I did really well yesterday in the finding-money-on-the-ground-front. First I was walking across the Skidmore bridge, staring at whatever was passing me on the ground, and I spotted, all shiny except for two splotches of maybe gum, a dime. I picked it up right as this bicyclist was passing by, and so I looked up and expected her to be smiling with me and my good fortune. I was ready to hold the dime out to display to her, so we could say Yeah! together. But she barely even looked at me. Then, much later on, though still riding the buzz of that find, I was sipping an I. Pelican A. at Crowbar and while I was looking down to check my right hip for irregularities I spotted a nickel. I picked it up! It was a Lewis and Clark nickel. 15 cents in a day – not bad.
Also to mention, a few days before yesterday, on First Thursday, I walked into a downtown gallery and found a $20 bill on the ground. And just before that I spent some time observing an artist outside who had painted a bunch of eggs black and then placed them on the ground, on stands, in a spiral. People were stepping on them. And cops were ordering him to move them closer to the curb. He did. He was drunk. And then a car parked about five inches from the curb in front of the eggs, and the guy getting out the car almost crushed more eggs (at this point, three were crushed and oozing, and a few others had been knocked over). The artist cursed at him to be careful of his valued and regarded art. The man from the car basically told him to shut up, and he also put his thumb to his nose and then wiggled his extended fingers. I tried to tell the artist that his piece looked better with a few crushed eggs, and that this was a dynamic installation that should very well evolve with its surroundings. He wasn’t processing my input. So I went inside and found $20. And then I gave it to the front desk. Both women behind the desk were confused and/or in awe and/or thinking I was an idiot. They told me that maybe I should just plop it in the tip jar. But I didn’t. I just left it on the top of the front desk. Then I went to get some free wine. And guess what? The wine wasn’t free. This gallery was charging $4 a plastic cup. I didn’t have any money. So I looked at Robert Rauschenberg’s son’s photos. One was okay.