Weasels Are Ripping At My Flesh!

It is early Thursday morning.

I had read another section of the Photoshop type book, and was excited about going to work on some artwork, using the new skills.
I struggled to produce the works shown.

Right: This one makes no sense to me.

34 Dollar Wednesday

So, after having gone with Bobby and Jacob to Sam's Club, and then to a Wal-Mart, where I had spent my last dime on a tube for the bike, I got on that bike and rode to the Lilly Pad, arriving there at about 10:40 PM.

I somehow was able to play for 2 and a half hours, netting the above amount, for an average of $13.60/hr. I got a 20 dollar bill from one guy named Duane, who is an architect from Las Vegas, and then 14 one dollar bills here and there.

Then, Terry, one of the skeezers, asked me if I could do him "a favor."
I was pretty sure that the favor was going to be to give him money, in the form of a loan that he would promise to pay back "tomorrow," but never would.

I have only lent him money maybe 5 times, and he is maybe 0 for 5, in paying me back.

Then, he seems to wait an appropriate amount of time before asking again; usually until I have succeeded in letting go of my irritation at him over not paying me back. Sometimes this has been over a year.

That's how long it took the first time, before I stopped resenting and ignoring him, after he didn't pay me back.

I was glad to have bought him off for a couple bucks, thinking that he could no longer ask me for any money because I had "You never paid me back the last time, bro" on the tip of my tongue.

But, alas, Terry the skeezer is about 6' 4'' and maybe 200 pounds and is ex-military and, in the event of my ever being physically attacked at the Lilly Pad, I am pretty sure he would offer me some kind of protection, if he happened to be around at that time.

There have been a couple times recently, when I was being pestered by a broke skeezer, who had just dropped acid or taken crystal meth, and just wanted to sit and listen (but, unfortunately prevent anyone else from wanting to do so by putting off a strange vibe) and Terry had briefly stopped to ask me how I was doing, kind of a code for: Would you like any assistance in persuading this worthy to move along? type of thing...

Unfortunately, those last couple of times, Jacob was with me, and was more interested in deriving entertainment from the doped up skeezer, and didn't want him to leave.
He wanted to shoot videos of him, record him singing, interview him, and low-key mock him, to a great degree.

This has its value, but, if a skeezer is going to say something that's going to go viral on Youtube, he's probably going to say it within the first 20 minutes of his arrival, in my opinion.

The muttering and babbling just doesn't get any better over time, because the skeezer is like the addict that Neil Young describes in "The Needle And The Damage Done" as being "like the setting sun."

The meth head, with his outrageous, Turret's Syndrome style antics are being fueled by something like a battery. A battery is going to get weaker and fade like the light from the setting sun.


But, I have already talked to Jacob about us not allowing the Lilly Pad to turn into a drop-in center for wayward skeezers.

Part of the "problem" is probably that Jacob doesn't see them as skeezers. I suspect that he sees them as human beings; perhaps even as equals in the eyes of God, and he seems to be genuinely interested in their characters.

And, this can lead to problems.

Just last week, when I was busking by myself, a skeezer walked past and muttered the pretty much standard half-greeting of the French Quarter.

Not realizing I was making a mistake, I did more than just grunt back a half-greeting; I made a comment about something; which turned into a brief conversation which was interesting enough.

But then he parked himself on the stoop, as if he could just hang out and talk all night; like maybe he had a dozen more stories about St. Louis that he was itching to tell me.

And then, when I tried to get him to leave, he wound up taking a leak about ten feet down the sidewalk from me before walking away. I could smell it the rest of the night. All because I made some comment about the weather, instead of just grunting: "Not much, man."

So, Terry wanted $1.75 because he needed to get a pint of vodka, he said.

Being right at around 10 days sober, and having had a bike tire tube bought for me earlier that day by Bobby (he insisted that I replace both front and rear) and kratom given to me by Jacob, and having just made 34 bucks, I did wind up giving Terry the 2 dollars. But not before reminding him that he "never" pays me back.

I intend to get at least a one year reprieve from him asking me for any more money using: "You never paid me back the last 2 bucks" on him as long as I can. I think it may be a flaw in his character, or something. He might just be a guy who never pays people back money that he "borrows."

Lackluster is not the word...

Needless to say, I was a bit upset after counting the money I made and realizing that I had given Terry around 6% of it. That's a lot to give to someone who is going to sit right where he was and ask the next 250 people to come along, for probably the same $1.75 that he asked me for; "so I can get me a drink."

Add to that the outrageous cost of spring water and a mango at Banks Meat Store (almost 5 bucks) and I feel like weasels are ripping at my flesh!

Then, I had a pretty lackluster study session with the GIMP editor...