Wednesday, September 14, 2016

A Vibe Put Out By The Starving

  • Karrie Back In My Life?
  • 28 Dollar Monday
  • Day 3 Of Water Only* Fast
  • Howard Visits
 I got an e-mail from someone named Faith, who told me that she knew Karrie and could tell me what city she was in; or even give her a message for me.
It turns out that Karrie is in Chattanooga, Tennessee.
I have had the song "Chattanooga Choo Choo" on repeat in my head for the past month or so, and this was because I listened to an finger picked rendition of it on Youtube, played by Guy Van Duser.
Even so, it is one of life's small coincidences that I was humming it when I opened the e-mail to find out that Karrie was there.
She was apparently living in the woods behind the business where Faith works, with a guy named Mark, who is now in jail for beating Karrie.
My first question to Faith was: Is Karrie drinking again?
When she walked up to me a year and a half ago (left) she was sober. I was heavily drinking at that time, and had the half full half pint of disgusting cheap vodka in my backpack to prove it. She refused any. Here was a lady who used to cradle a bottle of liquor like a baby when she slept. She had taken up smoking cigarettes, though. I had never seen her smoke one before.
She was so calm that I suspected that she had been put on some drug which would make her vomit if she drank alcohol, or had been given a lobotomy.
"I guess I'm the one who has to sober up if we are to get back together," I thought. The irony was not lost on me over the fact that I had left her in Jacksonville back in 2009, because I thought that hanging around with her was making me drink more and more -having it available at five in the morning, for instance.
Faith sent a pretty lengthy e-mail in which she said, first off, that she was going to reciprocate the "honesty" that she said I had written with in this blog, and went on to describe in some detail the two homeless people who lived in the woods behind the business where she works. I answered the e-mail, and encouraged her to mention me to Karrie, give her my love, and be prepared for her to say that I had dumped her and moved all the way to Mobile, Alabama just to distance myself from her.

Around noon this (Wednesday) afternoon, I was visited by none other than Howard, accompanied by my caseworker, Tim and one of the other operatives who had helped me retrieve him from the woods where he had been staying and move him in to Sacred Heart Apartments.
He now lives in a house in Gretna, on the other side of the Mississippi River, and said that there were things that he really missed about Sacred Heart Apartments. The grass isn't that much greener on the other side.
Tim had shown Howard the pencil sketch that was hanging in his (Tim's) office, and somehow Howard had taken possession of it.
We chatted for a while and I was invited over to the house where Howard now lives, any time the Patriots are playing on prime time TV.

28 Bucks Monday

Monday night, I went out after having made 4 dollars on both Friday and Saturday and then having taken Sunday off to watch the Patriots game at Harrah's Casino and made 28 dollars. 25 of it came from one white lady of about 45 years of age named Montelle, who placed 20 in the tip jar after having stopped and listened.
She asked me to "just play what you feel like playing; what you would normally play if I wasn't here."
I started playing "Last Dance With Mary Jane," by Tom Petty, and as soon as I sang the first line: "She grew up in an Indiana town..." Montelle exclaimed "Oh, my god, I'm from Indiana!" and another 5 bucks went into the jar.
Thus, cat food, toothpaste, dish soap, a wash of laundry, a newspaper, a little bag of ground coffee and a handful of bath salts were all mine; and I still had 20 bucks left this (Wednesday) morning.
It is the Montelle's of the world that I am seeking when I go out and play on these slow weekend nights.
I am trying to be frugal with the money, realizing that if it weren't for her, it would have been a 3 dollar night, in line with what I had made the 2 previous nights that I busked.
Of course, I am going out again as soon as I post this. I want to get the TV paid off.
I am definitely actively looking for a job. I'm tired of living on miracles like the appearance of a lady with a strange name whom I just happen to play the perfect song for.
David the water jug player would tell me not to worry and that the miracles will just keep happening like that...forsake everything, pick up your cross, and follow me..., the guy who sleeps on a trolley stop bench would quote to me on the subject, I'm sure...
There does seem to be a connection between fasting and getting huge tips, though. Maybe it is a vibe put out by the starving....

1 comment:

alex carter said...

busking is an hours game. If you put in the hours, the "miracles" would attain some statistical dependability, and your pay would go up. Also, some CDs out for sale would help.