Food From A Surprising Source

And so I left Starbucks Tuesday night after I had failed to negotiate a coffee sale off my gift card in exchange for cash "of a lesser amount," with anyone; and so I prepared to embark upon the 29 minute walk back to the apartment.
People looked at me like I was asking them for their social security number after I offered them the deal that would save them a buck or two on their coffee. "Good luck, I hope you find someone," said one guy, who seemed suspicious. I guess I saved some coffee money for the future, and would get some exercise.

I had weed, and I saw David The Water Jug Player across the street. I thought I would ask him if he had any food, as if I needed a reason for putting my sack of weed in jeopardy.
I went over to greet him; he seemed in good spirits. At his feet was a huge white plastic bag, through which I could see the side of a cereal box.
"Do you have any food?" I asked him.
I had very little at home, something like a half a box of spaghetti, and some popcorn.
David handed me the bag, which was heavier than I thought a couple boxes of cereal should be. "Here you go, it's some cereal and some milk."
It sure was.
It was two "family size" boxes of Frosted Flakes, and a half gallon of whole milk -no skim anything; the real deal!
I smoked some bud with him and we talked for a while, with him recounting the story of the blue guitar which I had given him about 3 years ago now, after someone had given me the Takamine that I now play.
Bilal, the guy who had given me the blue guitar, and who didn't know that I had given it to David, had confronted David on Royal Street about the guitar.
David had lied and said that he had had the guitar for 5 years, I think he said, whereupon Bilal countered with: "No you haven't, I know that guitar inside and out, I can tell you where every scratch on it is, because it used to be mine, and I gave it to someone..." and appropriated the guitar from David.
That story becomes fuzzy at that point because, I think, David is embarrassed to admit that he had gotten "punked out" and his guitar taken from him.
But the next part of the story, as told by David is when he (David) was walking up Royal Street and Bilal came out of the art store where he works and motioned him over.
He apologized to him and then handed him (back) the guitar
Somehow Bilal found out from Tanya and Dorise that I had indeed given the guitar to a guy whom they probably described as David. After someone had given me the Takamine, I was storing the blue one at Dorise's house. She brought it to work with her one day so I could give it to David.
But, David was in good spirits and it was actually nice to hear him repeating a story from 3 years ago, which he has already told me a half dozen times, but not recently, rather than a story that he has told me a half dozen times in the past month...
I still had to walk the three miles or so home; but I was thinking about Frosted Flakes in whole milk the whole way. I have to watch my intake of dairy products, but there was no way I could resist a few bowls in it, to get some protein.
In the morning, I was able to catch the van, driven by Dorothy, one of the caseworkers, to a food bank where I can go once per month, based upon my "situation," I guess, and where I have always been too lazy or too asleep at 11 AM to have ever done so.
But, this morning, I was up and (half) full of energy; suffering from a bit of Frosted Flake lag, and was able to be on the van.
I returned with a box laden with pasta and tomato sauce, canned vegetables, a box of dirty rice, a couple bottles of cranberry juice concentrate, a half gallon of grape juice, some flour tortillas, a half pound bag of shredded cheddar and provolone cheese, two one pound bags of ground coffee, crackers and snacks, and a big hunk of cooked turkey breast meat, a couple pounds at least.
Plus...a big box of corn flakes.
I will survive the next 4 days, it appears.
Frosted Flakes in whole milk has got to be near the top of the comfort food list; right there with tuna casserole made by your mother.
Nerves
I am in the Quarter and it is Thursday night and I am nervous about going out to play.
It's only 7:30 PM and I could make one of my earliest arrivals at the Lilly Pad in a while.
The day shift guy, "Ghost," might still be there, raking in the last of his money. He is another busker who has improved a lot in the past few years. He always had excellent taste in busking songs, ones that made me think: "I need to learn that song." Stuff like that "Put the lime in the coconut" song comes to mind. But now, he sounds more adept on the guitar, putting in little riffs and fills and other embellishments.
I'm almost certain that I have gotten better in the last 3 years. Quitting drinking led to an immediate improvement of about 20%, I would say.
But, I guess you're only as good as your last gig; and I'll have to see how well I play for tips in a little while.
I have been reduced to taking extra napkins out of Starbucks, along with extra sugar packets, so that I don't have to buy toilet paper, or sugar.
Just Tryin' To Make Bus Fare
Such an early arrival, it would seem, would mitigate the level of worry I have that I might not make even enough money to take the bus over to watch the Superbowl at Howard Westra's.
He called me earlier today to confirm that I would be there for what will be a Superbowl party, and it has been arranged that I will spend the night there afterwards.
This would be great if I drank, as I am sure there will be enough booze there to render me incapable of walking to a bus stop and getting on a bus.
But, in the morning, I'm sure there will be breakfast, prepared by the capable hands of Berta, and it will be the 5th of the month, and my food stamp money would have appeared on my card.
What Have You Been Up To Since 1993?
Then, I can set my sights upon the upcoming visit of my old friend, Ben, from Massachusetts.

"Tell the doorman Bilal sent you..."

I have started to make the apartment look less cluttered by stashing a bunch of things like extra chairs in closets, and getting rid of all the dead plants from the window sills.
He will only be here a week. I will have to talk to Bilal to get suggestions on where I can steer the guy for a good time. Perhaps he knows of spots that aren't tourist traps and where Ben could perhaps drop Bilal's name and have a red carpet rolled out for him. I suppose that if he wants me to go out with him one night, we could find a place that has good food, where he can get hammered on beer, while I sip coffee. I guess we have some catching up to do, starting with: "So, what have you been up to since 1993?"
Howard Hears A Who
I was amazed at how Howard seemed to be able to hear and understand every word I said.

At first, I thought he must be using some phone application which was transcribing my speech and giving him captions of it; but he said that he has just gotten some new hearing aids, and that they were "the expensive ones," and that they are 3 times better than the less expensive ones that he replaced -the ones that had him answering "Yeah," to the question of "Which quarter is this?" Those must have been the Pardon Me? model.
Showing up at the Lilly Pad at, say, 8:30 PM, would allow me to play for a full 4 hours before the time that I usually knock off arrives.
My confidence has been undermined, I guess.
It is a Thursday night, but it is carnival season.
I would bet that I could flip back through this blog a year at a time and find a year when I made at least 80 bucks on this very date, in less than 4 hours, too.
Plus, we are in the golden age of Donald. Surely at least one tourist will stop to listen to me whose stock portfolio has appreciated 40% in the past year, putting her in a generous mood.
It would really be nice to have a decent night tonight; it would restore some confidence in my ability to go out with a box with steel strings stretched across it and make money with it.