Tale Of Two Cities

First Day Back

Good To Sleep In My Own Bed
(far left yard)

The first day back in Mobile started with my hopping off the train which was chronicalled in yesterday's post.
Upon waking in the morning, I found that the day's itinerary was neatly laid in front of me, and didn't take me by the beer store at all. I removed the bag of dirty laundry and a couple books from my pack, thus lightening it.
I then walked to a spot where I used to sleep almost a year ago. I hung the bag out of sight in the holly bushes.
Then, I walked to pick the ashtray at the RSA Tower, where the federal employees have their smoking area. Then, across the street to Pollman's Bakery, where I was able to obtain a cup of coffee for just the remaining 90 cents on my food card.
Sipping coffee and re-rolling cigarettes, I made my way up Dauphine street. I was greeted warmly by some people who seem to have missed me, the past two weeks.
I then blogged yesterday's post.
I went to spend my last dollar on a beer, before sitting down to play at the acoustically superior spot, but not before running into Israel and his new girlfriend and their dog, "Updog".
Israel left almost a year ago, saying that his goal was to ride the trains "all the way to California."
At the time, I didn't give his scraggly, skinny ass much chance of succeeding in that endeavor, but; he did.
There was his hobo girlfriend and their dog and his tales of adventure to prove it. Amazing.
Someone stopped by and gave us all food while we talked. Israel and the girl said that Boulder, Colorado had been a very lucrative spot for busking, which was interesting news to me, since I think I can play at least as well as Israel on the guitar...
I then went and played for a half hour and got one gold dollar and one five dollar bill (something that had eluded me for 3 days New Orleans).
I then went and spent two of the dollars on beer at the Exxon.
On my way back to my sleeping spot, where I eventually would do my laundry, I ran into a black lady who offered to buy me a beer "because I've never seen you ask anyone for anything" which she did, and then she gave me a dollar.
I hung my laundry to dry in front of the hot air vent, and then slept like a baby in the sanctuary of the yard behind the Christ Church, waking up this morning with $4.93 in my pocket, and well rested with clean, dry clothes. Mobile has its perks...
Tale Of Two Latinas

In Tune With Spirits

As I was becoming acquainted with Sue, the Colombian Lady, formerly referred to as Sue, The Cuban Lady (-hey, I was only about 4,000 miles off), there must have been sent out waves of energy, disturbing the cosmos, which was picked up by one Karrie Porras. 
I had recently tried to reach Karrie (by calling the local liquor stores in places where I thought she might be taking her hermitage; half expecting one cashier to tell me "Just a second," and then put her on the phone..) and discovered that she was recently incarcerated in Dalton, Georgia for "public intoxication" (she was set up, framed, railroaded; of course).
Well, the undercurrents of the collective subconscious, referred to by some as "God," work in strange ways, because, as I was kissing Sue, the Colombian Lady in New Orleans, Karrie was dashing off the following e-mail to my mother, which my mom then forwarded to me.
Mom noted that the text was the original "word for word," off the fingertips of Karrie, and not a paraphrasing; which needed not be mentioned. I've never heard mom use the term "controling bitches" in quite the same context...
And now; Karrie's letter, via mom:
Hi


Letter from Karrie word for word: 8/18/11


Dear Daniel


I'm at the libary in Dalton, GA. the name is Pines


I got your letter and nice of you! thank you


Mostly I want to apoligize for my behavior in Florida.


You can call me at (706) 264 XXXX ?


I hope every thing is OKay the computer hates me I want to send a photo.


I'd better go their is controling Bitches around here


Miss you I think



Love

Machines hate her; bitches control her...
maybe she needs someone like me
back in her life...

Karrie Porras
157 XXXX
Dalton, GA 30721

A couple of thougts come to mind, besides how cosmic the timing of its delivery was.
I wonder if she really misses me. (I've always wondered if she thinks.)
She took about 6 months to respond to my letter, nice as it was, so I will take time to consider my response before calling her.

I have a suspicion that, probably, the past year, her quality of life was equal to, or better than the life we were sharing; but has now sunken below her threshold of tollerance of her circumstances, (what with the controling bitches and everything); thus prompting this (more coherent than usual) letter. 

"...As Long As We Don't Have To Have
A 'Drink-Off' To Compete For Him!

I also have an idea which is both frightening, and exhillorating:

Karrie in New Orleans!

Would a s-Karrie cat-fight en-Sue, between the two?

I haven't a clue, do you?

Maybe I could move Karrie to Mobile and then hop back and forth, having one in each port, like the real rock stars do...hmmm

No Crying Roast-Meat

Thursday night, I ran into Terry, an elderly black guy, who reaffirms my belief that the color of one's skin is of no import, pertainent to the nobility of one's character; him being a very cool black guy.

We sat and I drank my first Earthquake of the day, which whittled my cash down to $2.87.

We were joined by a guy who's name I forget, but whom I see a lot at the library, and I am actually a "friend" of his on Facebook. We smoked and drank.

Soon, it was time to go into town, as it was nearing the time of the Great Feeding at 15 Place. I wanted to play for about an hour, before partaking of that Grand Feast. I could remember the previous week, when I had only 32 cents, and ate at 15 Place, then went out and played.

I had my second beer, waiting for The Great Dining Hall to open. I had 3 helpings of shepherd's pie. It was just about perfect, a Miracle On Joachim Street.

A Lady Gives Me 25 Dollars

I sat on my spot, the acoustically superior one, and played. My new "g" string rang out, and a new low "e" string did the same.

I can't remember what music I was doing, but, a lady came by and asked me if I wanted a snack. She was holding a bag, which she deposited next to me. It contained a muffin, a rice treat kind of thing, and three apples. She dropped 20 dollars in my case, next to the 3 which were already in there.

"Thank, you! Do you need change?," I asked, offering her the 3 bucks.

She said that she didn't want any change, and that, in fact, she was going to give ME more change. She dropped 5 more bucks in. She said "I love music."

The apples made me wonder if she reads this blog...

I had 28 bucks, and should have been set up for a productive night, but, people came along and gave me beer and invited me to go eat.

Along came Terry, the cool older black guy (because of whom, I can't judge anybody by the color of their skin) and asked me for beer money. I gladly gave him 2 dollars, and he went to the beer store, and came back with change.

Then came the guy, who's name I forget, and sat down and listened for a while. He had worked that day, and had 100 dollars. He offered to get beer, and did so; producing a 6 pack of Budweiser. He wanted to get food, also, but I advised against the out of control spending which getting food on Dauphin Street would entail.

I played more, and got two 5's, and a few more ones -not bad for a spot with light traffic, but excellent acoustics. I was eventually feeling pretty drunk, and only vaguely remember the rest of the night, except the following.

I ran into Israel, who was bragging about the 8 dollars that he made at a busy (hectic) spot up the street. "That's a good spot," he said.

When asked how I had done, I didn't want to tell him that I had made about 37 dollars to his 8. I was thinking of something that I had read in Tom Jones, by Henry Fielding (which, by the way, is turning into one of the most excellent books which I have ever read) The quote has to do with not "foolishly bragging" about good fortune, when all it would do is "call forth partakers of what you intend to enjoy privately." He (Fielding) called it "Crying roast-meat." and I think it comes from olde English lore, (and the Lidgeleys may be able to verify this.)

I told Israel that I had done "alright, thanks to one generous lady." He probably thought that I was thrown 10 bucks. I don't think that he will try to play my spot, but, there is still a price to pay for bragging, and he might have spread the word, in the form of "I wish I made 37 bucks, like Daniel did," whereupon, I would be plagued by supplicants for money and cigarettes the whole night long.
Knowing that I had money, they would paint me as a greedy individual, were I to turn them away.

The mentality which produces notions like: One should take whatever he has and "share" it with everyone, because we are "all in this together,' and are all "out here, struggling," and we "all need to look out for one another, is prevalent amongst them, and well documented in this blog.

I don't subscribe to it, because I produce income. I believe that those fellows who trumpet the above philosophical point of view, if audited, would be found to have their balance sheets skewed drastically, in the direction of "money bummed," completely overshadowing "money given to others."

At one point, I took a break and walked with the guy who's name I forget, up to the store. I got an energy drink for the (this) morning.

Violence Breaks Out Over 10 Bucks

The guy who's name I forget was in a dispute with a young black kid, over 10 dollars, and at one point, got hold of the young black kids cellphone, as a securty against the 10 dollars. I was entrusted to hold the phone, being kind of a referee of sorts.

The young black kid was unable to produce the 10 dollars, and still wanted his phone back. Being fair and impartial, I told him that the phone was being held until the guy who's name I forget, got his 10 bucks. The young black kid wanted the phone back first, claiming that the 10 bucks would then be turned over. I told him that it would not work that way, as, the phone had little value to us, and more to him etc.

He swung his fist, hitting me somewhere in the cheek, I think. I felt hardly anything. I stood there, looking at him. The kid actually went and got a cop, of sorts (a Community watchdog type of guy who walks around in a yellow shirt and gives people directions and watches out for crime, or something) who told us to just give the kid the phone back, and swallow the 10 bucks and consider it a lesson learned (not to ever trust him again.) He went on to say that sometimes these young black kids will shoot people over 10 dollar cell phones.

Somehow, I woke up with about 24 bucks and the energy drink.

I remember going to the Exxon, very late, and spending about 5 bucks on cigarettes and one last Steel Reserve, and getting back to town, to find it pretty deserted. I remember trying to fool myself into thinking that I wasn't going to the Exxon, mainly hoping to run into Corrie.

This morning, I bought nail clippers, and hair conditioner. The lady at CVS gave me some elastics for my pony tail, as the "professional" ones only came in 12 packs, at $3.99 per pack...

Tonight being Saturday night, and the thunderstorm having already passed through, it might be a pretty good night. I will go to New Orleans, if I have more than 20 bucks by Monday, what the heck....

Now, I ponder getting a cell phone of my own, so that I will have a phone, an alarm clock, and a stopwatch all in one....

Comparing Apples To Grapes

It is Saturday morning in Mobile; I slept in until about 8am., woke up with $23.46.

I left the library yesterday, and walked up to get some more apple juice.
Then, it was across the street to CVS, to buy some hair conditioner, (and enjoy their air conditioner.) I was looking forward to brushing my hair out and removing all of the snarls. I was still half craving a cigarette (I''m not really fasting, because apple juice is food,) so I walked towards the store. I felt bad about spending money and wished that I could just buy one or two.

An impulse overtook me as I passed the liquor store, and I went in and got a single shot of brandy, to chase down with the juice. I think I did it to suppress the guilt over buying cigarettes.
The Spring-Water-Only-Phase

It burned like hell, and tasted more of alcohol than of grapes. I thought that I should have been over the craving for a cigarette, but, I suppose that doesn't occur until the spring-water-only phase of the cleanse.



I Attract A Bum
I drank the brandy behind a nearby store. As soon as I went back there, one of the bums who hangs out across the street, began to skulk my way. I realised that his lot in life is to sit by the liquor store and wait for some other homeless guy to come out of the store to seek a covert place to drink, and descend upon him, begging "Let me get a pull off of that."


It was like a lesson in the connection between drinking liquor and the descending of bums upon one.

The brandy didn't do much except to give me the beginnings of a headache in the back of my head. The cigarettes were not very satisfying, and the combination made me feel slightly poisoned. I was determined to forge ahead with the cleanse and just consider that a mild setback; I would shake it off then probably sell off some of the cigarettes.

I got back to finishing my apple juice and went into town to wash up and then play somewhere.
Five Bucks, A Poem And Apple Juice

In town, I sat in Cathedral Park and was joined by Israel, a 20 year old who plays guitar, and frequents Serda's Coffee House. He is some kind of student, and plays on the street for extra money sometimes -the same 4 songs, which he wrote, over and over. He didn't have his guitar. We talked about fasting and cleansing and detoxifying, as he bummed cigarettes from me. Then, a Navy guy, who is visiting from San Diego joined us. He had his own cigarettes. Then a gay young guy joined us. He bummed cigarettes off of the Navy guy. Then, he started steering the conversation away from cleansing and detoxifying and towards "guys who are really girls," and we soon dispersed; Israel towards Serda's, with the Navy guy; and myself towards the big clock spot to play; and the gay guy, he went the other way, I suppose.

The clock spot produced 5 bucks, and a visit from a couple guys, one of whom was a poet. The one who was a poet spoke a poem about "Incredible people," which he wrote while attending a Mass, even though "I hardly ever go to Mass," he said.

They didn't have any cash, but offered to get me a drink from Serda's. I opted for an apple juice.

That was really about that happened yesterday, of note. Most of the interesting stuff resides in my head lately. There is a lot of serenity, but very little action.

Switching Juices
This morning, I walked up to the Save-A-Lot and got grape juice, instead of apple. Something told me to pay the extra dollar for it, maybe because it has vitamin C in it.

Then, I went across the street to the CVS, and bought a pair of socks for a dollar.
The juice was delicious and has improved my finger picking-style guitar playing already; and I am wearing the socks, and they are comfortable. I will take the socks off later and try playing the guitar, to see if it was them and not the grape juice...