Despite the recent neighborhood tragedy, it was a beautiful summer evening. I grabbed my wallet, strapped my acoustic to my back, and headed for Bishop. Full shades and no eye contact; I was on a mission.

The first stop was the record store, where my son and I got to have some flip therapy. The find?

I’ll be an awesome guy and include the YouTube link so you may enjoy it as well.

The kid is still new to all of this – and life, to be honest – so he was unable to have his “Eureka!” moment. Also, the Pokémon shop closes its doors at a very non-nerd hour. Risking a third strike, he settled for the summer old-faithful; ice cream at sundown.

Feeling a bit relaxed, I broke out the guitar to add a bit more magic to the moment. Same as last time, this ancient Blues keyboard player attempted to chase me off.

“Get on down that street and plug in, guitar man,” he snapped. “I’ve already told you this spot’s mine.”

I was a complete block away. His partner glared at me above the rim of his gas station sunglasses – an elderly harp player – and patiently awaited this white boy’s response. I sure didn’t hesitate to give it. I didn’t even turn my head to offer him my full attention.

“Fuck off, Pepaw, I’m going home.”

He was speechless, but his partner doubled over with laughter. That was all I wanted to begin with; to clown that ass.

I’m not sure if it was the stroke that made me fearless, or if it was a decade of overnights in old cemeteries. Either way, no one chases me anymore. I wouldn’t run if they did.

On down the street I strolled with Hendrix in one hand and a Hummingbird on my back. If that dude was the blues man he pretended to be, he wouldn’t have let a cracker talk to him like that. Well, any cracker except the one who just took his ass back to the block.

I weep for what Oak Cliff’s become. Aren’t pistols and street musicians supposed to go hand in hand? Every moment spent playing for others is another I realize it’s a turn-off.

Happy Saturday, my lovelies. You should use that comment section below to tell me about your weekend. Aren’t we supposed to share?

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