Saturday Rain

• Away Working On Serial Novel
• Bobby Gives Me TV
• Busking Hot And Cold

I keep trying to find a point to put  break in the serial novel that I am writing, and am almost at the point of bridging a huge section to another one.

Chapter 3; coming, like a tornado...

This is kind of like doing a 1,000 piece jigsaw puzzle and, at one point discovering that you can connect the almost whole windmill that you have pieced together to the almost completed bed of flowers that sits in front of it, perhaps.

It is just that, I had planned upon the events of the story taking place over a one year span of time, relatively.
This might allow me to connect it to another long story that takes place over the next two years. That story is stuck on an old hard drive that I screwed up the boot sector of, by trying to put both Linux and Windows on it.

I will be able to recover that data, but, have been procrastinating upon doing so.

To complicate matters, I now have a TV to compete for my time with everything else.

Bobby gave me one, and I eventually got it to turn on by pressing the power button repeatedly on the remote.
It will come in handy for football. Now it will be mostly as a social call that I would go to Howard's to watch football with him, since I would have the same game available to me from my bed.

Busking has been hit and miss, lately.

I am drinking wine now, like I used to do for years.

It has put a slight damper on the output of music and writing that I have mustered, but that can be equally blamed upon the weed that I've had, also.

For some reason, the wine turns the busking into more of a service oriented business, more like a human juke box, or like a "get her done" type of job.

This is different from the pot fueled sessions that can feel more like you are performing a higher minded task, like sending a peaceful vibe outward into the universe, where it will resonate and eventually bring salvation to all, type of thing.

These are both probably illusions, with the truth lying somewhere in between.

The "magic" that comes along with being a busker started way back, when I drank a lot (and a lot of crap, like Earthquake Lager).

For, example, in St. Augustine, in 2009, I was sitting in a certain spot in the broad daylight of the afternoon and doing "Scarlet Begonias," by the Grateful Dead.

As soon as I sang the line: "Wind in the willows playing tea for two..." a girl of about 20 stopped in front of me and exclaimed:
"Hey, that's my tattoo!," then lifted the leg of her shorts to reveal a "wind in the willows playing tea for two" tattoo.

That is just one example of the parade of events that seemed to have been my life since I became a busker. I can sort of say that I owe "everything I have" to it, if I want to extend the analogy.

The caseworker who noticed me here and contacted so and so, who contacted whomever that wound up getting me into my apartment as a disabled veteran was someone who had seen me 4 years prior, busking in Mobile, Alabama and that had something to do with the vigor with which he pulled whatever strings to help me get in Sacred Heart.

It was as if he had personally determined that I had paid my dues as a homeless busker, if I had been sleeping in a stand of holly bushes that long ago, and was still homeless, but now in New Orleans.

So, yeah, I would have to agree with Alex in California that I am a busker and should continue to be one.

The issue now is: Do I want to become amplified and play on Royal Street and make more money, but make it in more of a Royal Street fashion, rather than a Lilly Pad environment.

It would be like going from a candle-lit and quiet bar, to the lobby of a mall -that's the first analogy that comes to mind.

And then there is the matter of letting things fall into place, while avoiding procrastinating while doing so...a catch 22