So this thread is old enough that I hope youve either found your way onto greener pastures or have managed to mine out better gold than I did there. I did meet a few who had the highway hustle nailed and could probably put my entire busking career to shame just by flying a sign. But, I've been able to make a liveable amount of income as a fellow musician and traveler for the past 18 - 20 years, playing both stages and sidewalks to those who are gracious enough to spare their time and money and stop to have a listen. I have come to consider myself an overall survival-savant and can identify with a little bit of almost everything besides a violent thug who hurts people to earn a living. Im never hard pressed to conjure up the means for nearly any interest Ive ever set my intentions on... Shrimp Po-Boy in the French Quarter? Abracadabra. Hotel for a cpl nights when needed? Bet. Good company? You get the point. Things have naturally gravitated my way as long as I do a bit of alchemical sorcery while out searching for the resources. But... having said that, between 2018 & 2019 I found myself in SD, doing just what Id gone there to do, which is what Ive always done; I loosely develop an idea of a place Id like to go and after a brief period of sorting through whatever various forms of travel that will be needed to arrive at said destination, there Ill be... sitting, perched right on top of the turtles shell... with a birds-eye view, a beer, a cigarette and my guitar. Little, if any, is planned... Often times, not even the destination. That "trip", took around 2 weeks from the time I had what I would now describe as an unstable period in my reasoning due to overdosing and being resuscitated following 11 months of total sobriety, for me to arrive at the wall in Ocean Beach where I would spend many days and nights at or somewhere near to.
Prior to that I'd traveled alot, but for the most part the 5 years before then I'd remained settled. I started cracking up when I started getting high again (er, shooting dope) and there wasnt anyone anywhere who would grab hold of me to tell me to stop so I left, badly needing love that I wouldn't find anywhere but inside myself. The travel could give me a chance to reestablish that within myself. It sounds like a cliche but the travel community always has been hugely supportive, enabling me to establish an anchor within myself when it seemed on the outside like I was being blown about, each and every way. I guess thats what attracts some of us here to STP.. Having the ability to interact exclusively with nomadic, wandering individuals who are all in some way seeking to remain connected to or gain a better connection with our true selves. And thats the extent of the philosophy that I'll spout off here.. but through life traveling I've seen a lot and the culture in Southern California is unlike anywhere else. Its for that reason that its special. There is much for a guy like me to love about a place where 50 year olds still skate to work in the morning or get out of bed early bc the surf is up and its gnar af. Im 38 years in and its where some of my childhood heros like Mike Ness come from (given, they're different parts of SoCal) so Ill just say that its an odd thing Id never gone before that year.
If I were listing important things to know it would be that Southern California or... the major population in the geographic location of SD, primarily have money... lots of it. And whats the most common thing about people with LOTS of money?? Greed. As well as an over-emphasized, obvious contempt for those among us who dont have our own share of money large enough to stuff their California King-Sized matresses with. If you also lack an interest in competing among the rat race of nameless, faceless suits for who among them has the biggest house, the newest car, the best job, or the hottest wife then you can guarantee that if youre getting noticed at all, they'll be looking down their noses at the things you do have, assuming youve stolen them if they have any monetary value. Which brings me to my next point.. the cats with little talent for much in the way of an actual craft are usually very talented theives... They are fast and they're good, so peep your gear and when you fall asleep, sleep on it. Thats nothing new to any traveling musician who owns an instrument but as Im sure youre now aware, thats not your usual, hungry, just trying to eat, street cats there in SD.
I realize Im only expressing my own experience as it was while I was there but I wasnt "there" for a week or 2, checking out attractions; I stayed from the Fall in Oct on through the majority of the Winter, leaving at the end of Feb. It was an immensly difficult area to gain my usual traction in. Ive since regained the reciprocated give and take Im used to and quite comfortable with. Im not a grumbling type by any means and I dont bitch about the things that some who live outside commonly bitch about. In the past, when I have said that Im hungry and really meant it (not just to spange someone or flying a sign) I mean I havent eaten for DAYS. Whining gives you cancer. But after I understood what at first just appeared to be a dry-spell, I realized I was in a place that wouldnt provide for my needs according to my efforts.
While Im here Im gonna go a little off the rails to include among my list of what could simply be categorized as personal grievances, that while living there I also got set-up by undercover San Diego Police Dept to purchace alcohol for minors under the legal drinking age. Now I did the same shit they were pretending to be doing when I was underage... just stand beside the liqour store and ask people that seem cool enough to do it. As an adult, Ill absolutely do that for minors (albeit, selectively) because in a way, it feels like Im assisting with keeping the wheels of time in motion. All the contributions that were made for us to have a good time, still too young to walk in and buy our own case of 40 oz Colts, the torch continues to be carried. I know I got off subject but it feels necessary to also clarify that Im not a creep out finding minors somewhere to give booze to. In my own way, I give the youth hell. The same way that we all caught hell, growing up and fucking up. I try to enlighten them and tell them what a sad hope for the future they're turning out to be, how disappointed me and their mama were to find out theyd be no better than their old man. And these fuvking piss-ant bastards WERE working with the cops! They just happened to find someone who gave a sympathetic ear to their supposed and bogus-as-fuck cause. It was truly, just a pathetic, scumbag way to criminalize an otherwise, peaceful and harmless person who, had those young-looking dudes not asked me to buy them booze, Id have gone on my way with mine and drank with my friends at the wall, never to be heard from again. Coupling that with my introduction into being "Gang-Stalked" (i may tell that story in a thread of its own) , I'd had enough. The weather and the surf is the only positive thing Im inclined to say about San Diego but that comes strictly from a man who's perspective is shrouded by the ideals of (South-Eastern) Southern hospitality and one who makes his way on the generosity and listening interests of others. Im sure if I fit the criteria for material wealth, I'd have kids with a handful of women there by now 😏 I met some people that had I not, I would have left town sooner than I eventually did. I wasnt entirely unfortunate. If you dont have a reoccurring problem with substance abuse, thats also a major swing in your favor. I cant forget to make mention of that very well known fact... drugs... they're everywhere, not just SD. But comparatively, I have never been anywhere with the same purity for such ridiculously low prices. When its common for every dopehead who lives on the street to have a ¼ oz of dope in their pocket but not a dollar to their name, its an actual influx in the dope trade.
I sincerely hope you have been more fortunate than I was in your travels along the extremely SW side of this US island and that youre cup stays forever full. Cheers to ya pal.
RxRiver Fowl
