Things To Do To Help My Career

Kratom, tiger's eyes and sage, all at one location!!

• 19 Dollar Friday
• Cooler Temperatures Arrive

I left the Uxi Duxi, last (Friday) night, at the early time of 8 PM.

I had done a job on the 57 bucks that I had made the night before.

Immediately upon knocking off, I was able to make it to the Rouses Market, where I grabbed a 6 pack of eggs, a 3 pound bag of flour, spring water, a Rock Star energy drink, a couple bananas and brought my total to 12 dollars and change with the purchase of dry cat food and a can of wet food, beef flavored shreds, in gravy.

I had 44 dollars and change to show for the 57 dollar Thursday night, but wasn't through yet.
The Unique Grocery store would exact $7.50 from me, in exchange for a pack of American Spirit "hunter" variety cigarettes before I caught the trolley.

I got home, threw the remaining 35 dollars on the coffee table, fed Harold, recorded the excellent "CD ready" rhythm guitar part that is in sync with the drums, and then slept.

Upon getting up Friday afternoon, I was able to make it to the Uxi Duxi, by about 4:30 PM, still riding on an all day bus pass which expired at 9:30 that night.

This seemed to set the worthy goal of being on the 9:12 PM into the Quarter, so as to get one last trip off of the pass.

So, when I left the Uxi at 8 PM, after having spent myself down to about 24 dollars with a creatine monohydrate drink from GNC, and a double shot of "red bali" kratom, I felt confident that I could beat my arrival time of 10:40 PM  the night before.

One stop at the Walgreen's on the way back to the apartment, for yet another can of wet cat food (as Harold was inside the place, and would expect to be fed upon seeing me walk in, despite having devoured 2 cans the night before) and a couple of Rock Star zero calorie energy drinks, that I couldn't pass up at 2 for $3, and I was down to around 20 bucks.

This, I pulled out of my pocket, at the apartment of Bobby, who offered me his own "2 for 1" special, and was able to remove 10 bucks from me in exchange for 2 grams of the medicinal grade marijuana which he sells for twice that amount to most people, but cuts me a break on, as a way of supporting a "starving artist," type of thing...

9:12 PM, and the trolley were fast approaching, as I hung around at Bobby's apartment.

But, I was kept around, by his telling me about the new guitar picks that he is going to order from Guitar Center.

They are made out of wood. That's right, wood -you know it and love it- has been discovered to be a fine material to make guitar picks out of. Finally; in 2017. For all these centuries, it was right there in front of us, but I guess we couldn't see the forest for the trees.

The Haves And Have Knots

What better way to complement that nice bony sound imparted by your genuine bone nut piece than by striking the strings with a genuine wooden pick?

Bobby promised to give me one, so I can sample for myself, wooden picks as soon as he gets them. This was news worth missing the 9:12 PM trolley over, I determined.

Oh, by the way, the picks are almost 5 dollars each. I pay that much for a dozen of the ones I use, but those are made of nylon, and produce, I guess, a more man-made and synthetic musical tone.

Bobby's picks are going to be made from, not just any wood, but that of some particularly hard wooded tree, perhaps mahogany. They seem to come in a couple types of wood, with him having opted for the more expensive of the 2.

Bobby seems to enjoy the fact that the picks are so expensive, as this will assure him that he is employing even more "top of the line" gear.

Upon adding wooden picks to his arsenal, he will have done just about everything to his Fender guitar that can be done to it, outside of perhaps practicing on the thing. You don't have time to practice when you are busy running to Guitar Center for mahogany picks, or searching online for a better guitar...

So, it was with less than 10 dollars that I sat down last (Friday) night to play. This, after having had a 57 dollar night the night before. I would be homeless, if it weren't for Michelle Obama, et al. to be sure.

My arrival at the Lilly Pad about 10 minutes earlier than I had the night before, was due to not having stopped to chat with Christina Friis for 10 minutes, as I had the night before.

19 Dollar Friday

On a day that I would wind up spending 50 bucks, I only made back 19, after about an hour and a half of busking. It started raining around midnight, and so I left for home.

I was plagued, not once but twice, by "the guy who has no money at all, and has decided that something he might do which wouldn't cost him a dime would be to sit next to a busker, blocking his tip jar by making it seem like he already has a customer, and requesting one song after another, further repelling the tourists with his singing." That guy.

I managed to get one such guy to leave, who had given me two cigarettes as a tip, but the second one, who came along around 11:45 PM, was more problematic.

He told me that he had hung out with me a year ago, mentioned some of the songs that "we" had done, how much fun he had had, and that he had sought me out, just to do it again.

He mentioned that some guy had been trying to buy one of my plastic sharks and that he (the guy with no money now) had "negotiated" the deal and had gotten me "like 20 bucks for the thing."

This did refresh my memory a bit. I do remember selling one of my sharks for "more like 6 bucks" and having had the deal negotiated by someone who was hanging around; but; was the guy hanging around a nuisance, or what? I can't recall.

"Did you tip me last year?," I asked, finally, and half sarcastically, after I had played a few more songs and no money had gone into my basket.

"Yeah, I tipped you; I hooked you up!. I'm gonna give you a tip, don't worry!" he said. There was something kind of immature about him.

I played a bit longer. The guy was complaining about the tourists having no appreciation for good music, or being stingy, or being distracted by other things as the reason that he thought nobody was tipping me.

It seemed like he was trying to be supportive, to encourage tourists to throw me a buck or two, but doing it in a negative "what's wrong with these people" kind of way; and just not aware that it was himself sitting there, doing that, which was dissuading them to.

"I need a cup of coffee," I said, and began to pack up.

The guy was kind of a Charlie Brown character, to me. Simple, happy-go-lucky, and probably "just a country boy," in some sense.

"Are you calling it a night?" he asked, sounding disappointed; and a bit like he was being short changed.

I had my tip basket in my hand as he said it, so I looked at the 7 or 8 dollar bills in it, none of which had been put there by him, and said "Yeah," shaking my head at the amount of money.

Rather than take that as a hint, he actually started to argue that, if "we" were to switch to certain songs (and then named a few garden variety busking "favorites") then the tourists would surely start tipping me. Come on, let's go; let's do this thing!" was his attitude. He was ready to sing out of tune to high heaven.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I make most of my money when rich tourists come and sit right where you're sitting (hint, hint) and request songs, talk a while, and then might leave me a 20 or 50 dollar bill..."

No effect.

He then stood up and said "Well, I'm Chris," offered me a hand to shake and then hastily walked off, as if I had perhaps offended him and made him change his mind about the "I'm gonna tip you, don't worry!" of earlier.

I was not about to play for a whole hour with him sitting there with that as the only carrot in front of my nose, when I would rather be just following my musical whims and enjoying myself, rather than taking requests and then trying to sound out songs that I was slightly familiar with, but that he could bellow the off-key words to.

"I guess you changed your mind about being a man of your word," I said to his vanishing back.
That situation having been resolved, I turned around set my stuff right back up, and was playing again before Chris had made it to the end of the block.

The guy might have had a 20 dollar bill that he might have thrown me after (?) hours of sitting there blocking the basket from everyone else; but the bottom line was that, it just wasn't fun for me to become a human jukebox with him pumping promised quarters into me the whole time.

Rained Out

It was just before 1 AM, when I hit Rouses Market for just a bag of "baking" coconut and a can of cat food.

I would have coconut pancakes upon getting home, but not before walking past Tanya Huang, whose roadie was breaking down her equipment. She brings more gear to her solo performances, backed by pre-recorded tracks, than the two of them would, when they were Tanya and Dorise.
Tanya was standing there, and it was quite a scene. Her roadie-type-skeezer guy was in the process of unlocking a chain, which appeared to be serping its way through the handles of the tip basket, the handle of her spare violin's case, the handle of her amplifier, and maybe even around the table that she sits her CD's for sale upon.

I must say that she gives the appearance of being very industrious. That elaborate a setup must require a lot of time to set up and break down. Plus, she has apparently recorded a plethora of CD's, none of which having Dorise Blackman on them, to sell in place of the dozen or so titles that the duo offered.

I, of course, can see myself working with her in the future. On my way to the Lilly Pad, she had been playing "Stairway To Heaven," the Led Zeppelin song, along with a rhythm track that sounded like it might have been a recording of one of her friends playing the acoustic guitar, and as I walked past, she met my eyes with a look that seemed to say: "God help me."

On my way home, it looked like she too, was chained there. I knew she saw me, but she was literally in the middle of a long sigh of exasperation when I walked past, which I interpreted to mean that it perhaps had not been a good night for her.

My path to playing with Tanya would be to get a good amp and microphone, and to be at the corner of St. Louis and Royal streets at 11 AM on some Friday or Saturday morning, and then to play while she is setting up her chairs, tables, etc. etc. which would take long enough for her to be able to gauge whether or not she wanted to do "a song or two" with me, once she was set up and tuned up, and before I left.

Optimally, those couple of songs would draw a group of tourists, and might turn into more like a whole hour of playing. Tanya would either enjoy the experience, relishing the benefits of a live accompanist, being able to stretch a song out if an audience seems to not want it to end yet, and not having to poke at her phone in between each song to start the next pre-recorded track, or not.

I'm sure that I wouldn't have to play as "well" as Dorise used to, but would only have to allow her to play as well as she used to with her, if that makes any sense. Let her handle the amazing technical feats; just keep a rock steady rhythm, play at least the bass note if you have forgotten a chord; keep the flow going, and leave the "intangible" things in the hands of God.

These would be things like, is the combination of her and myself going to make for good chemistry.

I do think she might enjoy the 5 or 10 minute breaks from playing, when I was interacting with tourists, telling stories, jokes, etc. This would engage them, and the effect might be more like a variety show, with interviews ("...so, where are you from?") comedy, stories and other things, with the music being supplied to go with it all and to (in Tanya's case) bring it to a crescendo.

It's a crap shoot; whether it would work or not. I'm sure Laurel didn't know until he actually performed with Hardy, or Siskel with Ebert, or Simon with Garfunkel, what audiences would appreciate, or not, about the pairing.

It could go either way; though I do see Tanya as being less verbal and, of course, more technical than myself, like the girl who can play Mendelssohn's violin concerto in E minor, but longs to be able to put her thoughts into words -paired with a guy who makes up words as he goes along, but is studying the Mel Bay Modern Guitar Method, Grade 1 book, trying to come up to speed a bit in that regard.
I do know that Tanya has a business "sense;" and would probably rather have 80 tourists gathered around, thrilled by hearing "Freebird," being ripped up on a violin, making a couple hundred bucks an hour in the process (80 times and average tip of, say, 5 dollars, split in half between us =$200 for the hour that the 80 odd hang out).

Tanya has gone "high class" in Dorise' absence. She wears the garments that used to signify that she and Dorise were to play a wedding later that night somewhere.

Her musical selections have ascended, like a freebird, to what only the 12 (rather than 80) people who are hanging around can recognize (as the overture to a Rossini opera, perhaps).

If and when the time arrives (and Bobby in building C has been talking about his plans to buy a portable amp, which he would let me use for the purpose) I plan upon proposing to Tanya, in a manner of speaking, that we divide the spoils in a 70-30 proportion.

That way, she wouldn't have to double what she makes playing the Rossini overtures by herself, in order to break even playing with me, just increase the tip basket by about 43%.

And, I'm sure I would take 30% of what I made playing with her, over 100% of what I might get at the Lilly Pad over the same amount of time.

Of course, it would behoove me to go to her website and jot down all of the musical selections listed on the half dozen or so CDs that she has recently recorded, and learn the chords to them all. I could set aside an hour a day and call it "Tanya time" for this purpose. And, if we discover that we hate playing together, then I still will have learned a bunch of music; and the time won't have been wasted.
So, now I have that to talk about, along with my CD, under the heading of "things to do to help my career."