The Power Struggle

• Electric Company Set To Cut Us Off
• Mom Calls
• Ear Infection

Leslie Bongo Jam (click here to hear)

The above is the last recording which I made Sunday night, after I had broken off from Leslie in the quarter and gone to the house without him, where I set up the Snowball microphone and was messing around with the quintessential New Orleans song, When The Saints Go Marching In.

It was not long before Leslie entered the house carrying his bongos.
Finding me at work, he joined in, adding bongos over what I was playing, and dashing any hopes of my being able to use any of the tracks constructively; as, the bongos are fixed in the mix of guitar and harmonica.
At least they don't dominate, as he was sitting in the opposite corner of the room as he played. I don't think he could have stood up and played them for very long, given the state of intoxication that he was in.
He can be heard uttering one of his catch phrases: "What do you want me to do now?"
Mom Calls
My mother responded to a message which I had left on her phone on Thanksgiving Day, telling me that she had been in Vermont (where she hails from) and that she doesn't carry her phone around "like a lot of people," and had just gotten the message, 4 days later.
She said that she would be in touch with me before Christmas.
She added that I may be doing a good deed, by being Leslie's housemate; him possibly being in need of a "caretaker" of sorts.
She chuckled over the thought that I could possibly be the "reasonable" one, of the two of us; or out of any two people anywhere at any time throughout history.
A Dark House?
Had I known that Leslie wanted a caretaker, I might have stepped in, earlier this week after he was paid almost 500 dollars and before he squandered it foolishly without having paid the electric bill, which was already overdue.
I couldn't have stopped him from ordering 2 large Meatlovers pizzas to the tune of 31 dollars on Sunday afternoon, because he placed the order on his cellphone on the way to the house.
We could have eaten much better using the combination of the Canseco's Market up the street and his oven and/or stove and the 31 dollars.

A 10 Minute Walk From Leslie's

Pizza is laden with soy oil and, if his intention was to treat me to a meal; his generosity was misplaced. I still ate a few slices because I was starving and drunk; and I have had swollen glands and dry skin lately as payback.
Ear Infection
Plus, I have contracted some kind of ear infection which has my left ear ringing and every sound seeming to emanate from the right side of me.
I went out and played and sang Sunday night in such a condition and the difficulty that I encountered would be understood by anyone who sticks a finger in one ear and then tries to sing on pitch.
Ironically, at least a couple groups of people stopped to listen, and after I made the excuse about my plugged up ear said: "You sound good"
One group threw 3 dollars and the other, 20 dollars; and I was on the last bus out of town, headed for Leslie's bearing the gift of beer, after just one hour of playing but not hearing myself.
Johnny Bavono (which, I finally learned is "The Clean Guy"s name) has been giving me a certain kind of ear drops, after I had run into him and he had told me that he had had the same kind of ear problem: stuffed up and ringing and full of the most sinister wax that Que Tips have ever encountered; kind of an orange-rust color and with a strong acrid odor of deafness to it.
 

Rainy Monday

• 5th Day Sober
• 10 Dollar Monday

Yesterday, I woke up full of energy, at the sign spot; and with 57 dollars on me, 20 of it Australian.
On my mind was; finding a place to exchange Australian money for U.S. currency, and making my 3 PM appointment with the wound clinic.
And then, perhaps being somewhere where I could watch Monday Night Football.
It was about noon. 
I worked on Travis picking for an hour, and then headed to The Unique Grocery store, where I bought a pomegranate juice drink.
Columbus Day
I was on my way from there to the Starbucks across Canal Street, when I encountered David, The Water Jug Player, whose gaze initially fell upon the non-alcoholic drink in my hand, and there flashed in his eye something akin to disappointment.
"Still teetotal-ling, eh?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"Hey, help a brother out, will you?" he then asked, and started to fish in the pouch which hangs from his belt, for change.
My abstinence signals to him that I probably am accumulating money.
I handed him a dollar, after deliberating for a few seconds in my own mind, and coming to the conclusion that I would still have 55 dollars left; after giving it to him.
He then pulled change out of his pouch, looked at it and said: "I need....50 more cents, and I can get a half pint."

I gave him the 50 cents, while saying: "I don't give away money, by the way, if anyone asks..."
He had the Indiana Scout with him; missing 2 strings.
"Do you have any strings?' he asked.
I told him that I had a new set, ready to go on my guitar, and that he could have the old ones..."even though that won't leave me any backups, in case one of my new ones break..."
The Wound Clinic
I went to Starbucks and did yesterdays blog post, interrupted by a visit to the wound clinic, at LSU Hospital. "Do they call this part of the children's hospital the boo boo clinic?" I asked while there.
After they changed the dressing on my wound and told me to come back in one week, when they expect it to be fully closed, I went back to Starbucks.
Temperature Drops 20 Degrees
It started to rain violently outside; but only for a couple of hours.
Then, a cold breeze began to blow in; dropping the temperature 20 degrees.
I headed for the sign spot to don one long sleeved shirt, and a sweater to go over it. I forgot the umbrella.
I then headed towards the Lilly spot.
I set up my stuff, and began to play. I was able sit on Lillys actual stoop, rather than beside it; after propping my spotlight in the vines at an extreme angle. That way, it illuminated only one side of me; creating an effect, perhaps.
I had made only about 5 bucks, when I knocked off around 10 PM to go check on the football game; and to grab a non-alcoholic drink at Sydneys. The rain storm had apparently dissuaded a lot of people from coming out.
I found salads and fruit outside Rouses Market around 1 AM, grabbed a Bob Marley relaxation drink and went to the sign spot, where I wound up wrapping myself up pretty well in cardboard, which blocked the wind; and I slept until about 9 this morning; when I got up to go to The Rebuild Center to check my mail.
Mom, Send Me Money
My replacement food card had not arrived, but there was a letter from my mom with birthday wishes and 50 dollars inside.
I am about to finish this up; and then go to a bank to see if I can cash in the Australian money.
I might just go to Wal-Mart and re-activate my Visa card there; by paying the 6 dollar fee, and then putting the minimum 20 dollar deposit on the thing.
I have found batteries for my laptop, on E-Bay, for just around 14 dollars; and now might be the time to send for one.
Then, I will be looking for a USB microphone with the next spare 50 dollars that I come into.

The Great Catch Up

• Mama Cat Gives Me A Bike
• Mama Cat Takes The Bike Back
• Leslie Gives Me A Harmonica
• Mom Sends Money
• Micro Chip Replaced
• Crab Boil On Birthday
• My Favorite Mule
• Capo Replaced

 The sign spot, as seen in the morning (left).
Since I last posted, all of the things mentioned above happened.
I got a call from my mom on Friday, telling me that 100 dollars had been wired for my birthday, which was the following day.
I had $2.16 on me when the call came, having squandered money making opportunities Thursday night, by choosing to watch football and consume, rather than go out and gather.
I was at the Veaux Carre Baptist church, waiting for a shower.
"Wheelchair" Charlie and "wheelchair" Sue were there, along with heroin addict Bobby.
Bobby had stayed briefly at Leslies house along with the other two, long enough to urinate and vomit on the floor and leave beer cans on under the bed.
I was invited to become the fifth resident at that place last week, when we thought a tropical storm was coming, but I declined, opting for underneath the dock where the Natchez lands instead.
There has since been posted a note by Leslies landlord on his door admonishing him to have no guests at all.
I heard Charlie on Friday night, asking Leslie for the key to his place and telling him that he needed to keep his woman safe (that would be wheelchair Sue)..
Leslie refused to give them the key and I was proud of him.
He understands that he can lose his Section 8 benefits, or whatever they are, for any number of violations; and it is his opinion that Charlie and Sue don't care about that, but are only thinking of their own creature comforts.
Charlie told me that; every once in a while, one must "kick his (Leslies) ass," and that will make him "a good little boy," for a few days; a good little boy who will spend his whole paycheck on beer for everybody.

Knows The Drill...

 My Favorite Mule
Well, I have had this picture for a while in my phone, and can only now post it to this blog, after the purchase of a new USB micro sd adaptor; due to a generous birthday gift from my mom (see above or below).
The mule shown is the mule that I chose to be "my favorite mule," when I sing the song of the same title.
Often times when it pulls its carriage by, I break into the song: "...Did I just not see my favorite mule; my favorite mule...etc.."
I came upon the very same mule and learned from its driver, a middle aged lady, that it is her favorite mule also; she loves it.
The mules name is Sparticus, and the lady told me a story, which I will para phrase:
One night, Sparticus was being driven by a guy who liked to drink whiskey and drive a mule and carriage.
The guy was on pain medication of some kind, having visited the dentist or something that day.
He passed out.
The Japanese tourists in the carriage, who were busy taking pictures and hadn't been listening to the drivers foreign gibberish anyways; were unaware that he had checked out and was slumped over at the reigns. 
Sparticus did the entire route, according to witnesses, making all the right turns; stopping at the right spots, waiting for approximately 2 minutes in front of the Blacksmith Tavern and even for the traffic light to turn green on Decatur Street before pulling onto it.
He then got back in line behind all the other mules at Jackson Square.
The driver was woken up and fired.

What kind of parents would let their children play on Bourbon Street?

Crab Boil On Birthday
I was invited (begged) by Leslie to attend a crab boil, which happened to fall upon my birthday.

At 10:30 in the morning, he told me, they would arrive at the sign spot to pick me up.
By 11 a.m., they had not arrived, so I left to use the McDonalds restroom.
I had forgotten to dig up my money from where I bury it next to me; and so I had to return to the spot to get it.
It was then that the truck arrived, carrying Leslie in the bed and his boss and 2 co-workers in front.
We rode quite a ways to the huge lake north of NOLA, where we boiled "$240 worth" of blue crabs; threw a football around, listened to music and enjoyed my birthday.
Thanks to the money which my mother had wired to me; I was not stressed out over having to get back to the Quarter and back to work.
One of the co workers spoke very disparagingly of Leslie, saying that the boss, on occasion, would pick him up at a bar at 7 in the morning; and Leslie would emerge, stumbling drunk, and not having slept, and would go to work in that condition.
He would then have to be supervised closely and shown repeatedly how to do the simplest tasks.
The boss, Paul, is a general contractor and seems to have adopted Leslie as a charity case.
I tried to hint around that I wouldn't mind pushing a paint brush around for 8 bucks an hour every now and then...
Crab Grabbers
Another couple joined us shortly after the crabs began to boil; and there then became a schism between the bosses and the workers; with each group seated at separate picnic tables.
One of them had brought the football, which was an official NFL ball and might have been caught at a Saints game. The guy sure seemed proud of it.
The batches of crabs which were coming out of the boiler were set upon by the bosses, with the new arrivals grabbing greedily at the corn on the cob and the potatos. The crabs which made it to the "Leslie" table came minus their claws.
Instant Karma
So, it seemed like instant karma when I punted the football and it got stuck at the top of a queen palm tree; becoming an official NFL coconut, and its owner began to ponder bringing out some kind of construction equipment to retrieve it...

The dock spot (left) -needing a bit of stone masonry to smooth it out.

 When it rains; the drainpipe becomes a nice shower!

A blurry Leslie in his garden.

I Hate It But I Always Do It

50 Bucks

Saturday night, I started playing early and racked up around 50 bucks. I had a 20 dollar bill and a 5 dollar bill in my case. Apart from these two, it would have been a typical, low paying, Mobile Saturday and I would have made less than 30 bucks. This boon gave me enough to plan upon going for my ID the following Monday. I would just have to survive Sunday without spending too much, or getting begged or robbed too much.

We Don't Carry Cash

There was a bum, well known to me, standing nearby at one point when I was playing, and a group of Christians came by and asked me to play "Amazing Grace."

I sounded out Amazing Grace to mine and their satisfaction, and they then prayed over me. One of them, I think, is the one who dropped the 20 dollars in my case.

I had been telling them about how I had had enough money for my ID, exactly, the previous day, but, getting the ID would have meant not spending a cent on anything else, and I had failed to do that.

They gave me a sermon about how God had given me just what I needed, but the devil had triumphed over me when I bought a pack of smokes and a couple beers. I was just being honest with them and answering their questions.

They prayed that I would make the 23 bucks that night and get my ID and get a job and do God's will. (God didn't intend for His children to be on the street playing guitar) All this happened while the bum stood 5 feet away, listening and watching as more than one of them threw money in my case, and someone gave me some pizza. As the group were leaving, the bum said something to them. I couldn't hear what it was that he said, but I heard one of the Christians say. "We don't carry cash with us" to him.

A Breakfast Fit For Nero

The next morning, the bum was at breakfast at 15 Place. He was telling everyone who cared to listen about how much money "Guitar Man" had made the previous night. "Yeah, he was raking it in...he must have made at least 50 bucks; AT LEAST!"

I can't imagine what service he thought he was doing me; did he think every bum was going to be proud of me, and respect me?

Then, the bums of 15 Place, taking the cue, started The Barrage. "Hey, Guitar Man, let me get a smoke..." "Yeah, Guitar Man; break bread!" They can sound so biblical sometimes. Jesus would give us a cigarette...

I didn't give them anything. I told the loudmouth bum that, what I made was none of his business; though, it is everyone who walks by me and stares into my tip jar's "business," and that's a part of my business which I can't avoid. He accused me of "hustling" Christians, saying that I had manipulated them, and mentioned needing 23 dollars as a manner of begging. He asked me how I felt in my heart to have hustled Christians. Then, the knowledgeable historian referred to me as "Nero."

Up with the sun this morning. I still had some Vault energy drink in my bottle, despite having drank most of it in the middle of the night. This lead to a bizarre dream, in which my guitar strings were tuned WAY too high, causing the neck to bend. I retuned them in my dream, and then, I was suddenly making out with Anna Kournikova. Dreams don't always make sense; even though this one did perfectly (she tunes her racket.)

I walked to the main bus station and got on the right bus to go out to the Division of Licenses.

Upon getting there, I was told that, in addition to my birth certificate and my Social Security card, I needed a "third" form of something. I handed the official my expired ID. She told me that it had expired too long ago. She gave me a list of other acceptable documents. I told her that I had none of them. She told me that I couldn't get ID. I then said: "So, I can''t work?"

"No," she said.

I was ready to go off and make a huge scene. I was going to drop every expletive that I could think of, accuse them of trying to keep the homeless down, so that they (them) could divide the "pie" amongst themselves. I was going to call the President a piece of s*** and ask her how she would feel to have HER right to the "pursuit of happiness" sidetracked by a pencil pushing bureaucrat, who acts complacent and uncaring, to make matters worse.

I was pissed.

Then, I remembered the Record of Adoption paper, which my mom had mailed me. It was being used as a bookmark in a book that I am reading about Joseph Smith (the founder of the Mormon religion.)

I Adopt A New Strategy

I gave it to the official, who had just barely escaped being cussed out, and she was mesmerised by the gold seal upon it. She let me through. I pity all the guys who will never again hold a job because they don't have the right documents and have no way of obtaining the right documents, without the right documents. They will panhandle and pick ashtrays all of their days, or become outlaws, and I have a new found sympathy for them, (except for the one's who aren't trying.)

When the official had told me that, "no," I can't work, she said it with no emotion at all. People walk into places like that with automatic weapons and it's becoming less and less"shocking" and closer to being understandable. They are telling able bodied men that they can't go out and make a living for themselves by the sweat of their brows, because their ID expired more than 90 days ago...pathetic...

I Got The Thing

I paid the $23.50, out of the money which I made on Saturday night, this leaving me $4.75, an amount that I am getting used to being down to, and had my picture taken.

It was hard to smile for the photo, as I had originally planned upon doing, after what I had gone through. I had wanted to outdo Karrie with my photo. Karrie sports a big smile on her ID because, as she put it "I was happy to get my ID." Liquor stores occasionally card her, you see.

The ID will be mailed to 15 Place within 30 days. This is another layer of insulation for them against someone using a non existent address, or one where they don't actually live. Now, I must hope that 15 place extends my temporary membership until such a time that the thing arrives there.

The Garage

Tonight is open mic night at The Garage. I have not done my homework. I procrastinated upon learning the new material which I wanted to introduce tonight. I still have a couple hours, and seem to enjoy putting myself under the pressure of going on stage not sure of myself. I hate it, but I always do it.

Stripes Are In

Monday, Things To Do:

• Bag up Trash
  



• Walk to the Bus Station
  



• Go To Jail

Monday, I was up realatively early. I had about 14 bucks on me, and was intent upon going out and playing the exit ramp. I got to the bus station just as the busses were gathered and ready to depart. They all meet together there and leave simultaneously for all points.

There was a guy there who said the he would "hook" me "up" if he could play a song on my guitar. I let him play, he gave me one dollar, and then the busses departed. I had one hour to kill, so I went through the park to the little store and bought a can of Busch beer. I sat in the park, leaning against a large tree, which I surmised would shield me from view.

A car pulled up and two burly guys got out and milled about, reading the inscriptions on statues and strolling down the path, acting like tourists. When they got near me, they stopped acting like tourists and started acting more like undercover cops, badge under the lapel and all.

They informed me that I had an open container, and went on to add that, even if it wasn't open, the possession of it was illegal in that park. There are no signs posted to enlighten anyone of this peculiarity, and those poor souls who hop off a Greyhound, and ask directions to the nearest store, have no idea that the park is like a spider's web, and the cops have 8 legs.

They Take Me To Jail

They called for a "transport," and one showed up in the person of a black female cop, who drove me to the Marion County Jail, while talking and giggling into her cellphone the whole way. Say, isn't that against the....never mind!

The Judge Lets Me Out

The Judge was a woman, who appeared on a TV screen. She said that anyone wearing a blue striped uniform is there on a misdemeanor and that she would probably be able to sentence them then and there. I looked down at the color of my stripes (shown above.) She had dealt with a group of misdemenors before me, so I had the battery of questions memorized. I said I wasn't going to hire a lawyer, that I would represent myself. I said that I was pleading "guilty," gave her my age, how far I went in school, said that I could read and write English ("though some of my college professors might take issue with that statement," *judge smiles for the first time that morning*) I then said that I wasn't currently under the influence of drugs nor alcohol.

"Currently, huh?" quipped Her Honor.

"Nobody has coerced me into entering this plea, or threatened me, and at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I enter it intelligently."

I saved her a whole lot of talking, sparing her from the 12th rendition of "the questions to ask misdemeanors," She smiled and said "Well, I guess this isn't the crime of the century," and the gates swung open. (8 hours later; they are SLOW in Marion County.)

The money, which I stash in my secret hiding compartment for just such occasions, was still in my secret hiding compartment. $11.48. I went to the store and bought a can of beer (heck, yeah) and hid myself very well behind more than just one large tree, drank it, then caught the bus back to camp. I would need to be up early and hit the exit ramp hard on Wednesday, trying to come up from $11.48 minus the beer, minus the bus fare.

I Come Up A Bit

Wednesday morning came. I was up with the sun and took the two busses out to the highway. I was nervous. If I didn't make a cent, I would have just enough to return on the bus, flat broke. I would then have to resort to selling off some of the packs of Marlboros, which the Lidgleys gave to me last week.

I got out in the median with my sign which read "Thank You 4 Stimulating The Economy." The economy was stimulated to the tune of about 44 bucks. I bought two Whoppers for 4 bucks, causing me to miss the next to the last bus back to town. I got the last one. On it was a guy who had been on the one that I took out there in the morning. "How did you do? Did you come up some?"

"Yeah, I'm grateful," I said. "Good for you," he said.

Police Visit Tent

This morning, I slept a little longer in the morning. I heard noises, and then I saw them. Cops, trying to find a path into the woods. One of them fell when he tried to use a rotted, fallen tree as a stepping-stone.

Then, the first one appeared and ordered me to show him my hands. He asked if I was alone. "Are you sure," he asked, noticing that my tent was at least a 4-man one.

He said that there was a complaint about someone staying "back there." It turned out that the complaint was about some laundry which someone had hung over the trees to dry after last weeks rainstorm. They said that they weren't going to arrest me. We had a nice chat about how I should use the library to post resumes on Monster.com because "You seem pretty intelligent, there must be a better way than this *gestures toward the tent*"

Then, they were on their way, and I am on my way, and the world is still turning.

A Letter From Karrie

My mom told me about a letter from Karrie. I had an impulse to call her last night. I lost a buck into the phone and then some really cool rainbow kids let me use their cellphone. Karrie is lonely and "lost" and has gotten and spent the money, which I sent. I am going now to send her some more, and then will try to get an hour or so of playing in at the ramp. If I make out alright, I will add to the amount in the letter, since it won't go out until 9 am., according to the mailbox.