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Pettifogging
It was fitting that I woke up with a Tom Petty song in my head this morning, after last night.
Yesterday, I left the library with less than 2 bucks on me.
I remembered having shoved a dollar inside the body of my guitar; along with an extra pick.
I retrieved it and then headed towards The Unique Store, where I bought a Hurricane Lager and told Sam "This is my last dollar," as I showed him the second one.
I was hinting at the possibility of my returning to get a future beer on credit. "...if I don't make at least a dollar tonight.."
"It's OK, you are a good man; you will make (money) tonight," he said.
I took my normal route, behind the Monteleone to pick their ashtray and to drink the first Hurricane.
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| "You Never Pay Me Last Time..." |
Then, I ran into the guy with the loud voice who plays a Fender guitar through a Micro Cube amp.
He was in bragging mode again and was quick to pull out a wad of bills and claim that he had made $145 in the 3 hours that he had been playing.
"You should get and amp," he told me.
He was playing "Turn The Page," by Bob Seger the second time I came by.
He got to a spot in the song where he always (he must do that song at least 5 times a day) plays the wrong chord.
"Try a G Major, right there" I said, thinking that he would strike the chord and instantly realize that it was the missing link.
He didn't strike the chord but rather looked at me icily and said something to the effect of: "I make 145 bucks in 3 hours...I don't need to play a G Major chord..."
"Yeah, well, how many of those fives might be tens if you had the right chord at the crucial spot in the song; Seger used that chord for a reason; it stands out..."
Then, I volunteered to run up Canal Street to get him some herb, and only wanted a dollar for my troubles.
I wound up being "blessed" by the guy, who basically told me to hold out my hand, in which he placed about twice the normal amount for 5 dollars.
I wrapped it in a napkin and decided; as I walked back to the loud guy not to "pinch" any out of it; just for the general principle of being honest.
The Jamaicans on Canal have gotten to know me pretty well, the past 2 years, and the handfuls have gotten bigger and I know that the loud guy is used to getting about half of what I gave him.
I guess I wanted to impress him with how good a connection I have; the same way he likes to pull out his wad of money in front of me all the time.
He didn't want to share any with me.
"I already gave you a dollar for getting it," said the loud guy, who makes "a thousand dollars a week" playing, if he is to be believed.
*A word which I learned from the Lidgleys of London and which reminded me of them, just as I was about to get a second reminder....
2 Pounds
Then, a skeezer ambled by and stopped a bit down the sidewalk to pick something up off the ground.
"You don't want that, its one of those chink-chink coins; I just threw it out of my case," said the loud guy.
The loud guy throws any pennies that he gets in his case, out of his case. "They're bad luck to have in your case; I just chuck them!"
The skeezer just chucked the thing, which I then picked up and found to be a 2 Pound British coin.
I remembered from reading Charles Dickens that (at least in the 1800's) a pound was a considerable amount and someone who made 10,000 per annum was a rich man.
I asked around about it and one of the pedi-cab drivers Googled it and returned the information that the loud guy had chucked a $2.80 coin out of his case. Chink-chink.
Then, I went to Bourbon Street, where I encountered Lillian who encouraged me to sit on her step, rather than aside it; and where I sat and made good progress on the key of F harmonica, by employing my capo.
"Aiko Aiko" came out rather well
Lillian brought out a piece of chicken and a 24 oz Budweiser at one point, and a splendid time was had by all; although I only made a handful of ones to go in the pocket with my 2 pound coin.
Just like being President means you don't have to eat your broccoli, if a guy makes that kind of money, he doesn't have to play a G chord in that place.
ReplyDeleteI think wherever you are going, you've arrived. Think about it. In NOLA you can drink on the street, you have an endless supply of cig butts, leftovers, unfinished drinks, etc. You don't need a place to live, really, as there seem to be plenty of hidey-holes to sleep in. The place by the train tracks where you were watching trains may work out well, anything that puts a bit of distance between you and the skeezers. You've got food stamps, all kinds of homeless services so you help the "poverty pimps" (to whom the more homeless people, the more grants etc for them) stay employed.
In India there are whole classes of people who live like you do. They make music often, but a lot of them just look picturesque and live on handouts. Over there it's considered a good deed to give food, money etc to them.
Hurricanes are kind of repulsive at any temperature. Maybe frozen solid ... a Hurricanesicle. Nah that would still be horrible. They get the job done though.