Minstrelite
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Cumberland Gap
There was a time when things at the house where I was staying were going so badly and my weird pseudo-intellectual housemates were laying such a strange trip on me, that one night I came up to my room and turned on the computer and went to DiaryLand and as soon as I saw all the wonderful creative usernames lit up on the right hand side of the homepage, I somehow felt warm inside.
Now it's not quite like that, but I'm surprising myself by being glad to be back.
Back? Did I say "back?"
That was somewhat presumptuous. Like as not, I'm not coming back. I never do. But then again, I never stay away, either. So what do I do?
Well, for today -- I suppose I can say that the gig went all right. The piano -- shit man. It's a damn Yamaha console. The big one - best, most durable non-grand I've ever played. Prototype. First piano I ever accompanied a show on - it was Man of La Mancha, and I'd date myself to tell you when.
Weird that my favorite piano of all time would be sitting in a church that hired me, not knowing. Weird about the church, the denomination, me being homeless, them hiring me - weird weird weird weird wonderful!
This could be great!
But weird -- she asked me about my clothes, like where's the rest of your clothes?
"Uh...er...there *aren't* any other clothes..."
But she was non-plussed. She just said to send her an email with all my sizes. I guess I'll also include in the email that I only wear blacks, greys, and purple undershirts.
I wonder if that will lead to a 'beggars can't be choosers' dynamic. Funny how people expect homeless people to shut up and take what's given them. When I turn down food, people think I'm arrogant, but what am I supposed to change my lifelong tastes and habits just because I landed on the streets? Isn't the fact that I live on the streets enough for these people?
But there's no communicating, or is there?
She said something really interesting in the sermon, which was down around 1 Cor 8. (By the way, I did open my mouth and say something stupid at the Bible Study. After that I decided to be 'quick to hear and slow to speak' except for that I had to say one more thing halfway smarter toward the end of the study just to redeem myself. Now I'm satiated, and I can stay quiet from now on.)
Anyway, it's all good, I got the job, just not the paycheck. I told her I had a spending problem. I guess I'm still demoralized. Not to mention, ther goes that motel room -- I almost asked for another night, for more money -- but I felt too guilty, and I couldn't bring myself.
When she asked me where I was going to sleep tonight, I was in my head like, well, where do I usually sleep? Does it matter?
I didn't tell her, just out of habit. Homeless people, at least in this community, in the "CWIB," never tell anyone where they sleep. They/we don't trust anyone with the information.
Here -- I'll tell you this much -- not that you're going to learn where I sleep. I only own one thing of particular value, and I'm writin' on it. It's a Dell Inspiron.
Where does it go at night?
Under my head.
Where else? Yes - I sleep on my laptop. My laptop is my pillow -- and I sleep outdoors.
Now how crazy is that? I keep it in a backpack, of course, but it isn't as if the entire CWIB doesn't *know* that Minstrelite owns a laptop, carries it with him at all times (along with everything else he owns, which is damn near nothing) and uses it as a pillow wherever he sleeps at night.
The only reason I still have it is because nobody knows where I sleep. I'm surprised somebody hasn't followed me over there.
Well! Looks like I've got the floor now, don't I? If I didn't, you wouldn't be this far down the page now, would you?
D-Land news/blues, you snooze, you lose: (1) one Guy wrote to me, didn't leave a note, but sent a personal email. It was nice to have heard from him, and I wrote back. (2) Seems to me a few people were mad at me when I left last time. Three to be exact. One of them forgave me without saying so and things went back to normal soon enough.
The other two -- you care about me and I care about you. Let's keep it that way -- seriously life works better with a thicker skin. I'll thicken mine, you thicken yours, let's not take things too seriously, it'll all be over soon enough, believe me.
But -- I'm sorry I snapped and all that. I'm better now - of course I always say that.
Still --
Look at it this way. Drugs'll do it to ya.
Hey - the Ambassadors are here and I gotta hit it. I may-or-may-not come back. Here is the url to my private blog:
http://truth2seek.wordpress.com
You have to request a permission, after which you will receive it. (Yes, you.)
My most recent music is uploaded to this link here:
http://www.box.com/s/yi8c4o3oz4pudnt57xdv
That'll lead you to an 8:18 medley of four semi-songs put together -- none of the songs really finishes itself, now that I think about it, but I tacked on a movie-soundtrack-type ending when I was getting down to the wire, you know, in my undying effort to legitimize myself in the eyes of -- of -- of -- whoever makes the calls, idk. Fred Flintstone, maybe.
Oh yeah -- here's my political philosophy as it was best expressed as of last month sometime --
http://www.box.com/s/sfv9tmqh1u5xuzdanq2e
Almost unintelligble, I know. But I managed to stretch it out over 13 single spaced pages, and it took two long sessions.
Not just political. Spiritual.
I was under some bizarre form of inspiration at the time, and I loved it. This one lady -- she's so great -- she just lit my Muse on fire.
She drank that night -- port, I believe. Last time I had some I puked my guts out, but whatever floats your boat.
She kept making the nice comments on my WordPress while I was barreling it all out. And it kept me going.
Behind every great man there's a woman.
Oh by the way in case you haven't caught on yet I'm a "great man" - hardy har.
I'll be back again later, I just can't stay any longer, Melinda.
1:21 pm - Sunday, Jan. 29, 2012
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