It's about 4 AM, Tuesday morning, July 16th.
I woke up like I automatically do around busking time, right around busking time, earlier.
I probably could have gone out to play.
The deal breaker was the fact that it was a Monday night. And a Monday night right after storm Barry had come through. People would have postponed and rescheduled things that otherwise might have had them in the French Quarter the past weekend into tonight.
Plus, my guitar still had only 2 strings on it.
I had decided to just put on the two bottom bass strings and to play the thing that way. That forces me to look at the instrument in a new way. Instead of jumping to the fourth string for a note, for example, that string isn't there, so I have to find the same note higher up on the fifth string. It makes me more fluid, and more aware, and is definitely a good exercise in "changing positions" in a flash.
A lot of cool riffs can be found this way, as the two strings can be attacked in a different way without the other ones being in the way.
So, I would have had to put all six strings on the guitar, which would have delayed my arrival at the Lilly Pad by only another 15 minutes or so, but those minutes seemed crucial on a Monday night when I would already have been arriving around 10:30. And then I wouldn't be able to mess around with the 2 string guitar again unless I unstrung it, which is a questionable practice, due to them going from one extreme to the other.
I suppose I could have logged on to the Bourbon Street "Earthcam" web cam in order to see if I saw any people at all. I mean, after I x-ed out all the skeezers and others that I see walking around all the time who aren't tipping tourists.
In the interest of shuffling things a bit and forcing myself to deviate from the ruts that I have fallen into, I now go to hop on my bike, at 4:15 AM and just ride...
Just ride somewhere, grabbing a can of cat food along the way out of the last of the money.
The 20 dollars that the Lidgley's put in the parcel that they sent became hurricane relief funds and smoothed out the couple days that I had been kept inside by rain and high winds.
The strings had been in the parcel, perhaps the most useful thing in the box, and something I forgot to mention in the other day's post about the parcel, along with the Lidgley Story. This is another example of me trying to push thoughts of working out of my mind when I am off work.
There is just and element of danger and uncertainty involved in going out to busk and it's easy to try not to think about it when I am safe and sound in my apartment.
This leads to realizations, just as I am packing up to go out, such as that the batteries in my spotlight are dead and I didn't plug it in to charge, or that my bike's back tire went flat on my way home the night before and I made it back home, but then forgot about it after getting busy with smoking weed and doing everything else under the sun except things preparatory to the next night's busking session.
So, I now go out to take that bike ride at, now 4:30 AM, on this Tuesday morning.
If I ever lost this living arrangement, I can see myself kicking myself and saying: "I had it made; I could have gotten so much done there!"
I'm thinking that I need to become more involved with the other residents here. Maybe taking my guitar down to the smoking area and playing it some time.
I don't know if withholding "the gift of music" from the people that I live with is hindering me in some way. They see me coming and going with the guitar on my back, but have never heard me play, type of thing. But that might be something to think about as I take that bike ride at 4:40 AM, now.
I woke up like I automatically do around busking time, right around busking time, earlier.
I probably could have gone out to play.
The deal breaker was the fact that it was a Monday night. And a Monday night right after storm Barry had come through. People would have postponed and rescheduled things that otherwise might have had them in the French Quarter the past weekend into tonight.
Plus, my guitar still had only 2 strings on it.
I had decided to just put on the two bottom bass strings and to play the thing that way. That forces me to look at the instrument in a new way. Instead of jumping to the fourth string for a note, for example, that string isn't there, so I have to find the same note higher up on the fifth string. It makes me more fluid, and more aware, and is definitely a good exercise in "changing positions" in a flash.
A lot of cool riffs can be found this way, as the two strings can be attacked in a different way without the other ones being in the way.
So, I would have had to put all six strings on the guitar, which would have delayed my arrival at the Lilly Pad by only another 15 minutes or so, but those minutes seemed crucial on a Monday night when I would already have been arriving around 10:30. And then I wouldn't be able to mess around with the 2 string guitar again unless I unstrung it, which is a questionable practice, due to them going from one extreme to the other.
I suppose I could have logged on to the Bourbon Street "Earthcam" web cam in order to see if I saw any people at all. I mean, after I x-ed out all the skeezers and others that I see walking around all the time who aren't tipping tourists.
In the interest of shuffling things a bit and forcing myself to deviate from the ruts that I have fallen into, I now go to hop on my bike, at 4:15 AM and just ride...
Just ride somewhere, grabbing a can of cat food along the way out of the last of the money.
The 20 dollars that the Lidgley's put in the parcel that they sent became hurricane relief funds and smoothed out the couple days that I had been kept inside by rain and high winds.
The strings had been in the parcel, perhaps the most useful thing in the box, and something I forgot to mention in the other day's post about the parcel, along with the Lidgley Story. This is another example of me trying to push thoughts of working out of my mind when I am off work.
There is just and element of danger and uncertainty involved in going out to busk and it's easy to try not to think about it when I am safe and sound in my apartment.
This leads to realizations, just as I am packing up to go out, such as that the batteries in my spotlight are dead and I didn't plug it in to charge, or that my bike's back tire went flat on my way home the night before and I made it back home, but then forgot about it after getting busy with smoking weed and doing everything else under the sun except things preparatory to the next night's busking session.
So, I now go out to take that bike ride at, now 4:30 AM, on this Tuesday morning.
If I ever lost this living arrangement, I can see myself kicking myself and saying: "I had it made; I could have gotten so much done there!"
I'm thinking that I need to become more involved with the other residents here. Maybe taking my guitar down to the smoking area and playing it some time.
I don't know if withholding "the gift of music" from the people that I live with is hindering me in some way. They see me coming and going with the guitar on my back, but have never heard me play, type of thing. But that might be something to think about as I take that bike ride at 4:40 AM, now.
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