Here I Am, Wednesday Evening
I only made 4 dollars Monday night, playing from around 11:30 until 2 AM.
The late start was due to having seen Christina Friis for the first time in months, singing at the corner of St. Louis and Royal streets.
A hug turned into "Can you stay until the end of the next song?"
Which I did, plucking a string on my guitar to ascertain that I was in tune with her, which turned into me taking my guitar out at the end of the song and, intending to just play a short little fanfare on the thing and the harmonica, which turned into me "doing a song" using her microphone setup.
It was a bit of a shock, following her world-class vocal with "Dancing In The Moonlight," by King Harvest chosen at random from the dozen songs that I've been mired in for months.
I was thinking that Christina might add pitch perfect backup vocals to it, and that the few tourists (it was a Monday night) who were listening to her might recognize the tune, and appreciate a little diversion.
I had run into David the Water Jug player (who had been in a mood so foul that he wasn't even being patronizing and thanking me profusely for having deigned to stop and visit him) and we had smoked weed.
It was good enough weed that I had that weed-inspired ideal notion that the whole scene might become as in an Elvis Presley movie, and people would be singing along and dancing in the street, and that it might become one of the bright spots of Christina's evening.
That stuff only happens in Elvis Presley movies; and I've smoked enough weed in the past to be able to see through the smoke screen by now, so I had tempered my enthusiasm in that regard.
It was quite a lesson to me to follow her in singing, as stated, though. I realized (right in the middle of the song when I was already comitted) that just hitting the right notes is not good enough, there are so many other elements that go into vocal style that Christina has mastered. I must be quite a drop off from her, I thought, and then switched to the harmonica solo as a means of saving face.
The "night" passed relatively quickly at the Lilly Pad.
I started out with the same Beatles song, aware of how much work I need to do in order to come closer to Christina's level.
I had only seen one dollar go into my jar, and so was not quite pleasantly; but less disappointingly; surprised to find 4 bucks in my basket after a couple hours. Hey that's cat food and a dollar and a half box of instant coffee "singles..." I rationalized. Plus, the experience with Christina was priceless.
I had gotten a text from Travis around 9 PM, as I was outside the Uxi Duxi, finishing up what I had started inside the place.
He wanted me to grab his Amazon "Firestick" and a remote from out of the stuff that he is still keeping at my place. He is going to hole up in the hostel, smoking out and watching movies, I reasoned.
What Will "Something" Be?
He is going to give me "something" for storing that stuff.
He originally offered 100 bucks, but I told him that he didn't have to give me that much.
"Just give me a tip, if you liked my performance of storing your stuff," I had told him, kind of tongue in cheek.
He later told me: "I already have something in mind that I'm going to give you, as the 'tip.'"
This will come, along with 50 bucks worth of food, on October 10th, when he gets back from some video gaming convention in New York. He is a "display-er" or "exhibitor" or something, and has a photo ID badge designating him as such. I saw the badge when I was digging through his stuff, looking for the Firestick, which he had said was "either in the blue bag or in the white bag in the blue bag." It was in the white bag in the blue bag.
I really hope that he doesn't present me with a pot pipe, or other smoking paraphernalia for storing his stuff, even if it's a 50 dollar glass pipe. Or his amplifier, which weighs about 30 pounds.
It has "Travis" written all over it, in that, I'm sure he got it for free out of some dumpster, and everything is wrong with it. The jack has to be wiggled before the guitar signal goes through at all, and all the knobs have dead spots like where the volume won't increase as you turn it, but then will spike up to a much too loud level when rotated to a certain point and wiggled.
There is one (particular) dent in the cabinet that looks like it was done with a sledgehammer -no beer bottle thrown onstage could have done it, and, when you pick the thing up and move it around, you can hear loose things clunking and rattling around freely inside the thing.
I plugged his electric guitar into it; after he had warned me that it has to be turned up "incredibly loud" in order to get a good distorted sound.
That made me wonder if he just doesn't understand how "pre" and "post" gains work, in order to achieve a good sound at a low volume.
I really need to mention to him that I have investigated the thing and found it to be a piece of junk; just in case he was indeed thinking of bestowing it upon me in lieu of the original hundred bucks offered.
It has been my experience that Travis starts out with grand notions and promising the moon on a silver platter, but then over the course of time begins to seek for ways to, well, chintz out on the deal. I am the same way, though.
What would be an excellent tip would be the electric guitar.
He has one. It plays great; with no "Travis" spots on the fret board at all.
Its body has been spray-painted black. It has one pickup and no volume knob (it's Travis' after all) and is just pegged at full volume. And the neck stock is just plain unvarnished wood with no brand name on it. And, in typical Travis fashion, he had gotten it for like 15 bucks. It's definitely at least a 50 dollar guitar, and I would love to have it.
I can only wait and see what he tries to foist upon me; and then maybe ask him for the guitar instead if it isn't that.
I worry that he is the type who attaches sentimental value to things though, and might not want to part with it. I seem to recall that when his place had been robbed, he was lamenting more over the sentimental value of the stuff that had been stolen. "...I mean, I hardly paid anything for the stuff, but..." Of course he hardly paid anything.
I had a curious and slightly disturbing thought the other day: Given that Travis entraps himself with the cheapest, most tawdry, bargain basement, fire sale, left on the sidewalk, free to a good home, type of stuff; does that extend to myself as his friend and sometimes roommate? Am I the Ramen Noodle equivalent of what might pass as a friend, these days? ...what do you expect of the guy, I mean, he's one of Travis' friends...?
So, Tuesday, I was again scrambling to make it to the plasma place before my day pass expired, should I be turned down and stuck in Gretna with 23 cents in my pocket.
I asked the 114 driver if indeed the 115 followed pretty closely behind it.
The last time I had taken the 114 and had gotten off and walked about a mile and a half towards the plasma place, the 115 went past me just as I was getting to the stop where I would have gotten off it. I had walked an extra mile and a half for nothing.
It is 4:34 PM, and I have just gotten on the thing (the 115).
He said that it did. A half hour later, still sitting there, doubts were forming in my mind.
I got to Octapharma at around 5:30 PM, where I waited with bated breath as they took my temperature. I was feeling slightly feverish. If they deferred me, I would have to get on a bus before 6:32 PM, and take my broke ass back home.
Then I would, I guess, have to walk to the Lilly Pad.
It would be the first time in about a year that I wouldn't even have bus fare to go out and busk.
But, I had taken Sunday night off, had only made 30 bucks the rest of the weekend, and this was after having taken Thursday night off, due to feeling sick after my plasma sale, when the place had been so busy and chaotic that, I wondered if they were using the same vessels for multiple donors.
Travis and I both contracted some kind of flu-like symptoms, with the onsets within an hour of our having been drained.
The feeling was still with me when I woke up this (Tuesday) afternoon around 1:30 and then maybe a little less a couple hours later. I really rolled the dice by going there broke and feverish.
I want to make my next visit the last one for a while. But that will depend, probably, upon how broke I get.
I've got one more bonus of $20 coming, for having made my 7th visit within September, if I go one more time before Sunday.
Wednesday Night, September 27th
It's about 8:30 PM.
Next Wednesday, I have an appointment with the Ear Nose and Throat clinic that happens to be right around the corner from Sacred Heart Apartments, 2 blocks away.
I have Tim, my caseworker to thank for having made that whole thing happen. Who knows how many months would have passed before I got around to it myself. My ears have been stuffed up and/or tingling or ringing for about 3 months now.
It certainly might be kratom related, and maybe the ear nose and throat people have at least heard of kratom, unlike the general practitioners.
It seems odd, pointed out Tim, that so much research had gone into the banning of such things as the "bath salts" that people were smoking and getting some kind of high off of; yet Googling "kratom" puts you on the road to nowhere.
The late start was due to having seen Christina Friis for the first time in months, singing at the corner of St. Louis and Royal streets.
A hug turned into "Can you stay until the end of the next song?"
Which I did, plucking a string on my guitar to ascertain that I was in tune with her, which turned into me taking my guitar out at the end of the song and, intending to just play a short little fanfare on the thing and the harmonica, which turned into me "doing a song" using her microphone setup.
It was a bit of a shock, following her world-class vocal with "Dancing In The Moonlight," by King Harvest chosen at random from the dozen songs that I've been mired in for months.
I was thinking that Christina might add pitch perfect backup vocals to it, and that the few tourists (it was a Monday night) who were listening to her might recognize the tune, and appreciate a little diversion.
I had run into David the Water Jug player (who had been in a mood so foul that he wasn't even being patronizing and thanking me profusely for having deigned to stop and visit him) and we had smoked weed.
It was good enough weed that I had that weed-inspired ideal notion that the whole scene might become as in an Elvis Presley movie, and people would be singing along and dancing in the street, and that it might become one of the bright spots of Christina's evening.
That stuff only happens in Elvis Presley movies; and I've smoked enough weed in the past to be able to see through the smoke screen by now, so I had tempered my enthusiasm in that regard.
It was quite a lesson to me to follow her in singing, as stated, though. I realized (right in the middle of the song when I was already comitted) that just hitting the right notes is not good enough, there are so many other elements that go into vocal style that Christina has mastered. I must be quite a drop off from her, I thought, and then switched to the harmonica solo as a means of saving face.
The "night" passed relatively quickly at the Lilly Pad.
I started out with the same Beatles song, aware of how much work I need to do in order to come closer to Christina's level.
I had only seen one dollar go into my jar, and so was not quite pleasantly; but less disappointingly; surprised to find 4 bucks in my basket after a couple hours. Hey that's cat food and a dollar and a half box of instant coffee "singles..." I rationalized. Plus, the experience with Christina was priceless.
I had gotten a text from Travis around 9 PM, as I was outside the Uxi Duxi, finishing up what I had started inside the place.
He wanted me to grab his Amazon "Firestick" and a remote from out of the stuff that he is still keeping at my place. He is going to hole up in the hostel, smoking out and watching movies, I reasoned.
What Will "Something" Be?
He is going to give me "something" for storing that stuff.
He originally offered 100 bucks, but I told him that he didn't have to give me that much.
"Just give me a tip, if you liked my performance of storing your stuff," I had told him, kind of tongue in cheek.
He later told me: "I already have something in mind that I'm going to give you, as the 'tip.'"
This will come, along with 50 bucks worth of food, on October 10th, when he gets back from some video gaming convention in New York. He is a "display-er" or "exhibitor" or something, and has a photo ID badge designating him as such. I saw the badge when I was digging through his stuff, looking for the Firestick, which he had said was "either in the blue bag or in the white bag in the blue bag." It was in the white bag in the blue bag.
It has "Travis" written all over it, in that, I'm sure he got it for free out of some dumpster, and everything is wrong with it. The jack has to be wiggled before the guitar signal goes through at all, and all the knobs have dead spots like where the volume won't increase as you turn it, but then will spike up to a much too loud level when rotated to a certain point and wiggled.
There is one (particular) dent in the cabinet that looks like it was done with a sledgehammer -no beer bottle thrown onstage could have done it, and, when you pick the thing up and move it around, you can hear loose things clunking and rattling around freely inside the thing.
I plugged his electric guitar into it; after he had warned me that it has to be turned up "incredibly loud" in order to get a good distorted sound.
That made me wonder if he just doesn't understand how "pre" and "post" gains work, in order to achieve a good sound at a low volume.
I really need to mention to him that I have investigated the thing and found it to be a piece of junk; just in case he was indeed thinking of bestowing it upon me in lieu of the original hundred bucks offered.
It has been my experience that Travis starts out with grand notions and promising the moon on a silver platter, but then over the course of time begins to seek for ways to, well, chintz out on the deal. I am the same way, though.
"Am I the Ramen Noodle equivalent of what might pass as a friend, these days?" -Daniel McKennaI used to go into Wal-Mart with like 300 bucks, back when I delivered pizza and slept in my car and, at one point would have my cart loaded with items; then I would start to talk myself out of them, one by one ....I can make one of these with stuff I might find in a dumpster; I might find a used one of these at the Goodwill for much less; I might eventually get a phone that has a stopwatch feature, so why buy this one...etc.
What would be an excellent tip would be the electric guitar.
He has one. It plays great; with no "Travis" spots on the fret board at all.
Its body has been spray-painted black. It has one pickup and no volume knob (it's Travis' after all) and is just pegged at full volume. And the neck stock is just plain unvarnished wood with no brand name on it. And, in typical Travis fashion, he had gotten it for like 15 bucks. It's definitely at least a 50 dollar guitar, and I would love to have it.
I can only wait and see what he tries to foist upon me; and then maybe ask him for the guitar instead if it isn't that.
I worry that he is the type who attaches sentimental value to things though, and might not want to part with it. I seem to recall that when his place had been robbed, he was lamenting more over the sentimental value of the stuff that had been stolen. "...I mean, I hardly paid anything for the stuff, but..." Of course he hardly paid anything.
I had a curious and slightly disturbing thought the other day: Given that Travis entraps himself with the cheapest, most tawdry, bargain basement, fire sale, left on the sidewalk, free to a good home, type of stuff; does that extend to myself as his friend and sometimes roommate? Am I the Ramen Noodle equivalent of what might pass as a friend, these days? ...what do you expect of the guy, I mean, he's one of Travis' friends...?
So, Tuesday, I was again scrambling to make it to the plasma place before my day pass expired, should I be turned down and stuck in Gretna with 23 cents in my pocket.
The last time I had taken the 114 and had gotten off and walked about a mile and a half towards the plasma place, the 115 went past me just as I was getting to the stop where I would have gotten off it. I had walked an extra mile and a half for nothing.
It is 4:34 PM, and I have just gotten on the thing (the 115).
He said that it did. A half hour later, still sitting there, doubts were forming in my mind.
I got to Octapharma at around 5:30 PM, where I waited with bated breath as they took my temperature. I was feeling slightly feverish. If they deferred me, I would have to get on a bus before 6:32 PM, and take my broke ass back home.
Then I would, I guess, have to walk to the Lilly Pad.
It would be the first time in about a year that I wouldn't even have bus fare to go out and busk.
But, I had taken Sunday night off, had only made 30 bucks the rest of the weekend, and this was after having taken Thursday night off, due to feeling sick after my plasma sale, when the place had been so busy and chaotic that, I wondered if they were using the same vessels for multiple donors.
Travis and I both contracted some kind of flu-like symptoms, with the onsets within an hour of our having been drained.
The feeling was still with me when I woke up this (Tuesday) afternoon around 1:30 and then maybe a little less a couple hours later. I really rolled the dice by going there broke and feverish.
I want to make my next visit the last one for a while. But that will depend, probably, upon how broke I get.
I've got one more bonus of $20 coming, for having made my 7th visit within September, if I go one more time before Sunday.
Wednesday Night, September 27th
It's about 8:30 PM.
Next Wednesday, I have an appointment with the Ear Nose and Throat clinic that happens to be right around the corner from Sacred Heart Apartments, 2 blocks away.
I have Tim, my caseworker to thank for having made that whole thing happen. Who knows how many months would have passed before I got around to it myself. My ears have been stuffed up and/or tingling or ringing for about 3 months now.
It certainly might be kratom related, and maybe the ear nose and throat people have at least heard of kratom, unlike the general practitioners.
It seems odd, pointed out Tim, that so much research had gone into the banning of such things as the "bath salts" that people were smoking and getting some kind of high off of; yet Googling "kratom" puts you on the road to nowhere.
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