9 Dollar Thursday
It's Friday night.
The weather is good, warm and kind of humid, not quite foggy.
The war I have been waging lately is against my mood.
It is more often than not lately that I don't feel like going out to busk.
It is kind of like "giving up" on one level. Isn't that what the "clinically" depressed people do, just give up and lay there, not even wanting to reach for a glass of water or take the next breath because, what's the use, to keep your shitty joyless life going?
I don't feel like I'll make enough to save up for anything. Plus, my cost of living goes up when I go out to play. The coffee and chocolate when I take my break, the Monster Energy drink on the way to the spot, and then any food that I might grab on the way home, along with a newspaper, because I have worked up an appetite; all adds up, never mind the wear and tear on the strings and harmonicas..
I lot has to do with smoking weed, I am suspecting -getting a rush of "creativity;" grabbing my guitar and playing it out of my system, realizing in the aftermath that it wasn't as good as I had thought, and then dragging myself out to the Lilly Pad, still feeling like my stuff isn't as good as I think...
That's typical.
I suppose I used to play well and make good tips without weed or drink, the times that I had done so, like when I was water fasting. After about 20 minutes of playing it all feels the same.
I find myself pedaling lazily towards the Lilly Pad when, having made up my mind that, yes, I'm going to give it a shot and play, I should be racing to get there and set up and be playing my first note "25 minutes from now," as I leave the apartment.
There is a hidden danger in the fact that getting drunk used to be motivation enough for me to go out. And I haven't replaced it with a better purpose. It's the not knowing which bugs me the determination at the end of a given night that I would have been better off had I stayed home, and the recurrence of this over the course of two or three consecutive nights.
It makes me wonder about placing another ad for someone to crash at my place for 20 bucks a day.
Assuming I could go about my usual business and go out and busk for another 20 bucks on a typical day, that would supplement me up to the point where I could actually save for something that's a couple hundred bucks.
Travis used to encourage me not to go out and busk, I think so that he could have someone to talk at all night. "It's really a pretty crappy night. "There probably aren't that many people out, you've got the 20 I just gave you, and if you need a cigarette just help yourself from this pack...probably a good night to stay in. Anyway, as I was saying..."
The Root Of My Anxiety
Which brings me to the root canal procedures that I can have done for "only 94 bucks" each.
That is an amount of money that almost seems designed to weed out those who are below a certain level of abject poverty to the point where 94 bucks is beyond their means.
I used to know someone who would judge people using their teeth as the tell all.
I see a lot of black people from all walks of life who have "perfect" teeth.
Either they aren't a cavity prone race, or they place such a high value upon having all of their teeth intact that they will go the extra mile (make regular payments into some kind of dental "plan" even if it means cutting the electricity off periodically) to make sure they don't look "ghetto" by having teeth missing.
From my understanding, if I come up with the 94 bucks and have the root canals done before my next appointment at the other place, the other place will fill whatever cavities exist with tooth colored fillings, since they are the front teeth, and the teeth will have been "saved."
Otherwise, I forgot exactly what they said would happen. They would probably let the front teeth sit there in their present condition.
I was told by the dental worker at LSU School of dentistry that dentures are uncomfortable, they never fit right, people hate them, and that they could bring a singing career to an end and make you sound like Elmer Fudd, compromising your ability to have a serious discussion with anyone.
So, my mood teeters right around the border between good and bad.
I'm out of weed and out of money to get any. This is a good thing?
It's Friday night.
The weather is good, warm and kind of humid, not quite foggy.
The war I have been waging lately is against my mood.
It is more often than not lately that I don't feel like going out to busk.
It is kind of like "giving up" on one level. Isn't that what the "clinically" depressed people do, just give up and lay there, not even wanting to reach for a glass of water or take the next breath because, what's the use, to keep your shitty joyless life going?
I don't feel like I'll make enough to save up for anything. Plus, my cost of living goes up when I go out to play. The coffee and chocolate when I take my break, the Monster Energy drink on the way to the spot, and then any food that I might grab on the way home, along with a newspaper, because I have worked up an appetite; all adds up, never mind the wear and tear on the strings and harmonicas..
I lot has to do with smoking weed, I am suspecting -getting a rush of "creativity;" grabbing my guitar and playing it out of my system, realizing in the aftermath that it wasn't as good as I had thought, and then dragging myself out to the Lilly Pad, still feeling like my stuff isn't as good as I think...
That's typical.
I suppose I used to play well and make good tips without weed or drink, the times that I had done so, like when I was water fasting. After about 20 minutes of playing it all feels the same.
I find myself pedaling lazily towards the Lilly Pad when, having made up my mind that, yes, I'm going to give it a shot and play, I should be racing to get there and set up and be playing my first note "25 minutes from now," as I leave the apartment.
There is a hidden danger in the fact that getting drunk used to be motivation enough for me to go out. And I haven't replaced it with a better purpose. It's the not knowing which bugs me the determination at the end of a given night that I would have been better off had I stayed home, and the recurrence of this over the course of two or three consecutive nights.
It makes me wonder about placing another ad for someone to crash at my place for 20 bucks a day.
Assuming I could go about my usual business and go out and busk for another 20 bucks on a typical day, that would supplement me up to the point where I could actually save for something that's a couple hundred bucks.
Travis used to encourage me not to go out and busk, I think so that he could have someone to talk at all night. "It's really a pretty crappy night. "There probably aren't that many people out, you've got the 20 I just gave you, and if you need a cigarette just help yourself from this pack...probably a good night to stay in. Anyway, as I was saying..."
The Root Of My Anxiety
Which brings me to the root canal procedures that I can have done for "only 94 bucks" each.
That is an amount of money that almost seems designed to weed out those who are below a certain level of abject poverty to the point where 94 bucks is beyond their means.
I used to know someone who would judge people using their teeth as the tell all.
I see a lot of black people from all walks of life who have "perfect" teeth.
Either they aren't a cavity prone race, or they place such a high value upon having all of their teeth intact that they will go the extra mile (make regular payments into some kind of dental "plan" even if it means cutting the electricity off periodically) to make sure they don't look "ghetto" by having teeth missing.
From my understanding, if I come up with the 94 bucks and have the root canals done before my next appointment at the other place, the other place will fill whatever cavities exist with tooth colored fillings, since they are the front teeth, and the teeth will have been "saved."
Otherwise, I forgot exactly what they said would happen. They would probably let the front teeth sit there in their present condition.
I was told by the dental worker at LSU School of dentistry that dentures are uncomfortable, they never fit right, people hate them, and that they could bring a singing career to an end and make you sound like Elmer Fudd, compromising your ability to have a serious discussion with anyone.
So, my mood teeters right around the border between good and bad.
I'm out of weed and out of money to get any. This is a good thing?
I'd avoid dentures if possible, people I've known who had them didn't like them.
ReplyDeleteIf you put some drawings, a funny sign or two, etc out and just put in the hours, I suspect you can make busking what I do doing electronics surplus; about $35 a day.
I sold a couple of mouthpieces I'm not using anyway, but I think I'm going to hang onto my trumpet stuff and stay "equipped" to do trumpet playing OR caricatures, because the central issue right now seems to be that I'm not all that motivated to do much of *anything* and that needs to be solved first.