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May 18, 2016
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A little taste of my new novel coming out next year from a publishing house that you have heard of. True tales from a crazy street, only for the faint of heart!

The day found me needing money so I dressed up and hit good old Ventura Blvd., guitar in hand. I parked at the coffee shop where I can do so for free and started walking without great hopes for any success. I started to think where the best place would be to set up shop. I knew I needed to find a place with a lot of foot traffic, that has been my best bet in the past. I fucking shred on guitar so I knew that in short order I knew that I would get a lot of attention, whether or not I would make any money was up in the air.

Maybe I didn’t look pathetic enough to inspire the pity required for anyone to actually reach into their pocket or purse and cough up some dough. Also, I was WAY too good of a guitar player to just be posted up begging for money, people might think this was some sort of an art project. People don’t usually reward that sort of activity with money. I certainly don’t.

If anything, I figured that I would see some cool stuff and I was rewarded to that effect almost as soon as I set up shop. There was an extremely old woman driving a car extremely slowly in the parking lot as she searched for a spot. As she approached me, a big flock of pigeons were in the road directly in front of her. Instead of just driving through the flock of pigeons and hope that they get out of the way, she made a complete stop and honked her horn several times so they would get out of the way. They did not. They remained there eating some bread a good Samaritan had left for them.

The Mexican standoff had begun! The birds weren’t moving and the old woman wouldn’t stop honking. This was hilarious to everyone but me, knowing that the horn and the humor would drown out any entertainment that I was planning on providing. I stood up and waived the old woman through very carefully so she could avoid the pigeons and I got to work.

It wasn’t long after that the dollars started flowing. My first dollar was made by a young man who was there when I set up and dug the music enough to throw in a buck. I was amazed. Another woman threw in 2 dollars and then a kind Armenian man gave me a crisp $5! I take back everything I ever said about those people. I didn’t stay long, maybe about 2 hours, but in that time I made $10 American! When you’re in an urban survival situation and you get ten bucks, that’s big. This may hold me until my meager disability payment arrives on Friday. And shit, maybe I’ll come back and post up later tonight when everyone is out on Ventura eating at the many first class restaurants and getting drunk, thus more likely to enjoy my vibe and give me a few more bucks. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be a star.

In all, it has been a pretty good day so far and I can see it getting better. Things ain’t so bad on this bulevard. I was pissed off yesterday, boy. Can you believe that shit? Stealing my last 35 buck? Well, guess what? I’m not gonna forget about that, one day when I’m a big, baller-ass player pimp I’m gonna make so much hell for Bank of America. Hell for days! Oh well. I’m gonna vote with my wallet and not keep any money there in the future for them to get their greedy hands on.

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