Ambition Be Gone

It is early Saturday afternoon.

I was up early this morning, after having skipped Friday night busking, after having been up all day Friday, after having only made a dollar Thursday night; perhaps the first night that I determined that I never should have come out. There have been other such nights when I had started to tell myself that I never should have come out, before remembering some thing, perhaps peripheral to busking, that had made it worthwhile -a conversation with someone I met, or finding something useful on the ground somewhere.

It is early Saturday afternoon, I have about 3 dollars in cash, and have 15 days to go on the food stamp card with about $20 on it. I almost want to spend a dollar on a dollar store 650 piece jigsaw puzzle, get some more coffee and stay in tonight. I am smoking too much "ambition be gone" weed.

I am considering another water-only fast, maybe 10 days. It's good to periodically go back to it. And it doesn't seem to be burning up my muscle, just whatever fat I do have; and it has been pretty amazing, the wealth of well being that has come from eliminating corn and its products from my diet.

There is little doubt that the yellow powder in the macaroni and cheese, had caused me lower back pain in the kidney region, made me feel a bit listless, and today, 2 days past the experience, produced a little bit of phlegm in my throat.

The hit and miss aspect of making money busking is starting to annoy me. I think I might be happier with a job that guarantees 10 bucks for every hour I'm on the clock, rather than take the fluctuating income from busking.

Plus, you don't have to wash dishes using all of your skills, fast as you can, doing little juggling tricks, spinning plates on your fingers, while cracking jokes, in order to get paid.

But, then again, for things to align themselves to the 18 dollar per hour average that I had maintained for a while, I would have to hit a pretty considerable stretch of over 18 dollar hours.

 In an unrelated matter, I came across this picture of an abandoned marble quarry that was in the town where my Grandparents on my mother's side lived, West Rutland, Vermont.
It is now apparently a swimming hole, having filled with water.
I wonder if they have to warn kids that the water is a quarter of a mile deep.
When I was a kid, I would be afraid to get too close to the edge to look down and could see water WAY down there.
After throwing a rock in, one could count 7 seconds before hearing the reverberating splash from the bottom. They found cars and all kinds of stuff when they explored it for some reason once, perhaps looking for a certain car.
It has taken 30 years, perhaps for rain to have filled the thing up. Still that would have to have been at a 40 feet per year level of rainfall.