First Friday Draft (but not of beer)

• 29 Dollar Wednesday
• 27 Dollar Thursday

Now, it is Friday, I have not eaten nor had alcohol since Sunday night -the night that I had run into Leslie, who tried to encourage me at 1 in the morning, to drink more. "No, I'm going to sleep.."
He seems intent upon worming his way back into my good grace.
The Call Of The Wild Man
He called this morning, when I was under the dock, wanting to meet somewhere and smoke weed. "I'll throw in a couple dollars."
I took this to mean that he wanted to smoke and only had a couple dollars, and needed me. He could have seen the money around the sharks, without my noticing it.
He called again  after I hadn't shown up where I told him that I would probably be "in 45 minutes or so" and I told him that I was clipping my toenails, which I was. I had started to leave and, when putting my boots on, remembered the clippers that I had bought the night before and decided to put them to use immediately. 
He got angry and started cussing me out. "You pissed me off, man; talking about clipping your nails; what are you, drunk, sitting there clipping your nails?!" ...Hey, they were getting long, dude!
He sounded drunk. He basically called me all the very same things which he had called me before we had a fistfight in the street about 3 months ago -verbatim- and then hung up, but not before I was able to get in: "I think I told you that I just wanted to get the hell away from you and stay there, that night that....(hangs up).
I felt like I should have hung up first.
27 Dollar Thursday
Yesterday, I posted here, and then made my way to Rouses Market for more water.
I am off of apple juice and drinking distilled water now.
I got to the Lilly spot, after passing by Paul (Doreens Jazz Band) who told me: "The best I've ever felt in my life was when I was on a 6 day juice fast...I had a juicer, so I was putting all kinds of fruit and vegetables in it"
I sat on the stoop; it was still light out.
Pot OK, Alcohol Bad?
Guy, a guy who works an ice cream cart in Jackson Square stopped and passed me a blunt. 
I took a few puffs, feeling that I wouldn't be breaking the fast, and remembering the words of Lloyd, the guy who was trying to learn telekinesis, who said pot was good; alcohol bad; for someone who is trying to line up their chakras and tap into the positive power of the universe.
I started to play, and felt extremely competent, and was hitting every note, unlike the previous night when I tried to play sober. I think it was the best that I have ever played...it started me thinking about making a CD soon.
I was sitting on the stoop and warming up; not believing how much energy and focus I had for someone who was sober and hadn't eaten in 4 days.
I didn't open my case, but a guy came along and put a dollar on top of it.
I didn't notice it blow off onto the sidewalk in front of me, but another guy came along and pointed it out to me "You've got a dollar there, ready to blow away."
I nodded a "thanks" to him, but kept playing. After all, I had woken up with 61 dollars and had spent none of it at all; no pint of vodka, no sack of weed, no cigarettes.
Maybe my apparent  lack of "attachment" to money prompted the guy to come back a minute later and listen some more.
He was dressed like a rich tourist, business haircut, sport coat, button up shirt, slacks and shiny shoes.
"I'll tell you what, I'm trying to cut down on gluten, do you want this?" he asked, showing me a bottle of Abita Amber beer.
I thought about taking it and putting it in my pack for such a time that my fast might end and I might appreciate such a fine expensive brew.
"I could save it for later, but, right now I'm doing this cleansing juice fast thing," I said "I'm only drinking water tonight."
That was all he had to hear; he instantly removed the bottle to the pocket that he had taken it out of, and said "Oh, that's cool...that's really cool; good for you!" and walked off.
I felt sufficiently warmed up after that and so, set up my sharks and moved a few feet to where I like to sit and resumed playing.
Pride
Within minutes, a young tall skinny guy came by and asked "Do you drink?"
Before I could answer, he said: "It's just that I have this card for free drinks at O'Briens, and it expires tonight and I won't be able to use it, because we're going somewhere else..." and showed me a black plastic card with probably a leprechaun on it.
I pictured myself walking into O'Briens and right up to the bar, not the restroom which I have used 100 times -the bar that I could never afford to walk up to; the land of 12 dollar shots and 17 dollar drinks, and the looks on the faces of the staff ...see, he's not a skeezer, he's got a little bit going on...and how big my head would swell as I came out of there holding the expensive drink and walked past the skeezers with their mouths agape. I thought about pocketing the card for the future, but, I would be carrying temptation around, then.
"No, I'm doing this juice fast thing...."
He walked off.
I couldn't help thinking that somehow word had gotten out that I wasn't drinking (this blog?) and that these people were testing me to see if it could really be true.
The only other explanations would be, coincidence, or the devil himself, pulling out all the stops, trying to sabotage my fast. I tend to not believe the latter, as the first guy seemed genuinely pleased to hear about what I was doing.
I have always entertained a theory that New Orleans is like a purgatory and that souls are sent here to see if they can resist myriad temptations, pass the test, and be promoted to the status of Tanya and Dorise.
Envy
They basically live the life of Abstinence; and, look how well they are doing....
I continued to play the best that I ever have, and at 11 p.m., I knocked off, after having made 27 dollars, bringing the amount in my pocket to about 85 bucks.
I went and spent $3.04 on a set of "deluxe" toenail clippers at Walgreens, right before they closed at midnight, then went under the dock, undetected, and slept until about noon, after a lot of tossing and turning and thinking. It seems one doesn't need as much sleep, or doesn't get as tired when there is no food to digest...
I had thought about picking up some 10 dollar ear buds, along with the clippers, to replace the ones that the rats chewed up, but then decided that I would wait and shop around for something much better, like headphones which would give me deep bass and clean highs. After all, a musician should splurge upon musical stuff, if nothing else.
Day 5 of the fast (today) started with me still having some stiffness in my neck and tension and the numbness in either hand, which I have been getting when I lay a "certain way."
The French Quarter Music Festival is going on, and there are a ton of tourists out and the "daytime buskers" are all at it.
Tanya was busy pulling money out of her basket and stacking it into bricks when I walked past her an hour ago.
I didn't say hello, neither did either of them, they averted their gazes. I think someone might be keeping them abreast of all the disparaging things that I write in this blog about them sometimes; before deleting or softening them the next morning.
Tanya does have a joyless expression on her face lately, and I wouldn't be surprised if she announced her retirement from street music.

3 Day Cleanse, Day 4

• Tuesday Night At The Casino
• Wednesday, I Play Sober

Day 1

Monday night was cold.
After singing through Christina Friis' amp and microphone and making 8 dollars, I debated upon where I would sleep. 
It was only about 9 p.m., and too early to try to go under the dock, as their security people are there until midnight.
My sleeping bag and heavy blankets were under there.
The sign spot had all of the clean laundry which I had done that morning.
I decided to go to the sign spot, taking along some extra cardboard for ground insulation, where I would put on all of my clothing. Then, I would just sit there for a while to gauge whether or not I was warm enough to want to lay down and sleep. If not, I would wait a bit then go back to the dock to get in my sleeping bag.
After putting on extra jeans, shirts and sweatshirts, I was able to go to sleep.
Day 2
Tuesday morning, I sat up and read the newspaper and some of Crime And Punishment, by Dostoyevsky alternately sipping apple juice and distilled water, then went to the library to do yesterdays post to this blog, alternately sipping apple juice and distilled water.
Leaving the library in the evening, I was met by even colder air.
I walked to Rouses Market, to get another half gallon of apple juice and more distilled water, and passed no buskers and very few tourists along the way.
One lady, who was walking three dogs, told me that it was forecast to be 40 degrees that night.
I Play My Starbucks Card
I decided to go to Harrahs Casino, and use my Starbucks gift card to buy spring water, thus giving me a pass to sit there all night, if I wanted.
I sat and drank apple juice and spring water until about 3 a.m. while the wind whipped the flags around on their posts outside, and the palm trees jerked around wildly. I was tempted to put 5 dollars on black at the roulette wheel, but wasn't sure if my "lucky feeling" was only a byproduct of starvation.
Sobering Thoughts
I could have left there and gone to the dock shortly after midnight, but I had forebodings about that.
Having not eaten in 48 hours made me feel slightly weak, physically.
Having not drank alcohol in 48 hours took away some of the bravado which I would "normally" have when faced with walking through the quarter alone after midnight, carrying my guitar and backpack and 30 dollars. My drunken self would pick up an improvised weapon after having a "bad" feeling, with the sentiment of: "I hope someone does try to jump me, I'll bash his head in!"

This was the low point of the juice fast -feeling kind of depressed when faced with the reality that I was going to go under a dock to sleep with rats; no food would be cooked and eaten with beer to wash it down, and I didn't even have cigarettes, because they start to taste nasty after 2 days without solid food.
This is also a big part of the answer to the question of "Why do homeless people all seem to be drunks?" I can remember sitting under the dock with food on the grill, sipping beer and smoking cigarettes and looking out over the river and thinking: "It doesn't get any better than this!" -romantic...
Day 3
I got to sleep around 4 a.m., woke up around noon with the Natchez gone, then sat and read Dostoyevsky until the boat came and went twice more.
I finally emerged after it had left on its "evening" cruise when the light was starting to dim too much for reading.
I had 29 dollars on me, and nothing to spend it on.
I had wished that I'd picked up some earbuds for my little AM/FM radio (the rats chewed up my other ones) so that I could keep up with news and weather along with 19th Century literature.
I went and got more apple juice and then headed towards Royal Street.
I heard Christina Friis before I saw her. Well before I saw her. She had her amp turned up loud.
Monday night, there was a guy who is also a musician, who was encouraging her to turn her guitars volume up, and he was adamant enough about it to even turn the knobs for her as she performed. I agreed with him, pointing out to her that "louder sounds better" to people, and used the example of the salesman who will demonstrate loudspeakers to a potential customer, in hopes of selling the more expensive ones, by demonstrating them at a louder volume than the cheaper ones...yeah, those sound better...a lot more bass!
She must have taken it to heart, because I could hear her loud and clear; and she sounded better, too.
Cosmic Connection
I have had several cosmic connections with Christina (and may put them in a "sidebar" some day). This time, as I talked to her about the juice fast upon which I was on my third day, she told me that she had just given up sugar and caffeine herself.
I Play Sober
I decided to just take my famished, light-headed and sober self to the Lilly spot and play.
I got there and set up my sharks.
Barnaby was sitting on his perch across the way.
I started off with one of my more difficult pieces, a Tom Waits song, and fumbled pretty badly with it.
My fingers didn't feel very strong, I was missing some of the more crucial chords, and I could feel some of the numbness in my hands which I had been waking up with of late and attributing to a pinched nerve around my lower neck.
I actually started feeling self doubts creeping in; I wasn't quite feeling the music...maybe I'm suffering from some degenerative muscular disease, and not a pinched nerve...
My fingers just weren't moving right; the strings felt tight and rusty, my picking hand was missing strings; tourists were walking past with some of them having the notion to reach for their wallets, but moving on after I missed a chord.
It was one of those defining moments when I could have given up ...I just can't play tonight... but rather thought: "When the going gets tough, the tough get going."
I switched to some easier songs, and tried harder to focus upon what I was doing.
After a couple people threw money to the sharks, I felt the charge of energy that I usually do after the first tip, and started playing better.
I was definitely thinking more clearly, especially about song choices, having songs come to mind which used to be stalwarts but which had kind of fallen out of the lineup. Instead of staying in my "comfort zone" with the same dozen songs which I have been wearing out, I was playing ones that had never been heard at the Lilly spot and the rust was slowly wearing off.
I had just finished "The Ballad of Richard Corey" and was starting find a bit of smoothness,  when Barnaby yelled across the street: "I'll give you a dollar if you play "China Doll" (a Grateful Dead song which is in the same key as "Corey" which might have been what put it in his mind).
With the playing of that song came off more rust.
It's a song which I used to play when I was in my 20's, and one which has meaning for me.
After one false start after I missed a chord; I got mad at myself and told myself something to the effect of "Come the f**k on, you KNOW this song, you LOVE this song, it has MEANING to you! What the hell is WRONG with you?!?"
I was able to "get it into gear" and play a decent version of it.
Fried Pickles, Anyone?
Barnaby was walking across the street with the dollar, just as I was turning down the offer of a Styrofoam container of fried pickles from a lady.
"Did you just refuse food, what the hell is wrong with you?!?" he said in mock surprise.
"I'm on a juice fast," I said, holding up my bottle of apple juice.
"How much alcohol is in there?"
"None."
I went back to playing, and then something magical happened.
I went into my "zone" -slipped into it like a trance- and started playing fluidly and effortlessly and ENJOYING IT! (as if  I was tanked up on brandy and weed) Only, I could remember all the lyrics (all nine verses of Tangled Up In Blue; who me?!?) and wound up pulling up songs which I hadn't done since my St. Augustine days -a variety which kept Barnaby and his girlfriend sitting on their perch for a good while, rather than slamming their door behind them after I start playing that song again.
Tips started to rain upon the sharks.
In about an hour and a half, 3 people threw fives and 14 people threw ones. 
I used to think that I got tips when I was wasted because the people coming out of the tavern could "relate" to me, but once I got to where I was sounding good to my sober self; I sounded extra good to them. That has always been the "formula," I guess.
Tonight, I look forward to playing on day 5 of my fast.....

Post Fueled By Apple Juice

3 Day Cleanse

I am on the second day of my "Dr. Christopher" (left) cleansing juice fast.
Monday morning, I woke up at the sign spot; having put myself there, so as to be in position to go to the VA Center, early, to do laundry and get a hot shower and then change into the cleaned clothes.
I should not say "woke up;" because I don't think I slept at all, due to an uncomfortable chill in the air; the fact that the spot is much brighter than under the dock; and there are more people walking around and more voices to be heard.
The dock spot has spoiled me.
I also wanted to recant some of the things that I had posted Sunday as soon as the library opened because I thought that I had been unreasonably harsh on certain individuals; and that guilt had kept me awake.
I wound up putting my head down on one of the tables at the VA Center and sleeping a couple hours.
Detox
I drank the 16 ounces of prune juice while there (used the restroom about 20 minutes later), and then headed to Rouses Market to get apple juice and distilled water.
I didn't know if I was going to play at all that night; and told Christina Friis so much when I encountered her at the corner of St. Louis Street..."I suppose I should try to play totally sober, just for practice...I might get used to it...or go through withdrawals."
I had about 30 dollars, but very little urge to drink alcohol, cigarettes tasted like licking an ash tray, and I didn't feel like a joint would have had much effect (I think one needs to have some carbohydrates or something in the blood stream for the weed to "hold onto.")
These are some of the "blessings" of Dr. Christophers fast. 
I would only have to buy apple juice and water the next few days, which I could use my food card for; so the money I had felt sufficient and pretty much secure in my pocket.

Christina Friis, last night

I helped Christina set up her amp and microphone.
She sang a few songs.
People instantly materialized to throw tips in her bucket. 
She uses one similar in size to Tanya and Dorise' and has similar earning power. People hear her voice a block away and already have their money ready when they walk up.
I suppose that, if Joni Mitchell was not recognizable but on that corner busking, her bucket would fill up the same way, and she would garner the same type of comments "Your voice is so beautiful," as Christina gets.
She is mostly a singer and uses only sparse accompaniment from her guitar and sings a Capella a lot.
There is a balcony along the second floor of the (posh) restaurant across the street from where she was, and several people approached to tip after they had come down after eating. "You made our meal," one of them said.
I Become Amplified
After a short while, she wanted to take a break and asked me if I wanted to play her "rig" in the meantime; because she needed to re-energize.
I thought about how weak I was feeling after not having slept nor eaten; thought about how that spot is more suited to the likes of Christina; looked down at the rags that I was wearing; no song came to mind to do at that moment; but then said "screw it;" it was a chance to sing through a microphone and amp.
It took a few minutes to get used to her guitar and to find all the right nobs on her amp and adjust them (these aren't your grandfathers amp with its 3 knobs) but I managed to make it (hack my way) through a Grateful Dead song.
Nobody dropped anything in the bucket. I started to have negative thoughts, like ...they don't want to hear this kind of stuff at this spot...but continued to adjust the levels and get used to the guitar.
A Beatles song produced 3 dollars in the bucket.
I played more Beatles stuff until the "25 minutes or so" were up and Christina returned from her break.
She threw another couple dollars in the bucket.
Then, while we were talking, a tourist came across the street and said "I enjoyed your set; especially the Beatles," and handed me 3 dollars.
8 Dollars in 25 minutes; and I hadn't even found my "sound" yet.
The power of an amp and a microphone.

Leslie Update
I ran into Leslie, Sunday night; who showed me his jail paperwork. He had spent a night there for "public intoxication."
He has a new place now. It is a lot further away from the quarter than was his last one; which was in the quarter; but he said that I am welcome to crash there.
I will have to get back to him on that...

April 5th And 6th Wrap Up

• A Drink, With Jam, And Bread
• 17 Dollar Friday
• 0 Dollar Saturday
• Guitar Fixed For Now
• 5 Dollar Sunday
• A Jam With Tanya And Dorise
• Leslie Encounter 
• 3 Day Juice Fast

Saturday:
I just came from the French Market, where I spent 5 bucks on a full set of the "they suck, but they're only 5 bucks" guitar strings.
I had broken onet (Friday) night, but continued to play out of my repertoire of "songs for guitar missing G string," and was actually able to hoodwink a few more dollars out of a few tourists, on my way to having a 17 dollar Friday...
I woke up and threw 50 cents into the-jar-that-can-never-be-touched,-ever, and then added another dollar.  
I now owe the jar 13 dollars.
It then started to rain. I emerged, umbrella in hand at about 4 p.m. and walked up St. Louis Street and past Tanya and Dorise.
Tanya spotted me and averted her gaze, as if she hadn't. In retrospect, I don't think it had anything to do with me, something seemed to be weighing upon her. She could have just been tired of the whole business, like I have become at times; me who puts in only about a quarter of the time she does.

Indiana In Disrepair

I went and got a half pint of whiskey, and then returned to Royal Street.
This time, as I approached Tanya, she smiled (although it was her version of a smile where her mouth is smiling, yet her forehead wrinkles just above her nose, as if she is smelling a foul odor; at the same time) and said; :"How have you been; I haven't talked to you for a while?"
I said that my current living arrangement and routine just doesn't take me past their spot like it used to (plus, seeing all the money they make in the half hour that I stop to say "hi" can be depressing, as I go out, hoping to break 20 dollars for the whole day...and plus, I guess the crush that I used to have on Tanya has waned a bit; as I see a certain futility in pursuing her).
I decided to put the new strings on the Indiana, tune to them, and then be on my way.
I discovered that the tuning machine for the G string, which had started to mess up on me, and which Paul at Bywater Music had to order a new one of "It'll take about a week..." had totally 'crapped out' and was useless.
I was out of work; suddenly.
I showed it to Dorise.
The girls played a pretty spirited version of "September Song," by Earth, Wind and Fire.
Tanya played a very interesting solo, and told her so, before I walked off.
"Oh; I'm just trying to play..." she replied without enthusiasm, as if it had been no big deal.
That kind of put an uneasy feeling in me. I felt kind of sad, and it started me thinking.
I walked around the quarter wondering why things that should freak me out; like the sudden demise of my guitar tend to barely register with me. It is either due to numbness; or I am "disassociating" from the whole "What in Gods name are are you going to do now?!?" issue.
I also thought about how precarious my financial situation is; as I am one broken guitar away from ruin.
0 Dollars
I took the broken guitar and the harmonica and tried to play songs around that missing string at the Lilly spot.
I just couldn't bring myself to continue for long.
Paranoid that someone would come and request a song which requires that string, and I would have to make an excuse and lose out on a tip; or worse, I would try to play the crippled guitar and they would conclude "You suck!" and walk off.
"It's just a hustle; most people won't even notice..." said another hustler to me.
I knocked off, after making 0 dollars, and went off to lie awake half the night mulling things over; feeling like I had wimped out and should have stuck to it and just done my best and that I would have made something. ...I'll have to go into the jar that can never be touched...
I thought about a beautiful girl whom I once was friends with, back in my college days who, according to "reports," got absolutely no pleasure out of sex -would "just lay there"- and about how beautiful Tanyas music is; yet does it just lay there? And I wondered if it is possible for people to be moved to goosebumps and tears by a performer who isn't "feeling" it at all...
At some point, I drifted off to sleep.
Back In Business

Sunday, I called Paul at Webbs Bywater Music and learned that the part for my guitar was still about a week away. He had gotten busy and forgotten to order it.
I ran into Nervous Duane, playing on Royal Street, who told me that he was 75% sure that tightening a certain screw would solve the problem.
Tightening the screw did not solve the problem, but, in the process of tightening it; a cover fell off revealing a pinion with 4 out of 12 cogs snapped off it. It had also been installed upside down so that the teeth were leaning the wrong way.
I managed to get a string up to pitch by using the remaining teeth, putting me back in business.
A Jam With Tanya And Dorise
Relieved to have a functional instrument, and on my way to the Lilly spot, I stopped to see Tanya and Dorise.
The Song I Hate
I had heard a certain song for the first time in about 20 years at the casino; twice. I have always hated the song, of which lyrics I can only remember something like "...happiness is compete..."
It is somehow in the rotation at the casino. All I can picture is a gym full of middle-aged housewives doing aerobics in leotards whenever I hear it.
As I sat catty corner to T&D, I was surprised (and feeling like the universe was playing a practical joke on me) to hear them play that very same song.
According to Dorise, they know about 3,000 songs and can play 3 days without repeating one.
I joked about how much I hated the song. Dorise said "Oh, it's a great song!" and played a bit of the intro. Tanya still seemed like her mind was somewhere else.
Then, after a Rouses Market employee named Clarence walked past, they began to play a Jackson 5 song.
"That's HIS song, because he has a little boy that everyone say's looks like Michael Jackson," said Dorise while not dropping a beat.
Soon, a black man, whom I have seen around had shown up and was singing along with the song; and so I joined in, and hit some pretty good harmonies.
"What are we going to do next, Daniel?" asked Dorise when it was finished. 
It was, after all, Sunday, the evening when a lot of guest performers seem to join the duo.
I suggested "Bet You By Golly Wow," by The Stylistics? which the other guy knew and to which I added harmonies culled from the version of the song by Prince, which I am infinitely more familiar with.
As I was leaving, they started to play "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," probably an allusion to my guitar, which had been ailing.
I figured "what the hell," and couldn't resist the F harmonica-friendly key that the song is in; and the fact that I have done that one 50 times myself; and so, took the harp out of my bag and wailed along.
It sounded great; the volume and bass of their amps seemed to match the level of the harp; and I ripped out what I thought was a pretty good solo. 
As I went to sit back down next to my pack (not wanting to go all "Blues Traveler" and hog the whole song) I felt exhilarated, like I was floating on air -quite a head-rush (oxygen deprivation from all the "draw" notes on the harp may have contributed LOL). There is definitely an "energy" surrounding them.
They had a crowd of about 20 or so listening, who applauded at the conclusion.
Dorise gave me a slightly astonished "I didn't know you could play the harp" type look. "Was that the F?" she asked, remembering that she had given me a harp in that key once.
"Yeah, it works over A minor."
"You mean D minor."
"No, that's the natural minor, but a lot of killer notes in that song are in Am."
I actually didn't mind the fact that I went and only made 5 bucks after that; I felt like the night had been a success.
I then regretted making my blog post earlier that day; when I was kind of harsh on Tanya; and resolved to change it, first thing in the morning.

Coming Photos

Replacing the tiposaurus for the mean time...

• Sharks Circle 35 Dollars
• Karrie, On
• I See Howard
• Photo Chip Replaced

Yesterday, after drinking coffee all afternoon and blogging, I sallied forth at 6 p.m. to get my first swill of whiskey before going to the Lilly spot, where I made about 35 dollars, playing about 4 sets; with bathroom runs to Lafitts Blacksmith Shop Tavern in between.
20 Dollar Bill Difference Maker
One lady gave me a 20 dollar bill, after pointing out to me that I had misspelled the word "stimulus" on my sign which reads: "Street Musician Stumulis Package" and points to my circling sharks.
I was embarrassed about that, being an English/Music degree holder from an accredited college; and it dawned upon me that the sign has not been garnering the same amount in tips, as when it was correctly spelled.
I suppose that the "sophistication" of humor needs to be reflected in details like spelling and grammar.

Karrie, off

Karrie, On
I have not seen Karrie, but the last time that I did, she was talking about purchasing a bus ticket to somewhere; and sounding like it was an impending thing.
I asked her where she was headed; and she told me; but it slips my mind right now...Texas??
Perhaps that is a Freudian type of slip, on my part.
We didn't seem to have much in common, now that she no longer seems to live for a fifth of whiskey and someone to wrap her arms around each night. 
Now she lives for....?
She had been spending a lot of time on the library computers, working upon reading and writing.
I Replace Chip Reader
I finally, after having a 35 dollar night, and realizing that, if I procrastinate upon replacing my micro SD card reader (so that I can post photos here off my phone, like the one of Karrie [left]) thinking that I will increase my available cash by playing tonight; what will probably happen is, I will decrease my available cash by having a shitty night and then will not replace the chip; I replaced the chip, to the tune of about 16 dollars.

I thought this one was pretty cool...

So, to take advantage of my capabilities now, here are more photos...

The Day I Was Born
I guess my  birth wasn't the only big event of October 12th, 1962.
I think that "Vatican Two," was enacted upon the same day, changing the Catholic mass from Latin to English, but had thought that my birth trumped that.
Now, more competition...

Seeing Spots

• 4 Dollar Thursday
• A New Follower

I don't want the blog to be "all" about money; but for it to be all about busking (playing for er, money) then the financial aspect should be included.

It is all about busking IN NEW ORLEANS, of course, and it must be noted that the lucrativeness of "your" busking city may vary; with the average trending upward as you get away from here.

I describe New Orleans to people as "the place where the best; and lowest paid musicians in the world are."*

*Pay does not factor in the fact that one can get drunk and stuff their face with gourmet food; pick up enough tobacco to re-roll a pack a day; find blunts of weed, clothing, cell phones and even cash "just laying there, and have people in line behind you pay for your stuff in stores.

A new follower; Sara -circus acrobat

"the place where the best; and lowest paid musicians in the world are."

That being said; I went to the library and blogged; as I sipped upon Pabst Blue Ribbon beer spiked with vodka.
I met a guy named Lloyd, who had been staring into a whirling image on his computer screen, studying what he said was "Telekinesis 101."
I stared into the center of the spiraling thing, which looked like you could either be going into a tunnel or coming out of one (kind of like seeing either the famous vase or the famous two faces) and then after Lloyd instructed me to look at a blank page, I did, and saw an impressive after image which looked like snowflakes crystallizing and shooting out from the center of the page.

Lloyd talked to me for a while about his attempts to move objects with his thoughts; and other esoteric subjects, so hence didn't surprise me much when he produced a large sack of a light green vegetable-like material and handed me some.

He cautioned me against drinking alcohol, though -citing the fact that he himself had recently quit the practice because "It didn't make me feel good-" and that's when I knew that our time together had to soon come to an end. 

Marilyn, or Frank playing sax?

The Royal Market
I made a beeline for my third beer of the night -being advised by anyone to quit drinking is one of the "triggers" which make me crave alcohol- and then played on the corner of St. Louis and Royal streets; a spot liked by the likes of Brian Hudson and/or Christina Friis and Frank, the saxophone player who leans on the lamp post there and plays.

I was playing pretty sloppily and I'm sure that my sound barely carried across the street. I felt like I was playing the wrong songs at the wrong times, at times. One Asian couple paused to listen as I played a Beatles song, dropped a dollar between my circling sharks and then wandered off, taking their bewildered looks with them; as if they hadn't recognized The Beatles song.

I think I made 4 dollars, all the while being inhibited by the thought of "you really need an amp and a mike at this spot, so that you can be more subtle and use more finesse..."

I was thinking that either Brian or Christina might show up, whereupon I would gladly relinquish the spot; maybe even after hinting that I had held it for them, (and collecting a few dollars "fee") but, by 9 p.m. I was pretty sure that they weren't coming; and so I moved off to go see another spot..

The Balil Spot

I moved to right around the corner from the gallery where Balil works. Balil who gave me the Indiana Scout guitar; and who once pointed the spot out to me and said that he thought that it would be a great spot; because of a combination of acoustics and foot traffic. It felt like he was presenting it to me along with his permission to play there and his blessings.

It dawned upon me that he may have taken a small offense when I declined. I decided to remedy that. The acoustics were good and the (few) people that walked past looked like "the tipping kind," but they had also just come off of Bourbon Street and were well-skeezed. There was still steam coming off of them from all the skeezing.
I may have made just one more dollar; then decided to try the Lilly spot.

That too was pretty dead. It just wasn't "happening." I felt like I had been playing the wrong song in the wrong way in the wrong spot; all night.

The well dressed gentleman on Royal Street who had stood a few feet away and listened to a bit of my "Carcass Song," with and expression on his face as if he were looking at an actual carcass; comes to mind...

I went under the dock before midnight and was soon eating pasta in real butter and olive and sesame oils with some beets added with some soy tempeh fried in the left over oils on the side; before going to sleep.

It just wasn't "happening." I felt like I had been playing the wrong song in the wrong way in the wrong spot; all night.

Friday (now)

I woke up and, after trying to work the kinks out of my neck, made the 35 cent deposit to the-jar-which-under-no-circumstance-will-ever-be-touched, and came into the quarter with just under 20 dollars cash on me.
I owe the jar 17 dollars.
I've started the day with coffee, not vodka, and will see how that "goes."
I might compare the results to what happened the last day I started with coffee and not vodka; (about 3 weeks ago LOL!).
It is 5:15 Friday evening, and out into the quarter I go to have my first swill and a puff off of Lloyds "telekinetic" bud and then to see what transpires, exercising my right to be in a good mood regardless of circumstances; if I can...

Moldova Checks In

Moldova	33
United States	15
Mexico	1

It's that little speck (and I mean that affectionately) near the Mediterranean Ocean very near Macedonia, I think...
32 Dollar Wednesday
Well, I left the library yesterday and walked into the quarter, thinking that it would be nice to have a "miracle" happen, financially.
I was living upon the-jar-that-can-never-be-tapped-into, and I had woken up owing it 14 dollars.
Skeezers were everywhere.
I had 8 single bills in my pocket when I came out of The Unique Boutique, after buying cigarettes and 2 cans of malt liquor.
A skeezer accosted me with "Excuse me, can you spare a dollar?"
I pulled the 8 bills out of my pocket and began to count them in front of him.
I really think that he thought that I was about to give him more than just the dollar that he had tried to skeeze; and that I was counting them up before handing them to him. He kind of shot a subtle glance at the other skeezers, standing nearby.

Those glances always seem to be communicating: "I got a sucker, here!" to the other skeezers, the way I read them.
After counting out the bills, while he stood there; unable to quell the urge to stretch out a hand and start reaching for them , I said: "No -doesn't look like it; I've got less than 10 bucks here; sorry..."
I got the the Lilly spot, and decided that I was just going to work it as long as I could and hope for the best...
A 20 Dollar Tip
I hadn't been playing long before a couple guys walked up; a son and his dad.
I was in the process of changing a string; and they said that they would wait until I had done so, because they wanted to hear an original song.
The kid was in town for some kind of motorcycle race, which he was going to participate in.
Then, up walked Brigidette, after having kissed the llama which a guy has been sitting with a couple blocks up the street from the Lilly spot, and educating tourists about llamas (photo courtesy of her Facebook page; as we are now "friends").
She gave me a 20 dollar tip; and the guys added 10 more, after I played "Crazy About A Crazy Girl," for them.

Brigette, at the Lilly Spot

Brian, doing his thing; he's pretty good at it, I hear...

The Wake Of Jake

32 Dollar Friday
I woke up Friday morning with about 16 dollars in my pocket. It was what was left of the-jar-that-can-never-be-touched.
I spent it down to about 8 dollars with the usual purchases of cigarettes, a half pint of whiskey and a chaser for the whiskey.
I left the Royal Blend after yesterdays post at its closing time of 6 p.m.
I walked up Royal Street, to Rouses Market, where I exchanged a couple bucks off my food card for a 24 oz. can of Modelo Beer, then saw Mark* across the street playing blues on his Seagull acoustic guitar, with his girlfriend (who looks like a blend of Japanese and ?) by his side.
He motioned me over and, holding his pint of whiskey out to me, asked for a cigarette.
I took a swig, gave them a cigarette, then decided to smoke he and his girlfriend "up" with the remainder of my weed.

The "Jake" spot by day, before it was a gallery

This soon put me in the mood to walk one more block to the Jake spot and play, especially after Mark hinted that he needed to make some money.
That is a tough spot to make money at, as people are accustomed to seeing a much bigger "production" there than Mark and his girlfriend who looks like a blend of Japanese and ?, such as Doreens Jazz Band.
But, Mark is a trooper and puts in several hours a night there, after the heavyweights (excuse the pun) leave.
I remember him counting out what looked like 12 single bills one time and saying "Not bad for a Wednesday." I had to bite my tongue, because that was shortly after I had gotten the $170 tip at the Lilly spot from the guy who played my guitar and broke a string in the process.."Oh, my...I've put you out of business; I'm so sorry...here!"
I have decided that, since the Lilly spot doesn't start hopping until almost midnight, that the Jake spot might be the answer to the "where to play from 7 p.m. until after the horse cops ride by Lillys at 10 p.m." problem.
This time, it looked like he was pretty much broke, but had the pint bottle to trade sips off of for cigarettes.
I feel sorry for him, because he knows some cool blues songs and sings them well, but he is like a white elephant, or maybe a pink elephant or whatever the expression is; on that corner there.
I always downplay the amount of money that I make, and never flash any in front of them; but I always catch his girlfriend eying me when I emerge from Rouses Market holding a 3 dollar can of Modelo beer.
The gallery was still open at the Jake spot.
Inside was the guy who had told me about Jake passing away the same night that I had gotten the impulse to play on his spot.
He said that something was going to be done to memorialize Jake, and that he would notify me about it -a "second line" parade, he said.
I don't really know what a second line parade is; maybe I could die and find out....
I sat by the red door and wailed away and had about 8 singles thrown between my two circling plastic sharks (which have, for now, replaced the tiposaurus) and then, finally, after a harmonica/guitar solo on Shakedown Street, by The Grateful Dead, which pushed me to my limit (not much of a shove) I looked down to see that a 20 dollar bill had magically appeared amongst them.
I had played for about an hour and made 30 bucks.
It had crossed my mind, while I was playing that the curator may have thought it callous of me to have usurped Jakes spot before it had even cooled off from his body heat.
Then I would think that I was playing my heart out in Jakes memory.
Then, I would remember that Jake used to wait until the place closed before he started to play (after 7:30 p.m.) and think that I might be bothering the guy; and so went my imaginings as I wailed away...but I made 30 bucks...
Then, it was back to Rouses Market and past Mark and his girlfriend, who appeared to have about 3 or 4 dollars in their case.
I hid the Modelo in my pack before I came out of the store, ashamed of my opulence.
*Brian Hudson told me once that Dorise (of Tanya and Dorise) owns properties and rents rooms to people "by the day," and that Mark is one of those people.

Friday Afternoons Quick Rant

Jake played next to the red door (far left)

Thursday morning has been historically the point in the week when I "hit bottom" financially.
I can remember getting my first couple Hurricanes on credit from Sam at The Unique Boutique, as recently as a year ago, before going out and usually making at least enough to pay him back, buy a couple more and pocket about 7 or 8 bucks..
I have had about a month long streak of not waking up broke. Since acquiring the Indiana guitar; actually.
Thursday morning, I had $3.25, after making the minimum deposit of 35 cents into the-jar-which-will-never-be-touched.
I had slept rather fitfully, after having eaten glazed yams and corn with cold cuts of ham, sauteed in olive and sesame oils with garlic powder, salt, pepper etc.
I woke up at one point with an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, thinking about the 5 dollar chip which I had carried around for almost two weeks, which was now gone.
The 11 Black Matter
The "coincidence" which I blogged about yesterday was actually higher in

magnitude:
When Sue, the Colombian Lady and I went into the casino almost 2 years ago now, I had wanted to bet, but didn't because of the minimum of $25, and the number which came up that time was the same one which "jumped out at me" when I walked up and took my first close up look at a roulette wheel
"What are those green numbers and what do they mean?"
"Well, can I play the green zero?"
"There is a minimum bet of 25 dollars..."
A bit too rich for my blood at the time...
Then, the green zero came up.*
Then, being drunk, I said something like "I would have let it ride on black 11," before Sue and I walked off.
People scurried to place bets on black 11, apparently ready to suspend their judgment of a homeless looking drunk guy with a Colombian lady with a cat in a cat carrier in tow when it comes to "luck." I guess Lady Luck comes in different disguises...
We left before finding out if we had been good luck charms or not...
Then, after getting this 5 dollar chip 2 weeks ago, I had attempted to place it on black, but was rebuffed by the same 25 dollar minimum.
It came up black 11. I would have won.
Then, today, after finding a table where one could bet as little as 5 dollars, I placed the chip on black and it came up black 11 (again).
But, then I lost it to a black 6 after I bet it on red....as blogged about already.
11 Dollar Thursday Night
Thursday evening I tapped into the-jar-that-will-never-be-touched for about 13 bucks over the coarse of the night (I had thrown it in my backpack before coming out; seriously considering carrying only $3.25 on me, but deciding to borrow against the jar instead).
Something told me to play at the spot vacated by Jake (who was reportedly suffering from cancer, and who had not been seen there in weeks; after having been a fixture there for years).
I played at "Jakes spot" and was thrown about 8 or 9 dollars, an amount made more significant by the the fact that there were musicians to my left and my right, less than 100 feet away.
I was wailing on the harmonica and only did two songs: "Golden Slumbers," by The Beatles, and"Wild World," by Cat Stevens, both with extended harmonica solos.
I was taking advantage of the distance from Barnaby (with his aversion to the harmonica) to "let it rip."
After I finished and walked past the girl 100 feet away who plays a harp (a real harp, but a miniature one) said "Your harmonica sounded really good."
Regardless of what Barnaby say's, I feel like I can always make at least something with my harmonica playing.
I still owe the jar 17 bucks...it is Friday afternoon. It has been raining all day, with especially hard downpours early this morning which caused me to actually re-arrange the rocks under the drain spout because I was being splashed...heavy downpours.
I hope to play tonight and will probably start at the Jake spot.
I learned this morning that Jake died.
He died 3 days ago, on the night when I first felt compelled to play at his spot, as if it was calling to me with a red carpet rolled out.
I think I play as well there as anywhere, especially since I don't have residents (who have extended the courtesy of letting me jam in their neighborhood and who might have aversions to the harmonica) to worry about there. And, now the spirit of Jake is there for me. I was one of the few people whom he got along with, I think.....