- $20 Sunday
- Harmonica Given To Me
*Attention: Junkies who cannot spell: you will probably not find what you are looking for in this post...
Just as I was packing up at about 12:10 AM, a guy and a lady showed up.
I had the feeling that I should have remembered him and that I had probably spoken to him at length at one time and then just forgotten his face.
|"I" now study drawing techniques|
There have been frequent instances where I have encountered people whom I didn't recognize until they made reference to something that we might have discussed after we had met and hung out.
We might have hung out for a couple of hours. That wouldn't have helped my recollection.
It is embarrassing, especially when I sense that the people feel slighted in the sense that we had bonded well enough and enjoyed each others company enough to think that I might instantly recognize the face again; but it doesn't often happen and I can be thrown by a mere change of clothing; or seeing someone out of their uniform and not recognizing them.
The man asked me if I was just setting up. There was a tinge of promise in his voice with overtones of: "It might be worth your while to break out the stuff and play for a bit longer."
I told him that I was "tearing down," and then started to comment upon the Sunday night that it had been.
He handed me a new harmonica in the key of C.
I thanked him and started to explain about the condition of the old battleax that I had been playing but then realised that he must have somehow known that I needed or would appreciate a new harmonica; and, at that point I should have explained about my facial recognition issue and asked him to remind me of when and where or if we had met.
He could have been a blog reader; or someone whom I had met recently enough that I was already complaining vocally about the harmonica going out of tune.
I played into the harmonica and the intonation reminded me of when I tune my guitar with the electronic tuner after it has drifted annoyingly out of tune. It sounded sweet.
The guy asked me if I was going to play longer. The lady he was with mildly protested as I started to unzip my guitar case. She could have been saying: "No, honey; he's at the end of his night; he's tired; don't make him take the guitar back out and play just for us..."
Or she could have been saying: "Come on, let's get to the bar; I'm just not in the mood to hear a 10 minute song..."
But, in my mind, I felt ashamed of not having recognized the guy and, as they walked off towards the bar, the guy turned and said: "Have a good night, Daniel."
I then really should have called after him, imploring to be reminded of how I knew him.
They might have been the couple that I played for in front of the bar about a month ago who were from Fort Worth, Texas. I would have recognized the conversation and it might have even brought the face back to me. There is an actual term for facial non cognizance; I think ending in "opia."
|I now have the tools to create my super heroine|
I even have trouble sometimes determining if two separate photos of a person are indeed the same person.
My friend Hubert Borg, who is an artist amongst other things, can say with certainty whether they are or not. As if, from viewing a face from one angle, it is possible to imagine exactly what they would look like if they turned their head sideways....
After the couple left, I played longer, being very gentle on the harmonica and making a few more of what would be 20 dollars; on a Sunday night; after having had a 12 dollar Saturday...Oh, well, it is the slow season.
When the time comes for me to busk my way up the east coast, I am not going to fret over how much money I am embarking upon my journey with.
I pretty much know that, as a fresh face in town who has the appearance of travelling and who sounds good musically that 100 dollar nights are very possible. Mobile, Montgomery, Atlanta, Charleston, Charlottesville, Baltimore, Boston....
It would be tempting to hop a freight train for the first "leg" of the journey out of here.
It is probably no accident that they make it so friggin' easy to hop a freight train and, this is the important part: get your skeezing ass the hell out of here and away from the tourists.
|...and her attack bird|
Yup, the freighter will be idling, light on, pulled forward out of the yard enough so that you don't even need to step on that particular federal property in order to get into one of the conveniently opened and empty boxcars about 12 or so back from the power unit; probably so the conductor can visually make sure they've hopped off alright before he jams it into gear...