I'm Stuffed

 

I started this post on Thanksgiving night, which I guess was Thursday, as I think it is always the first Thursday after the second full moon in November or something...
I was stuffed.

I learned the lesson, once again that free food is often a Trojan Horse.

I won a Thanksgiving basket. They give them away every year. I think 30 people win them out of however many of the 119 people who live here sign up for the raffle.

I have been here 7 years now, and have won 3 times. Last year, Bobby in Building C won and wound up giving me his turkey.

Bobby was doing so much better last year. This year, the 300 dollar stimulus checks led to his demise, while fattening the wallet of at least one crack dealer.

The crack dealers have been emboldened by the circumstance of the police having better things to do than to try to arrest crack dealers.

As long as the crack dealers turn around and spend all their money, then the gears of the economy will be greased. Sure, they might spend it upon gold, but the money will eventually trickle down, being taxed at whatever percentage rate until it is all back in the hands of the government.

If the crack dealers ever decided to start stashing cash in mattresses, then a truly 1929 style depression would surely ensue. It is the drug trade that makes the world go around, in both its illicit and medical guises.

Depression

I woke up as depressed as I have been in a long time this morning. I had abused myself by drinking a whole bottle of sake the night before. There must be a ton of residual sugar in sake. That is why it tastes so sweet and is, hence, bad for you.

I had already gotten a flat tire on the bike the night before. The tire had a leak that was so slow that it took a couple weeks before the drag became enough of a hindrance that I would cough up the 4 quarters for the air machine at Brown Derby.

So, I had gone there and pumped the tire up until it was rock hard, then rode about a mile to the Family Dollar. When I came out of there, loaded down with bags full of juice, water and a 7 pound bag of cat litter among other things, it had started to pour down raining. I wished I had gotten 2 big cans of beer instead of one, to give me something to do while I waited to see if it would abate.

After I sipped down the one beer, the rain had indeed slowed considerably down, so I tied all the bags onto the handlebars, about 30 pounds worth, giving the bike a front heavy feel and got on it, I noticed that the back tire was just about flat, but still had enough air to ride on.

Oh, for heaven's sake!

I rode across the street to the Fresh Market and got another 24 ounce can of Dos Equis.

I then rode up Canal street at a speed which was barely better than walking.

A young black kid in a hoodie, who had been out in front of the dollar store when I came out was walking toward me, having apparently gone to skeeze at the Burger King while I was in Fresh Market getting the second beer.

"Ha ha ha," he laughed derisively, which made me think that he might have let the air out of my tire, probably because he knew I never give anything for free to bums at my expense.

But, now that I have discovered a tiny hole in the tube, I think he was laughing to mock me because he thinks Biden won the election. Obvious Trump supporter that I was to him (a white "boomer"). That makes the most sense to me for why he would have done that. What is the book theory on individuals such as him? Oh, yeah, his life is so sucky that he feels the need to try to make others feel bad, to make himself feel better. And, of course he was probably hoping I would have said: Shut the f*** up, ignorant colored boy!" because I would have kind of been a sitting duck with all the groceries on my bike and an almost flat back tire, should he have wanted to get nigger-ish and physically attack me. I am holding off on buying a .25 caliber (I think it was) pistol, at least until I have quit drinking entirely because I at the very least would have pointed it at his face and said "Keep moving, colored boy," should he have approached me.

Then, if he kept approaching and said something like "You ain't got the guts!" then what choice would I have. It would be my life against his, in that situation. Plus, I had all those groceries to get home. It is most likely at least a misdemeanor to "brandish" a weapon. The little punk would have become the victim in that scenario. Yeah, not until I have quit drinking for at least a couple weeks will I consider arming myself for the upcoming season after the election is reversed.

Even if it isn't reversed, I believe the 73 million Trump voters will begin to gather in secret societies and form militias.

But, right now, I am just hoping I can find the Wednesday Night Football game broadcast on one of the antenna TV stations that I get. I might even run to the store for some beer to drink while I watch it.

This morning was one of those occasions when I had decided enough was enough and I just couldn't drink any more. But, after just drinking prune juice and then apple juice all day and flushing my system out, I already feel great. Great enough to risk messing it all up again...

At least I have stopped smoking weed for the time being. Jay Leno was spot on when he called pot "ambition-be-gone." I have started so many pieces of music, inspired by a joint which didn't turn out to last long enough to see the project through, which are now sitting in separate files that I am afraid to listen to, for fear that they will be dopey sounding, that I don't want any more. Some of them might have the drum beat out of whack so that the downbeat is landing on the upbeat and I will be thinking: "I didn't notice that while I was doing it?!"

The picture at the top is of the French Quarter a couple blocks from where I play. Jacob had forwarded a message he got from another musician who lives right across the street from where I play. He was saying that the spot "looks really good," and that "people are tipping really well, for some reason." He saw one busker get two hundred dollar bills (if that was what he had meant by "two bills").

I had my reservations, so I logged on to the web cam. Maybe all the people except for the two seen in the photo were down by where I play. It's also possible that the guy, whose name is Will, is gay and has a crush on Jacob and is trying to get him to come out (in more ways than one) an play once again. I mean, he didn't text me with any encouragement, just Jacob.

OK, Ive checked off the two boxes: "racist" and "homophobic" with this post, what am I missing?

I guess losing all of your friends is a highly probable outcome of alcohol abuse, and right now I basically feel like I have no more friends. Even an old college friend whom I sent a message to the relatives of on Facebook, who sent a message back saying "I'm sure Hubert (as that is his name) would love to hear from you; he still occasionally mentions you in a funny story about the past" have suddenly gone silent after the last message of: "I'll see if I can get an email address from him." In my depressed state it seems likely that Hubert, upon thinking about it decided not to dredge me up.

I feel like a designated driver in life. When I drink, not only does my life fall apart, but seemingly unrelated things go wrong, too. It is probably like the proverb about the pebble dropped into the ocean eventually causing waves to wash up on all shores of the world.

It's not like how messed up the world is was brought about by my spiritual failings; but I had an equal hand in it. I think that was what Jesus' basic message was; all for one, one for all.

But, Jeez, I'm still steaming over that piece of crap little punk black boy that just had to go: "Ha ha ha ha" as I rode past. Forgive him? Really?

I mean, he was walking through the rain in his hoodie; what's he got to laugh about?