Tomorrow At The Latest

• Chasing Ron, The Surfer
• Jasmine Sold Again
• 3 Dollar Night

Yesterday, I woke up on the other side of the river with $2.50 in my pocket.
I had come across Monday night, hoping to find Ron, the surfer, who owes me 10 dollars.
The ferry took off on me after one of the workers (the one who opens and closes the gate to let people on and off) told me that I had "plenty of time" before the boat was going to leave, and who then slammed the same gate as soon as I had walked the lenght of the tunnel out into the terminal to see if Ron was there charging his phone.
Ron wasn't there, and the ferry had embarked upon its last run of the night back to NOLA, and wasn't there, either.
I found Ron and Howard in a stand of trees about a mile down the levee...
Ron didn't have my 10 dollars and acted upset over the fact that I had found them.

-Sidenote: It would be interesting to introduce the two of them to Ron Howard (the film director who played Opie on the Andy Griffith Show as a kid).
It would go something like: "Ron Howard; Ron...Ron; Ron Howard...Ron Howard; Howard...Howard; Ron Howard...

Ron And Howard Ousted
They had been kicked out of the stand of cedars right by the terminal; during the week that I had spent on the other side of the river. They, therefore couldn't blame me and the miniscule amount of "trash" which I left on the ground, while I was there.
It was probably Rons tent being pitched and his bike locked to the fence in plain sight of the workers at the power plant behind us, who maintain that particular stand of trees.
Still, Ron said "If those guys see you here, they're gonna kick us out of here..."
"They" were the guys who once invited me to live there, saying that I could catch huge catfish out of the river and cook them over a fire.
I had declined, because of the additional walk of a mile, and due to the fact that I made some money playing music, and I could forsee them panhandling me for things on those days that they couldn't panhandle enough from the wealthy, to provide for their "needs."
I was down to 50 cents at that point, and just barely made it to the little store in time to get some food and  (non alcoholic) drink.
I Help An Elderly Lady
As I walked up Pelican street, eating a sandwich, there was an elderly lady opening the trunk of a car which held about 4 cases of bottled water.
I started to ask her if she needed help at the same time that she opened her mouth to ask me if I would help her.
She gave me 2 dollars for my efforts and talked to me about how she had lived her whole life right there on Pelican Street and was "an old maid schoolteacher," which is what she exactly looked like, actually...
I went to the old spot, not wanting to get Ron in trouble (even though the other campers knew that I knew where that spot was, and would believe Ron if he told them that he hadn't told anybody where to find him) and went to sleep there.
I had no alcohol to drink that night, but rather meditated and then fell asleep to music.
Yesterday, I went into town with my $2.50 and almost extended my one day of not drinking into a second one, but got a couple Hurricanes and went to my playing spot.
But not before having a half of a lit blunt handed to me at the spot near Popeyes where I like to consume "the first Hurricane," out of habit.
I played like "the finest violinist in all of Europe," to quote Mozart...
I only had 3 dollars thrown to me, but a guy rode up on a bike and asked me if I smoked pot.
"Yeah, but I don't have any money for any..."
He threw me about a 20 dollar bag of premium numbface purple haze kush Afganistani kind sticky bud for free and rode off, saying "I'm always around here, I'll see you again..."
So, I went on a mission after I stopped playing (Bourbon Street was as "dead" as I've seen it since last year in this same season) at about 10 p.m. and was able to trade bud for cigarettes and beer money.
Like The Jasmine In My Mind...
Then, I guy walked up to me, whom I had spoken to before.
He is the guy who fell asleep on Bourbon Street (passed out is more like it) and woke up to discover that his bag and his guitar had vanished into thin air.
He was looking to buy a guitar and had 20 dollars to do so.
Enter the Jasmine.
Right now I am off to try to contact Dorise to see if I can bring the guy to her house with me to get it; or if Dorise is in New York (they are on a 2 week vacation) maybe her housemate could contact her to get the OK to let me have the guitar...
Or, if her housemate recognized me as the person who last came and got the guitar, which then re-appeared later, he should probably give it to me again....
I will Facebook them and wait about a half hour for a reply; and then maybe just walk to Dorises house on pure speculation....a 3 miles walk worth of speculation.....
The 20 dollars, plus the 10 from Ron, the surfer would mean that I will be on the road tomorrow at the latest....

Doctor: "Quit Smoking!"

The Blogger editor is, for the second consequetive day, not letting me use its features....

• Bike Returned
• Monday Not A Money Day

Bike Returned
Sunday, after borrowing 10 bucks from Tanya and taking the ferry across the river; intent upon washing clothes and changing into some of them; I was greeted by Ron, the Surfer.
He said "Your bike's back."

The First Weekend In April

• 30 Dollar Per Mile Bike Ride
• 50 Dollar Weekend

Thursday, as I stepped off the ferry and walked up Canal Street, it had slipped my mind that I had agreed to pay Ron 30 dollars for a bike; which was locked up by the casino under the watchfull eye of some camera; and the combination of the lock having been given to me, I was free to take possession of it.
I made it all the way to the Unique Boutique before I remembered and doubled back to get the thing.
Ron, The Surfer

"I Have A Bike I Can Sell You..."

Ron is "the new guy" who sleeps under the stand of cedar trees with Howard and I.
Howard and he have established a pretty good rapport and Howard has lent Ron money which has been paid back to him.
Ron is like 56 years old, but still has plans to bicycle to California; he has a lot of tattoos and is a surfer.
He once surfed at a spot in Hawaii which is called something like "The Pipeline" and, though he didn't fall in the water and become turned into minced meat by the force of the waves raking him along the underwater coral; he had his surf board broken by a person who informed him that only "professional" surfers were allowed to even surf that particilar beach and that they all had to sign a legal form in advance of surfing that beach; which freed any and all concerned parties from liability if the surfer should go underwater and become turned into minced meat by the force of the waves raking his body along the coral formations; like putting swiss cheese through a grate.
So, Ron had this bike.
It was his second bike.
He works at a bicycle shop, a few hours a week.
Buy Here, Pay Here

Stoker, Readers; Readers, Stoker

He told me that I could make payments upon it and begin to ride it right away.
A bike pays for itself many times over.
I could theoretically be at a playing spot and have 5 bucks in my case after riding the bike there by the time I would just be walking up.
Plus, the energy saved by using the wheel instead of the feet would itself be an asset.
I had a bike more than a year ago (before it was stolen) and it had been very useful.
I rode it, pretty much straight to my playing spot on Bourbon Street and leaned it right up against the front of Barnaby's condo, right across from me in plain sight.*
*When I first met Barnaby, after he had come out and sat on his steps with his guitar in hand; and I had walked across the street to talk to him, I kept glancing back at my stuff on the other side.
Noticing this action, Barnaby said something to the effect of "Don't worry about your stuff; nobody is going to steal anything here; and he laughed a bit.
I had the aforementioned lock, of course, but I didn't want to put it right on the light pole in front of me because that particular pole already constricts the sidewalk; and the addition of a bike locked to it might constrict it to the point that it might look unpassable to approching tourists, who might veer off onto the street (and out of the magnetic pull of my music) in order to get around the whole mess, of which I would be part.
You Shouldn't Have To Look At The Notes
To make a long story short, it was probably the first time that I looked down at my fret board as I played, to find a note or a chord, about 15 minutes into my set; that someone or some thing made off with the bike.
It was a nice bike and had riden very well along the mile from the casino to there.
I played on and thought that I was playing better, fueled by the whole incident.
My prime concern that I am going to see the very person who stole it; as that person is surely one of the pan handlers who "works" that area; and, not being sure of his guilt, will have to be freindly to him; or be seen as a person who can't be civil to someone whom, on surface at least, has done him no harm.
That is the worst part of the whole ordeal.
The positive is that I now don't feel like I am being anal retentive when I snatch up every bill larger than a one that goes in my case and pocket it...
The Next (Friday) afternoon, I played for about an hour and a half at that very spot and got one tip, a 20 dollar bill.
I was playing Grateful Dead and thought that I was doing it justice.
Seeing a new set of srings and then some in the tip, I began to play as if I was trying to finish my strings off; just let them snap and get it over with. I was able to bump my playing up to the next micro level by taking that approach, and I learned something, musically.
I was also happy to have gotten paid where I had gotten ripped off the night before...
Paying For A Bike I May Never Again Ride
I was taking a break from that when I ran into Ron, on my way to Sydneys.
He asked me with no small measure of concern, where the bike was.
*The previous night, after having it stolen, especially in such an embarrassing manner, I wasn't ready to tell Ron about it. Since I hadn't even made the first payment on it and didn't want him to think that I was trying to scam him in some way ...I got to the rack and it was already gone, bro, I SWEAR!....
I had just told him that the thing rode great and that he had given me a good deal on it, trying to fake enthusiasm.
It was then that I was able to give him 10 dollars and tell him that I was going to honor our deal even though the bike was gone; (and he could see that now).
A Tanya And Dorise Weekend

I kept returning to Tanya and Dorise like a moth to a flame, (or a buglight, depending upon your perspective).
They have been on a binge of Mariah Carey music; were playing one of her songs when I walked up; and I was soon informed by Dorise that I had "started the whole thing" the night that I walked up and wound up singing "Love Takes Time," throughout which Tanya played with her eyes closed and a smile beaming on her face.
I guess Tanya is the boss of their operation and so Mariah Carey it was, this past weekend.