I Try Quinoa
The "water only" fast has devolved into the juiced vegetable stabilizer in the evening, followed by the half gallon of "detox" tea to be sipped while busking, and then the gradual introduction of oats at night and, now, quinoa, fast.
I broke the fast Friday afternoon with a water infused with watermelon and mint and lime.
I felt high as a kite as I sipped it in front of the Whole Foods Market, as if I had just skydived, being force-fed fresh air on the way to the ground, and had just landed. Then drank an infused water after 5 days of water only.
The infused water was the only thing that I bought at "the land of the expensive" which is the Whole Foods store.
I wandered through the "witch doctor" aisle, where there were tinctures and extracts in little tiny bottles with eyedroppers included to facilitate their administration one drop at a time.
I had to look at the Oil of Evening Primrose, and have memories of a time when having eczema was the biggest issue in my life, and when I had paid the $24.99 for a bottle of 60 capsules (take 3 daily; you may not see results for a few weeks) after having read that it had been proven to be effective against that "disease" -disease in the sense of something that makes one ill at ease, but not in the sense of some foreign thing that one "gets," and then "has."
There were little ear-drop sized bottles of things on the shelves with price tags in the 80 dollar range; (about a dollar a drop, maybe) and I suddenly felt as if I must have the eyeballs of someone working a security detail upon me. I mean, the pocket on my guitar case along could hold a few hundred dollars worth of extracts and tinctures. Maybe security doesn't sweat it because the stuff has no street value -try standing on the corner of Bourbon and Canal Streets at night hawking Valerian Root Extract: "Yo, this will mellow you out, help you rest better, gimme 10 bucks!"
So, I got out of the isle, to free one of their security people to do other things, rather than watch my hands through a peep hole in the wall overlooking the witch doctor isle.
Harold Not Fasting
The next stop, once I was infused, was to get Harold the cat some food.
I recently discovered that he likes salmon.
I had thought that he didn't like it after he had once taken just a couple bites off of some Fancy Feast "gourmet" Salmon Dinner that I had paid dearly for. That salmon dinner was in "paté" form, and therein lied the rub.
Harold doesn't like the texture of paté anything, preferring shreds or bits or even the dry food to it.
Now I have had to re-evaluate some foods that I had crossed off the list of what Harold likes.
Salmon and chicken in sauce, he devoured; as well as tuna in sauce. I had thought that he hated tuna for the same reason; I'd given him some tuna and egg in paté form.
The next little experiment will be to place the 33 cent dollar store brand next to the 65 cent Friskies brand in each of the flavors and then watching him like a guy with a backpack in aisle 2 at Whole Foods to see if he likes them equally, or if he starts to eat the 65 cent stuff; goes over to the 33 cent stuff for a bite, but then returns to the Friskies.
What fun you can have with a cat if you are scientific minded. And to think that some owners find something that fluffy will eat and then just feed it that its whole life; never even a drop of ginseng extract here and there...
I picked up Harold's food and then rode right past the cigarette store. They taste nasty now, and I am going periods of up to 12 hours without them, and only take a puff every once in a while to remind myself of how awful they are -something strongly cautioned against in the smoking cessation book that I have been reading and re-reading the past year.
It stands to reason that, if my lower back pain and soreness melts away after I crap out everything in my digestive tract, then maybe my upper back and neck pain will go away if I stop putting tar in my lungs.
New Orleans is the smoking-est city that I've ever been in. Most cities have a 90% smoking rate in the poverty stricken "hood," where many become relegated to after having fallen prey to their addictions in general; but the crackheads and meth-heads and heroin addicts all seem to be cigarette fiends, on top of their other issues. Cigarettes go with so much, in life, I guess.
I got to the Ideal Market, where I found basically the same items that were on sale last year at this time, on sale again.
I grabbed carrots, parsley, limes, tomatoes, jumbo mangoes, a piece of ginger, a cucumber and a Serrano pepper and left, after spending less than 7 bucks on them.
Another blessing of the water fast became clear after just an 8 ounce glass of the above juiced products "filled me up," giving me 2 meals for the 7 dollars.
3 Dollar Saturday
They're really not Christians in the practical sense; they're more like "church people" -big difference. -Me
The same group of tourists are in town for "some kind of Christian convention." They are just walking around and gawking, being judgemental in the opinions of some; and not tipping musicians.
I started at about 10:15 PM.
After about the 300th one of them walked past -and they were walking in large schools with the flock seeming to follow the example of the foremost person after he had walked past me; read the tiposaurus sign, and then with a slight smile and a slight shake of the head; walked past without tipping.
Its easy to imagine the group having gathered before their adventure with the same leader having said words to the effect of: "Let's stick together, and hang on to your money. There are con artists and hustlers all up and down this strip; they're all after your money; and most of them are using it to buy drugs!!"
"...to produce Christian leaders!"
The challenge is to play your best for them; even after 300 of them have already walked past, just looking. I have to imagine that I am playing for someone who is across the street and up on the third floor with the window open, listening as they soak in a tub, and not the group of "Christians," who are walking past right in front of me.
They might have had a pow-wow up the block and agreed to a game plan of "Hey, everybody; when we get to that guy playing guitar, lets just all start talking really loud; just talk about anything but, really loud; it'll be funny. Maybe we can get him to yell "You know, you people really suck!" like the guy on Iberville and Royal, hee hee.
I was raised a Catholic Christian; and we were jerks. We went to church every weekend, but if our church were to have sponsored a trip to New Orleans, we probably would have been jerks toward street musicians. We were brainwashed into thinking that that isn't and never could be our lives; because parochial school leads to a good college that leads to a good job, and fulfills The Goal of Catholic schools, which the principal of mine, Sister Joan Mulcahy, stated to me (right before she expelled me) as: "To produce Christian leaders!"
I imagine that the person in the tub across the street is listening closely and appreciating every right note; and is not trying to raise a conversation over me.
One of my bigger concerns was that, one of the drunk Christians, frustrated by his attempts to distract me will up his game a bit; the way people do to the Buckingham Palace Guard; getting right in their faces; telling them jokes; trying to break their demeanor.
"Slow Night, Huh? "
So, I had left the house with 10 bucks; paid no trolley fee; bought only a can of cat food, and returned to place 13 dollars on my coffee table; representing the same 10, plus the 3 dollars that I had made in about an hour and a half of playing.
"I don't HAVE to do this," I told myself, as I packed up early.
"You leaving already?" asked one of the block skeezers.
"Yeah, they're not biting..."
Sure, I could have stuck around waiting for that one person who, upon seeing your tip jar still empty after having walked past you 2 hours earlier will approach and lay a 10 or 20 in it, saying: "Slow night, huh?"
The "water only" fast has devolved into the juiced vegetable stabilizer in the evening, followed by the half gallon of "detox" tea to be sipped while busking, and then the gradual introduction of oats at night and, now, quinoa, fast.
I felt high as a kite as I sipped it in front of the Whole Foods Market, as if I had just skydived, being force-fed fresh air on the way to the ground, and had just landed. Then drank an infused water after 5 days of water only.
The infused water was the only thing that I bought at "the land of the expensive" which is the Whole Foods store.
I wandered through the "witch doctor" aisle, where there were tinctures and extracts in little tiny bottles with eyedroppers included to facilitate their administration one drop at a time.
I had to look at the Oil of Evening Primrose, and have memories of a time when having eczema was the biggest issue in my life, and when I had paid the $24.99 for a bottle of 60 capsules (take 3 daily; you may not see results for a few weeks) after having read that it had been proven to be effective against that "disease" -disease in the sense of something that makes one ill at ease, but not in the sense of some foreign thing that one "gets," and then "has."
There were little ear-drop sized bottles of things on the shelves with price tags in the 80 dollar range; (about a dollar a drop, maybe) and I suddenly felt as if I must have the eyeballs of someone working a security detail upon me. I mean, the pocket on my guitar case along could hold a few hundred dollars worth of extracts and tinctures. Maybe security doesn't sweat it because the stuff has no street value -try standing on the corner of Bourbon and Canal Streets at night hawking Valerian Root Extract: "Yo, this will mellow you out, help you rest better, gimme 10 bucks!"
So, I got out of the isle, to free one of their security people to do other things, rather than watch my hands through a peep hole in the wall overlooking the witch doctor isle.
Harold Not Fasting
The next stop, once I was infused, was to get Harold the cat some food.
I recently discovered that he likes salmon.
I had thought that he didn't like it after he had once taken just a couple bites off of some Fancy Feast "gourmet" Salmon Dinner that I had paid dearly for. That salmon dinner was in "paté" form, and therein lied the rub.
Harold doesn't like the texture of paté anything, preferring shreds or bits or even the dry food to it.
Now I have had to re-evaluate some foods that I had crossed off the list of what Harold likes.
Salmon and chicken in sauce, he devoured; as well as tuna in sauce. I had thought that he hated tuna for the same reason; I'd given him some tuna and egg in paté form.
The next little experiment will be to place the 33 cent dollar store brand next to the 65 cent Friskies brand in each of the flavors and then watching him like a guy with a backpack in aisle 2 at Whole Foods to see if he likes them equally, or if he starts to eat the 65 cent stuff; goes over to the 33 cent stuff for a bite, but then returns to the Friskies.
What fun you can have with a cat if you are scientific minded. And to think that some owners find something that fluffy will eat and then just feed it that its whole life; never even a drop of ginseng extract here and there...
I picked up Harold's food and then rode right past the cigarette store. They taste nasty now, and I am going periods of up to 12 hours without them, and only take a puff every once in a while to remind myself of how awful they are -something strongly cautioned against in the smoking cessation book that I have been reading and re-reading the past year.
It stands to reason that, if my lower back pain and soreness melts away after I crap out everything in my digestive tract, then maybe my upper back and neck pain will go away if I stop putting tar in my lungs.
New Orleans is the smoking-est city that I've ever been in. Most cities have a 90% smoking rate in the poverty stricken "hood," where many become relegated to after having fallen prey to their addictions in general; but the crackheads and meth-heads and heroin addicts all seem to be cigarette fiends, on top of their other issues. Cigarettes go with so much, in life, I guess.
I got to the Ideal Market, where I found basically the same items that were on sale last year at this time, on sale again.
I grabbed carrots, parsley, limes, tomatoes, jumbo mangoes, a piece of ginger, a cucumber and a Serrano pepper and left, after spending less than 7 bucks on them.
Another blessing of the water fast became clear after just an 8 ounce glass of the above juiced products "filled me up," giving me 2 meals for the 7 dollars.
3 Dollar Saturday
They're really not Christians in the practical sense; they're more like "church people" -big difference. -Me
The same group of tourists are in town for "some kind of Christian convention." They are just walking around and gawking, being judgemental in the opinions of some; and not tipping musicians.
I started at about 10:15 PM.
After about the 300th one of them walked past -and they were walking in large schools with the flock seeming to follow the example of the foremost person after he had walked past me; read the tiposaurus sign, and then with a slight smile and a slight shake of the head; walked past without tipping.
Its easy to imagine the group having gathered before their adventure with the same leader having said words to the effect of: "Let's stick together, and hang on to your money. There are con artists and hustlers all up and down this strip; they're all after your money; and most of them are using it to buy drugs!!"
"...to produce Christian leaders!"
The challenge is to play your best for them; even after 300 of them have already walked past, just looking. I have to imagine that I am playing for someone who is across the street and up on the third floor with the window open, listening as they soak in a tub, and not the group of "Christians," who are walking past right in front of me.
They might have had a pow-wow up the block and agreed to a game plan of "Hey, everybody; when we get to that guy playing guitar, lets just all start talking really loud; just talk about anything but, really loud; it'll be funny. Maybe we can get him to yell "You know, you people really suck!" like the guy on Iberville and Royal, hee hee.
I was raised a Catholic Christian; and we were jerks. We went to church every weekend, but if our church were to have sponsored a trip to New Orleans, we probably would have been jerks toward street musicians. We were brainwashed into thinking that that isn't and never could be our lives; because parochial school leads to a good college that leads to a good job, and fulfills The Goal of Catholic schools, which the principal of mine, Sister Joan Mulcahy, stated to me (right before she expelled me) as: "To produce Christian leaders!"
I imagine that the person in the tub across the street is listening closely and appreciating every right note; and is not trying to raise a conversation over me.
One of my bigger concerns was that, one of the drunk Christians, frustrated by his attempts to distract me will up his game a bit; the way people do to the Buckingham Palace Guard; getting right in their faces; telling them jokes; trying to break their demeanor.
"Slow Night, Huh? "
So, I had left the house with 10 bucks; paid no trolley fee; bought only a can of cat food, and returned to place 13 dollars on my coffee table; representing the same 10, plus the 3 dollars that I had made in about an hour and a half of playing.
"I don't HAVE to do this," I told myself, as I packed up early.
"You leaving already?" asked one of the block skeezers.
"Yeah, they're not biting..."
Sure, I could have stuck around waiting for that one person who, upon seeing your tip jar still empty after having walked past you 2 hours earlier will approach and lay a 10 or 20 in it, saying: "Slow night, huh?"
whole Foods is indeed full of expensive stuff and I know the "witch doctor aisle" well. But there are some reasonable things there too. One way to get around the expensive food thing is to buy ... whole foods. You know, like rolled oats and lentils and stuff. There's little profit in rolled oats and lentils, which is why people are extolled to buy pre-made cookies and chips and so on. In fact from a profit standpoint, the idea of a "health food store" is self-defeating. It's the "unhealthy food stores" that make a good profit.
ReplyDeleteI don't know if you have a Trader Joe's but it has a lot of the same sort of stuff a Whole Foods does, and a lot cheaper. I finally went into my closest one (I used to panhandle in that parking lot years ago and used to go into Joe's bathroom to take a whiz, wash my hands, and count up) and I was amazed at how much cheaper sunflower seeds and walnut halves & pieces were.
There was a Trader Joe's within sight from where I had an improvised house in Federal Way, Washington. I was getting out of the labor pool every day with $10-12 per hour jobs, living in my homemade home and had plenty of money for the finer things in life...
ReplyDeleteYou were in Washington State? So you've been to the Western end of the country after all.
ReplyDelete$10-$12 an hour is what the vast majority are getting by here in "silicon valley". We have a tiny elite making those supposedly big tech wages, but I can tell you, almost everyone who knows what an op-amp does or how to use a soldering iron is still making that same $10 or $12 an hour.
Sounds like Washington was sweet, why'd you leave?