Friday, February 10, 2017

72 Degrees Forecast For Today

  • Wednesday Night Second Consecutive 5 Dollar One
  • Laptop Has Been Here 4 Days
  • Harold The Cat Comes Home Injured
  • Water Fast To Coincide With Carnival

I took last (Thursday) night off from busking, after having come in after the 5 dollar Wednesday night and stayed up all day.

I have to realize that defraying the cost of the cigarettes and newspaper and Reese's dark chocolate cups that I bought is much better than posting a goose egg.

I read the newspaper and flipped on my TV and wound up watching back to back to back episodes of one of those crime shows. This one was based upon the theme of wealthy people pretty much getting away with murder, called something like Wealth, Privilege and Justice.

One episode was about a billionaire heiress who was so arrogant after murdering her husband that she didn't seem to worry much about covering up the crime, and at one point, told the police to get out of her mansion, which they obsequiously did, while the body lay there, losing its usefulness as evidence of the time of death, with each passing hour.

They finally came back with a warrant and discovered things like a tissue that had the woman's mucous on it, along with gunpowder residue. Apparently, she had shed a few tears and blown her nose, after blowing his brains out (good for her, shows that she has a good heart), Then they found the gun in the front yard, with fibers from the same tissue and her mucous on it. She had apparently thrown it there to get rid of the evidence.

She hired the same attorney who had defended the Gambino mafia guy, who postulated some theory like, the killer could have shot the guy with the pistol that he somehow knew was in his nightstand and then wiped her nose while she slept, before wiping his prints off the weapon and flinging it.
The evidence was so ridiculously damning that, even in that town where she was worshiped for her wealth, the jury found her guilty, but of manslaughter, not murder. She was sentenced to 60 days in the county jail (minus 3 for good behavior) and spent that time on the 4th floor of the facility, which had been cleared of other inmates, citing a security risk to her, so she could have it all to herself; a suite of jail cells.

The gist of the show being: "What do you think I (a "regular-person" viewer) would have gotten if I shot my husband and got caught?"
I could picture her running into one of the correctional officers (on her way to a polo match somewhere) once her 57 days were up, and giving him a nod and a smile ...You're the nice guard that brought me a fluffy pillow and ice cream every night .. type of thing.

Harold Battle Scarred

Harold the cat had disappeared for a couple days and came back meowing desperately, kind of skinny looking, and with scratch marks on his head and around his left ear and blood caked inside that same ear.

Laptop Has Been Sitting Here 4 Days

I saw a laptop sized box sitting behind the security desk up front on my way here to the computer room. "Yeah, I've been trying to call you since Monday," said the lady behind the desk.
So, the laptop is here, and has been for 4 days.

This Blog To Benefit

Maybe this blog will become more interesting, now that I can work on it away from these slow computers and these mentally ill fellow residents in the computer room.

One of them was ready to physically attack me because the computer he was on wasn't acting right, and he was sure that it was because I was sitting on the one I was on, messing it up. "I'm about to do him something!" said the young African American, to another one in the room, in the way that blacks seem to have to vocalize their intentions before doing anything; as if they want to hear how the idea sounds out loud first, or are running it by the others looking for guidance.

Of course I was using the hacking skills that every white guy who wears glasses possesses to befuddle him and frustrate his efforts. I have to keep him "down," right?!?

All I could do was shake my head and mumble: "Really?" to myself. I finally just went back to my room and finished watching "The Birth Of A Nation," which I had paused.

This really is a time for a fast and cleanse. The writing is on the wall.

While the tourists are gorging themselves on all things carnival, I can use sobriety to give me more leverage in maximizing my gains throughout the next 3 weeks.

Kind of like the way the Muslim guy in the convenience store who doesn't smoke, drink, gamble or look at pornography, is able to be purposed and clear-headed, free of attachment and ready to make a killing off of the weak infidels who do. I profit off of your self-destruction, type of thing.


alex carter said...

I'm pretty sure having to be around black people is reason enough for most people to avoid living in New Orleans. The constant tension, having to have eyes on the back of your head, it just isn't worth it. I supposed sensible people might live in a decent area nearby like Metairie, and just visit New Orleans itself when they feel like it.

Daniel McKenna said...

The blacks, who hold all of the "easy" jobs; push to make trolley go, pull to stop it, who won't pull to stop it for a white man if he is standing not quite directly under the stop sign ("How was I supposed to know you was waiting for the trolley?") even though he rides (and gets a dirty look from her) every night around the same time; who then lets a black guy on in between stops who flags her down.
Or the post office lady who couldn't weigh my drawing nor give me even a ballpark figure on how much I might expect to pay in postage because I told her "I think" the zip code is...
"Well, if you're not sure of the zip code, I can't send it..."
"I'm pretty sure that's what it is, just go with that. And besides, what do you care if my parcel takes longer to get there; seems like that would make your day!"
With the truth being that they have dumbed down the machinery to the monkey level, and without the address matching the zip code exactly she would get an error message and wouldn't be able to manually do anything.
"Ma'am, how long have you been working here, in order to have been promoted to the easiest machine? and you haven't handled enough packages before seeing how much their postage was to be able to tell from holding mine if its going to be around 3 bucks or more like 8?"
With the truth being that she probably thought I was trying to trick her into giving me an amount so I could sue them later after it is off...
There are those kind, to go with the ones that cause constant tension.
And the cashiers who beam and greet the black guy in front of you warmly, then stare at you icily, making no sound except to bark the amount of the purchase at you when it's your turn...
And the lady who asked me for a cigarette this morning and then told me that she was pray for me after I refused, in a tone that implied that I was going to be in danger of being killed out there, refusing cigarettes to the less fortunate, as I was prone to do.
Or the two black guys at the bus stop who were in some kind of work uniforms, one of whom was talking loudly about how he had worked something like 11 hours overtime and didn't think his check had been enough and who asked me for a cigarette as soon as I pulled my box out, and who then reached into their own pockets and smoked their own after I told them that it was my last one (or something).
Makes me wish I had eyes in back of my head....

alex carter said...

Sounds like a good reason to get the fuck out of there. Yes, we have blacks in the SF Bay Area, but thank God we have much less of them, and they're mostly concentrated in easily avoided areas (no one has any reason to go to Oakland or East Palo Alto, for instance). The few we have sure cause their share of trouble, don't get me wrong, but you don't have 'em in the position of power they are there.

I went into Hobee's, a local breakfast kind of place, years ago and bingo there was a black guy of the entitled type paying for me - solution: I remembered an appointment and walked out. Haven't been back. It's an avoidable thing.

Plus, yes, you have a free apartment there, but you might have **tons** more networking here, because frankly you're at a huge disadvantage being white there. Think the Tipitina's Foundation is really going to stretch themselves out to help you? Think again.

Given that my experiences are Hawaii and the West Coast, plus a bit of Colorado and Arizona, so basically the Western US, the Western US kicks ass. I can walk down the street, apply for a job, get a PO Box or mail a package, buy stuff in a store, eat in a restaurant, register a car, look for an apartment, just tons of things without having to worry about being harassed, hassled, threatened, or simply "included out" because of my race. It just fucking kicks ass.

Part 2 coming up...

alex carter said...

Part 2:

I know you're into the Grateful Dead and Elvis Costello. Now, speaking as a white person, I hate The Grateful Dead and Elvis Costello. But both are very "white" musicians. And most of my fellow white people would disagree with me; they tend to really like The Dead and Elvis. Why do you think Elvis Costello had some cameos in the TV series Treme? You think that show was written for black people? Nope! It was written for white people. It **had** starring roles by black people, but trust me, it was written with the aim in mind of appealing to white people, getting them to move into New Orleans to gentrify the place. It was one big long commercial, with Elvis Costello, for the white folks.

Now out here, there are Dead "tribute" bands, and anyone with the kind of categorical knowledge of the Dead I think you probably have, it suddenly sexy as hell. The Bay Area is the home of the Dead originally, after all. If you can rattle off Dead songs, you can literally make hundreds a day at the farmer's markets, and in San Francisco proper.

You're just in an uphill battle, where you are. Kind of like I was in Hawaii. Sure I could have stayed, maybe even been a home owner by now, which is fine and dandy until I got burned out. It happened to a white artist from Australia, Dennis Hardy, who taught me a bit in high school, gave me some brushes and paint, etc. He finally wised up and went back to Australia. The fire was supposed to kill him.

There's a similar program to get veterans into shelter here too, so don't think you'd not get a free apartment here. It happens. People bomb out due to being druggies or not keeping appointments, but if you're not a druggie and keep appointments, you're good.

alex carter said...

Part 3: On the Hobee's thing, no not paying for me, slight slip, I meant waiting on me. Or hoping to, except I "remembered an appointment" and went right out the door. See ya! And I haven't been back yet ... lol.

Daniel McKenna said...

Yeah, I was going to ask why he paid for you unless it was going to turn into: "I paid for your fucking breakfast and you won't give me your jacket now?!? I'm COLD!!" type of thing, and you saw that coming..
One black guy waiting on you, if he was the only one there, wouldn't have the posse mentality, where everything he said to you would be a coded message directed as much to them as you: " many sides of toast would you like? Would you like wheat or white bread (wink wink, hee hee, a quick smile exchange between he and the black cashier).

Funny, I was thinking just last night about how someone years ago told me about how bad it was here for a white guy "You have to walk in pairs or more" and I was noting how whatever fear that had implanted in me has eroded now that I've been here 5 years...
That's because I frequent the Quarter; if I walked around almost any other place in the city alone, I would see what he meant within a half hour...

alex carter said...

Yep serious blooper. No black person is going to pay for Whitey, whom they hate.

Hey, Hobee's made the mistake of hiring a black guy; they can just be happy with their reduced revenue because I've never gone to any Hobee's again. And the guy wasn't unpleasant or anything, at least not so far; I didn't give him a chance to become so.

Hawaii, where I grew up, is like New Orleans. Yeah, in Waikiki, as long as you know which exact streets to go and which ones not do, and the specific rules you won't find in any book about hours, you can be just fine, being white. But again you have to have eyes on the back of your head. A lot of areas are just plain Not Safe At All. And yet some are; it's complicated and unless you grew up there you're not going to be able to learn all of the complexity of it.

You really should consider coming out here, you can go pretty much anywhere, you have tons of venues like the tons of farmer's markets to play at, and they looooooooove the kind of crappy Grateful Dead music you're devoted to. Hell, the house the G.D. lived in is right in downtown San Jose. The "Vet Center" should be able to fix you up with a place. Gee-tar center for strings and whatnot, they hold some killer sales.

Daniel McKenna said...

Oddly enough, I had just had a conversation with Bobby, the disabled veteran recovering heroin addict in building C, before I read the above comments and he was telling me that getting into a place like our in San Francisco would be as easy as transferring my probation from one county to another...
Of course, I would perhaps want to set it up so I had all that arranged before getting on a bus and kissing NOLA goodbye, except for maybe a return for no more than a couple weeks at a time, here and there, based upon the seasons like Mardi Gras when I did average 30 bucks an hour playing last year...

Daniel McKenna said...

*I don't mean that I'm on probation and transferring it would be my only hurdle, I mean it would be as simple (a few pieces of paperwork) as that....

alex carter said...

There are a **lot** of places you can average 30 bucks an hour out here. Every weekend farmer's market for one. Outside of Safeways, where one guitarist, quite loopy in the head, does with much success.

NoLa is starting to remind me of Hawaii, more particularly the island of Oahu where I grew up, which has basically about two good busking venues, and those only good for a few hours a day, so that while you can busk in Waikiki for instance, it's only good for a few hours a night, it's all seasonal, etc. Whereas out here in the Bay area there's so friggin' much stuff, so many places to go play, store owners who will pay you to play in front of their place, besides tips, etc.