It is the worst of times. An alcoholic musician with no home and no money. I’m broke basically. Well what I mean is I am waiting for the opportunity of a living.
In the best of times I would have as much as two people’s sympathy as they desperately search their warm coat pockets for a few old, copper pennies, determined not to stop as they pay me my daily allowance. Unfortunately in the worst of times my inventory would have consisted of my broken guitar and a few stolen rolls from the coffee shop across the road. My guitar may be broken but it still retains as much character as the axe Keith Richards threw up on in the 70’s.
Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself hi, I’m the bum on the corner of 52nd street Manhattan and if you went to school you would know that manhattans is in America, the central of the world entertainment industry. How ironic as my big flaw is the music industry can’t accept such talent I could hold, you would never guess that a 27 year old homeless man that hasn’t showered in three years could be such a catch but I’ve been told that when I play my four stringed guitar it’s so powerful my music dances its way into your heart and stays for what seems like an eternity.
I would not wish to bore you with my past but my future doesn’t not seem as entertaining.
this is it so far and i dont know whether its good or not or where to go from here could i have some feedback? thank you
