Friday And Saturday Squandered
So, Friday night, after having felt a few drops of rain, and having been soaked in the past, decided not to walk the 2 miles to the Lilly Pad to busk.
There was actually a "curfew" of 7 PM in the French Quarter, but the radio said that it wasn't being observed, as evidenced by the Quarter being "packed."
This was right around the curfew time of 7 PM, and the radio lady said that the bars on Bourbon Street, typically had signs stating words to the effect that "the curfew is only a suggestion (not a law?)"
Pot's Messing With Me
I probably missed a golden opportunity Friday night.
Had I been out there, among tourists who were scrambling to get their last bit of partying in before the deluge, the levy breaking and the corpses floating up from out of their graves, etc., I might have had a good night.
Especially if tourists mis-interpreted my backpack as being a sign of homelessness, and felt sorry in advance for me being outdoors in a hurricane. And, especially if they were consuming alcohol at an accelerated rate, attempting to get in as many "hurricane" drinks out of different bars, for the purpose of comparison. And, especially if the human species has instinct driven behaviors pertaining to natural disasters and will be generous tippers when one is impending, in the same way that birds might stop chirping at the same time.
But, I guess when it came to the hurricane; I blew it.
I partially blame it on the bag of pot that I had found laying in the grass by the trolley stop.
Smoking weed makes me more paranoid about going out, walking past the crack area and then the heroin area carrying my stuff.
I had forgotten the fact that it used to take me forever to leave my place after I had smoked a bowl of weed.
I told myself that there would hardly be any tourists out, because of the hurricane forecast.
Travis Goes Out With A Whimper
Travis had told me that he would be back from the video gaming convention in New York by Tuesday.
He would take me food shopping, allowing me to spend 50 bucks of his food stamp money.
Tuesday, I got a text message from him saying that he had missed a bus, and would not be back until Wednesday.
Wednesday, I was totally broke.
He showed up in the late afternoon and presented me with his food stamp card, along with the pin number, and told me that I could have the remainder of the balance on the thing.
The balance was $37.26.
He didn't have 75 cents to give me so that I could take the trolley to the Lilly Pad to busk.
He was telling me about the hardships he endured in New York; I guess as a way of excusing himself over the fact that he had promised me 50 bucks worth of food and, more importantly at the time, was going to get me an all day bus pass, so that, after I stocked my cabinets with food, I could ride the trolley to go busking.
It was easy for me to read between the lines that he had taken care of his own needs, putting himself first and was using me as "the path of least resistance." When it came down to the slight discomfort of hunger in his belly versus being able to follow through on his promise to give me 50 bucks, and not 37 dollars and 26 cents; he stuffed his face.
There is a difference between being frugal, saving your pennies, etc. and being a cheap prick to the detriment of others, I have concluded.
While he was there grabbing the tail end of his stuff (leaving what is the least important to him for a final trip) there was a kind of urgency about him, as if he was trying to get his belongings out of my place before, perhaps it dawned upon me that I had been used by him and he was giving me, basically 25% less than he had promised, and I might hold his stuff for ransom.
The thing that was most bothersome was the way he had framed the fact that he was shortchanging me in relation to his own needs.
Talk is cheap, especially in Travis' case.
He could have given me the whole 50 bucks and said something like: "I hope you appreciate the fact that I starved for like 12 hours while I was waiting to get paid, so I didn't have to spend the card down below 50 bucks."
That would have meant something to me.
Instead, all he did was talk about his own hardships "I was in this certain part of New York where it's gonna cost you a minimum of 10 bucks, just to eat anything," and explain how he absolutely had to make sure that his landlady Dorise was going to get the full amount of rent due to her, and get it a day early. It was as if this was supposed to make me feel relief over the fact that his bills have been paid and that he hadn't had to go hungry for a day while in New York. Like the money that I wasn't getting had gone towards the very important cause of his own comfort.
But, I knew that he was an odd egg.
I figured that he was innocent, in that he is like a "sociopath," in that, it really seems like he has no concept of how his selfishness in going to be perceived by others.
In my book, it is just not cool to approach someone with 75% of what you had promised him; with the only "excuse" being that you had taken a long bus trip and were just so hungry that you had to eat some of the money, and to expect the other guy to see this as having been a worthwhile expenditure of the money.
I'm really wondering what I should do now. Should I call him and ask: "Dude, you ARE going to give me the 12 bucks that you shorted me on the food, aren't you?"
I am wavering between intense anger at him, and wanting to just forget that he exists and get on with my life.
He could conceivably think that he has found a long term solution to his housing problem and probably won't "need" to stay at my place again, maybe ever. His skimping and cutting corners became ratcheted up in intensity; inversely proportional to the amount of stuff of his that was still at my place.
At one point, I was close to telling him that I was going to throw his cat outside and slam the door behind her, rather than continue to feed and provide litter for her out of my own pocket.
Then, I determined that it wasn't right to punish an innocent animal for the sins of one man.
Once the cat was safe at his new place, he became that much more lax concerning things like giving me a little cash or even a cigarette.
When he handed me the food card yesterday, he had tried to distract me, I believe, by admonishing me: "Please, whatever you do, don't lose it!" Was this intended to make me appreciate that he was entrusting me with something of great value to him?
After I spend the 37 bucks off the thing, it won't be loaded again for almost a month. It only takes 7 to 10 days for a replacement card to arrive in the mail. He wouldn't miss a beat should he show up a few days from now, to grab the last of his stuff that I have apparently been storing for him, free of charge and learn that I had lost the thing.
That "whatever you do, don't lose it," was just a smokescreen, meant to distract me from the fact that I was being shortchanged. It is that kind of manipulation that pisses me off more than just being ripped off.
And, I wonder about the fact that the balance was just about exactly 25% short of the promised 50 bucks.
Has Travis read somewhere ("The Seven Habits of Ruthless People") that most people will take 75% of what they are owed and, though they might protest, they will deem it "better than nothing," and ultimately accept it without pitching a fit?
I suppose that, whatever I do, it should be aimed at getting as much as I can out of him. It wouldn't benefit me to write him a scathing indictment of himself if the result would be him concluding: "I was actually going to throw him another 20 bucks but now I'm not."
An image search of "Travis Blain" turned up results, none of which depict the cheapskate in question...
The "100 dollars" for having let him store his stuff this long, which I then reduced to "just give me a tip, if you like my performance in storing your stuff," thinking that his money was as hard earned as my own, and thinking like a friend, seems to be in jeopardy of becoming "nothing at all." If he is going to short me on the 50 bucks for food, then, why give me anything at all?
"You're going to go out and busk tonight, aren't you? You should make decent money on a weekend night, so you should be alright," would be his typical take on the matter.
That is the same dynamic that Louise, another former guest of mine, used when, upon seeing me find a Christmas card in my mailbox that had 20 bucks stuffed in it; immediately pocketed the 20 that she had been holding in her hand, ready to give me for having stored her stuff for a week or so.
"Nobody sends me 20 bucks on Christmas!" was apparently her excuse for reneging on the promised amount for keeping her stuff.
There has got to be a psychological term for that behavior. "You just got some money, so I don't have to give you mine," being the pretzel logic behind that. Travis seems to be inflicted with the same screwed up thinking.
It is Thursday night. It is my birthday, actually. I turned 55 years old at some point during this day; according to whatever minute I was born on the 12th of October, 1962...
Wednesday's Hardships
Last (Wednesday) night, I began walking towards the Lilly Pad.
I arrived at the Family Dollar at just about 9 PM, where I spent 2 bucks off of Travis' food card on a Monster Zero drink.
I then walked the 2 and a half miles to the Lilly Pad, step by step.
There was a time when I walked there (and back) almost nightly. That had often been so that I could apply the $2.50 saved on trolley fare towards alcohol.
I made about 11 dollars, playing from about 10:30 PM until 12:16 AM.
I bought Harold the cat the first can of wet food that he would have in a couple days, and then went to the Rouses Market, where what seemed like only a few items took over 20 bucks off Travis' food card.
Then, to insure that I would not have to walk to the Lilly Pad tonight, I bought an all day bus pass.
This left me about 5 bucks, for the shot of kratom (my first in 3 days) that I just drank, and 2 bucks left over that I can, I guess, start my tip basket out with.
If my mom sent a birthday card, as she has been doing every year, it might arrive tomorrow.
Whatever money she might have put in it would be very timely.
I think I recall that, last year, I had a total of about 23 dollars to my name, after having found a card in my box that had 20 bucks in it.
Yikes, it's already almost 9:30 PM, and time to busk. I would rather stay in and mess around with my recording studio, but 99% of the time I thank myself for having gone out and played. I can always mess around with the studio when I get back.
Studio Space
Needed: A place to record vocals, undisturbed.
I am still just a drill and a hacksaw from being able to break in to the abandoned rectory that abuts our property. The place could be like my own 461 Ocean Blvd, as far as a studio is concerned...
I want to do something about Travis. I know calling him and chewing him out over the phone might not be productive, but I feel like doing it, anyways. Leaving him the opportunity to be conscientious and do the right thing has been counterproductive. Give him an inch of leeway and he will take a mile.
"Listen, asshole, where's the rest of the f***ing money you promised?!?"
I could threaten to tell Dorise Blackman, his new landlady how he had done me. That would probably gain me the most leverage over him.
He seems to be in his "introductory, ass kissing, trying to present himself as a shining example of dependability" stage of their relationship. That would correspond to the "dude, you would be saving my life, and I will SO hook you up," portion of our proceedings.
It will only be a matter of time before he starts to chintz out on her. "Hey, I could clean my own place instead of the cleaning lady coming by, and that would save you from having to pay her for a few hours a month, then you could just cut my rent by, say, 50 bucks a month..." type of thing...vintage Travis.
So, Friday night, after having felt a few drops of rain, and having been soaked in the past, decided not to walk the 2 miles to the Lilly Pad to busk.This was right around the curfew time of 7 PM, and the radio lady said that the bars on Bourbon Street, typically had signs stating words to the effect that "the curfew is only a suggestion (not a law?)"
Pot's Messing With Me
I probably missed a golden opportunity Friday night.
Had I been out there, among tourists who were scrambling to get their last bit of partying in before the deluge, the levy breaking and the corpses floating up from out of their graves, etc., I might have had a good night.
Especially if tourists mis-interpreted my backpack as being a sign of homelessness, and felt sorry in advance for me being outdoors in a hurricane. And, especially if they were consuming alcohol at an accelerated rate, attempting to get in as many "hurricane" drinks out of different bars, for the purpose of comparison. And, especially if the human species has instinct driven behaviors pertaining to natural disasters and will be generous tippers when one is impending, in the same way that birds might stop chirping at the same time.
But, I guess when it came to the hurricane; I blew it.
I partially blame it on the bag of pot that I had found laying in the grass by the trolley stop.
Smoking weed makes me more paranoid about going out, walking past the crack area and then the heroin area carrying my stuff.
I had forgotten the fact that it used to take me forever to leave my place after I had smoked a bowl of weed.
I told myself that there would hardly be any tourists out, because of the hurricane forecast.
Travis Goes Out With A Whimper
Travis had told me that he would be back from the video gaming convention in New York by Tuesday.
He would take me food shopping, allowing me to spend 50 bucks of his food stamp money.
Tuesday, I got a text message from him saying that he had missed a bus, and would not be back until Wednesday.
Wednesday, I was totally broke.
He showed up in the late afternoon and presented me with his food stamp card, along with the pin number, and told me that I could have the remainder of the balance on the thing.
The balance was $37.26.
He didn't have 75 cents to give me so that I could take the trolley to the Lilly Pad to busk.
He was telling me about the hardships he endured in New York; I guess as a way of excusing himself over the fact that he had promised me 50 bucks worth of food and, more importantly at the time, was going to get me an all day bus pass, so that, after I stocked my cabinets with food, I could ride the trolley to go busking.
It was easy for me to read between the lines that he had taken care of his own needs, putting himself first and was using me as "the path of least resistance." When it came down to the slight discomfort of hunger in his belly versus being able to follow through on his promise to give me 50 bucks, and not 37 dollars and 26 cents; he stuffed his face.
There is a difference between being frugal, saving your pennies, etc. and being a cheap prick to the detriment of others, I have concluded.
While he was there grabbing the tail end of his stuff (leaving what is the least important to him for a final trip) there was a kind of urgency about him, as if he was trying to get his belongings out of my place before, perhaps it dawned upon me that I had been used by him and he was giving me, basically 25% less than he had promised, and I might hold his stuff for ransom.
The thing that was most bothersome was the way he had framed the fact that he was shortchanging me in relation to his own needs.
Talk is cheap, especially in Travis' case.
He could have given me the whole 50 bucks and said something like: "I hope you appreciate the fact that I starved for like 12 hours while I was waiting to get paid, so I didn't have to spend the card down below 50 bucks."
That would have meant something to me.
Instead, all he did was talk about his own hardships "I was in this certain part of New York where it's gonna cost you a minimum of 10 bucks, just to eat anything," and explain how he absolutely had to make sure that his landlady Dorise was going to get the full amount of rent due to her, and get it a day early. It was as if this was supposed to make me feel relief over the fact that his bills have been paid and that he hadn't had to go hungry for a day while in New York. Like the money that I wasn't getting had gone towards the very important cause of his own comfort.
But, I knew that he was an odd egg.
I figured that he was innocent, in that he is like a "sociopath," in that, it really seems like he has no concept of how his selfishness in going to be perceived by others.
In my book, it is just not cool to approach someone with 75% of what you had promised him; with the only "excuse" being that you had taken a long bus trip and were just so hungry that you had to eat some of the money, and to expect the other guy to see this as having been a worthwhile expenditure of the money.
I'm really wondering what I should do now. Should I call him and ask: "Dude, you ARE going to give me the 12 bucks that you shorted me on the food, aren't you?"
I am wavering between intense anger at him, and wanting to just forget that he exists and get on with my life.
He could conceivably think that he has found a long term solution to his housing problem and probably won't "need" to stay at my place again, maybe ever. His skimping and cutting corners became ratcheted up in intensity; inversely proportional to the amount of stuff of his that was still at my place.
At one point, I was close to telling him that I was going to throw his cat outside and slam the door behind her, rather than continue to feed and provide litter for her out of my own pocket.
Then, I determined that it wasn't right to punish an innocent animal for the sins of one man.
Once the cat was safe at his new place, he became that much more lax concerning things like giving me a little cash or even a cigarette.
When he handed me the food card yesterday, he had tried to distract me, I believe, by admonishing me: "Please, whatever you do, don't lose it!" Was this intended to make me appreciate that he was entrusting me with something of great value to him?
After I spend the 37 bucks off the thing, it won't be loaded again for almost a month. It only takes 7 to 10 days for a replacement card to arrive in the mail. He wouldn't miss a beat should he show up a few days from now, to grab the last of his stuff that I have apparently been storing for him, free of charge and learn that I had lost the thing.
That "whatever you do, don't lose it," was just a smokescreen, meant to distract me from the fact that I was being shortchanged. It is that kind of manipulation that pisses me off more than just being ripped off.
And, I wonder about the fact that the balance was just about exactly 25% short of the promised 50 bucks.
Has Travis read somewhere ("The Seven Habits of Ruthless People") that most people will take 75% of what they are owed and, though they might protest, they will deem it "better than nothing," and ultimately accept it without pitching a fit?
I suppose that, whatever I do, it should be aimed at getting as much as I can out of him. It wouldn't benefit me to write him a scathing indictment of himself if the result would be him concluding: "I was actually going to throw him another 20 bucks but now I'm not."
An image search of "Travis Blain" turned up results, none of which depict the cheapskate in question...The "100 dollars" for having let him store his stuff this long, which I then reduced to "just give me a tip, if you like my performance in storing your stuff," thinking that his money was as hard earned as my own, and thinking like a friend, seems to be in jeopardy of becoming "nothing at all." If he is going to short me on the 50 bucks for food, then, why give me anything at all?
"You're going to go out and busk tonight, aren't you? You should make decent money on a weekend night, so you should be alright," would be his typical take on the matter.
That is the same dynamic that Louise, another former guest of mine, used when, upon seeing me find a Christmas card in my mailbox that had 20 bucks stuffed in it; immediately pocketed the 20 that she had been holding in her hand, ready to give me for having stored her stuff for a week or so.
"Nobody sends me 20 bucks on Christmas!" was apparently her excuse for reneging on the promised amount for keeping her stuff.
There has got to be a psychological term for that behavior. "You just got some money, so I don't have to give you mine," being the pretzel logic behind that. Travis seems to be inflicted with the same screwed up thinking.
It is Thursday night. It is my birthday, actually. I turned 55 years old at some point during this day; according to whatever minute I was born on the 12th of October, 1962...
Wednesday's Hardships
Last (Wednesday) night, I began walking towards the Lilly Pad.
I arrived at the Family Dollar at just about 9 PM, where I spent 2 bucks off of Travis' food card on a Monster Zero drink.
I then walked the 2 and a half miles to the Lilly Pad, step by step.
There was a time when I walked there (and back) almost nightly. That had often been so that I could apply the $2.50 saved on trolley fare towards alcohol.
I made about 11 dollars, playing from about 10:30 PM until 12:16 AM.
I bought Harold the cat the first can of wet food that he would have in a couple days, and then went to the Rouses Market, where what seemed like only a few items took over 20 bucks off Travis' food card.
Then, to insure that I would not have to walk to the Lilly Pad tonight, I bought an all day bus pass.
This left me about 5 bucks, for the shot of kratom (my first in 3 days) that I just drank, and 2 bucks left over that I can, I guess, start my tip basket out with.
If my mom sent a birthday card, as she has been doing every year, it might arrive tomorrow.
Whatever money she might have put in it would be very timely.
I think I recall that, last year, I had a total of about 23 dollars to my name, after having found a card in my box that had 20 bucks in it.
Studio Space
Needed: A place to record vocals, undisturbed.
I am still just a drill and a hacksaw from being able to break in to the abandoned rectory that abuts our property. The place could be like my own 461 Ocean Blvd, as far as a studio is concerned...
I want to do something about Travis. I know calling him and chewing him out over the phone might not be productive, but I feel like doing it, anyways. Leaving him the opportunity to be conscientious and do the right thing has been counterproductive. Give him an inch of leeway and he will take a mile.
"Listen, asshole, where's the rest of the f***ing money you promised?!?"
I could threaten to tell Dorise Blackman, his new landlady how he had done me. That would probably gain me the most leverage over him.
He seems to be in his "introductory, ass kissing, trying to present himself as a shining example of dependability" stage of their relationship. That would correspond to the "dude, you would be saving my life, and I will SO hook you up," portion of our proceedings.
It will only be a matter of time before he starts to chintz out on her. "Hey, I could clean my own place instead of the cleaning lady coming by, and that would save you from having to pay her for a few hours a month, then you could just cut my rent by, say, 50 bucks a month..." type of thing...vintage Travis.
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