The Zen Of Skeezing

Thursday, The Fourth

I am home from busking.

A guy who hung out, named Blake, who was from Georgia gave me a 20 dollar tip on an otherwise 3 dollar Wednesday late night.

It was after midnight when I got there, having hung around the apartment, slowly waking up and getting ready to go out there.

I still have an internal clock that wakes me up right around the time that I used to hop on the street car each night.

Wednesday, I had slept from some time in the afternoon until I woke up when it was time to busk.

But, having a cup of coffee, letting Harold the cat in and feeding him, finding my stuff and packing up my backpack all conspired to have me at the Lilly Pad around midnight.

Friday, The Fifth

I am so busy with things that I can't even afford to stuff my face with a bunch of junk food and then just sleep it off for half the next day before crapping it out.

I have to wake up in the morning and not smoke weed, as it will scatter my energies in every direction but no direction in particular.

Just now, I was sitting on my couch, realizing that if I had enough energy to sit there and read a John Grisham novel entitled: The Confession, then I could divert that inertia into coming here to the computer room to do this blog post. I can go back and fall asleep with the book in my lap afterwards.

But, not for long. I need to keep pace with Jacob and his "Energizer Bunny" level of activity; such as I had when I was 34 years old.

Actually, when I was Jacob's age, I was still a sickly young man with pasty colored skin and prone to outbreaks of eczema, who just went to a store and bought food that looked good and ate it, unaware that it takes my body a long time to break down soybean oil and that eating it every day was taxing my detoxification system, leading to a sickly young man with pasty skin.

Back then, I thought the only way I was going to get a girl to fall in love with such a guy was for me to have material things to offer.

What a long strange trip it's been. After forsaking all that and living as a homeless troubadour for years, I suddenly find myself getting computers and TV's and DJ turntable systems, and more laptops, and bikes and more TV's and a new smartphone, and a guy in building C wanting to buy me an electric guitar.

The zen of skeezing.