A Soul Skeezer

$18 Saturday Night

I supposed that I was "supposed" to be dejected and miserable for the rest of the night after I found out that I hadn't been hired by the Uxi Duxi.
I left, and Nathaniel, who was outside wiping the windows, said "Goodbye, Daniel," and it seemed that he was making a point of saying it, so that I would glean that we were all still friends, even though I hadn't been hired.
They probably hired their friends that they've been friends with longer than I, I thought.
I tried to decide if I should not even say anything, or if I should even stop going to the Uxi Duxi (and just buy ounces of kratom at the Herb Shop one block up the street and sit elsewhere to blog about it) as a form of protest, or if I should say "Goodnight, Nathaniel" in a tone of voice dripping with disappointment.
I said "Goodnight Nathaniel" in a voice with just a tinge of disappointment in it.
It is hard to separate business from friendship, and he certainly might have felt a bit sorry for me.
I was thinking that they didn't hire me because I'm 54 years old, and/or because my teeth are kind of messed up, with me holding on to my natural ones instead of getting a set of dentures that would be obvious because of the fact that they would be too perfect...
Then, I was immediately approached by a young black kid, who had come around the corner opposite the Uxi Duxi, as I was lighting up a cigarette.
I was ready to tell him: "I don't give away cigarettes."
But, he asked me if he could talk to me, by talking to me.
It was a variation of "Do you know Jesus Christ as your personal savior?"
I tried to tell him that, yes I did, and I was surrendering my will to the guidance of the Holy Spirit; I was fine and happy and wished him a good evening.
But, that wasn't good enough for him, he wanted me to start attending religious services at whatever church he was a member of.
I said "I know the bible say's 'Do not forsake the gathering' with fellow Christians, but..."
He said that it was good that I knew (at least that much, I guess of) the bible, and then cited the verse about steel sharpening steel, as he walked step for step with me.
This was a test of something for me, I thought.
He had probably targeted me because I had just stepped out of the satanic looking, perhaps, Uxi Duxi, and had further cried out to him by lighting up a cigarette.
I told him that I believed that God found people wherever they were and that people don't need to go to some building; and that I didn't want to have my ego become entangled with his in a relationship where he would have been responsible for me coming into the fold and he would get credit for it, and that I feared that if I didn't show up one Sunday, the rest of the flock might call me to see if everything is OK and I hadn't fallen out of grace, etc.
And I told him that, the last time I went to a church (2009, Saint Augustine, FL) a guy sitting at the entrance told me to take off my hat.
And, I just didn't want to argue with the kid.
He asked me if he could pray for me. I said he could.
He then grabbed my hand and began to pray. After about a minute, during which he asked God to "purify" me with a quick glance to the cigarette in my hand, and to keep me from certain evils, with a glance towards the kratom bar, and then wrapped his prayer up after I had tried to get my hand back from him the third time.
The whole encounter had me feeling the same way I do when skeezers try to skeeze me.
And, I guess he was a soul skeezer, basically.
I went away mumbling, and wishing that I had been extremely kind to him, rather than on the verge of chewing him out: "Look, you're harassing me, just like a bum wanting a dollar or a cigarette!" and trying not to think too hard about whether or not I was wrong in not gathering with a group of Christians every Sunday at some church that the young guy would get credit for having brought me to, and I wound up praying for him, in the privacy of my head and without holding his hand.
A minute later, I found a ten dollar bill laying on the sidewalk. There was a bit of a breeze blowing from the direction of the bank, which I noted with mild amusement.
Then, when I got back to the apartment, Travis offered me 100 dollars if I would allow his pile of stuff to remain in my place for a couple weeks after he moved out.
I thought about the issue of the day, namely, that Nathaniel had been trying to separate business from friendship and seemed to hope that I didn't feel bad for not being hired.
I had a similar conundrum. If I accepted the hundred dollars, it would kind of imply that I didn't see him as the kind of "buddy" to whom I would say: "I'm not going to charge you to keep your stuff here, buddy."
I ultimately told him that I couldn't accept that much money from him. I knew him well enough to know how much he makes working for Amazon, and how taxing it would be to him to have to cough up that amount.
I told him that I would keep his stuff for free, but that he could tip me, if he liked my performance in doing so...

Less than a quarter mile away...the Chickie Wah Wah club

Then, I went out and busked, after smoking a bowl of weed with Travis.
I made 18 bucks in a little over an hour. Then, as the weed was wearing off, so was my enthusiasm, which had always been my major complaint about marijuana as it relates to busking.

Now, I am off to download music by the artists who are scheduled to appear at the Chickie Wah Wah club, right down the street from my apartment.
The place is known for its excellent sound system and everyone who plays there is well known in one circle or another.
The guy who played guitar for Jackson Browne is a good example.
But, still, it would be cool if I could play there on a Monday or Tuesday, or something, and if they liked me and began to call me on nights when Jackson Browne's guitarist's gets a flat tire on the way there and is running a couple hours late, type of thing...