Sue?

Sue?

Tanya and Dorise with their big baskets, playing for the love of music and not even thinking about money...but no sight of Sue...
Oh, Sue!?!
I still don't see Sue anywhere.
The librarians here, have not seen her in "about 3 months," and I am thinking that Sue finally left New Orleans, like she had been saying that she was going to do all along.
Luckily, I still have her e-mail address and can maybe catch up to her in the Pacific Northwest if it should come to that.
From The Fire...
Howard and I took the bus to downtown Baton Rouge Tuesday afternoon.
We still had time to catch the last bus to New Orleans, but, as is typically the case,
I started to remember a bunch of little details at the last minute to tend to before leaving.
I wanted to go to Shermans, to see if he would be able to duck tape the box that I am now carrying two laptops in.  
Howard did not want to impose upon Sherman to crash at his place for the night so we could take an early bus out, but I knew of a spot to sleep nearby  there, should the guy have become "funny" about letting us crash there, and was not worried about being able to pass a night.
Sherman taped the the box which held my two laptop computers, but then, as usual, we became distracted before I was able to use his phone to call officer Chutz about the whole bag of stuff which was missing after I got out of jail.
I take full responsibility for the mess, because we had gotten on Youtube and started to watch a bunch of videos of bands that we started to talk about under the heading of "Whatever happened to them?" -bands such as Tesla. Remember Tesla??? We do. 
It gradually became too late for me to call officer Chutz and ask him about the whereabouts of my stuff. I should have prodded Sherman to let me use his phone, but I guess I am as easily distracted as him.
My Road Dog

For some reason Sherman chose to call revelry at 6 a.m. this morning (even though we two had been up looking at videos until midnight, while Howard slept) and I awoke in a stupor after only 5 hours of sleep.
He and Howard began to have a discussion about China while I tried to grab a few more minutes of sleep, to no avail. It was like a cruel joke. I faced the prospect of going to New Orleans on 5 hours of sleep (I looked in the mirror and looked like death warmed over; I couldn't help but think that Sherman had engineered the whole thing out of jealousy, because he has no girlfriend and no prospects) to hopefully run into Sue, looking 10 years older.
I also hadn't made the officer Chutz call.
I hadn't broken out my guitar, either, to continue working my fingers into playing shape after being inactive for 45 days
I wondered, once again, if people who open their doors for you and roll out a red carpet don't sometimes do you a dis-service in the long run...
We sat there at 6 a.m., over coffee, after I finally gave up upon getting any more rest and had joined the two of them in their discussion of China.
I was trying to maintain a positive outlook and stay appreciative to Sherman for having let us crash there, but I was stressed out over lack of sleep (I lay awake thinking about things that could go wrong on the trip and about things that had gone wrong in the past.
I then started raining, then thundering and down pouring.
I couldn't help but think that I saw a sly grin on Shermans face as this happened. 
I'm so glad that I don't fear that the whole planet (even the weather) is out to get me...
"Is that thunder?" asked Howard after a particularly loud blast which penetrated his hard-of-hearing-ears.

"Yes, Howard."

It didn't surprise me because it actually seems like this damned city is intentionally trying to punish us for leaving it and is throwing everything at us...like in some Steven King novel, where stuff like that is not only plausible, but is feasible.
It didn't rain long. 
When It Rains...

I decided to run to the store a few blocks up the street to get a morning energy drink, after it stopped. The man in the store greeted me in a very friendly way and we talked about the weather. After I proffered my food stamp card in order to pay for the drink, though, he became very short with me, snapped "Here's your reciept!," and didn't even say "You're welcome." after I had said "Thank you."
I went back to Shermans. I was completely dry; not even a spot of wetness on me, upon arrival.
Howard asked: "Is it still raining?"

I pointed to my completely dry shirt.
"Oh," said Howard. ...You're learning, I guess...
It seems that his I.Q. takes a dive whenever we are traveling together, him being out of his element; not knowing where the next Jack-In-The-Box meal is coming from, and looking to me for "What do we do next??".
But, shame on me for not recalling this from the times in the past and not being prepared mentally for it....
We are in New Orleans now.
I paid Howards way and he is going to re-imburse me the 5 dollars for the Hotard bus. I haven't found Sue at the library; the library people haven't seen her "in three months, or so" and that is where it stands. 
I will probably busk a bit this evening and then, we will go out to the rail yard tomorrow. and try to hop to Mobile.

A Cruel World

Yesterday, I received word from my mom, that she was going to wire me some money.

After checking the Western Union locations online, as well as their hours of operation, I set out on a 3 mile walk to the Piggly Wiggly on Plank Road.

Dying To Be Written

Bayfest

Bayfest officially kicked off at about 7:30 p.m. last night.

There I am, on my way to look for a spot to play.
I succeeded in finding one on Royal Street which was far enough away from any of the half dozen stages which were set up all over the downtown area, so that it was relatively quiet, especially compared to New Orleans.
Mobile felt like a peaceful little town, in fact, after NOLA. Even the beggars weren't as "in your face."
I racked up $13.86 in about an hour, playing mostly Beatles songs, then went to spend -excuse me, invest- $4.33 of it in a half pint of whiskey, which I then walked with and sipped upon down Royal Street towards one of the stages.

"Dances With Corrie" Not To Be

It was the stage by the parking lot where last year a man was sitting with a gallon of vodka, passing it around to his new "friends," which included, but were not limited to; myself, Corrie and Corrie's boyfriend, who soon left to find the Rock-n-Roll stage, leaving Corrie and I to dance in the parking lot to the sounds of Clay Walker. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't hoping to see Corrie again.
On this particular night, though, there was no man with vodka, no Corrie, and the Country band on the stage had just finished their set. There would be a wait before the next band played so I walked and sipped on; past the cops on every corner, and back to the spot on Royal Street, where I made a few more dollars.
Then, at 10:30 p.m., I started to head towards the "Pepsi" stage, where a band called Korn was slated to perform. I had always wanted to hear the band Korn, which spells it in mixed case characters, like KorN, or something (I think they reverse the "K" and possibly the "N," too).
I got about half way to the Pepsi stage, finished my whiskey and said to myself: "You know, you can always check out a CD from the library if you want to hear KorN so badly. How much money can you make on the sidewalk while KorN is playing? Well, that amount would be like what you would be paying to see KorN..."

"You know, you're right, self...I'm going to play some more"
And play, I did.
After the last of the bands finished around 11:30 p.m., and the streets flooded with freshly released, highly charged KorN fans and their ilk, I moved to the acoustically superior spot, (which I now just realise that I forgot to photograph; maybe tomorrow.)
I made a total of about 30 bucks for the night. This is not an impressive amount unless you factor in the fact that it took all of about 30 people to supply it. It was a one dollar tip type of night. I guess that is not just a New Orleans phenomenon, in this economy. 30 people appreciated my stuff, which bodes well for the near future anyways.
Someone came by and smoked some "mojo" with me, and after that, I remember playing "Dear Prudence," and changing the words, and I remember people approaching from every direction (like sharks) and throwing their dollars in my case. At one point, I spaced out and thought I was in New Orleans. Momentarily horrified, I snatched a handful of the ones out of my case and stuffed them in a pocket, before realising that I was in the relative safety of Mobile, at my acoustically superior spot, and that I had over reacted. Such was my level of concentration. The mojo contributed...
I slept at the railroad track spot, where I had stashed my sleeping bag, which was still there.
I chose that spot so that I wouldn't have to be "up and out" by 7 a.m., even though I had stashed my morning energy drink (a "Full Throttle") at the Christ Episcopal spot, a tactical error, but one that I had to live with.
Sleeping until 9 a.m. this morning, I then walked over to get my energy drink, and then went off to Save-A-Lot.
I want very much to cook some fish on a fire today, so I have already gotten some frozen Tilapia. It is thawing in my backpack right now. I will buy a tin foil type roasting pan for $1.50, or rig up a grate, using coat hangers as a frame and a 99 cent roll of tin foil. Either way, I'm determined to cook fish and to do it for under two bucks!
Tales of The Macabre

Another car strikes the same spot? Was it the same driver?

Last night, allegedly, another car struck the wall of the Church Street Graveyard in the same spot that had already been struck, and then patched using hundred year old bricks (to match the texture of the original wall. How well they matched it is left to you to determine by looking at the photo which I took this morning.)
You will remember, faithful reader, from yesterday's post that Richard was found dead upon the tomb where he slept in the same cemetery.


Is There A Novel Here?

 Was the wall actually struck by a car (I don't see any skid marks nor tire tracks) or is Richard's up to his old tricks?
This is just the kind of s**t that Richard would pull. It has "Richard" written all over it!
When his body was found, he had with him a 4-pack of Steel Reserve Lager, and was in the middle of drinking the second one, when he was snatched from this earth.
There are theories being bandied about, by those who knew him, that the restless spirit of Richard has come back to roam the earth in search of his last two cans of Steel Reserve...
Could he have, upon finding his beer gone off of his tomb, smashed the wall in a tantrum??
We don't know...

Free Rides In This World

I am back in Mobile, Alabama for the Bayfest Music Festival.
I have a shirt which reads: I ♥ New Orleans, a sleeping bag, and a brand new set of strings to show for my last foray into the seedy atmosphere of The Big Easy.
I Guess that this is an even trade for what I lost there in a dumpster fire of suspicious origins, specifically, my other backpack which was larger and better built than the one that I was given by the church people from Dallas (bless their hearts,) which is already ripping where the straps are affixed to it.
The Train Ride
I took the #94 bus to the train yard Thursday evening and got there before the sun went down. Perhaps this is why the rail yard security guy saw me and gave me a ride to a truck stop about 4 miles away, telling me that I could get a ride to Mobile out of there.
I sat "there" and watched  a documentary about Kurt Warner, (the quarterback who Tom Brady beat for the Patriots first Superbowl win,) for about an hour.

Sight I awoke to, well rested after 8 hours of sleep.

Then, I decided that I didn't want to ask anybody for anything, not even a ride to Mobile.
I have been told by travellers that this is the way to go, as, whoever gives you a ride has ample time to hear your life story and often will dispatch you with some cash and/or cigarettes or food or all three.
Or leave your dead body in a ditch by the side of the road....
I walked the 4 miles back to the yard and, managing to elude the security guy, found a train behind two locomotives which were idling and pointed towards Mobile which also had an open boxcar about 12 cars behind the engines.

The walk into Mobile; rough on shoes...

I slept for a couple of hours, after eating my soup and sardines, until at 2 minutes before 3 a.m., the little engines that could; did, and I didn't wake up until shortly before this picture was taken.
Here is a picture from the train ride. I think this is the one of the creek in West Mobile, where the train slows down because the tracks are under badly needed repair. I had to hang on so as not to drop the camera or get bounced out the door.
Bayfest
I am here for the Bayfest Music Festival. "Duran Duran" amongst others are slated to perform.
Last year, I did pretty good at my playing spot, knocking off after I made about 50 bucks, only so I could go watch other acts, as I recall.
I also danced with Corrie in a parking lot (See "Dances With Corrie" from about exactly a year ago..)
Richard Found Dead
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that, upon my arrival in Mobile, I was given the news that Richard, who slept on a grave not far from the grave that I slept on (I can't recall the name of his deceased) was found dead upon his tomb last Sunday.
The newspaper didn't even mention it, so, I am paying Richard the respect of adding this to my post. I guess the press saw nothing out of the ordinary about the discovery of a dead body in a graveyard...
I had my problems with the guy, but all is forgiven now; It's hard to hold a grudge against poor Richard now...I guess he is stealing Jesus' food and clothes now.... 

The Hectic, Busy Life Of A Songwriter

Blogging Backwards
I am drifting back in time...as I am updating this blog.

Before this, I was reading a book about how to write a song on a guitar. It gave me all kinds of ideas, and I wrote a song in my head, as I was reading the book. The text gave me the confidence to do this, as there was a section which mentioned specifically that some writers compose the whole song in their heads, before even picking up an instrument. There are others who "sometimes" do it. So, I went ahead and composed a song in my head, since Brian May of the group Queen does it. (My Dad: "If Brian May jumped off a cliff, would you jump off one, too?)

Queen, writing songs in their heads (left)

Concerns Over Jasmine's Storage

Before that, I had stashed my stuff at the fire station. I was hoping to see Porsha, in order to ask her if the Captain who removes my stuff was working today. I didn't see her, but, after going for my  morning energy drink(s) -I have a two-drink monkey on my back now- and consuming them and talking to Brenda, the skinny black lady who sweeps the parking lot at the Shell every morning, for a while, I walked past the station and saw that my stuff hadn't been removed as of that time; so I am only half worried right now.

Last night, I played and made about a yard and a half, to use a football analogy. I might have made 10 bucks.

Large Black Girls 

As I was leaving, some very large black girls were teasing me, and saying dirty things to me, the gist of which was their questioning  whether or not I believed that I could "handle" all 280+ pounds of any one of them. Someone had given me some pizza in a box, and it was this which was used as an "ice-breaker," and the subject of the initial conversation. I offered them some of the pizza, and managed to escape without being put upon to admit that I doubt that I could "handle" any one of them.

Hotel Gig For Bayfest

Jail Loses Boots

Before that, I was getting out of jail. The jail had misplaced my clothing and my boots. They gave me substitutes for all except the boots. Luckily, I had a pair stashed at the abandoned convent spot, and I trudged my way there, in the shower shoes, which were as close as the jailers could come  to replacing my boots. Then, since I had taken the laces out of the boots, to use elsewhere, I trudged in them to the Catholic Charities place, where the nice lady gave me some laces.

Thus sped up, I went to the bank, to cash the 4 dollar check, which the jail had given to me, representing the money that I had in my pocket when arrested. I used the jail ID, and had no trouble cashing it.

I then went to the Mobile Bay Adventure Inn, to return a cell phone, which I had found on the ground before being incarcerated. The manager gave me 3 dollars, and invited me to play next Friday, October 1st, at the entrance to the hotel, for the kickoff of the Bayfest, which is a huge outdoor concert, featuring several bands on several stages. He said that he could pay me with a ticket for the event, which is a $45 value.

 

Perhaps some of the performers will be staying at the hotel, and will hear me play, and invite me into the studio, or on an international tour. If it is Mary J. Blige (left and right) who does this, I will seriously consider it.

"You can play that piano?"