My Prayer

Continued from yesterday...
And...I didn't make a dime, no, not one. There were enough people walking by, there was an Olympic tryout boxing tournament at the Mobile Convention Center, the same one where they have the Holy Spirit revivals.
I was at the acoustically superior spot. I was playing to my satisfaction. I would say that about 30 people walked by, not including types like Chris, who constantly circles the hub of Mobile on his route of ashtrays, looking for cigarettes which haven't been totally smoked. He passed me about 5 times (I guess a butt doesn't have a long shelf life around Dauphin Street in Mobile). Out of the 30, none of them threw a dollar in my case, even though I had "seeded" it by putting four of my own dollars in it, along with some change. It was sounding good, with the reverb of the New York Hi Style's glass case being oddly in tune with my guitar, which was given back to me by the police in an untuned state, and which I kept in the region of that untuning for at least two reasons:
One, because my voice, after my being caged for the better part of the previous past, wanted to start low and then gradually and naturally stretch its way up into the soninc strati of the Greats. The detuned guitar was good for that. (Note: To the (possible) credit of the officers of the Mobile Metro Police, the strings were all tuned lower, all six. This means that someone didn't just randomly twist the pegs (with a sadistic grin, and drooling) in "any" direction. Someone detuned all six, which is a recomended practice when storing a guitar for any considerable length of time. They had only put me in jail for one open container of alcoholic beverage in a park, which is an overnighter for most, but you never know; it might have been my seventh one in two months, wherupon the judge would prone to multiply the sentence of one day by a factor of oh, say sixty. So, I might have been in the clink long enough to have want for my guitar to be detuned, and someone may have been doing me a favor, (or maybe he had a sadistic grin and was drooling and just happened to flatten all the notes and sharpen none).)
Either way, now that I think of it, I can't figure out how loosening the strings when storing a guitar will help anything, except maybe the strings. When you are playing the guitar every day, you keep the strings tight, so, why would it hurt to keep the strings tight for months without playing it??  But, that is what the myth is; loosen them before you store the thing...horsecrap...
So, I didn't make a cent; and oh; the second reason is that if the cops detuned the guitar intending "to screw him up" then I am going to show them that the beauty of my music, when there is any, comes from a higher source and is not dependent upon the pitch range of the guitar, (or some bullshit.)
End of topic.
Fairhope, I Hope
I hope I can get to Fairhope tomorrow, across the water filled bay
To Fairhope I hope I can get tomorrow, I hope that they'll let my ass play
I can imagine the people liking my music
It's lyric intensive and doesn't make you-sick

Oh, Fairhope I hope you're a haven for me
I want a few things, too, nothing is free



This is how I would like to spend my retirement;
relaxing...jumping my motorbike, ahh, yes!!

 I plan upon taking the bus over to Fairhope tomorrow and trying to play there, during the Artwalk that they are scheduled to have (the weather report is good, by the way). The Artwalk in Mobile has yeileded some good nights for me, money-wise. I think the best nights that I've had in Mobile were either during the Bayfest Music Festival, where people come in droves, or after the Robert Plant show at the Saenger Theatre, where people who are my age, but have chosen a different path than I in life, a path that has led to them to 6.7 million times more money than I have, suggested by the fact that they had just paid 200 bucks to see one-fifth of Led Zepplin, (whom I heard are not very good in concert when they're all there).
There are some things that someone your exact age connects with you on, that nobody else can, I think. I remember being "blessed" with scads of paper money. It was as if these people, who probably drove in that day, and were staying at the $175 per night hotel that night, should have said "Here; buy yourself something nice" when they dropped their tips. I can honestly say that never in my life had I ever contemplated following Robert Plant around, until then...
My point is this. The residents of Fairhope tend more towards the likes of the Robert Plant audience than they do say, Chris, the guy who walks the multi-mile route through downtown Mobile, picking ashtrays. This might be in my favor, provided I am not run out of town for not looking, acting and thinking like the residents, oh I'm sorry; and not smelling, like the residents of Fairhope, Alabama USA...
My prayer: Please Lord, enough money so I can relax and breath easy for a period of time dependent upon how frugal I am. Amen.
I think Becca Griffin lives around Fairhope, so maybe it really is some kind of enchanted place...

Breakfast

(Come See This Kind Of Stuff)

It is Wednesday morning. Last night, I played at the acoustically superior spot for about 2 hours but didn't make any tip money. This wasn't so bad, given that I was playing to my own satisfaction. There was a road race going on, with runners finishing the race right by my spot. Lots of them were milling about the area, but had no money on them, as I guess it would have slowed them down on the course.
Fairhope First Friday Artwalk
This is not the best portent of my prospects here in Mobile. If I don't make anything tonight, then, I will plan upon taking the bus to Fairhope, for their First Friday Artwalk, which is...Friday, and this will distance me from the downtown area and maybe let my music take flight without having to resist all the negativity which permeates the air here like humidity. The fact that I had spent no money on beer or cigarettes throughout the fasting period has given me a cushion. I should at least be able to get to Fairhope, and then just "hope" that I will be able to busk there, without interference.

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....

The Bum Suite In Its Entirety

In time for, and in light of tonight's open mic night at Serda's Coffee House, I am frantically preparing "The Bum Suite. "
I woke up with $5.23, after playing at the "New York Hi Style" spot, for maybe a couple of hours, last evening. My expenditures for the entire day were for 2 Earthquake Lagers, and 1 Steel Reserve 211 Lager, and one Bud Ice. ($4.14)
I ate turkey hot dogs with pickles and an energy drink, for those keeping track.
I am procrastinating upon Dr. Christopher's 3 day fast and cleanse and mucous free diet.

The Bum Suite in G major
intro: G, B7, C, A7, D7
No, I aint got nothing for the bums
who sit in the park all day, on their thumbs
They've got life all planned out, they're just gonna stand out, with their hand out
Ain't it grand out here..in the great outdoors

Hey guitar man...let me have a buck
It'll give you good karma.. It will bring you good luck.
It's gonna come right back to you, the Lord, He will provide
But this monkey on my back, you know; won't Be satisfied

So, Break bread, guitar man; break it 'till you're broke
You'll come to see that we ain't such bad folk
We're just pitifully poor, hungry, thirsty, half-naked
So give us a beer, don't make us have to take it

No, I ain't got nothin for the bums
that sit in the park all day, on their thumbs
They've got life all planned out, they're just gonna stand out with their hand out
and wait for a hand out, ain't it grand out, here in the Great Outdoors

I try to keep my distance, but I can hear them holler
Hey guitar man, come here, are you doing alright? That's good; let me get a dollar
Oh, I'm thinking of just avoiding the parks all together....(segue).......
Yeah, Im thinking of just avoiding the parks all together...(segue)....

((Sung to the tune of "Here Comes The Sun," by The Beatles))

Bienville Park, yeah...It's been a long, hard working day...
Bienville Park yeah...I come here just to get away...but
Here come the bums, do n do do
Here come the bums, and I say "It's not alright.."
Spanish Park, yeah...They smile as I turn into their spaces
Spanish Park, yeah...They ask for beer, as I draw near
Here come the bums do n do do
Here come the bums, and I say "It's not alright..."
(bridge)
Bums, bums, bums, here they come
Bums, bums, bums, here they come (interlude)
Cathedral Park, yeah...I see their ice is slowly melting
Cathedral Park, yeah...It seems that soon, they'll have warm beer
Here come the bums, do n do do
Here come the bums (we need ice, man) It's not alright....
Bums, bums, bums...here they come .......(segue)......


Some of them, I swear to thee; have got no brains at all
They'll steal your underwear off a tree...crap stains and all
I'm getting so when I see them, I try to duck
before they ask me for my lighter, a cigarette, or a buck

I realise that you get your check on the first
I understand you're about to die of thirst
There's no doubt in my mind that you'll pay me back ten fold
I'm sorry to hear that your food stamps have already...been sold

So I ain't got nothin, I'm sorry...but wait...I've got an idea! Why don't you collect up aluminum and cash it in, down by the Exxon station...like The Can Man....(segue)
(Sung to the tune of "The Candyman," by Sammy Davis Jr.))

Who can make some change flow...
To pay for his own beer...
He doesn't have a job, but then, he doesn't have a fear
He's the Can Man...Yeah, the Can Man can....
The Can Man can, 'cause he picks up shit with love and makes the world look good

The Can Man takes aluminum and makes
A trip upon his bi-cycle, oh
and brings them to be re-cycled
I think that his name is Michael

Who can take your drained ones...
-crush them on the ground....
put them in his bag 'til he's collected up a pound
The Can Man; yeah the Can Man can
The Can man can 'cause he picks up shit with love and makes the world look good
(bridge)

The Can man takes...empty cans and makes
a little bit of dough out of it
The environmentalists, they love it
Don't ever think that you're above it...

oh...He picks up aluminum....copper, tin and brass...
You could do the same if you would get up off your ass..
The Can Man....Yeah, the Can Man can...
The Can Man can 'cause he picks up shit with love and makes the world look good..
(bridge)

The Can man takes every cent he makes,
and satisfies all his wishes
oh, you talk him down, all childish and vicious
I think that he's ambitious

Well, Who can make some change flow,
To pay for his own beer
Doesn't have a job, but then, he doesn't have a fear
The Can Man, yeah the Can Man can
The Can Man can 'cause he pick up shit with love and makes the world look good
The Can Man can 'cause he picks up shit with love and makes the world look good....(jam)..you might want to consider it....Because....

'Cause, I aint got nothing for you bums
who sit in the park all day, on your thumbs
If I had any less, I would be penny less,
If I give you any more, I won't have anymore

(improv, fade, end)