 |
| Your Art Walk Correspondent |
The Art Walk took place last night. I was in town before sundown, and sat in Cathedral Park for a while, untill I heard the strains of a female vocalist on an acoustic guitar who seemed to be playing simple chords.
I walked down to the Dauphin Store.
She was right across the street, and loud enough to be bleeding into my acoustically superior spot, which was a concern, but I went to check her out.
I listened to a couple of songs. Throughout the first song, her guitar was quite out of tune. She had adjusted her capo, and I think she had it a little uneven. She was probably only of about 17 or 18 years of age. Making sure that a capo is seated evenly is something that has to come with experience.
Feeling like a father figure, I approached her and complimented her on the song, and then asked her if she was in an "alternate tuning." That's a tuning which isn't "standard," like the way the guitar comes tuned from the factory.
This brought her attention to the strings, and her guitar's built in tuner.
She fixed her tuning and then did a much better rendition of a song. But not before some guy in a suit told me something like "Let her finish her set, then you can talk to her," and then added a snide remark like "Would that be alright with you?!!" uttered sarcastically.
"Would that be alright with you?"
I shot a glance at the girl who was playing. She shook her head as if to say "I didn't tell him to do that."
She played "I Want To Hold Your Hand," by the Beatles; and played it very slowly. That was pretty neat.
Then, as I was leaving to go try my acoustically superior spot, she sang something about walking away and playing guitar, and I wondered if she "freestyled" and was singing about me...
She was somewhat audible, and so was a DJ, who has been set up at a sushi place near my spot the past two Art Walks.
I played, had a glass of wine at the Investment Firm, which is also a stop on the Art Walk.
The place had on display some guy's photographs. They were alright. He seemed to be the one serving (translated: guarding) the wine. He graciously poured me about half a glass. He then poured another half glass and set it on the table, as if to communicate to me that everybody gets a half a glass, or at least that the next person to get a glass will.
His photographs were of "nature." One of them had a white bird, the kind with a very long, skinny neck almost like a snake, walking in a big field of some kind of tall grass. I didn't understand that one. The price tag on it was like 350 dollars, confusing me even more.Going Mobile?
 |
| "Why Don't You Try Mobile; there are a lot of cool people there." |
Somebody else asked me (It was Sherelle) if I am really thinking of "leaving" Mobile.
I guess, well, I actually am.
I would love to return at certain times of the year, like a migratory bird, maybe the kind with a long skinny neck.
Mobile has been the most excellent place, in at least one category, and that is the "has a lot of really cool people" category.
The Rainbow Child guy (above) whom I met in Jacksonville, when he was sitting in the shade under some palmettos and drinking from a gallon jug of vodka; that guy; he had told me that Mobile has "a lot of really cool people."
My Tribute To The People Of Mobile
I will now pay tribute to some of the cool people of mobile. These are in the chronological order in which I encounter them, during my day. If your name is near the end of the list, it doesn't mean that you're less cool, just that I run into you later in the day.
The first people that I usually see are the people at Save-A-Lot, as that is where I leave my bags, so that I can get into this here library. They are cool for letting me leave my stuff there, in an out of the way place where someone would be visible trying to steal it.
I think that was Amber's mastermind, but Jennifer had a hand in it.
Amber has ranked me as her favorite homeless person, and has been very helpful. She was ready to call some heavyweights in on 15 Place, after they refused me a membership, claiming that I wasn't making a sincere effort to get off the streets, as evidenced by the fact that I play street music till all hours of the morning. No soap for me.
Amber was going to call some important figure that she knows, who I can't mention, and heads were going to roll down at 15 Place if they didn't let me become a "member," be entitled to toiletries, mail, laundry services (one outfit per day) as well as medical services from the Catholic Social Service place.
I decided that I really didn't need 15 Place to help me get into Section 8 housing, and off the streets. Soap isn't prohibitively expensive if you can stand the scent of Ivory; and I don't have the patience to fake a neck injury to get narcotics out of the Catholic place.
Amber used to be homeless, I think. I was very happy for her when she got a vehicle on the road, after not having one for like a year or something.
Sometimes when I am out of cigarettes, she will give me one, refusing the 25 cents that I offer for it. She smokes Pall Mall regular flavor, which makes her that much cooler.
Sherrelle is cool and reads this blog sometimes. She was at the party that Dennis threw on Joe Cain Sunday. Dennis cooked some of the best food I have ever eaten, and Sherrelle mixed me a cranberry and vodka, which came out the color of pink zinfindel.
The Save-A-Lot people have been "the bomb." I even get to "throw water on my head" in the restroom before coming to the library.
They have recently put a heavy duty gate around their dumpster in back of the store (the dumpster that I call the "Save-Even-More"). It sits just high enough off the ground so that I can squeeze under it, like a snake, while more corpulent individuals can't get through. (They don't need to be in there, anyways, they need to be doing sit-ups.)
I think they intentionally designed the gate that way, taking the diameter of my rib cage into consideration, so that I could get through and get the perfectly unspoiled stuff that sometimes gets thrown away. Not that I've been in there more than twice in the past month...
I just have to be careful not to eat too much while in there, so I don't get stuck inside.
Arielle, Mike, Julian and Todd, are all cool.
From there I come to the library. There aren't really the coolest people at the library. The library doubles as a Day Center For The Homeless, and the staff are a little bit standoff-ish.
Corey and Mike are about the only two homeless guys that I associate with at the library.
Corey is one of the few others that sleep in the graveyard. I think a lot of people have aversions to sleeping in graveyards, which is fine with us.
He has to clean up after a sloppy guy who has no such aversion and who leaves big messes around his grave.
 |
| Joelle, how she would look if she was homeless and slept on straw, and (right) in action onstage with tambourine. |
Corey is smart enough to know that the quickest way to get run out of an historic cemetary is to leave bags of half eaten Happy Meals around the tombs. He has a college education, like myself. I guess the slob doesn't.
Mike used to sleep at the Christ Church spot, where I slept last summer. That was the church that layed straw down on the spot where we slept, around Christmas time.
Mike has an excellent sense of humor, keeps to himself pretty much, isn't a chronic beggar; and gets all my jokes. I used to see him at the Presbyterian church in the mornings, getting his hard boiled egg.
The Presbyterian church people are pretty cool. They cheerfully spoon out bread, grits, egg and coffee. I don't really have a lot of friends that go there. Most of them will stop talking to you altogether after you deny them a cigarette a few times...
Ben, the ambulance driver, along with Porsha and Bubba and Scott, the Captain of the station etc. have been really supportive. They see me walking past the station a lot.
Ben calls me "The Anti-Homeless Guy," because I'm "not like 99% of them." He was the first person in Mobile to pull up in an ambulance and ask me about my guitar and my music. I realise that very few people drive ambulances, but still...
He has visited me at my playing spot, shown me some stuff on the guitar, -he's an excellent player- and brought strings to me after I had broken them.
He's usually with his partner, Bubba.
Ben and I hung out once at a music bar, which I won't mention because he wasn't supposed to be there.
Porsha is another of the firemedics, a lot prettier than the others, by a long shot. She gave me a bag of clothes (which she assured me were "trendy"), a guitar case, a few bucks once, gave me her old glasses which were almost my prescription, told me where a good church was, and has been very helpful, as have the firemedics in general. The captain even gave me a writing tablet once.
A lot of times, I will be walking about and one of the ambulance drivers will see me and honk the horn, or get on the PA and tell me something like: "Leave the Earthquakes alone!!"
The Knightons have been very good friends. Jeff, the potter is a fellow artist and has offered to bring me to church when he and his family went. He has helped me out with numerous clothing items and whatever else he thought I might need. He is almost like a brother. He and his wife, Jennie have given me every opportunity to stay close to "the word" which, to them is like offering something better than food and clothing and the other things.
His family is awesome.
His daughter's are still close to him, even though they are teenagers and at an age where a lot of kids might think that it was "square" to hang out with dad. Jeff has appeared at Serda's open mic night, with each one of them. When I see Taylor on the street, she is always friendly and interested in talking about artistic things.
Erin, the middle daughter, was with us when we went to Dauphin Island to play frisbee.
Leigh, the youngest girl is one of the most artistic-minded people I've ever met. She writes poems and draws, and comes up with very clever plays upon words and also puns.
Jared, the young boy, is already making drawings that have impressed the likes of Mike Feeney (a guy I went to high school with, who is an artist now, by profession).
Hanging out with their family has been like a grounding experience. I know they are probably praying that I have a nice family some day, and of course a job and a home. My parents used to say "All we want for you is for you to have a life." That's a pretty broad wish.
Becca is of a race of angels who are on earth using their powers to help struggling street musicians.
She just turned 23 and is a youth minister, musician, songwriter and one of the first people to like the songs that I played at Serda's. She is very pretty and a living suggestion that life could possibly be better.
Mike used to sleep at the Christ Church spot, where I slept last summer. That was the church that layed straw down on the spot where we slept, around Christmas time.
Mike has an excellent sense of humor, keeps to himself pretty much, isn't a chronic beggar; and gets all my jokes. I used to see him at the Presbyterian church in the mornings, getting his hard boiled egg.
The Presbyterian church people are pretty cool. They cheerfully spoon out bread, grits, egg and coffee. I don't really have a lot of friends that go there. Most of them will stop talking to you altogether after you deny them a cigarette a few times...
Ben, the ambulance driver, along with Porsha and Bubba and Scott, the Captain of the station etc. have been really supportive. They see me walking past the station a lot.
Ben calls me "The Anti-Homeless Guy," because I'm "not like 99% of them." He was the first person in Mobile to pull up in an ambulance and ask me about my guitar and my music. I realise that very few people drive ambulances, but still...
He has visited me at my playing spot, shown me some stuff on the guitar, -he's an excellent player- and brought strings to me after I had broken them.
He's usually with his partner, Bubba.
Ben and I hung out once at a music bar, which I won't mention because he wasn't supposed to be there.
Porsha is another of the firemedics, a lot prettier than the others, by a long shot. She gave me a bag of clothes (which she assured me were "trendy"), a guitar case, a few bucks once, gave me her old glasses which were almost my prescription, told me where a good church was, and has been very helpful, as have the firemedics in general. The captain even gave me a writing tablet once.
A lot of times, I will be walking about and one of the ambulance drivers will see me and honk the horn, or get on the PA and tell me something like: "Leave the Earthquakes alone!!"
The Knightons have been very good friends. Jeff, the potter is a fellow artist and has offered to bring me to church when he and his family went. He has helped me out with numerous clothing items and whatever else he thought I might need. He is almost like a brother. He and his wife, Jennie have given me every opportunity to stay close to "the word" which, to them is like offering something better than food and clothing and the other things.
His family is awesome.
His daughter's are still close to him, even though they are teenagers and at an age where a lot of kids might think that it was "square" to hang out with dad. Jeff has appeared at Serda's open mic night, with each one of them. When I see Taylor on the street, she is always friendly and interested in talking about artistic things.
Erin, the middle daughter, was with us when we went to Dauphin Island to play frisbee.
Leigh, the youngest girl is one of the most artistic-minded people I've ever met. She writes poems and draws, and comes up with very clever plays upon words and also puns.
Jared, the young boy, is already making drawings that have impressed the likes of Mike Feeney (a guy I went to high school with, who is an artist now, by profession).
Hanging out with their family has been like a grounding experience. I know they are probably praying that I have a nice family some day, and of course a job and a home. My parents used to say "All we want for you is for you to have a life." That's a pretty broad wish.
Becca is of a race of angels who are on earth using their powers to help struggling street musicians.
She just turned 23 and is a youth minister, musician, songwriter and one of the first people to like the songs that I played at Serda's. She is very pretty and a living suggestion that life could possibly be better.
She has friends, like Hannah and Lauren, who may have come on the same starship.
I also need to add Corrie, who I danced with on an October night, while Clay Walket played in the parking lot across the street. Priceless.
Anyone whom I left out, well, you'll just have to be cooler; I can't do it for you.
The Rainbow Child guy was right. I also need to add Corrie, who I danced with on an October night, while Clay Walket played in the parking lot across the street. Priceless.
Anyone whom I left out, well, you'll just have to be cooler; I can't do it for you.
I would be remiss if I left out the fine group of local musicians, and one poet, Elizabeth Elliot.
 |
| Send Us Your Huddled Masses; Your Angels etc. |
They have been supportive, along with a lot of other musicians, whose names I don't know.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Only rude and disrespectful comments will be replied to rudely and disrespectfully. Personal attacks will be replied to in kind, with the goal of providing satisfaction to the attacker.