I did the complete installation of Ubuntu Linux.
The Need To Update
It is version 15.01 even though they are up to about 17.01 by now. I got the CD out of a library book at the Layola branch New Orleans Public Library.
I didn't steal it; only borrowed it.
I'll slip it back into the Ubuntu book, or pay my fine down a few bucks then borrow the book.
I may have absorbed a bit more knowledge and be ready to assimilate more of that book.
While I am in here (the Sacred Heart Apartments computer room) and am seeing 3 dead computers around me, having just installed Ubuntu Linux on this laptop, I have gone the extra step, out of love of my fellow residents, of popping the same installation disk into one of them, which will hopefully bring it back to life for the first time in months.
I think the residents here were able to K.O. every single machine in this room just by dumbly clicking on things.
There used to be 6 machines, but now only 3 dead ones sit in the room that nobody enters anymore. I think an investigation should be launched into the whereabouts of the other 3 machines.
I wouldn't mind having one of those Lenovo desktop machines in my apartment, just as maybe a dedicated Audacity machine or something.
I could pay Rose and Ed maybe 15 bucks a month in order to share their wi-fi signal.
It will be interesting to see if the Ubuntu Linux system is proof against their haphazard clicking from one free porn site to the next.
Daytime Busking
I play during the afternoon for first time in over a year.
It was 3 PM when I left Sacred Heart Apartments, passing up upon free Girlscout Cookies which were to be delivered at 3:30 PM, as part of some program that they are affiliated with, that's goal is that no disabled veteran be without a cookie, or something.
I was a little disappointed to not have gotten the new harmonica in the key of D that was 5 days into its "2 day ground delivery."
I was set up and playing at the Lilly Pad by about 3:45 PM, having started with one penny in my pocket.
I was wearing shades, which caused me a bit of mental anguish.
If such busking superstitions such as never wearing an orange shirt again, after having been able to feel the audiences trouble with wrapping their heads around the concept, abound, then where did I stand upon wearing sunglasses?
I thought that the shades made me look "cool," and that I should probably switch to "cooler" music, and settled upon Tom Petty when I had the shades on.
Taking them off, I was assaulted by the daylight and felt very exposed, as if I needed to switch to music that would reveal the emotion of itself on my face.
Faced with playing "Tuesday's Gone," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, I just put the shades back on, planning upon taking them off about the time the street lights snapped on.
An hour and a half later, I had made 11 dollars and was packing up, so as to run to the Uxi Duxi (a 3 mile trek) for my first shot of kratom in 4 days. I would then get Harold some food, return to the apartment to feed him and maybe even install Linux on my laptop before going back out to busk.
I had just packed up and was about to take my first step in that direction, when I was frozen for a second by the sight of Ghost, walking up with his parlor sized guitar in its case.
The slightly crestfallen look in him, I immediately addressed with: "Five o' clock, gotta go!"
He froze for a second as if not sure which one of us had to "go," and asked: "What?"
Having Lilly in my back pocket, who showed up in the middle of my gig at around 4 PM with what turned out to be a pretty darned long tape measure and began to measure the width of her house, enlisting me to hold the tape in the middle at one point.
We then kissed each other on the cheek, on the sly it seemed, as Lilly had done a quick survey of the immediate vicinity before planting hers, and then she went inside, ready to re-emerge to tell any foreign buskers that they were on private property and must leave.
"Yeah, I played for a couple hours."
He seemed to have assumed that I was just getting there, which would have been logical, as 5:05 PM as it was, would have been my earliest arrival there in over a year.
My laziness, in arriving there later and later as time went on, was the reason that "Rascal," the female counterpart to Ghost who plays a ukulele had only just set up and had only made a couple bucks when I arrived at 8:30 PM, probably a year ago now.
She had been so used to me arriving after 10 PM, and so used to the hundred bucks that she could make in those couple hours, that she was quite upset, but still left, in obedience to Lilly's stipulation.
Her hustle, as an attractive enough blond haired early 20 something, was to become encircled by young men, who would tip their hearts out to her as she sang hers out to them, with 3 ukulele chords sufficing as accompaniment, and in fact helping her as their lack of grandiosity enhanced the sensation of her being helpless and vulnerable with only a tiny little instrument, and a dog to feed.
Ghost began to happily set up, as I went off to get a shot of kratom and cat food and to install the Linux on my hard drive.
This re-enforced what Ianna, one of the waitresses from Lafitt's, who looks part Asian but has blond hair, had said to me, late one slow Tuesday evening.
She had asked me why I play so late.
I explained that my music is more geared towards the lone souls, or couples, on their way back to the hotels at the end of the night, who still have money left and may be in a contemplative mood, and for whom money is not much of a matter, and who might want to pick the brain of someone who had chosen the mysterious to them path of becoming a busker; and who might feel like sitting down and resting anyways.
There is a more quiet and introspective aspect to that scenario than there is when the masses wander around at dinner time.
I knew that my repertoire put me at a disadvantage in that regard and that Ghost could and would make more than me, on average, during the same time slot, unless I changed my tack.
But, I went away feeling that, should I do so, and start to play that time slot, I would be taking food out of Ghost's mouth; and wasn't sure I wanted to be that territorial.
My long term hope of ever making a good living busking lies with Tanya Huang on Royal Street.
A simple call to Dorise: "Hey Dorise; can I use your Bluebird guitar and all the gear that you used to use to play with Tanya, so I can play with her and make 400 dollars every Friday afternoon? I'll buy my own gear as soon as I can, and flip you a couple hundred bucks soon afterwards?" ...and not a couple hundred bucks the way your tenant Travis Blain interprets that...
Dorise said that she doesn't play the guitar anymore; not even for recreation.
I guess the pain in her arm was bad enough at that point, for her to be in that frame of mind when I last talked to her 5 months ago.
That was when I was asking on behalf of Travis Blain about a place he could rent from her; using an almost free 19 day stay at my place in order to be able to bankroll the rent plus security deposits.
I should have been more than happy to facilitate this for Travis, since he is so special, what with his photographic memory and all...
Of course, being one year older than Dorise, I might expect the same carpal tunnel syndrome-like ailment to befall me, should I ever try to keep pace with Tanya's 40 hour per week playing schedule, accomplished over the 3 days of Friday through Sunday each week.
If I eat things like pizza then I tend to develop soreness in my playing muscles, which doesn't come when I'm on a diet more healthy for myself.
I've turned into somewhat of an over-eater, lately, being unable to curb my appetite for huge oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies with honey and all-fruit spread over them.
The best I can do is substitute better flour for the bleached white and fortified stuff in the typical cookie, coconut oil for the soy, dark chocolate chips for the ones with dairy in them, and put in more oats than the recipe for oatmeal cookies calls for...
It is now Saturday afternoon. I'm going to try to update the Linux from the 15.01 version that I got out of the 3 year old library book to a later version.
I was having trouble putting any software on it from the Sacred Heart Apartments computer room and am hoping that that is because they are on a network which, at one point was administered by someone who might have put restrictions upon the downloading and installation of software.
The Need To Update
It is version 15.01 even though they are up to about 17.01 by now. I got the CD out of a library book at the Layola branch New Orleans Public Library.
I didn't steal it; only borrowed it.
I'll slip it back into the Ubuntu book, or pay my fine down a few bucks then borrow the book.
I may have absorbed a bit more knowledge and be ready to assimilate more of that book.
While I am in here (the Sacred Heart Apartments computer room) and am seeing 3 dead computers around me, having just installed Ubuntu Linux on this laptop, I have gone the extra step, out of love of my fellow residents, of popping the same installation disk into one of them, which will hopefully bring it back to life for the first time in months.
I think the residents here were able to K.O. every single machine in this room just by dumbly clicking on things.
There used to be 6 machines, but now only 3 dead ones sit in the room that nobody enters anymore. I think an investigation should be launched into the whereabouts of the other 3 machines.
I wouldn't mind having one of those Lenovo desktop machines in my apartment, just as maybe a dedicated Audacity machine or something.
I could pay Rose and Ed maybe 15 bucks a month in order to share their wi-fi signal.
 |
| Today, the key of D harp arrives |
It will be interesting to see if the Ubuntu Linux system is proof against their haphazard clicking from one free porn site to the next.
Daytime Busking
I play during the afternoon for first time in over a year.
It was 3 PM when I left Sacred Heart Apartments, passing up upon free Girlscout Cookies which were to be delivered at 3:30 PM, as part of some program that they are affiliated with, that's goal is that no disabled veteran be without a cookie, or something.
I was a little disappointed to not have gotten the new harmonica in the key of D that was 5 days into its "2 day ground delivery."
I was set up and playing at the Lilly Pad by about 3:45 PM, having started with one penny in my pocket.
I was wearing shades, which caused me a bit of mental anguish.
If such busking superstitions such as never wearing an orange shirt again, after having been able to feel the audiences trouble with wrapping their heads around the concept, abound, then where did I stand upon wearing sunglasses?
I thought that the shades made me look "cool," and that I should probably switch to "cooler" music, and settled upon Tom Petty when I had the shades on.
Taking them off, I was assaulted by the daylight and felt very exposed, as if I needed to switch to music that would reveal the emotion of itself on my face.
Faced with playing "Tuesday's Gone," by Lynyrd Skynyrd, I just put the shades back on, planning upon taking them off about the time the street lights snapped on.
An hour and a half later, I had made 11 dollars and was packing up, so as to run to the Uxi Duxi (a 3 mile trek) for my first shot of kratom in 4 days. I would then get Harold some food, return to the apartment to feed him and maybe even install Linux on my laptop before going back out to busk.
I had just packed up and was about to take my first step in that direction, when I was frozen for a second by the sight of Ghost, walking up with his parlor sized guitar in its case.
The slightly crestfallen look in him, I immediately addressed with: "Five o' clock, gotta go!"
He froze for a second as if not sure which one of us had to "go," and asked: "What?"
Having Lilly in my back pocket, who showed up in the middle of my gig at around 4 PM with what turned out to be a pretty darned long tape measure and began to measure the width of her house, enlisting me to hold the tape in the middle at one point.
We then kissed each other on the cheek, on the sly it seemed, as Lilly had done a quick survey of the immediate vicinity before planting hers, and then she went inside, ready to re-emerge to tell any foreign buskers that they were on private property and must leave.
"Yeah, I played for a couple hours."
He seemed to have assumed that I was just getting there, which would have been logical, as 5:05 PM as it was, would have been my earliest arrival there in over a year.
My laziness, in arriving there later and later as time went on, was the reason that "Rascal," the female counterpart to Ghost who plays a ukulele had only just set up and had only made a couple bucks when I arrived at 8:30 PM, probably a year ago now.
She had been so used to me arriving after 10 PM, and so used to the hundred bucks that she could make in those couple hours, that she was quite upset, but still left, in obedience to Lilly's stipulation.
Her hustle, as an attractive enough blond haired early 20 something, was to become encircled by young men, who would tip their hearts out to her as she sang hers out to them, with 3 ukulele chords sufficing as accompaniment, and in fact helping her as their lack of grandiosity enhanced the sensation of her being helpless and vulnerable with only a tiny little instrument, and a dog to feed.
Ghost began to happily set up, as I went off to get a shot of kratom and cat food and to install the Linux on my hard drive.
This re-enforced what Ianna, one of the waitresses from Lafitt's, who looks part Asian but has blond hair, had said to me, late one slow Tuesday evening.
She had asked me why I play so late.
I explained that my music is more geared towards the lone souls, or couples, on their way back to the hotels at the end of the night, who still have money left and may be in a contemplative mood, and for whom money is not much of a matter, and who might want to pick the brain of someone who had chosen the mysterious to them path of becoming a busker; and who might feel like sitting down and resting anyways.
There is a more quiet and introspective aspect to that scenario than there is when the masses wander around at dinner time.
I knew that my repertoire put me at a disadvantage in that regard and that Ghost could and would make more than me, on average, during the same time slot, unless I changed my tack.
But, I went away feeling that, should I do so, and start to play that time slot, I would be taking food out of Ghost's mouth; and wasn't sure I wanted to be that territorial.
My long term hope of ever making a good living busking lies with Tanya Huang on Royal Street.
A simple call to Dorise: "Hey Dorise; can I use your Bluebird guitar and all the gear that you used to use to play with Tanya, so I can play with her and make 400 dollars every Friday afternoon? I'll buy my own gear as soon as I can, and flip you a couple hundred bucks soon afterwards?" ...and not a couple hundred bucks the way your tenant Travis Blain interprets that...
Dorise said that she doesn't play the guitar anymore; not even for recreation.
I guess the pain in her arm was bad enough at that point, for her to be in that frame of mind when I last talked to her 5 months ago.
That was when I was asking on behalf of Travis Blain about a place he could rent from her; using an almost free 19 day stay at my place in order to be able to bankroll the rent plus security deposits.
I should have been more than happy to facilitate this for Travis, since he is so special, what with his photographic memory and all...
Of course, being one year older than Dorise, I might expect the same carpal tunnel syndrome-like ailment to befall me, should I ever try to keep pace with Tanya's 40 hour per week playing schedule, accomplished over the 3 days of Friday through Sunday each week.
If I eat things like pizza then I tend to develop soreness in my playing muscles, which doesn't come when I'm on a diet more healthy for myself.
I've turned into somewhat of an over-eater, lately, being unable to curb my appetite for huge oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies with honey and all-fruit spread over them.
The best I can do is substitute better flour for the bleached white and fortified stuff in the typical cookie, coconut oil for the soy, dark chocolate chips for the ones with dairy in them, and put in more oats than the recipe for oatmeal cookies calls for...
It is now Saturday afternoon. I'm going to try to update the Linux from the 15.01 version that I got out of the 3 year old library book to a later version.
I was having trouble putting any software on it from the Sacred Heart Apartments computer room and am hoping that that is because they are on a network which, at one point was administered by someone who might have put restrictions upon the downloading and installation of software.
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