Amp Energy

• 210 Dollar Saturday
• 28 Dollar Saints Game
• Amplifier Search Begins

When we last left Daniel, he had had a falling out with Leslie, in the sense that he left that mans apartment and went to sleep under the dock.
This departure took place at 3:30 a.m.

8 good solid hours of sleep were all his, with the waves of the Mississippi River breaking upon the rocks as my lullaby; instead of Leslie talking and/or Leslie talking over classical music from his radio -music which is compelling enough that it is entirely possible to tune into it and "not even hear" Leslie at all. Of course, he's getting to you subliminally; but that just comes with the territory.
I slept well, and then, the next day, I found him and apologized, using the excuse that too much Hurricane Lager turns me mean and ornery and vicious.
I told him about my state of mind that morning when I awoke under the dock with 11 cents in my pocket, no cigarettes; food card turned off by the state, so no energy drink; and how I had endured a whole day in destitution; and how seeing the first tip of 5 dollars go into the case; I kind of wanted to see it sit there for a while so I could bask in the feeling of not being broke; but that I allowed him his share of it so that he could run to get only his second beer of the day; but then I became angry when I realized that he had been watching the clock and sweating the closing of the beer store and playing the harmonica at the same time and that we had sounded pretty crappy through that whole stretch and that I was having a flashback to a guy I knew in Mobile, Alabama who sat next to me one night while I played and ejaculated: "There's another beer!!" every time I got a dollar tip; and how the whole of the situation added up to me leaving his apartment at 3:30 a.m. pretty angrily.
He understood, and was his usual happy self.

Weekend Update
The weekend brought lots of Dallas Cowboys fans into town and Leslie and I played at the Lilly Spot, after having staked claim to it in the late afternoons.

Friday and Saturday were similar, with the difference being that on Saturday night, I made 210 dollars.
Each day, Leslie and I went to Uniques to get beer or, in my case brandy; and then to see a certain Jamaican who sells tobacco products; and each day Leslie loaded up his cargo pants with several Hurricane Lagers; and each day he was unable to continue playing the harmonica by 8 p.m.
We made 20 dollars in our first 20 minutes on Friday, but the money tapered off in a way with was inversely proportional to the sloppiness and falling off of the beat which beset Leslie (especially when he was playing his bongos) and which had become a debilitating problem by about 8 p.m on Friday, and by about 7 p.m. on Saturday.
Each night he retired, at those times, to his apartment, which is a block and a half up Bourbon Street; and was there to answer the bell when I rang it 6 or 7 hours later, after having made pretty decent money Friday night, and 210 dollars on Saturday night.
A white van stopped in front of me right about when I was playing a pretty good harp solo and, since I didn't have my glasses on, I could just distinguish that the person, whom I couldn't recognize was holding out a bill.
One of the people who had been listening to me (I had attracted an audience which varied in number from between 4 and 7) people actually did me the favor of taking the 100 dollar bill from the guy and couriering it over to me.
I Will Not Have To Touch My Nest Egg
I stashed that in my pack, along with 6 dollars out of my case and then went back to focusing upon music, and was able to play some pretty satisfying (to me, at least) stuff on the harmonicas.
I had the comfort of the 100 dollar bill in my pack and I think I was able to play in a more liberated style by certain measure.

Skeezers! Drop what you are doing and come directly to NOLA!!

This is just one trash can; they are all over the place!!

The Leslie Factor
There is also something about jamming with Leslie that has changed my approach to music and raised my standards; sort of as if I was hanging out with Charles Dickens, and thus felt not hesitant to use any word which popped into my head, or to wax poetic etc...even when he isn't with me.
It wasn't until Lilly and her daughter, Angelique stirred me from my musical reverie by surprising me by walking up from the opposite direction of which they have always walked up in the past, with Lilly announcing: "Wow, Daniel, you're doing good!" that I turned my head to see that my case was indeed brimming with bills.
I had seen quite a few people throw something out of the corner of my eye as I played, but didn't know that it must have been hand-fulls at a time; along with a few fives and tens and twenties...
"Oh, I need to stash most of this!" I said, as I stuffed most of it in my pack.
There was a bill which had missed the case and was on the ground at Angeliques feet; and that usually shy and evasive girl handed it to me.
After splurging upon a pack of American Spirit cigarettes and a morning energy drink, I went to Leslies, where I counted exactly 200 dollars (to the cent) and went to sleep.
Sunday, my goal was simple: to play outside the dome at the Saints game.
It was not so simple to get Leslie there with me.
The odds upon him being by my side were dismally slim; and had started out so when he returned to the house early in the morning holding several Hurricane Lagers as his breakfast.
He was a wreck by sundown when I made my way to the stadium.
I made 28 dollars; all ones; and think I could have made more had I set up the tiposaurus and my clever signs and trinkets. There is always next weekend...
Amp Energy
Now, I search for an amplifier that I might snag for about 120 bucks...