Rousted

I was rousted for the first time today...well, actually, 'roust' may be too strong a word. Some guys drove up on this little green golf cart thing with a 'City of Santa Monica' logo on it and asked
"Are you one of our permit holders?"
as if they were performing for me a valuable and generous service.
I said "Uh, no..."
They said that they were supposed to ask me to leave, but they would let me stay for the day and advised me to get a permit. They were fairly helpful, in fact--I was under the impression that permits were $25 for one week, but actually it was $25 for the whole year, with $10 yearly renewal. So I said "Oh, uhhhh....thank you..." and they drove off.
I should get one, I suppose. Some part of me still resents it, but I'm not in the same place I was when I started this blog in November. I thought of busking as a last resort, an occupation for failures who have fallen off the grid, and I thought it was unfair that even a last resort was subject to red tape. Now I realize it's just another job, albeit one you don't have to do on rainy days. As long as I keep my mental health and don't have a monkey on my back, jobs are jobs.
So, maybe 'Adventures in Desperation' isn't a very accurate title, but it has a better ring to it than 'Adventures in Mild Unease.'
Oh, and I only made five bucks today...Make that three bucks. I bought a coffee before I set up on the strip. But I sketched this guy-