A small accomplishment; having gotten a 5 dollar set of strings to go on the guitar.
18 Dollar Friday
OK, a 18 dollar Friday night didn't do much to change my perception that getting out of here and traveling might be the antidote to a lot of doldrums and might keep me alive through the lean season.
I was on the verge of picking up the phone and asking Ed and Rose when their next trip to the blood plasma laboratory would be.
As a new seller of plasma, I think I could make at least 25 bucks my first time, and then another 50, should I sell another "unit" before week's end.
That might get me a ticket on a Megabus to Savannah, Georgia, where I might make enough in one night (before I am informed that I need a 50 dollar "permit" to continue; to get to Charleston, South Carolina.
I have a 12 year old warrant in North Carolina, where I was technically in possession of a stolen vehicle, back in November of 2005, and for which, they could lock me up and hold me until such a time that I plead the charges down to "time served," (on about my 45th day there) by pleading guilty. My alternative would be to return to my cell in order to wait probably another 3 weeks, in order to "fight" the charges and "defend" myself.
So, landing in North Carolina could land me in jail for up 90 days. Looking like a homeless street musician would not help to tip the scales of justice in my favor. It could be an unnecessary pain in the ass.
Of course, should I become wealthy in the near future, I could show up at a courthouse, with an attorney at my side and have the thing swept under the rug, for a few fees, here and there.
It is Saturday evening. I've had a shot of yellow kratom, and, as it nears 9 PM, I must go out and play; being down to about 3 dollars in the world, and maybe about 4 more ass-wipes left on the roll of dollar store paper...
I have new strings, and fresh batteries for the spotlight, and weed.
If I had to, I could strike up a conversation with any one of the tourists who pass by me, commenting out loud that something "smells good," as I smoke my tune up joint.
I am sure that they say such things as a sort of ice breaker and an invitation for me to offer to sell them a bud for 10 bucks, giving them about 2 dollars and 50 cents worth, at my cost.
It is part of "hustling," I guess. And pot has been decriminalized here, and "they can't take you to jail for it." Plus, the cops here have all seemed to have accepted me as a positive contributer to the "scene," and wouldn't hit me with a ticket for possession of weed. They would only do that to a skeezer whom they would prefer to never see again, and whom they would notify that, although pot has been decriminalized, failure to pay a fine has not been, and the skeezer would be faced with coughing up a hefty "admission price" to remain in the French Quarter, in effect, and he wouldn't have the self discipline to save up and plunk down all that liquor money on the counter at the clerk's office.
And, they might possibly do that if I were clearly making Tanya and Dorise type of money, and could peel off a one hundred dollar bills off the stack of 13 of them that I might have at the end of a 12 hour Saturday night, and just consider it "the cost of doing business..."
Of course, if I jammed with Tanya, I would probably have to cultivate a habit of subsisting on nothing but green tea most of the day, with a few bananas, and wouldn't light up a joint until a time, such as 9 PM. Tanya would come to regard this hour as the time after which I get "a little silly" each evening...
I had a 17 dollar Friday (last) night; and would love to go out and break 50 bucks tonight, with the new strings and the bright spotlight.
As long as the blond guy with the crew cut doesn't come along and nod off on heroin on the stoop next to me, which he has done a couple times this past week.
I have never been able to get him to leave without him first having to cuss and kick a milk crate or something.
On a Saturday night such as tonight, I won't hesitate to haul my stuff off to the next block from where I would call Lilly.
I don't know how she would handle it, but I would tell her that the guy knows darned well that I don't make any money with him nodded off there, making it look like "we" are playing for heroin; and that he does it as a way of asserting his "right" to be there, ruining my business.
He never greets me; just sits down, facing forward and stares ahead, as I play; trying to play my best, in conflict with my feelings that that is only going to make the guy want to stay and nod off (to such good music).
OK, a 18 dollar Friday night didn't do much to change my perception that getting out of here and traveling might be the antidote to a lot of doldrums and might keep me alive through the lean season.
I was on the verge of picking up the phone and asking Ed and Rose when their next trip to the blood plasma laboratory would be.
As a new seller of plasma, I think I could make at least 25 bucks my first time, and then another 50, should I sell another "unit" before week's end.
That might get me a ticket on a Megabus to Savannah, Georgia, where I might make enough in one night (before I am informed that I need a 50 dollar "permit" to continue; to get to Charleston, South Carolina.
I have a 12 year old warrant in North Carolina, where I was technically in possession of a stolen vehicle, back in November of 2005, and for which, they could lock me up and hold me until such a time that I plead the charges down to "time served," (on about my 45th day there) by pleading guilty. My alternative would be to return to my cell in order to wait probably another 3 weeks, in order to "fight" the charges and "defend" myself.
So, landing in North Carolina could land me in jail for up 90 days. Looking like a homeless street musician would not help to tip the scales of justice in my favor. It could be an unnecessary pain in the ass.
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| Classic Album Cover Distort Quiz |
It is Saturday evening. I've had a shot of yellow kratom, and, as it nears 9 PM, I must go out and play; being down to about 3 dollars in the world, and maybe about 4 more ass-wipes left on the roll of dollar store paper...
I have new strings, and fresh batteries for the spotlight, and weed.
If I had to, I could strike up a conversation with any one of the tourists who pass by me, commenting out loud that something "smells good," as I smoke my tune up joint.
I am sure that they say such things as a sort of ice breaker and an invitation for me to offer to sell them a bud for 10 bucks, giving them about 2 dollars and 50 cents worth, at my cost.
It is part of "hustling," I guess. And pot has been decriminalized here, and "they can't take you to jail for it." Plus, the cops here have all seemed to have accepted me as a positive contributer to the "scene," and wouldn't hit me with a ticket for possession of weed. They would only do that to a skeezer whom they would prefer to never see again, and whom they would notify that, although pot has been decriminalized, failure to pay a fine has not been, and the skeezer would be faced with coughing up a hefty "admission price" to remain in the French Quarter, in effect, and he wouldn't have the self discipline to save up and plunk down all that liquor money on the counter at the clerk's office.
And, they might possibly do that if I were clearly making Tanya and Dorise type of money, and could peel off a one hundred dollar bills off the stack of 13 of them that I might have at the end of a 12 hour Saturday night, and just consider it "the cost of doing business..."
Of course, if I jammed with Tanya, I would probably have to cultivate a habit of subsisting on nothing but green tea most of the day, with a few bananas, and wouldn't light up a joint until a time, such as 9 PM. Tanya would come to regard this hour as the time after which I get "a little silly" each evening...
I had a 17 dollar Friday (last) night; and would love to go out and break 50 bucks tonight, with the new strings and the bright spotlight.
As long as the blond guy with the crew cut doesn't come along and nod off on heroin on the stoop next to me, which he has done a couple times this past week.
I have never been able to get him to leave without him first having to cuss and kick a milk crate or something.
On a Saturday night such as tonight, I won't hesitate to haul my stuff off to the next block from where I would call Lilly.
I don't know how she would handle it, but I would tell her that the guy knows darned well that I don't make any money with him nodded off there, making it look like "we" are playing for heroin; and that he does it as a way of asserting his "right" to be there, ruining my business.
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| OK, They're Getting Easier, Aren't They? |
He never greets me; just sits down, facing forward and stares ahead, as I play; trying to play my best, in conflict with my feelings that that is only going to make the guy want to stay and nod off (to such good music).
You'd probably be better off dealing a little weed than letting them suck your blood.
ReplyDeleteOr trinkets, sell any kind of little trinkets, like the stuff you learn to make in Scouts, keychains and stuff.
ReplyDeleteThere are guys who make up something like macaroons with weed or weed extract in them, that sell them in places like Golden Gate park, and apparently they're appreciated and make good money. You have a kitchen and could consider that.
ReplyDeleteBut mainly I can't post or edit my pages until I make a comment on yours. Which is probably what keeps Blogger going at all.