All I Can Stomach

Saint Happening
I am listening to Ringo Starr sing "Octopus's Garden." I can hear his shnozzola vibrating into the microphone.
Yesterday, was a pretty chaotic day.
It ended poorly. I fell asleep while listening to the Saints game on my cheap AM radio, on the steps of the Convention Center.
I had run into no less than 3 people, all of whom had offered me Earthquake, or beer, or Thunder bird wine. I finally used the excuse of listening to the game to escape one new acquaintance, who seemed to want to sit next to me while I played, and sing along loudly, and in a tone of voice which struck apprehention into would-be tippers.
I then dragged myself to the sleeping spot, even though I could have gone and played, and would probably have some money now. I was too groggy, having woken up during the post-game summary, and learning that the Saints had won. I was too tired to even want to ring the big bell around the front of the church.
Thomas was asleep on the same spot where he had slept last night. He either likes the spot, or was hoping to meet up with me there, or both.
One of the two guys who sleep there, the other one, was sleeping on the ledge below Thomas.
The first of the two guys who sleep there, no longer sleeps there, and the other of the two said that he had left town, after hearing of his mother's demise, somewhere else in the nation.
I took the third spot, which is going to be a good winter spot, and slept.
I woke up at 6:50 am. and Thomas and the other guy were already up and out.
Thomas must have gone to work. He has a job. He is pretty unique in that regard.
I now listen to Jeff Beck, as I prepare to make the best of this Friday, by going into town and playing as much as I can stomach, and hoping that the strings hold out, and that I make enough money, so that I can do whatever I want tomorrow.