabinet with his claws.
I have a ton of things to do which are suitable for a day off, yet I don't want to spend my days off running around doing stuff like that; I want to smoke a joint and mess around with the guitar missing a string; maybe re-record my voice mail greeting, which is currently a little bit of myself playing guitar and singing "I'm not home, I could be anywhere..." or something similar.
I am pretty sure that I need to quit smoking weed, to go along with not drinking. The weed makes me think that I sound better when I play; and I'm pretty sure that the music appeals to other stoners, but it seems to have the effect of making one day blend into another, and of making me opt for activities like soaking in the tub while listening to classical music, rather than taking care of business like setting appointments and showing up and getting things out of the way and off of my "I really need to..." list.
That list of items seems even more daunting and overwhelming in the fog of pot smoke and, a lot of times, for the inability to be able to decide which is the most important to do; I do none of them.
Marine Band harps are indeed, just fastened together with little nails, true to their 1800s origins. Special-20s are updated Marine Bands, with plastic bodies and fastened with screws. I think they have the same reeds.
ReplyDeleteI swear, harmonicas are the Gillette razor of music. "King" Gilette got the idea to make a holder and sell the customer disposable blades, with the real money being made on the blades. Use 'em and throw 'em away. Harmonicas are like that.
If I were you, I'd amp up the busking, maybe trying out playing during the day, try some different spots, or be a go-fer for Tanya & Dorise, or for other buskers in general as the more successful ones might happily pay you a $5 spot to go get them some cigs or lunch.
Just tell the food stamp people you're out busking 40 hours a week, New Orleans wants to keep their buskers. If you got a "straight" job they'll start charging you rent for your apartment and now you'll have even less time to busk.
I've gone around at street fairs and swap meets and so on, and earned $10 or $20 to help people pack up. If you're averaging $20 a day busking and can make another $20 under the table helping someone pack up, making sandwich runs, etc now you're doubling your income.