Blues at the Farmers' Market

When I find myself in times of unemployment, I make a promise to myself to do all the things I never have the time for when I'm employed. This:

a. keeps me from complete anxiety paralysis worried about how the hell I'm going to buy food and rent
b. avoids the eventual self-loathing that will happen when I'm working again and still have to muddle through the clutter in my spare room or look at the damage still on the walls from my last roommate.

It also fills the soul.

I do fail at this promise to myself, however...I know I know...shocker.

oooo the blues singer wearing the dirty White Sox cap is singing a song I loved when I was a kid - "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out" yes. I was a strange kid. Not many friends. Just me, my mom's long pink scarf, and the albums in my mom & sister's rooms. Barbara Streisand sings this on her "My Name is Barbara....Two" album. I used to lip-synch and dance/perform the entire album in our living room as if I were performing for my live telecast special. "Nobody Knows You...." is belted in a grovelly bluesy manner unlike the rest of the tracks...then segues back into 2nd Hand Rose in a rousing conclusion to one of the best albums EVER.

ok back to failure and the universe taking care of us despite ourselves. I spent the past 2 days locked in my apartment not accomplishing much more than self-pity and high anxiety. I stared at my computer hitting refresh on FaceBook for about 4 hours I believe. Today Time Warner Cable is having troubles so I was forced out into the world. I have to fill out my unemployment form and all my job apps are online in my email history. I had to get to the Farmers' Market to discuss my temple CSA with the farmer as he's impossible to reach via phone or email. So life (or Time Warner & Sinai Temple) forced me out for a couple hours.

The farmer didn't come down with his crew today, but I have my laptop and Santa Monica offers free Wi-Fi if you're downtown. So I sit here listening to a brilliant blues artist camped out on the promenade next to the farmers' market. Toddlers barely able to stand are wiggling and bouncing to his sliding guitar strings and emotional southern vocals. The air is lightly puffing through my hair cooling the temp from the hot sun to make this office a perfect temperature. As I focus on my self-indulgent storytelling the singer's performance is mixed with footsteps and random snippets of lunchtime conversations. Pigeons make a stop by me now and then to grab a quick bite before continuing their food search.

It's appalling Jessican Simpson and Britney Spears are millionaires while this brilliant musician is making pennies playing for pigeons. Then again they do Pop and he does Blues so it's all fitting, no?

oo! the Chabad has arrived bringing Mitvah's on Wheels and is now wrapping tefillin on the croc kiosk workers' arms.

A young dad wearing camouflage and dreadlocks helps his daughter travel the promenade without stepping on cracks.

As much as the air and sun and footsteps and birds and babies and blues are lifting my spirits, I still have responsibilities. yes, it's true. Even the unemployed slackers of this world have commitments by golly. Time to get back home to take the girls on a walk thanking them for letting me play for a couple hours.