Ther Wrong Pot At The Wrong Time

• Not Prepared
• 48 Dollar Saturday

Plant in Sacred Heart lobby vandalized by irate evicted resident on his way out; he pulled a kinfe on someone, kicked over the plant and the little metal dispenser of doggie pop picker uppers, and is in jail now. Bobby, my friend in building C was part of the drama, as the resident had demanded, rather than asked that Bobby help him move his stuff, using his truck. Bobby refused and the resident tore the ceiling tiles out of the elevator on the way down to the first floor where the innocent plant was in the wrong pot at the wrong time...

In my ongoing war against the separation of work from play, I lost the battle of remembering that one of the main reasons I knocked off last night, even though it was only about 1:30 AM on a Saturday night when there were still plenty of people out, was that my LED light had dimmed considerably.

I had been amazed at how bright it had still been Friday night, after using it for 2 hours. When I unplugged it, it was still blinding. “This is an amazing light,” I thought.

But, after not recharging it that night, it faded out over the next couple hours. Still not a bad deal, since I no longer have to plunk down 6 bucks every 10 days or so on a 20 pack of Family Dollar brand batteries, which can be inconsistent in quality.

But, I got in this (Sunday) morning and didn’t plug the thing in to charge, so that, a couple minutes ago as I prepared to go out, I remembered it.

My only option for playing on this Sunday night would be to buy batteries for the “legacy” flashlight that I used to use before Bobby in building C gave me the rechargeable.

But, then, I might only be able to find AAA ones in the 8 pack, which would run me probably about 7 bucks at the Walgreen’s and...

Yeah, I need to work on feeling like a busker 24 hours a day and not trying to flip a switch and change modes, like those who don’t think about their jobs when they are off. “...As soon as Friday at five rolls around, I don’t think about this place at all until Monday morning when my alarm goes off...” type of thing...

If I were to think of myself as a busker all the time, then I would be preparing new material when I’m home, and doing things like plugging my light in to charge....

So, now, I pack up and go out. I might as well leave the LED light here charging.

48 Dollar Saturday

It seemed like a typically slow night last (Saturday) night.

The guy who had had the bass drum the night before came up to me as I was locking my bike and said: “I didn’t make s*** today, these people are cheap!”

I didn’t see the bass drum anywhere, nor any other tell tale signs that he might be thinking of banging the drum over my music any time soon, like his own milk crate nearby the Lilly Pad, or his bike parked where he had parked it the night before.

I tried to commiserate with him about how it has been slow every one of the 7 years that I have been keeping records around this time each year. But, I was wary of treating him as an equal in that regard, because if that is implied, then his next step might be to propose that we have equal time at the playing spot, because "We're both out here doing basically the same thing," type of thing.

There’s no way I want to do something like play from ten until eleven, and then turn it over to him to bang away for the next hour. That would mean he would be in my life; I'm not ready for that.

Side note: The rub board guy.

By the way, the rub board playing guy told me that he not only was in the movie "Interview With a Vampire," but also the "Popeye" movie, as he put it, and yes, the Treme series on HBO or wherever, and he said something about playing in The Georgia Dome, I don't know, maybe at half-time. I'm sure the accountant was pleased that, instead of having to hire a marching band, they were able to land a nigga with a washboard for considerably less money...

I was only getting a trickling of money, maybe six people tipped me the whole 150 minutes that I played, but the last tip, which looked like maybe five dollars all stacked together, turned out to be more like 40 one dollar bills, so new that they were stuck together, and as I counted them, each apparent one dollar bill separated into two or three. They smelled like fresh playing cards.

So, I went and put 35 bucks on my green American Express Serve card and then turned around an spent almost 9 bucks off of it on a big bag of food for Harold, that might last 2 weeks, for five bucks, an energy drink and a can of pineapple slices.

Being a bit low on provisions casts a 48 dollar night in a different light.

I will need strings soon, and a new harmonica would be lovely. In the meantime, adding some data to my hotspot phone is high on the list of home improvements I could make.

Then, there is the vaporizer pen for 22 bucks that I probably should have bought on the night that Jacob and I busked and split 76 dollars.
That had been the night that Sampson in the Unique Grocery told me to save my money because he had a Juul vape that he would give me, the next night.
As that story goes, he gave me the vaporizer, which had a cartridge in it, but no charger to go with it, and then eventually gave me a charger that doesn’t seem to charge the thing if the absence of any green light on the thing is any indication, or the absence of any vapor coming out of it when I try to use it is...

So, I am leaning towards just replacing that. Mostly because, after having gone back to cigarettes while the vaporizer situation plays out, I have noticed more phlegm and more short-windedness and, of course, less money in my pocket.

That might be the most important thing, as it relates to my health. That would leave me enough money to add maybe 500 megabytes to my government phone, which I finally seem to have under control as far as runaway data in the background eating up data.
I basically disabled every single application, one by one from using background data.

And then, I can continue to work on all my projects and hopefully keep this blog rolling along until I find a purpose for it. I am leaning towards dividing it into categories of “busking” “kratom” and “stories.”
Using it as some sort of portfolio in the future is in the back of my mind.