The Bayfest

I got over to the Adventure Inn, by about 2:30 pm. I sat and played with a sign which Harold made, which said "Playing For Tips, Thanks"
Harold gave me a barbecue sandwich, a coke and a bag of chips. He also gave me a key to room 122, which was under repairs. I made about 7 bucks off of the people, who were on their way to the Bayfest, and conservative with their money, not knowing what other expenses they were going to incur at the festival.
Harold gave me another 10 bucks, and I went into town.
I stopped at the Dauphin Store to find that all of their prices had been increased. They had paper signs on the beer coolers which said "$3" Beer is usually $1.20, which is already more than anywhere else in town.

The guy, who knows me pretty well from our frequent conversations, sold me a 211 for $1.49.
I walked from there to the Exxon, seeking cheaper beer, and scoping out the arrangement of stages, and keeping an eye out for a good spot to set up and play for tips.
The Exxon had not raised their prices ("We don't play those games," was what the cashier said)
I enhanced my experience of The Bayfest with 2 more 211's, and then headed for town, to try playing for the throngs of people.
Scraggly-Haired Fan
I ran into a scraggly-haired man, who was apparently inebriated, and who was headed to a spot, which he has been at during Bayfest the past 3 years. He invited me to drink beer and liquor and listen to Motley Crue, a famous band from the 80's, which he said was the only band that "matters." He may wear his hair in tribute to them.
We went to his spot, which was a wall on the border of a parking lot, from where we could see the large-screen TV image of the band which was on stage, called Saving Abel. I was pretty impressed with Saving Abel. They are in the "alternative rock' genre, and so I had never really heard them, because I don't like the other alternative rock bands that they are mixed in with, because they play too many "power chords" with the 5th in the bass, probably because they think that they are even more powerful that way, and their vocalists all seem to be trying to imitate the style which is "selling."

Creed is supposedly a "Christian Rock" band, but that might be obvious from looking at them.

Jewel used to be homeless, but that may be obvious from looking at her.

This style is throaty and nasal, started with bands like Bush and Creed, and spread to more than 55 other bands. They pronounce the word "you,' as "Yow,' and it irks me. The female vocalists of most of the bands which are played on the alternative rock stations, also try to imitate the style which is selling. That one kind of started with Jewel, and spread to at least 55 other singers, like a virus. They pronounce the word "you" as "yow" also, but that is about the only place where the two styles overlap. It irks me even more to hear the females pronounce you as yow.
The scraggly-haired guy was complaining that his "friends" had all of his beer and his liquor in their backpacks, and had disappeared on him, when he had gone to get another lighter after losing his. How could someone just lose their lighter? Two words: beer and liquor.
We sat through Saving Abel, and watched as kids roller bladed around the parking lot, while we drank beer and liquor.
Corrie-fest 

At one point, a couple of his "friends" returned, and turned out to be none other than Corrie, and her "boyfriend," who is twice her age. I'm not an envious person, but I make an exception for him. Corrie gave me a long (25 seconds of feeling like I was One with the universe) hug, and said that she had been worried about me.
She and her boyfriend had passes for Bayfest around their necks, which someone had given them. She was all smiles and proud of her pass. She knew that it was worth 45 dollars, and made the comment that, between her 45 pass, and her boyfriends, they had passes worth... she paused, unable to do the math. "90 bucks," said her boyfriend, who is quicker with figures, apparently. Corrie has quite a figure, incidentally.
They swore to the scraggly-haired guy that they were not the ones who absconded with his beer and his liquor. I vouched for them, as being honest, as far as I could tell. The scraggly-haired man exonerated them, and washed them clean of all guilt with liquor and beer.
Someone had also given them 10 bucks, and Corrie wanted a glow stick more than any 'ol thing in the world. She left momentarily, and returned with the pass hanging around her neck, along with a glow-necklace. I have never seen anyone more giddy in my life. 'Tis a gift to be simple. She told me not to give up and that I would be on the stage next year, instead of Saving Abel and Motley Crue, because "You play from your soul." She may be a prophetess.

That hairstylist can't hide from us forever!

Motley Crue was HORRIBLE with more than just a capital "H". They sounded like they hadn't picked up their guitars since the 80's, when they became famous.
And now, I must run to get strings. I played on the street, after fleeing the sound of Motley Crue, and made another 5 or 6 bucks. Alcohol may have been a contributing factor to such a poor outcome.

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?"

I Needed The Rest, But Not The Rest

Hotel Pool Gig

Sunday, the pool gig went pretty well.
For the second consequetive week, I was asked to play Bob Dylan, before even getting the guitar out of the case.
This week, the request came from a group of Scottish ("Don't call us British, we take offence!!") young men. I played "Like a Rolling Stone," and was given beer after beer and cigarette after cigarette by them. They are in town, working the oil spill and making 500 pounds per week each, or whatever translates into 700 dollars. The afternoon ended with myself getting my 30 dollars, along with a big chunk of pork ribs, off of the grill.
I then went onto the street and made about 15 more.

Monday, So Good To MeMonday, I woke up with $41.65.

I went to the Church Street Cemetary, to do my morning meditation. I started morning meditations, Sunday morning. I've been reading "Light From The Dust," the story of Joseph Smith, Jr. Monday included running into Don, who plays guitar and had just worked a 17 hour shift, unloading a cargo ship. He had a check to cash for about $117. There was no overtime paid after the eighth hour. He bought me a beer at the store, and then we went and found a restaurant and had more beer. Then, we went to The Garage, in anticipation of open mic night.
It was still three hours before that spectacle was to commence, and so I went into town to make some more money. There were hardly any people on the street, it being the 5th of July, so I had a store-bought beer, and returned to The Garage. Don had left.
He must have been tired, after working 17 hours unloading a cargo ship.
I played open mic night, not as drunk as I was the prior week, and got some favorable feedback. I did an original, and then a song from the seventies, which the audience thought was an original, by an obscure artist, whose name escapes me.

This morning, I woke up with $18, after what turned out to be a spending frenzy yesterday, which started with coffee at McDonalds, included a pack of cigarettes, some beer, and a valium, which I bought off the street for 2 dollars, before bedtime.
I woke up in a brand new spot, by St. Joseph's Catholic Church. That was as far as I got from where I had swallowed the valium. I slept undisturbed, until about 10:30. I needed the rest, but wish I hadn't spent the 2 bucks.
Now, I worry about my pack, which is hidden, though not very well, in the Church Street Cemetary, as I sit here and blog. It is almost time to go eat at the Salvation Army, if I am to do that.

There Is A Space Between "Craw," and "Fish"

It is Saturday.
I woke up with $9.45.
I drank about, oh, 5 bucks worth of beer yesterday, so, think about how rich I could be!
Return Engagement At Hotel
They want me to play at the hotel tonight at 5pm. That should pay the same 30 dollars; a windfall for a street musician who got one 5 dollar tip last night in 3 hours of playing, to put him at about 15 bucks for the night...
Flying Pig
Before here, I was at breakfast at 15 Place. A woman there, who had spent all of her money, which she gets from the government to compensate her for being "mentally ill," allegedly on crack cocaine last night; threw her coffee on the ground, and then began throwing her food at everyone within her range. Her sandwich, eggs, and grits (which hard to aim accurately) all became projectiles, and nobody had amnesty. Someone had called her a "crack whore," provoking the attack. A piece of ham from out of the sandwich missed me by a mere 4 feet.
That was this morning's dining experience.
Invitation To Play Craw fish Place
Last night ended with myself being attracted to a restaurant which sells a lot of craw fish, by the voice of a young black lady, who was singing a Nora Jones song. I stood a few feet from her, listening. The manager, Chrissy, came over to me, during the singer's break and said that she had been trying to catch up with me about playing in the restaurant which sells a lot of craw fish. She had heard me on the street, she said, though she motioned towards a spot where I have never played, as she said this...
Go To New Orleans!
Before that, I had been playing pretty well at my acoustically sound spot. I may have made about 15 bucks. I drank 5 of it. One of my tips was a pack of cigarettes. One of my compliments came from a young lady, who came over and put her hand on my shoulder and said "GO TO NEW ORLEANS, YOU'LL MAKE MONEY; YOU'RE NOT MAKING IT HERE, RIGHT?"
She was "right."
First, I will wait upon my ID card to come in the mail. Then, I will renew my food stamp card (the shame of it all..) so, that, in any situation, at least I won't starve...Then, maybe New Orleans.
Nary A Sign Of Karrie
Karrie has not gotten in touch for whatever reason. Maybe it was all just an illusion. Maybe our separation was meant to be. You only live once, and spending life chasing after the next drink, could have one feeling someday that their life had been "wasted," if you'll excuse the pun..