Burkina Faso Checks In (under construction)

• Zero Dollar Wednesday Night
• Rick, From Austin
• "Austin" And "Boston" Jam

For only the 2nd or 3rd time since my arrival in the Big Easy, coming up on 3 years ago, I had a goose egg, as far as tips... and not even much in the way of gifts of tobacco or booze.
There was a 19 mile per hour (according to sources) wind raging.
I walked down Royal Street, and found a full drink in a tall, plastic cup shaped into a figurine, which I was pleased to find was tequila based. Earlier, I had hung out with Barnaby, and Laura* and her husband, who were sitting on his stoop.
I had gone into debt 2 dollars at Rouses Market, on a 24 oz. Tecate, and then, as I was tossing the empty can away outside Laffits Blacksmith Shop Tavern ("...the oldest bar in America..." in connection with, no horse was ever shod, as the business was only a front for the fencing of pirated booty) I found an absinthe based drink "sitting there," and that is what I was sipping on when I walked over to Barnabys stoop.
*Laura is Barnabys landlady, who lives in the other half of his condo (or the other quarter, as there are a couple small apartments in the rear).
I wanted to show off the "shark carrier" which I had found, and put to use as such. 
I think the thing, which is made out of a black nylon, was designed to be an inexpensive recorder carrier; except *said in a whiny Jerry Seinfeld voice* Do you really need a shoulder strap to carry a recorder?!?
To free your hands up for texting, yes.
They wound up giving me a martini, as we chatted about subjects beginning with the shark carrier and ranging forward from there. I learned that the blue sharks originated from a bar in the warehouse district which served a "shark attack" drink (always something lethal sounding...) and that is probably why they are such a rare find, here in the quarter.
So, I had no money or cigarettes or weed, but a good alcohol buzz as I encountered Rick, from Austin, Texas, busking near Rouses Market, whom I had ecountered the previous night, when he had informed me that we had been previously acquainted and had had a conversation or two, "the last time I was here about 6 months ago". ...I'm terrible with faces except the one of Jim Beam on the back of the bottle, or the Zig Zag man, Rick....
Rick had made 7 dollars and was 50 cents short of a bag of weed, as he put it "...I've got $19.50."

I was struck by a couple of things, about Rick, who is a diminutive guy of about 5 foot 3 and 120 pounds, who was carrying a great amount of baggage including his guitar, which made his 36 year old, bearded and with a reddish splotchy rash about his neck and upper chest and a general ruddiness to his face which matched his reddish curly hair which was just unkempt enough to match the rest of his appearance, body, look even more diminutive; and who would emit groans and sighs evincing his struggles with such baggage, and complain about neck pain periodically.
I was struck by the apparent satisfaction in which he basked over having made "7 dollars" (myself having made zero is an irony not lost upon myself). 
This made me wonder about how Rick did as a busker, in general, to be pleased over a 7 dollar night.
The second thing which struck me was that he was going to spend his last farthing upon this weed, and that that seemed just fine with him. Here is someone who isn't worried about having money for food.

He gave me a cigarette. He hasn't drank in 8 months, he said -said he used to drink  "5 or 6" Four Loco beverages a night.**
**Those are 24 ounces at 12 percent alcohol content {6 times 24 = 144 ounces, multiplied by .12 and it is equivalent to about 18 standard "drinks."
But, now he doesn't drink.
And, I think that admirable; and won't judge his spending all his money on herb...

I broke out my guitar to show Rick one of my original songs; and a lady came across the street and handed me 2 dollars. "There you go, said Rick, who now only had a 7 to 2 lead upon me, money-wise. 

Rick plays in a very technically oriented manner; 
-very uptempo, like myself who combats boredom by speeding a song up so much that it, once again, demands full attention and keeps it interesting; but, unlike myself; doing inventions of his own and hardly anything recognizable; and that might have something to do with his thinking that making 7 dollars is good. 
Playing a super fast Stairway To Heaven would be my personal bet over shooting a sheet of paper with a sawed off shotgun and then putting it in a player piano and cranking the speed up; really cranking it up.
But he was also using a lot of chord shapes which he really didn't know the makeup of, from a music theory standpoint; and thus doesn't know where the same chords lie elsewhere on the neck; impeding him from venturing beyond those few and leaving him to his ear and his instincts and his guile.
His music seems to be calculated to impress the listener in a technical aspect; combining some tricky and speedily executed picking techniques, along with some unusual chord shapes which he wasn't the first to discover.
One of his riffs works off of a chord which is simply an "add 9" chord; but it is not a simple add 9 chord; it is a particular inversion of that simple chord which requires the fingers to become positioned as in a Twister game from hell. (Move it up 4 frets and it becomes simple, as open strings can be introduced, though.
We Play The Lilly Spot Friday Night
That being said, Rick is a very cool guy, and has a gentlemanly air which I have seen in other guys from Texas.
I invited him to play at the Lilly spot last night.
I was excited about the prospects of us jamming on some Grateful Dead songs, as we had the previous night, outside Harrahs Casinos where we went to get out of the wind, which was blowing at 19 miles per hour.
I invited Rick to crash under the dock; we got there 3 hours before sunup.
Rick had been apprehensive; as we walked along the river; asking me how much further at one point and stopping to put down his stuff and rest once, before we got there.
Most of his misgivings seemed to dissolve after we got to my sleeping spot where the 19 mile per hour winds outside were barely causing my candles to flicker, and where I soon had some fresh fish (in salad dressing; I'm still out of olive oil) cooking over a fire.
We moved some rocks around and made space for us both to sleep; stayed up until the sun rose, talking about everything from ourselves, to "wait until you see the sunrise reflected off the river in about 45 minutes..." and other topics. I vouched for the rats as being fine gentlerats and above biting; but kept 3 candles going, anyway.
I had only the 2 dollars which the lady had handed me, the previous evening. Rick spotted me cigarettes, saying that it was worth it to him to have a place "so cool" to crash.
We emerged at about 4 p.m. after a full 8 hours of sleep
We got to the spot before 6 p.m., and started playing.
I was well experienced with the time slot we were in; and think of it as the "7 or 8 dollar" shift.
We played for a little over an hour, when we split $5.90; I ran to Sydneys for my first beer of the night; and Rick remained at the spot to watch the stuff and busk solo while I was gone.
I got back and put the spotlight up, as night had fallen while I was running to Sydneys; noticed that Rick hadn't made anything; and we resumed playing until 11:30, when we split another 14 dollars and took a break; so I could get my second 24 oz. beer of the night. "You're not an out of control drunk if you've made it to 11:30 on just one beer," Rick, who hasn't drank in 8 months, complemented me.

Earlier that (Wednes)day,

 I made it to the food stamp office to request that my case worker call for my "phone interview," so that maybe I can have food money in a couple days.

I am thinking about doing another juice fast (Doctor Christopher recommends 3 or 4 annually; so I might be squeezing them close together) and trying to conquer the cigarette and weed vices in the process.

"You need to eat food. Quality food, lots of meat and veggies, and knock off the sugary stuff like energy drinks etc."-Alex In California

Somebody in Burkina Faso read my blog last night.
Yes, I had to Google it. It wasn't there when I studied Africa in 8th grade; with good ol' Chad (one city, an oasis, in the middle of a desert -the capital, of course) and lake Titticaca, lots of puerile snickers over THAT lake...
Thursday Night, Continued

Rick and I walked down Bourbon Street in the general direction of my beer at The Unique Boutique, and his sack of weed, further up Canal street.
I suggested that we veer off of Bourbon and proceed on Royal Street before we entered the skeezing blocks, which begin around 600.
I explained that it might only take the sight of me to jog a skeezers memory of seeing me in Starbucks on this very laptop, perhaps when he was working his "I've been sober for 4 years, ma'am, I'm just trying to get a cup of coffee" hustle outside the window; and the skeezer could turn to a hustler and say: "There you go, you're next fix is probably right in that backpack..."
I then offered a comparison between the 5 year old boy who, upon seeing a candy bar in a store persists with "Mommy, mommy, I want a candy bar!" and is ready to throw a temper tantrum if denied; with the skeezers on Bourbon Street.
We walked Royal Street, instead. "Just don't let them see you; that's half the battle..."
Playing from about 12:45 til about 2 a.m, produced another 27 dollars between us.
I felt like I could have made the same amount solo, and was thus taking a 50% pay cut.
I could see groups of tourists become interested in our sound, as Rick plays pretty quickly and energetically; and I have been able to "hang" with him; but then, I could see them wanting for vocals to start; of the song to become familiar and I could see them throw a polite 2 or 3 dollars but then wander off.
I couldn't help thinking that they were starving for The Carcass Song....

We went back under the dock where Rick kept mentioning how happy he was, the way things had turned out.
I kind of felt like the music that we played, while maybe interesting on one level; was lacking in lyrical content.
When I did my original stuff, Rick kind of faded into the background.

Like The Dickens

Free Of Money At Last

I finally have run out of money after having enough to have gotten this laptop and an mp3 player and all the adapters and peripherals like headphone to go with the stuff.
I drank alcohol for the first time in 30 days, a few days ago.
Now I am flat broke, my clothes are dirty; I have a bunch of coffee which is the "drip" kind, and all I would need is a Sterno with a bunch of coffee filters to be waking up with the stuff.
My food stamp card was cut off. I went to the office Friday. Now it is Tuesday and my case worker hasn't called for my phone interview yet, so if I want to eat, I will have to find food or buy it out of whatever I make.
I have had a couple of the worst nights since coming here, the few days after starting back drinking.
I had all that prosperity when sober; and now, I guess I must think that the universe is reversing my fortunes.
I am in Starbucks, using the wireless (as best as I can, since Yahoo and Google and Firefox are all mixed up and I am getting error messages when trying to do things which once were simple....
I have more complaints, but need to run to the restroom...
OK, it happened so abruptly; I spent all the money that I had on cigarettes and a couple beers; went out and made almost nothing last night and, voila! going back under the dock with no money no smokes, no weed and not even any olive oil to go with the vinegar to put on the salads which I found copious amounts of.
Deficient C's
Part of it has to do with the fact that I have been putting hours into messing with this laptop, trying to use it as a blogging tool and a musical helper; hours which were previously spent busking up the money for this laptop (which has stuck keys on it, especially the letter "c" and "v," which I have to hit twice -like just then- and which -again- interrupts my flow of typing, bringing me way down from the 40 word per minute average, that I have become accustomed to producing.
I envisioned spending hours cranking out a full length novel on this thing; and now spend most of the time hitting the "back" button, or smacking the "c" key 2 or 3 times, like I just did there.
Could I return the thing for a replacement, or would that one just have different characters which are stuck on the keyboard.
I guess a 150 dollar laptop has got to have deficiencies (and there is the v and 2 c's that I just had to smack -there again...I think they market these things for people who are just going to use the mouse for everything and probably don't know how to type (or write in cursive) anyways, but can tweet and text with their moveable thumbs like the Dickens.
The cursor jumps around the page sporadically for no apparent reason, unless my palm is striking the mouse pad and sending it jumping around due to sensitivity settings.  Every time I go to move the cursor, a menu slides in from the side giving me the time and date and a bunch of shortcuts which I don't need at that time on that date.
And the cursor will jump up into a previous paragraph, rendering the text that I am writing into the middle of a previous sentence; until I catch it and delete and reposition the cursor and resist the urge to take the laptop and throw it as hard as I can against a wall...
I am going out flat broke to play and will just take what comes and then will be sure to get to the food stamp office tomorrow and try to turn the food back on; so I won't have to rely upon eating things that give me a stiff neck.
Then, I just might take this thing back to Radio Shack to see if my 30 day limited warranty oers (covers) keys that need to be struk (struck) twie (twice) in order to get a letter out...
I Go Out And Play
I left Starbucks at their closing time of 9 p.m., and walked down Royal Street, sipping on a free coffee which they had given me, after I had mentioned that I would have had a coffee, but that I was flat broke.
I got to Rouses Market, where Tiffany asked me about my food stamps, whereupon I told her about my problems with having missed the phone call for my interview to determine that I was still unemployed and still homeless; she lent me the money for a 24 oz. Tecate beer, to go with the Hurricane Lager, which the guy at the Unique Boutique had floated me.
I got to my spot and played for a few people, one of which, a lady, came and put a dollar between the sharks.
"Thanks, it helps to have something there, I've run myself totally broke..."
She added "some change," which amounted to another 4 bucks.
I went to Sydneys and got a Blackberry Steel Reserve, and then watched some basketball outside  bar (a random guy handed me a cigarette, unbidden) and then went along Royal Street, encountering Rick, who plays a Yamaha guitar of the same color as mine. He had made 7 dollars.
He needed a high "e" string, and offered a dollar for one.
I happened to have just that string, out of the 2 spares which I had.
He gave me a buck, plus a few cigarettes.
Rick is from Austin, Texas and remembered me quite well from when he was here a couple months ago. I vaguely remembered the blue guitar.
I went to The Unique Boutique, which is not unique in its preponderance of skeezers perpetually out front.
I got a pack of Pall Malls, a step down from the American Spirits which I had been smoking and stepped outside, where I was immediately skeezed for one. "I don't give away cigarettes..."
"Give Me A Cigarette!!"
Then, another skinny, black, crackhead looking guy said "Give me a cigarette!" He was demanding one.
I totally ignored him, whereupon he raised his voice and yelled to my back to give him a cigarette. I dare say that he wouldn't talk to a tourist in such a manner.
"Are you talking to me like that?," I said, over my shoulder. He was cussing and calling me all kinds of things, designed to make me want to give him a cigarette, I guess.
The implication was that, I was a white boy who was homeless and that I had better give him a cigarette because he was out there, right with me, and if I valued my safety, I had better pay the price of a cigarette to stay in his good graces, because you can't have too many friends "out there" and he just might have my back someday; if I was cool and handed out cigarettes.

"Go to fucking hell, you stupid piece of shit who doesn't even have a cigarette," was my (paraphrased) rejoinder to whatever he was spewing.
I'm sure he is of the "People just give you money," school of thought about buskers.
I went back to Rouses Market, where I found sushi and all kinds of salads of the kind which are packaged with croutons and dressing and cheese packets, along the lines of a particular theme, like Caesar, or Mexican (where the cheese packet is cheddar and the dressing is a little more spicy) and then the security guy came out and told me that they had packaged up the hot food into a bag and had set it atop the trash, where I could grab it from, as soon as he turned his back; and then added that I had been causing a stir by digging through the trash and suggested that I just wait until they were gone "so we don't have to hear about it," to which I replied that I usually did.
The hot bag had a hot turkey drumstick, which I devoured. I gave the rest to a middle aged black guy who was sitting at a trolley stop not far from here. I really hoped that he loved it, I thought, as I walked away; I had told him that they had given it to me personally, so that he didn't have misgivings about its origin...
Now, it is 2:35 a.m., and I am wrapping this up (unless I decide to do another cartoon, which might take another 2 hours) and will make it to the food stamp office tomorrow to hopefully turn the food card back on within a couple of days. I really do seem to be the perfect candidate for the program, as I have been struggling financially ever since the card got cut off. Things like honey and olive oil and instant coffee and apple cider vinegar add up.
I have a lot of mp3 recordings from the Lilly spot (many of which I recorded with my neck craned toward the recorder in order to capture the vocals better, but in violation of the rule about making eye contact with the audience) which I look forward to loading into a program like Audacity and posting onto this blog. I think I am getting better; but you all can be the judges on that....

Trying To Restore, Reset And Relax

Stoking The Star Maker Machinery

United States	45
United Kingdom	18
Moldova	13
China	12
Thailand	12
Germany	5
France	2
Japan	2
Cambodia	2
Pakistan	2

I don't know what is weighing upon my mind the most right now....
I have ads running in the background as I type with no immediate plan to delve into how to remove things from this laptop, like Yahoo Toolbar. A box popped up with a Seinfeld episode playing on it, unbidden.
I'm afraid that Google and Firefox and Yahoo are going to fight over my computer and tear it up in the process. I will go get Ubuntu on DVD if I have to, in order to get rid of this free-with-strings-attached Windows 8 system.

The thing has infiltrated the whole computer, changing the behavior when I log on (proxy server not found) causing letters to appear here a slit second after I type them, a lag...and I want my homepage in Firefox to pop up on my blog.
Starbucks wants Google to pop up instead of Firefox and to be displaying the Starbucks home page with its limited time offers and subliminal suggestions to add a scone to your next order.
My money has dwindled down, but I thought that it would after I got this laptop. I had planned upon spending hours getting caught up on all its aspects, living off a loaf of bread and a bottle of water each day for a while.
I am drinking again, 3 day running.
I got up this morning and soon realized, after making a list, that I have about 10 "chores" each morning, and this is part of the reason that it seems to be taking me a long time between waking up and actually leaving the place.
#1. Sit up, mix instant coffee in water with honey (optional); begin to sip it. Inventory cigarettes. Account for money.
#2. Roll up the sleeping bag and stuff it up into the girders. Take this time while prone and with my head at the foot of the cardboard, to do a set of pull ups to the girders and then push ups (declined, as my foot is about a foot lower than my head.
#3. Check food leftovers; toss some in the river; secure some in the lockable cooler.
#4. Empty the tinfoil pan "chamberpot," (if applicable) by putting a rock in it and tossing it out into the river.
#5. Bag up all trash in sight, place bag next to guitar, which has been positioned ready to shoulder.
#5. Pack backpack with laptop, notepad in binder which also protects laptop somewhat; extra shirt or hoodie, sharks, flashlight etc. Make sure all pockets are tied tightly, because most things that fall out onto the rocks disappear forever.
#6. Put money in left rear pocket, cigarettes and light in front left. Mp3 player or phone in front right, set to "camera," in case I encounter something photo worthy.
#7. Fold up quilt which goes under sleeping bag into a small square pad, which makes a good cushion to sit upon.
#8. Brush teeth and swish mouthwash.

#9. Put all objects, especially shiny ones out of sight onto the backs of girders; a skeezer just going under the dock out of curiosity or rebelling against the "no trespassing" insignia stenciled upon the outside girder, might scale the entire bank of rock, drawn by the glimmer of a shiny object...
#10. Make deposit to the "3% jar," hide it

Treading Water

Ok, people,
0 Dollar Friday 
-It rained very hard, there was a large puddle on Carondelet Street, right off of Canal, and people were generally walking in beach type rubber sandals, or barefooted holding their trouser legs up out of the puddle.

Can't We All Just Get Along?

It did stop raining, and I could have gone, 'round midnight, to the Lilly spot and set up, after having grabbed a milk crate from outside The Quartermaster, which is the little store on the corner right up the street one block from where Leslie Thompson used to live; where we had a fistfight right in front of, and where (the store) he is barred from for life, or for the life of the current owner, because of having made disparaging remarks about homosexuals, during the Decadence Festival, about 4 month ago, it seems.
It's funny how a drunk whose lips become loosened to the point where they flap in peoples faces once his blood alcohol level falls into line with that phenomenon, can hold his tongue about homosexuals year round, but, at a time when homosexuals flocked here for the festival and were congealed into crowds, especially like in front of Lafitts Blacksmith Shop Tavern to the point where one had to squeeze through fags just to get anywhere; this was the time that Leslie boiled over and compromised his access to $2.49 Fosters Lager "oil cans,"  just one block from home, because he was responding to the stimulus of thousands of gay guys. Pity.

But that is where I would grab a milk crate from, in order to not be sitting right on the wet sidewalk by Lillys stoop. I am alright with them.
I have never even brought up the subject of sexual orientation there "...So, what exactly is it that garners this business the designation of "gay store?"
But, rather, have always pulled out wads of money.
I used to go there when I was crashing at Leslies place, and it seems like I always had a lot of money around that time. I had the $208 dollar night at the Lilly spot while crashing there; and made the unfortunate decision to brag a bit about that money, after extracting it from my backpack and pouring it onto Leslies rug -the rug right in front of the bed upon which he lies staring at the ceiling, hypnotized by the fan and trying to conceive of a way to get drunk -and it being all crumbled and blown up looking like popcorn to the size of almost a basketball.
But, they probably wouldn't say anything about me grabbing a milk crate to sit on.
The whole notion about money talking, (money having a voice and literally talking to me might help get me housing through Unity -note to self) has nowhere been more in evidence than at that store where, after I had pulled out that wad of money, there, soon after the $208 night, I never had a problem.
But, I didn't go out to play; but rather sat up on this laptop playing with it until the sun came up.
Saturday, I made just about  enough to replace what I had spent.
10 Dollar Saturday
And, I am going full steam ahead in trying to maximize the utility of this laptop, and am encountering resistance.
I went in search of free music and wound up having Yahoo Toolbar permanently? on my computer and it has caused all kinds of programs to run in the background, chewing up resources and purportedly speeding up my computer and keeping it free from viruses as I type up a story on a word processor.
I have not been able to boot up off of the USB drive upon which I downloaded the Ubuntu Linux operating system.
I'm sure that I will find a way to do it. I am sure that Windows is right now trying to discourage me.
And Yahoo is running ads and I went to the control panel and uninstalled it; but it is still there...
I need to eat and go to sleep; it is almost 4 in the morning....

It would be nice to be able to ride a bike out into the country and get away from it all...

Happy Saturday Night

Are you sure you want to leave this page???

I have been having a lot of grief from this laptop, which came with Windows on it, and which has had stuff pop up on it offering free music, for example.

Now, I have a Yahoo screen pop up and take longer to load than the Google screen used to and I have yet to get rid of it. It seems to block the action of deleting it.
I played tonight and made less than 20 bucks, haven't counted yet...
I am drinking again.

I tried to put Linux on this laptop and wasn't able to do it.
I don't care if I have to wipe out the memory and reformat the whole disc drive; I am going to put UBUNTU Linux on this thing...

Are you sure you want to leave this page, reader???

• 8 Dollar Thursday
• Raining Cats And Dogs
• Crustaceans From Lilly

Last night, I stayed up until after sunrise, making the cartoon image of my face, seen in yesterdays post.
I was sipping off of the red wine which I had bought off of the discount (5$) rack at the Unique Boutique. It was disgusting. It was "corked."

Corked wine is wine which has been stopped by what has always been known as a "cork," and what comes from a cork tree and what has been traditionally used to stop wine bottles,
Wine bottles fermenting on a rack are typically stored in less than upright positions, keeping the underside of the cork moist, throughout the process.
When corks dry out, they become brittle and crack and allow oxygen to permeate them, come into contact with the wine inside the bottle, and supply the needed elements (air) for at least one type of bacteria to profligate, a bacteria whose "product" is not alcohol, but rather a matrix of compounds with names like polycarbohydrobenzobuto-trinitrate which give the wine what connoisseurs, whom are dialed in enough so that they can divine such subtle gustatory nuances as pencil lead,  currant, chocolate, saddle leather and my personal favorite; smoke; upon their palates, just by swishing some around their mouths, would call "off flavors."
So, the wine was corked, and a waste of 5 bucks, and I didn't even finish the bottle.
I went to the dock and got under it just about 15 minutes before the time that I would normally be blowing my candles out and switching to the sunlight reflecting off the river.
This intensely angled light is like a spotlight on any smoke which might be wafting through the air, and I had to scrap any plans to make a fire and boil water for pasta and grill the lamb arm chop steak, or whatever, which the dude had given me less than a half hour after I had ended my moratorium on drinking.
There are people who might believe that the devil, seeing that I had caved in to temptation and drank a hard cider, had sent one of his demons, a diabolical skeezer, at that, to pile further enticement upon me.
Stalking the streets, devouring whom he can, the devil ironically gives me something to devour in order to further his agenda.
I had to waste the meat. It had a $9.44 price tag on it; was still cold, and only hours out of date; and I LOVE lamb...I would have grilled it just right...oh well, nothing ventured nothing lost
Why would the devil, in tempting me to devour red meat and awaken my carnal desires, choose lamb as his instrument; warped sense of humor???

Not Much More Thursday

• I Drink After 30 Days Without
• A 5 And Some Ones

More Art

Well, when I next walk past the artist who displays his work near Jackson Square (Jim), and who hasn't drank alcohol in 8 years himself, and whom I just happened to have encountered about 3 days into my fast, which started on April 7th, and who has been congratulating me on my sobriety on each occasion upon which I have hence encountered him (17 days?!? Fantastic!!! The Holy Spirit wants to lead you to do great things, you just won't hear its voice when you're drunk...) I will have to tell him that I just went and got a hard cider at Sydneys tonight; out of the blue -though I think eating a whole loaf of 9 grain bread the other night may have triggered a desire for fermented grains. But I resisted the grains and went with an apple product; as that fruit was the provider of the juice which I lived on for 3 days, before switching to water...
And then I got a bottle of red wine after I finished playing and after I grabbed a couple of salads along with a sleeve of spaghetti which had a tear in it and some was falling out, and a couple tins of sushi -there was a bunch of it; one of my past binge foods, at that- and then was on my way to Brothers Market, for some vinegar; the only thing that I am missing in the salad equation.

Off To Build A Fire

After I drank my first beer in a month -it made me light headed at first, and I didn't get any real buzz, and I certainly didn't think it was going to impel me to reach musical heights not realized in the past 30 days; when I played well enough to make enough money to buy this brand new laptop- I sat down to play, and a street type person (one of my contemporaries in the Rouses Market "waste not, want not" program) came up and handed me a plastic bag containing a raw steak.
"Here you go..." Nobody else wants the stuff which needs to be cooked; even if it is what turned out to be a lamb steak, I just found upon inspecting it. They would rather grab stuff which is ready to eat; and especially stuff which is already cooked.
It is kind of touching that the other scavengers know my preferences, and would even grab the raw lamb for me and come by my spot and hand it to me; asking nothing in return.
The other night, another guy asked me if I had gotten the sushi which he had laid out on the slate behind the trash bins. Indeed I had.
Maybe they like me because I am not taking any food out of their mouths by grabbing bagged salads, sushi, fruits and vegetables, and not hot baked chicken and moufllata sandwiches...maybe it is a political thing; the staff at Rouses Market seem to like me and all call me by name; and let's all be as pretentious as myself in thinking that the only reason they don't pour bleach on the food is because they are wanting to feed the likes of Daniel, because they are so interesting and so skinny
I had strayed far enough from the coarse of self discipline which I had established through fasting, by drinking my first alcohol, and, what do you know, a slab of red meat lands in my lap...mere coincidence??
Free Wireless Under Heavy Surveillance 
I am outside the casino, using their hot spot internet connection.
I will soon go and try to get under the dock unseen, where I will try to get a fire going in order to have grilled lamb and pasta, to go with the salads and vinegar and olive oil.
In the morning, I hope my fully charged phone will ring and a nice lady will ask me a few questions about my current living arrangements...Are you still homeless?
"Hey, get out of that sushi, you rats!!
I'm sorry, ma'am, what was the question?

7 Dollars And 50 Cents

Wednesday night, I made the above amount in about an hour and then went and found copious amounts of food, namely fresh fish (sheephead) etc.

Here's what I made in Art today...It' me, playing at my spot while a skeezer unashamedly rifts through the trash, hoping that a drink with only one sip off it (ooh, this is too strong, yeck!) landed upright, while a tourist is weighing the self satisfaction he would get from either throwing me a 5 spot (I LOVE Tom Waites) versus throwing him one (Don't be digging through there, buddy, people spit in there; here's 5 bucks, go get yourself a half pint, OK?....no, 5 bucks is all I can spare buddy...no, I don't smoke, sorry...and, I'm running late otherwise I would let you use my phone; take care, buddy....what?...oh, that' terrible; your grandmother just had a heart attack and all you need is 36 dollars to take the bus to Jackson, Mississippi to tell her you love her one last time before she dies (because she is fading fast), gee, I'd love to help you out but, how do I know that you're not just going to run to the dope man for a 35 dollar crack rock? Oh, you've got crack money already; I see...

Now, it is Thursday night, already 9 o' clock, and I have accomplished going to the food stamp place and they are going to call me for a phone interview. They had tried already; but my phone wasn't charged. An online application isn't good enough; they need a phone interview (to establish that you are not a robot).

I Spill My Coffee

20 Dollar Tuesday

Yes, I drew this...

I discovered that I had made the above amount last night, after counting money under the dock. That amount replaced almost exactly what I had spent the whole day; with a dollar to spare...yowsa, financial limbo! 
I didn't wake up this morning.*
I woke up this afternoon, after 3 p.m., when the Natchez, tourists aboard trapped like rats; was out on the river...to your left is St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest continually operated cathedral in the nation...
I had some coffee in a plastic "nyx" mardi gras cup, set up on the rafter next to my head.
"You Need To Get A Haircut And Cut Back On Coffee!"
What happened next, as I prepared to set up this laptop to record some audio, using its built-in "sound recorder," my unkempt dread-locked hair hit the cup when I was maneuvering around, getting the guitar ready and positioning the laptop so that the microphone would be about 15 inches from my mouth, and about 18 from the mouth of the guitar.
The cup of coffee came down on my shoulder, leg and all over my quilt.
One of the things that I wanted to check upon was whether or not the laptops mic would "compress" the audio, the way that the 35 dollar mp3 player which I bought at Radio Shack does.
A Technical Discussion of Compression (for mere catharsis...).
The compression means that the mic sets a certain reference level and then boosts quieter signals towards that level, and suppresses signals against exceeding that level.
The result is; if the voice is just too close, it will not drown out the guitar, because it will be cut back while the (relatively) quieter guitar will be boosted...at least you will hear it; and in a lot of cases the mix is just like songs on the radio....which are compressed.
I hope that the mic compresses, is the point...though, I will eventually get a USB microphone and make a quality CD using this laptop...learning by the mistakes of  the crappy recordings in the right sidebar of this blog. I'm going to replace them. One by one, they will fall!!
Part of the problem with them was the background noise which was confusing the analog to digital converter, like interference....
A Note On The Future
*In the future, long into it, when the posts that I make and use the "post-date" feature of Blogger to set the publication date of well in advance; I might start off the ones which are set to publish on dates such as July 2nd, 2189, with things just like "I didn't wake up this morning; or "I died a long time ago, but..."
Maybe I can get future readers (reading the blog on futuristic devices) to embark upon a project to exhume me and then clone me using the DNA they find, using futuristic forensic technology...if I keep  bugging them with enough blog posts popping up, offering to work for them for a specific amount of time, in order to pay them back...
Off To Stoke
I am going to go out and stoke the star maker machinery behind the popular song for at least a couple hours, to hopefully replace what I will spend to today (is it time to spring for some pachouli, Lilly love it...?)

Oversleeping

• 23 Dollar Monday
• Fully Charged

I woke up with about 47 bucks on me.
I suppose that it took some self discipline to go out and busk while in possession of this new laptop, when I much rather would have preferred to mess around with it.

I went and made about 23 bucks between 10 p.m. and midnight, when I went to Rouses Market for a few staples, and then on to the casino to plug in and mess around with the new Toshiba.
I intended to go back by Rouses Market to look for food, but then dwelt upon the fact that the only thing that I really would have been looking for would have been more salads-in-the-airtight-bags, and possibly some salad dressing, but it would have had to have been olive oil based...
So, I went straight to the dock. It was about 3:45 a.m.
I stayed up until sunup, reading Charles Dickens, then slept until such a time that it was too late to go to the food stamp office to try to get the card turned back on.
Now, Starbucks is closing in minutes, and I go back out to the Lilly spot to play from 9:30 until 1 a.m., 
Update
It's 2:38 a.m., Wednesday
I left Starbucks and got an energy drink and then to the Lilly spot, where I arrived at 9:45 and played for 2 and a half hours; simmering down and working on new stuff when no tourists were within 75 feet, and then cranking it up a notch when they were passing by.
I put my mp3 recorder on my leg, which gave me a reason to try to kick ass.
For Someone
One group of 3 stopped when I was playing "For No One," by The Beatles and, after a decent harmonica solo, dropped 2 fives and 1 one, to go with one other five and a few ones.
It felt like another 23 dollar night, but I haven't counted yet...
I will count under the dock, after I dash this off, using the Starbucks connection outside Harrahs Casino where I am; before repairing to that location where I am going to try to have pasta; if I can get the "fast light" briquettes to EVER light.
I will attempt to make it to the food stamp office during business hours once again tomorrow...
Other than that; reading Nicholas Nickelby, by Charles Dickens.

Blog Goes Into Orbit

• I Pounce Upon Laptop Deal

The Toshiba Satellite laptop, which is on sale at Radio Shack, for $148 bucks (60% off) is a deal which I think that I need to pounce upon,

as, a quick of e-bay, has shown me that the very same computer is being bid up to well over 200 bucks, on average, and one specimen is currently priced at the $329, which Radio Shack was selling it for, before reducing it 60%.
The deal would have been a done one, and I would already be composing this post upon the thing, if it weren't for a couple of minor issues, the first being that I had a...
10 Dollar Sunday
There just weren't many tourists, and the ones which I did see were kind of identical in their manner of attire -a lot of long sleeved shirts of understated tones, nothing vivid; and homogenous in their manner of speaking -a lot of hushed undertones, as if not wishing to offend anyone by allowing to be overheard the sober and honest observation which they were making in reference to anyone.
I suspected a tour group from somewhere, on a very limited budget;  possibly Christian, of an understated and non offensive sect, perhaps, but on a limited budget....right after Jazzfest, but before anything else major commences is a GREAT time to see New Orleans on a budget!!! As long as you avoid frivolities like throwing tips to street musicians, you can spend a couple nights and see the city at cut rates!...
They were apparently of one mind against tipping me. 
I could detect in their body language almost a resolve to not come into my vicinity, as if they had already had a discussion upon how they were going to handle the onslaught of unclean skeezers and scammers with their come-ons and their signs (...I heard they make a middle class income just sitting there holding the "broke and hungry" thing...). 
And their guitars, banjos, drums, whatever.
An Exemplary Tourist
"Don't go over there", seemed to be saying (in hushed tones) one who was probably the father of the 17 year old whom he had discreetly (but not so much that I hadn't seen) grasped the shirt sleeve of and conveyed past me.
I had been in the middle of a pretty good jam, and could see a bit of wonderment and enthusiasm in the kids face (perhaps a musician himself?) before his progress was thus arrested, restrained by a net of cotton fabric of understated tones and with smart, if any, stripes upon it.
These were pretty much of the norm, Sunday night.
Then, one man put a 10 dollar bill next to the 3 in between the sharks, which were mine. 
It was irritating to have had a 10 dollar night on a day upon which I would spend about 17...it would mean tapping into the "3%" jar a bit, in order to get the laptop, which will be available "while supplies last," at that price.
Afterthought On Paternal Instincts
If the father thinks that his son is less likely to chose to embark upon the highly speculative career of street musicianship if physically kept from witnessing it up close, where he might be closer to being impressed, and might purpose in his heart to become one some day, I wish that father luck.
Myself At 19

First Photo Using Laptops Camera

My father tried to steer me likewise:
The sensible man procures the security of a good job with a good company with plenty of benefits and then busts out nice expensive music stuff on the weekends and goes nuts a little (why not, you earned it?) and vents his angst, gets out his frustrations, gives his creative muse voice, liberates his soul through tapping into something larger than all of us...but mostly just has fun...uses music as an "outlet." 

"Why can't it just be and outlet?" asked dad. God rest his soul.

Well, I re-framed that as: "Yes, most will be "sensible," as you put it and take the "road more traveled" secured through the venue which you mentioned; but the artist will have trouble "going nuts," if he is literally doing so at; and because of; that job, and he is going to suffer angst, and feel pathetic, from not being able to make his beautiful new Les Paul Guitar scream out his frustrations because he doesn't playing it all day every day, picking it up every time the creative muse wants voice. He only jams on weekends (like the golfer who goes out and shoots an 88 every Saturday) and doesn't have as much fun (taking off his cleats and socks; rolling up his trouser legs and wading into the pond to retrieve his ball) as he imagined he was going to, when imagining himself ripping through a cool solo...

"Son, just don't end up living with rats under a wharf; that's all; and don't tell me that I didn't caution you..."

"Aw, come on, dad, have some faith in me!"

34 Dollar Saturday
A Time To Spend
The 34 dollar Saturday came upon a day when I had spent about 27 of it, beginning with a trip to Wal-Mart on the ($2.50 round trip) bus, where I purchased bananas, candles, mouthwash, toothpaste and 2 energy drinks, equal to $10.33.
I then got off back in the quarter right by the (how convenient) Colorado Green Tobacco dealer ($5), bought a pack of American Spirit ($5.70) cigarettes and a ($1.08) pack of blunt wraps; and, by the time I sat down at the Lilly spot; was almost 25 bucks in the hole.
I only took short breaks to go to the bathroom, and probably played about 3 hours, scooping excess bills into my pack every half hour or so; breaking it back down to 4 dollar and a little change. 
Food Costs Hampering Me
My food stamp card had run out with 8 days left in the month, and I have been laboring against expenses like honey and oatmeal and raisins, bananas, coconut milk, instant coffee, instant potatoes and olive oil, plus plenty of gallons of water...
I have a "healthy" diet now (still have not drank in 27 days, nor added red meat to my diet) which just cannot be come by for free at the (2 bologna sandwiches, a doughnut and a cup of lemonade) homeless shelter.
There is a vegan group which appears in a certain park, but only once a week, for 2 hours on Tuesday afternoons.
I Buy The Toshiba, Anyways
I went and bought the Toshiba Satellite laptop, despite the current economical climate, and am in Starbucks blogging upon it right now. If you see this, then I guess it works.
I gave the guy 64 one dollar bills, 14 five dollar bills, with one 10 and one 20. It was a wad of cash that
I figured that I was ultimately going to get the thing, as it just offers too many functions to me.
I can spend all day on a blog story, if I want to;  
Hardship #2: No Food Money
I tried to use my food stamp card this morning, and discovered that it had a zero* balance. 
*It was actually 13 cents, which told me that the money never came in and wasn't stolen stolen by my friends whom I sometimes sell food to, and who know my pin. (I have better friends than that, at least).

Now, I must trudge off to the food stamp office as soon as possible, to find out if they sent a letter which I never answered (they are famous for that -I was in their office where I re-applied online, and was told that everything was fine; it was fine last month; but they are prone to send letters with such exultation of trivia, such as "You recently completed an application online; is this true? Please respond by (yesterdays date here) or your account will be closed."
I figure that I will be here until 9 p.m., when Starbucks closes, and then will go out and busk a bit -try to defray the 170 bucks that I am going to end up spending today. 
I was really looking forward to stocking up on food items, learning last month that it would behoove me to purchase an entire months supply of certain things, especially when they are on sale (as silly as the idea seems, of carrying 50 energy drinks in my backpack from Wal-Mart to where I could hide them near my sleeping spot, at a cost of about 80 dollars; That would save me about 28 bucks for the month; I need to think the same way about things like olive oil by the gallon...).
Satellite Era Begins
It is now 2:39 a.m., Tuesday morning. I am at the casino, doing this on the laptop, using the battery, which was "fully charged," during the hour and a half that I first plugged in at Starbucks, across Canal Street from the Radio Shack where I had plunked down $163 and change for it.
I was at the Lilly spot by about 9:30 p.m., and played for about 2 and a quarter hours to a sparse crowd which seemed to have a few holdouts from the cheapskates of yesterday.
I got a 20 dollar bill from someone, which will put me in the right direction towards recovering from the money which I spent today.
I will leave here, check Rouses Market for food (I bought instant potatoes and a can of lima beans as a backup) and then be under the dock by about 3:45 a.m. where I will sit up and read Charles Dickens and sip coffee and eventually sleep, and then make sure I make it to the food stamp office tomorrow, to figure out why they cut me off this time and to remedy it; I just hope it won't take 7 days for them to turn the card back on.
These food expenses are supplanting alcohol as the millstone around my neck, financially.
Then, I intend to put a lot of energy into this blog...
 

6 Minutes To Post

I just got back from Wal-Mart, where I looked at laptop computers. There were none that were even in the price range of the Toshiba in Radio Shack, which is on sale for $148 (60% off the regular price of $329...).
The odd thing was, that when I saw that laptop, I had 148 dollars, just about exactly, on me. (excluding the 3% jar-that-will-never-ever-be-tapped-into, which is up a little over 40 bucks).

• 52 Dollar Wednesday
• 27 Dollar Thursday
• 34 Dollar Friday

I haven't drank alcohol in 24 days, now. Wednesday night, I looked at the red wines in Rouses Market, though.
What stopped me from buying any was the fact that, after not drinking for 3 weeks, I would only want to break that fast with a fine bottle, one which would be at least 20 bucks.
I thought about not getting a laptop, due to spending money on wine, and blew off the idea.
I also thought about that one bottle starting a nightly trend, which would cut into my energy levels, reduce my playing times along with my skill level, and....well, it's been 24 days.
If I buy the laptop, this blog should take off.......