30 Dollar Saturday Follows 35 Dollar Friday

It was good

to have been able to go out and make thirty bucks last night, the night after the one where I made thirty-five, but with twenty of that coming from one guy, Ben Jernigan, whom I haven't seen in years.

I need to do some Googling, but I believe Ben, who said that he has played with Willie Nelson, and who played my guitar once in Mobile when he and his friend, Lee Rumbley stopped by when I was busking and who played at a very high, Willie Nelson level of proficiency, is playing with the former bassist of the Grateful Dead now..

Ok, I Googled, and right now Ben has just finished recording in Mobile with none other than John Popper, otherwise known as "The Fat Guy Who Plays/Played With Blues Traveller." Just another coincidence, as Alex in California referenced the guy in a comment a couple days ago, and then the guy's guitarist walks up to the Lilly Pad the next night....*twilight zone theme*

Without his stopping by, it would have been a minimum wage outing.

I've played with some good musicians, myself...

Right now it is Sunday night.

I never did make it to the casino for noon to try to watch the Patriots game on one of their TV's.

I had been up until almost then, working on music.

Last night, I was able to give Bobby some cash, reversing the flow of money from borrowing from him to paying him back.

Still, out of thirty five bucks, I gave him seven. I know better than to look at a thirty five dollar night as anything more than two days worth of "expenses" covered.

But, he gave me a little bit of bud, as a reward for having paid him back seven bucks.

I worked on my original songs at the Lilly Pad, finding that they are getting "even" better, as I play them.

I find myself removing some of the limits that I might have placed upon myself, perhaps because of the self hypnosis that I did using the "Awaken The Genius" book.

I have, ever since high school when I ran track, been "dogging it" in a sense.

In high school track, I was always aware that a human being, if his life depended upon it, like if he's being chased by a bear, could run himself to death.

I think the legend is that the first guy who ever ran a "marathon" dropped dead at the end of it. His heart exploded, or something. Sure, and Zeus lived at the top of Mt. Olympus.

But, I always knew, when I ran the half mile that, I could try harder, give it my all, run as if my life depended upon it, and maybe collapse at the finish line and have to be revived with smelling salts; mmm, smelling salts...ammonia, mmm...

So, thus, when I've played music, I have labored under the same fear that, maybe if I tried to play a melody on the harmonica and on the guitar at the same time, my brain might explode, or something, and I have always been holding back a little bit.

The thing I need to do is to keep with the self hypnosis program and not quit doing it because I have seen remarkable results after one application. I think it is like antibiotics, I need to keep taking them until the whole bottle is gone and not stop after a couple days because I feel much better, type of thing...don't want the genius to doze off again...

There was no sign that my new friend, Caleb, had been at the Lilly Pad earlier that evening, that sign would have been maybe a few pennies laying on the sidewalk, next to an empty bottle of Mountain Dew, and maybe a broken guitar string.

The thirty bucks consisted of only two five dollar bills, and the rest ones, which is a good sign -having about twenty whole people throwing something.

At one point, some young black kids came along, and I could read in their deportment that they had thin hopes that I was going to be their cup of tea, but was able to get them to stop, by singing "We are humans; we are here," sung to the tune of one of my older originals, "The Cranium Song," from 1987.

I wound up giving one of them a beat, over which he rapped, but seemed to not be really feeling it. But, I stopped and asked him what one of the lines was that he had rapped, which seemed to change the dynamics of the situation -I had actually been listening to him- at which point he told me the lyric, and I tried it out myself, changing to a funky thing in E major and rapping the line over it then trying to rhyme the next one.

This perked him up and he said, "No, it's..." and then rapped more over the funkier beat and Youtube gained another video for its "rapping in the street" catalogue, and one of the five dollar bills that I made went into my basket.

Tonight, I might have to play catch up, in the sense of my leaving here (The Uxi Duxi) soon -It's almost 11 PM now- and then skipping busking in favor of going to the CVS to put twenty bucks on my green American Express ServeꜤ card, picking up toilet paper while there, then going back to the apartment to feed Harold the cat his first instance of his favorite dry food since before the great depression of August, when I became almost drained dry of my blood plasma.

I would then be able to get quarters out of the machine and throw a load of laundry in at Sacred Heart, adding ammonia, of course.

Don't ask...

Then, having money on my card, I might seriously explore the world of cheap harmonicas, seeing if the seven dollar "Iron Works" one might be indistinguishable from the eighteen dollar Suzuki "Folkmaster" ones that I have been relying upon when I haven't had the thirty bucks to plunk down on a Suzuki "Harpmaster."

Maybe a ten dollar harp, which could be a brand spanking new one every couple weeks would serve me better than the thirty dollar ones that sound amazing the first night, but which I am still playing after they are 4 months old.

I think it's about time I "wake up and smell the ammonia..."