I played a bar in Iowa and was surprised to find the sexy fat woman managing it. Neither she nor I acknowledged the hallucinogens, sex, and abandonment in New Orleans.
She came into the dressing room before I went on, told me she felt sick and definitely there wouldn’t be anybody else coming to the show who wasn’t in the bar already and she was leaving so she had to pay me now and by the way she had to pay me in cash, okay?
It wasn’t big money, but the rubber-banded tens and twenties—bar cash—was bulky. She was gone by the time I realized that onstage my pockets would bulge absurdly with rolls of cash.