THE LONG SIDEWALK GOOD BYE - Poem Noir.

Just above my spot on the sidewalk, held up in another run down hotel room, my past was jabbing at me again....as it had everyday since she left.

"I miss my wife, I miss my wife," would spew from my mouth uncontrolably every now and again and at least once a day....for 7 years.

mental scar hiccups

nagging shame.

but not as bad as it used to be. shortly after she left state and took the kids, i would wander around New Orleans with outbursts of frequent screams and sobbing.

i couldn´t leave the city because anywhere else the police would have taken me away.

the fifth of wiskey a day did little back then. so at nite after the fifth i´d go out drinking.

even travelers have a home, for me it´s cheap hotels that let you smoke.

it´s a never ending search for a spot on the sidewalk and a hotel that´ll let you smoke.

sometimes days and nites sleeping on buses and trains searching.

sometimes a good spot but no cheap hotel.

sometimes cheap hotels, but they wont let you work the spot. so back on the bus to another city so i can sleep on the bus.

it´s a gamble.

in the winter a thick tuff suit jacket and fedora, cargo pants and slip on sneakers....not white ever.

in the summer cargo capris, sandal flip flops and a vest i make out of a suit jacket. after the winter the fedora has usually thinned out enough for the summer heat.

i buy as i go, i don´t lug. one bag is all i need. holds my rig and personals.

working outta the pockets, slight of hand is the gimmick for the quick ten minute show, for the curious or those with time to kill, ten fifteen minutes then the hat is passed. usually the first show is just less then the price of a room.

4 or 5 shows could get me through the day. but if i can, i work all day to forget my problems.

in the states i would prefer to live outta my van. driving hundreds of miles, from pitch to pitch.

truck stops with cheap private showers in the morning and cup of tea.

i come from a long line of sidewalk shifty eyed losers. when i´m in a crowd, i´m the one who looks like trouble from your grandpa´s past....maybe your great grandpa´s, maybe worse.

i remember when i was younger, lookin at old guys like that downtown and thinkin, "that`s what i´ll be"...well here i am.

for us it´s hard now, private property regulations, and less foot traffic in the states....and the spots in europe are closing up.

cops, shops, and bad guys are the set backs to the job.

cops and shops wanna shut you down and the bad guys are looking to take what they saw you make.

so on my back i stare at the cheap neon lite on the ceiling of my room.

it´s lonely, but it´s less trouble then a woman..
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THE GYPSY - a song.

..summer will rise and soon you'll be gone

another gypsy on the run

as far from here as you can go

nowheres home, the road is your show

the drift of your smoke into my lungs

your tea cup's half empty and poisoned with drugs

this siren's call begs you to stay

for one more good bye and moonlit serenade

"The Gypsy" is a song that was written about Jimmy Talksalot

by Katso
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YOUR LIFES WORK MUST BE SACRED - Artical.

your lifes work must be sacred.

As a sidewalk performer I gotta code I live by and even though I fall short in so much of my life I try very hard to stick to this code.

below is an excerpt of an article i found on the internet i'm a huge fan of Dashiel Hammit the writer of the "Maltese Falcon"

This is a picture of humphrey bogart he played sam spade in the movie version.

HERE'S THE ARTICAL-


This code of behavior — which harks back to the credo of the post-World War I Hemingway code hero — would become part of the standard equipment of later hard-boiled detectives in film. But while later detectives such as Philip Marlowe were capable of feeling compassion and a certain amount of empathy for other human beings, it is Sam Spade's personal code alone that makes him a hero and is, in the end, the source of his redemption.

Indeed, the negative aspects of Spade's character make his ultimate sacrifice all the more affecting — despite his cynicism and his somewhat cruel nature, despite his negative feelings toward Archer, and despite his love for Brigid, he is determined to see that Brigid pays the price for murdering his partner, because his personal code demands it.

"When a man's partner is killed, he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it. And it happens we're in the detective business. Well, when one of your organization gets killed it's bad business to let the killer get away with it. Bad all around. Bad for every detective, everywhere."

It should be noted that factors originating outside of the film itself also contributed to the effectiveness of Bogart's portrayal of Spade and the audience's appreciation of Spade's ambiguity as a hero. At this point in his career, Bogart had yet to play a genuine hero.

He had been a star of the second tier for years, but he was best known for his portrayals of cold- blooded killers and gangsters, often being gunned down in the last reel by the star, such as James Cagney or Edward G. Robinson.
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i can't post the final scene of the movie here, but you can go to it and watch it.

it has to be the most moving scene i have ever scene in film and fully illustrates the point of the artical....it's really incredable.

here's the link;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npsYzr5RcMU
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also i though you might like this little music video.
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Apiphaney Beeze knows - poem noir

Mean?

Apiphaney Beeze knows the truth, but is to scattered to vomit.

Apiphaney Beeze knows the amazon past love fest, but is to scattered to be loyal.

Apiphaney Beeze knows.
Apiphaney Beeze knows.

knows.

Her big lips and her one big breast, her mouth around filth.

Apiphaney Beeze knows but she's too scattered to bee.

She knows and keeps it from her lover. her legs, her operation, her judge, her two children, her woman, her hairy man to match her bottom.

Apiphaney Beeze knows, but her sister don't know, and her friends don't know, but the priest who did her wrong knows.

But the priest is no longer in the court and what good is her bad priest without a death row victim to prey on or over?

And what hope for a victim?......Well Apiphaney Beeze knows.

She knows.
She knows.............she knows!
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My Orphanage

Dave | MySpace Video


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And the old man still speaks, poem noir.

With all the city screaming, in the dark.

Buried away in the ghetto

A drab hotel room.

It was dim and muffled, with stale smoke.

The old man sat hunched up in the chair, at the old desk.

Banging on the keys, writing.

Crammed into a dirty corner.

Dirty from the years of people use.

The room had yellowed windows from decades of cigarettes, it was why he chose the room.

Smoke, vomit, whiskey, grey hair, groaning and complaining...

Banging on the keys, reporting well, all he knew.

And every time he signed it; "And the old man still speaks"

It was a deal he had made with Gad.

He was hiding like an old man, with small creature comfort and silence….and they were looking for him.

He figured when they found him that would fix his retirement.

There were books piled up by the cot with titles like "The Great Initiates" and "Thus Spake… this or that."

It was a deal he made with Gad.

Seaport Village Magician

JIMMY TALKSALOT

Seaport Village Magician

JIMMY TALKSALOT - SAN DIEGO BAY

Here I am Goofin with the people on the board walk of seaport village.

SEAPORT VILLAGE MAGICAN

JIMMY TALKSALOT IN SEAPORT VILLAGE

well here i am street performing in san diego, it's a small sidewalk show. seaportvillage and balboa park has lead the way for busking in san diego.

JIMMY TALKSALOT SAN DIEGO

here i am in san diego at seaport village a quaint little village shopping center by the bay.