At a simple, yet refined, dining room table meant for eight, with the taste of bitter coffee present, I exhale.
Morocco and Paris gifted me the ability to see more clearly what I am seeking. I learned that it is not tourism. I do not desire to travel to major sites and monuments along with thousands of other foreigners. I do want to live among the locals. Adjusting my own pace and habits to the vibrations and activities of the culture. I want to travel, but in a more pure way. The need to go has been in me for over a year now, to have a journey, to go into my own wild and meet my own alchemist. Being here, the need has never felt more present. Although I had already sensed this, after just a few days on the road I knew for sure that a "Eurotrip" would not satisfy my hungerthirst for a hero's journey on which my will is tested, faith proved stronger, and the secrets of the world are learned.
This feeling combined with a few other pieces. One, I love New York City, and when I flew away I felt a magnetic pull to return there, soon. (I felt similarly in December when I flew to LA, I had unfinished business and knew I must return. What this says about my long term desires to be somewhere, or where to call home, I do not know. I know that right now, my soul feels happy in the city.) Two, I have the opportunity right now to be making a ridiculous amount of money in NYC, that opens up more opportunities in the future, and also allows me to rid myself of some weight on my shoulders (debt). This aspect of the decision making lives more in the land of logic and reason, fear and earthly material desires. But I believe it affords me great freedom in the future.
A dear friend, and fellow wanderer, offered very solid advice, peculiarly attuned to my personality...to see myself in 30 years and ponder which story I wold rather tell...yes. brilliant advice. and though a piece of me feels I am backing away from some adventure, I also know the city to be its own adventure. And the "job" I am running back to is no 9-5 desk job at "the office."
Lastly, one of the most valuable lessons I learned with Two of my dearest friends in Morocco was this: It doesn't matter where I am in the world, if I am with dear ones I am always able to have a good time. My mom noticed this about me when I was younger. She told me that it seemed wherever I went, whatever new activity I might be trying, I was always able to make friends and enjoy where I was, even if the circumstances were less than stellar...She was right...I had forgotten this about myself...but I also recognize now the univeral truth of it. I can choose happiness anytime anyplace....
Thanks mom.
Love in the form of a beautiful cloudy Parisian sky reflecting off the wall of the old building across the street to you all...
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Thursday, April 2, 2009
That One Day...with all the hubub...
sinking into my mattress, gravity doing it's work on my eyelids, Time has again pulled a fast one on me. As soon as it actually set in that today is my birthday, I was immediately reminded of my birthday last year. A year? already? was it really 365 days ago that Coco and I sat in our philosophy class and he made a big scene for me? It is hard to believe that that beautiful sunny day full of introspection and questioning the actual celebration itself took place so long ago. many thoughts ago...a million plans ago...
this year with so much happening in my life and on the eve of such adventure, the expectation that normally comes with impending birthdays has diminished...though now i sit here with this feeling like when you are driving somewhere new and all of the sudden you think, "was I supposed to turn back there?"...execpt it is more like, "Is something supposed to be happening now?
YES. sure always.
and on that beautiful train ride home. it did happen...a musical duo, performing on eukaleli, kazoo, and accordion told jokes and performed with vigor to a mostly uninterested audience...i enjoyed their persistence, and that they didn't take themselves to seriously...I laughed out loud, and gave them a dollar to thank them for the birthday gift...
made the dollar back plus four more when I sold a condom to a curious young hipster from upstate NY...we dove into travel talk as I convinced her to buy a condom as a birthday present to me...she tried to make a deal, but I smiled big and just said no...her energy was, well now I'm dozing off trying to find a poetic way to describe her...a tough beauty, small but condfident...with a smile that said "hello, I want to know you..." with that smile, and a piece of paper with her name and the name of a bar, we went...
and now I rest for my big day...
love
this year with so much happening in my life and on the eve of such adventure, the expectation that normally comes with impending birthdays has diminished...though now i sit here with this feeling like when you are driving somewhere new and all of the sudden you think, "was I supposed to turn back there?"...execpt it is more like, "Is something supposed to be happening now?
YES. sure always.
and on that beautiful train ride home. it did happen...a musical duo, performing on eukaleli, kazoo, and accordion told jokes and performed with vigor to a mostly uninterested audience...i enjoyed their persistence, and that they didn't take themselves to seriously...I laughed out loud, and gave them a dollar to thank them for the birthday gift...
made the dollar back plus four more when I sold a condom to a curious young hipster from upstate NY...we dove into travel talk as I convinced her to buy a condom as a birthday present to me...she tried to make a deal, but I smiled big and just said no...her energy was, well now I'm dozing off trying to find a poetic way to describe her...a tough beauty, small but condfident...with a smile that said "hello, I want to know you..." with that smile, and a piece of paper with her name and the name of a bar, we went...
and now I rest for my big day...
love
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Storm Clears; or Beginner's Luck...
blurry eyed, I greeted the morning...tense, but determined...like a soldier preparing for an anticipated battle, with slightly lower consequences...I ran to the gym for a quick triceps workout, knowing time was precious...
On the way back I stopped by the home of my spirit's kryptonite: The United States Postal Office...My struggles to maintain peace in these houses of torture have been epic...I approached this one with a renewed sense of resilience...this was very necessary as there was a line of 20 people, moving at about a pace of 5 minutes per customer...my mind weighed options...to wait what could be over an hour for the needed cell phone charger (i had been without a cell phone for 48 hours) or get out of there and start selling quickly, waiting until Monday to pick up the package...I stayed in line....I didn't need the cell phone, but thought it would be better to have it than not...a feeling of hope and faith that I made the right decision to stay in line helped, along with the iPod, to calm my soul and even to start semi-dancing...smiling as much as I could and then Aha!!!! A second worker came to help...Universe you've done it again! A lesson in patience paid off big time, my mood shifted and I practically skipped out of there...about as optimistic as a broke man can be...
I readied myself for a day on the street, and walked out the front door with my sign...down the street I saw a girl throwing up in a garbage can, and a man behind her patting her on the back...my fear of vomiting forbade me from getting too close, but as I passed, the man shouted, "What's on your sign, man?" I flipped up my large patriotic, semi-phallic poster and received a hearty laugh and words of encouragement...his love prompted my love, "I hope you feel better darlin'."
As I walked through the subway tunnels I was making affirmations and "secreting" making a profit of $250 on the day...choosing it...I set up like not a day had passed since I stopped selling...Put the sign on my back and turned around practically running into my first buyer who purchased a single Obama for five dollars without me saying a word. Within another minute a woman bought a set...fear leaked from my body about as quickly as the air leaving an air mattress when you pull the plug. I had made fifteen dollars in two minutes...
Within two hours I was cold and had restocked once...I was moving through product more quickly than I could have dreamed...a lunch break at the Marriott to warm up and count cash...this was the place I always used in the fall to stay warm or rest a while or phone a friend ( I had several great conversations with Jaysen there)...nice restrooms and no one ever bothered me...I counted $472 dollars. I started with $101 for change. I made rent.
Excitement filled my body and I even considered calling it a day...I called my dad to tell him the good news...eating another of my delicious sandwiches I felt free and easy again...miraculously the demand was still as high as when I left, and I had not been hassled by the police...all tension gone, I sat on the ground feeling like a king...the secret was working...
I went back out, and it had gotten colder...more clouds and more cops, I was almost deterred, but hung it out for another hour and a half...I made a total net profit of $352 dollars...an exact average of 100 dollars an hour...
I went back to Ben's house to celebrate with a glass of Scotch and to pick up more product...My body mind and spirit were flying...I was beginning to think I was going to pull this off...Even now as I try to reflect on that feeling, it escapes me...such release, all of the sudden everything in the world was possible again...I was as powerful as I thought I might be...any anxiety gone. just peace and love pervading my every step...I think I was nearly dancing home...
On the way back I stopped by the home of my spirit's kryptonite: The United States Postal Office...My struggles to maintain peace in these houses of torture have been epic...I approached this one with a renewed sense of resilience...this was very necessary as there was a line of 20 people, moving at about a pace of 5 minutes per customer...my mind weighed options...to wait what could be over an hour for the needed cell phone charger (i had been without a cell phone for 48 hours) or get out of there and start selling quickly, waiting until Monday to pick up the package...I stayed in line....I didn't need the cell phone, but thought it would be better to have it than not...a feeling of hope and faith that I made the right decision to stay in line helped, along with the iPod, to calm my soul and even to start semi-dancing...smiling as much as I could and then Aha!!!! A second worker came to help...Universe you've done it again! A lesson in patience paid off big time, my mood shifted and I practically skipped out of there...about as optimistic as a broke man can be...
I readied myself for a day on the street, and walked out the front door with my sign...down the street I saw a girl throwing up in a garbage can, and a man behind her patting her on the back...my fear of vomiting forbade me from getting too close, but as I passed, the man shouted, "What's on your sign, man?" I flipped up my large patriotic, semi-phallic poster and received a hearty laugh and words of encouragement...his love prompted my love, "I hope you feel better darlin'."
As I walked through the subway tunnels I was making affirmations and "secreting" making a profit of $250 on the day...choosing it...I set up like not a day had passed since I stopped selling...Put the sign on my back and turned around practically running into my first buyer who purchased a single Obama for five dollars without me saying a word. Within another minute a woman bought a set...fear leaked from my body about as quickly as the air leaving an air mattress when you pull the plug. I had made fifteen dollars in two minutes...
Within two hours I was cold and had restocked once...I was moving through product more quickly than I could have dreamed...a lunch break at the Marriott to warm up and count cash...this was the place I always used in the fall to stay warm or rest a while or phone a friend ( I had several great conversations with Jaysen there)...nice restrooms and no one ever bothered me...I counted $472 dollars. I started with $101 for change. I made rent.
Excitement filled my body and I even considered calling it a day...I called my dad to tell him the good news...eating another of my delicious sandwiches I felt free and easy again...miraculously the demand was still as high as when I left, and I had not been hassled by the police...all tension gone, I sat on the ground feeling like a king...the secret was working...
I went back out, and it had gotten colder...more clouds and more cops, I was almost deterred, but hung it out for another hour and a half...I made a total net profit of $352 dollars...an exact average of 100 dollars an hour...
I went back to Ben's house to celebrate with a glass of Scotch and to pick up more product...My body mind and spirit were flying...I was beginning to think I was going to pull this off...Even now as I try to reflect on that feeling, it escapes me...such release, all of the sudden everything in the world was possible again...I was as powerful as I thought I might be...any anxiety gone. just peace and love pervading my every step...I think I was nearly dancing home...
On the Edge of a Wipeout...
Like a wave, just as soon as it came, it passed. The love-high. I again found myself filled with fear. Financial woes led to "the magic if" game where I take myself down a fictional path in my mind which inevitably ends in disaster...waking Friday I felt the urgency to make money, because as it stood I would not be able to make rent...sticking to my regime, I jogged under the train on Broadway, made my way past the jammed dirty shops of Brooklyn, with the smell of urban life and the chill nearly choking me...there is not a better way to describe the swirl of scents breezing by: the fried foods, garbage, bodily excrement, vehicle pollution....ahh the odoriferous gifts of high-density living...neither my first "Abs/Stretch class" or a shoulder workout could lose the anxiety clinging to my body...back at home I slowly made lunch, finding ways to procrastinate, and convincing myself why "today was a bad day to start selling again."
On my desk, or as some may call it, "the top of my dresser," was a gift from my sister. A deck of playing cards each labeled with some adventure to go on in New York City...I stumbled upon the MoMA card, which informed me that every Friday evening at the MoMA is free admission...Done. This in tandem with the impending rain, convinced me I should wait until Saturday to return to my day job. After all, I wouldn't be spending any money...
With my journal, two books, pens, highlighter, an apple, klean kanteen, and an immaculate sandwich I prepared, on my back I wandered off into the grey clouds to escape my fear...though that bitch was hot on my trail...to be absolutely honest it was on my back the whole time...But I told myself, "if this was your last day on the planet, would you want to spend it selling condoms on the street or visiting the MoMA?" I decided I would prefer the stimulus of a museum...it seemed to me that to use my last few hours trying to make money to prepare for a trip in the future would lead me to take the first few minutes of the after-life to kick myself for not "living in the moment," and visiting the MoMA instead...
The line was around the block, I smiled when my mind drifted to Greg Washburn's (my shnauze-soul brother) story of attempting to get into the museums for free in France and it being ridiculously busy...I got in and was told that I had to check my bag...Frustration. I was very proud of the sandwich I made, and didn't want to see it get smashed...(As a side, I chose that word "immaculate" to describe the sandwich, because it was...it looked like the kind you see in an advertisement: the softest, spongiest wheat bread with hummus on one piece and mustard on the other, crisp green and deep purple lettuce, brilliant red slices of tomato, two deli slices of herb infused turkey, and a perfect slice of 25% less fat Muenster cheese)....I decided to take the sandwich and eat it in the garden before wandering the galleries...in the garden I was approached by a guard that told me I was not allowed to eat in the garden, but if I went and sat in the back I would be okay. I couldn't help but thinking, "Damn, we have a lot of rules." I was only momentarily frustrated, and then I was thankful that the guard let me break the rules...
The first exhibit ended up being the one to leave the deepest impression...A performance artist who voluntarily locked himself in a cell in his apartment in NYC for one year, without any possible distractions...he was visited daily by a friend who gave him meals, changed out his clothes and bucket of shit, and took his picture...this man of extraordinary focus and determination has preformed many such year long endeavors, such as being tied to a woman friend for a year by an eight-foot rope and never touching each-other. living outside on the streets of New York for one year and never going inside, (not in a building, subway, car, train)...and never used shelter, just a sleeping bag...I admired his strength, and understood his need to know that he was capable of accomplishing these feats...His name is Tehching Hsieh, for those interested...
My journey through most of the museum ended up being more people watching, the place was packed and the opportunity to really sit with a piece was just not happening...people constantly moving around, everywhere...there was some kind of a traffic flow--people just glancing at each piece as they slowly kept walking...the people stopping were like a speed bump, annoying...I was just as happy to watch people...
Once on the the second or third level I noticed people looking lethargic, their minds clearly drifting from where they were...carrying bags and jackets, wishing they were laying down on their bed at the Hilton...i think this is common...people going to a museum and then dreading it...but faking interest because, well aren't we all supposed to be interested? shouldn't we all be amazed at the truth? the beautiful way of interpreting life? well. sometimes. but sometimes our lower-backs are sore. and sometimes our feet hurt. and sometimes I get sick of a blank canvas being hung on a wall at the damn MoMA...and while I'm on the subject, pieces of trace paper with random scribbles or just one haphazardly drawn line do not do a damn thing for me. I refrain from saying "that isn't art," because I think some abstract point can be made to prove that it is...however...it pales in comparison to a real painting, such as The Sleeping Gypsy by Henri Rousseau...(my favorite painting of the trip. probably because it reminded me of The Alchemist, which I just read on Wednesday and continues to be an inspiration for this journey I am on)...
at last I gazed at these people and wanted to shout out, "Wouldn't we all be much more comfortable in our burn clothes?!?!?" Fear kept one hand over my mouth and one in prime position to punch me in the balls...I decided to stay quiet...I tried to figure out why we were all there, not individually, but as a group...what did this place offer us? ...creative outlets, something new to cause our heads to start spinning some idea we had never thought of before...But wouldn't we rather make it ourselves? By going to the museum do we quench the thirst to create, letting these artists do it for us, instead living vicariously through their work? ...now Burning Man was battling the fear, "Why don't WE make something here? Let's stop looking and start doing!" Again fear reminded me of the consequences...but i dreamed about this amazing collective experience where we all started making something, using whatever we found, built, painted, danced on...some amazing happening for people expecting just another day in a museum...yes we would be arrested, but we would make headlines, and the people that were a part of it would share a joy in living, tasting our potential for a brief moment...
enough of these daydreams...anxiety and her best friend, frustration, were poking and prodding me as I was trying to enjoy this evening of free entertainment...why couldn't I connect with these strangers? not a single conversation...feelings from the fall reemerged, the longing for a community, contact with people...the ego beating itself, no people and no money...walking home in the rain I feared wiping out...The "Had I never..." thoughts started coming...had I not come back to New York I would have 2,500 dollars in my pocket for Europe....blah blah blah...that sort of bullshit that is just a bunch of horseshit...of course I know I could never have spent the remaining six weeks in California...it would have driven me crazy...(haha, just reread these last phrases and realized that I explained bullshit as being, "just a bunch of horseshit." what can I say, I'm a young writer.)
curry chicken and rice, carrots and hummus put me into a sleepy mood...i laid on the couch feeling scared, but trusting in what the shepherd is taught in The Alchemist...As I am pursuing my Personal Legend, the universe is conspiring with me for my success...even when it looks like all is lost, he is on his way to his treasure...I assume the same is true for me. for you. for everyone searching, wandering, loving, exploring...
...falling asleep...waking up 30 minutes later feeling overwhelmed...I cruised PUA articles, and received a hit of love via gmail chat with Sage...thanks again, love...
just before bed I felt the storm clearing, confidence building, determination beaming form my heart...I made signs with a sharpie and paper from my journal...one posted over my bed, "I will fly to France with $5,000 cash" The other posted over a map of Spain and Portugal Margo gave me, "I am backpacking here in April/May." The secret baby. Boom. Mine. I don't know how these things will happen, or what the steps will be to get there, but we never do. I'm just saying they are happening.
...I also posted a bunch of affirmations I wrote in Huntington Beach over my head...constant reminders...I need them nearly every second to stay on task...to keep my head in the game...
Saturday I would experience, Beginner's Luck...I was choosing it...
*As a note, I nearly didn't post this...I was feeling, and still feel some hesitance to post a blog that exposes the fear...on Friday I knew I would write this down, but keep it to myself, because it is a downer..."all of my posts should be good stories, ones that make people just see how amazing this trip is...all the beautiful and amazing things should be shared" i was thinking...but I think now that is kind of false...along this amazing journey I will have many ups and downs...and it is only fair to be honest about them...it is quite easy to romanticize this trip, and i hope this kind of blog, might bring it back down to earth, make it all seem a bit more real...i am a free spirit, but one that still battles fears...
On my desk, or as some may call it, "the top of my dresser," was a gift from my sister. A deck of playing cards each labeled with some adventure to go on in New York City...I stumbled upon the MoMA card, which informed me that every Friday evening at the MoMA is free admission...Done. This in tandem with the impending rain, convinced me I should wait until Saturday to return to my day job. After all, I wouldn't be spending any money...
With my journal, two books, pens, highlighter, an apple, klean kanteen, and an immaculate sandwich I prepared, on my back I wandered off into the grey clouds to escape my fear...though that bitch was hot on my trail...to be absolutely honest it was on my back the whole time...But I told myself, "if this was your last day on the planet, would you want to spend it selling condoms on the street or visiting the MoMA?" I decided I would prefer the stimulus of a museum...it seemed to me that to use my last few hours trying to make money to prepare for a trip in the future would lead me to take the first few minutes of the after-life to kick myself for not "living in the moment," and visiting the MoMA instead...
The line was around the block, I smiled when my mind drifted to Greg Washburn's (my shnauze-soul brother) story of attempting to get into the museums for free in France and it being ridiculously busy...I got in and was told that I had to check my bag...Frustration. I was very proud of the sandwich I made, and didn't want to see it get smashed...(As a side, I chose that word "immaculate" to describe the sandwich, because it was...it looked like the kind you see in an advertisement: the softest, spongiest wheat bread with hummus on one piece and mustard on the other, crisp green and deep purple lettuce, brilliant red slices of tomato, two deli slices of herb infused turkey, and a perfect slice of 25% less fat Muenster cheese)....I decided to take the sandwich and eat it in the garden before wandering the galleries...in the garden I was approached by a guard that told me I was not allowed to eat in the garden, but if I went and sat in the back I would be okay. I couldn't help but thinking, "Damn, we have a lot of rules." I was only momentarily frustrated, and then I was thankful that the guard let me break the rules...
The first exhibit ended up being the one to leave the deepest impression...A performance artist who voluntarily locked himself in a cell in his apartment in NYC for one year, without any possible distractions...he was visited daily by a friend who gave him meals, changed out his clothes and bucket of shit, and took his picture...this man of extraordinary focus and determination has preformed many such year long endeavors, such as being tied to a woman friend for a year by an eight-foot rope and never touching each-other. living outside on the streets of New York for one year and never going inside, (not in a building, subway, car, train)...and never used shelter, just a sleeping bag...I admired his strength, and understood his need to know that he was capable of accomplishing these feats...His name is Tehching Hsieh, for those interested...
My journey through most of the museum ended up being more people watching, the place was packed and the opportunity to really sit with a piece was just not happening...people constantly moving around, everywhere...there was some kind of a traffic flow--people just glancing at each piece as they slowly kept walking...the people stopping were like a speed bump, annoying...I was just as happy to watch people...
Once on the the second or third level I noticed people looking lethargic, their minds clearly drifting from where they were...carrying bags and jackets, wishing they were laying down on their bed at the Hilton...i think this is common...people going to a museum and then dreading it...but faking interest because, well aren't we all supposed to be interested? shouldn't we all be amazed at the truth? the beautiful way of interpreting life? well. sometimes. but sometimes our lower-backs are sore. and sometimes our feet hurt. and sometimes I get sick of a blank canvas being hung on a wall at the damn MoMA...and while I'm on the subject, pieces of trace paper with random scribbles or just one haphazardly drawn line do not do a damn thing for me. I refrain from saying "that isn't art," because I think some abstract point can be made to prove that it is...however...it pales in comparison to a real painting, such as The Sleeping Gypsy by Henri Rousseau...(my favorite painting of the trip. probably because it reminded me of The Alchemist, which I just read on Wednesday and continues to be an inspiration for this journey I am on)...
at last I gazed at these people and wanted to shout out, "Wouldn't we all be much more comfortable in our burn clothes?!?!?" Fear kept one hand over my mouth and one in prime position to punch me in the balls...I decided to stay quiet...I tried to figure out why we were all there, not individually, but as a group...what did this place offer us? ...creative outlets, something new to cause our heads to start spinning some idea we had never thought of before...But wouldn't we rather make it ourselves? By going to the museum do we quench the thirst to create, letting these artists do it for us, instead living vicariously through their work? ...now Burning Man was battling the fear, "Why don't WE make something here? Let's stop looking and start doing!" Again fear reminded me of the consequences...but i dreamed about this amazing collective experience where we all started making something, using whatever we found, built, painted, danced on...some amazing happening for people expecting just another day in a museum...yes we would be arrested, but we would make headlines, and the people that were a part of it would share a joy in living, tasting our potential for a brief moment...
enough of these daydreams...anxiety and her best friend, frustration, were poking and prodding me as I was trying to enjoy this evening of free entertainment...why couldn't I connect with these strangers? not a single conversation...feelings from the fall reemerged, the longing for a community, contact with people...the ego beating itself, no people and no money...walking home in the rain I feared wiping out...The "Had I never..." thoughts started coming...had I not come back to New York I would have 2,500 dollars in my pocket for Europe....blah blah blah...that sort of bullshit that is just a bunch of horseshit...of course I know I could never have spent the remaining six weeks in California...it would have driven me crazy...(haha, just reread these last phrases and realized that I explained bullshit as being, "just a bunch of horseshit." what can I say, I'm a young writer.)
curry chicken and rice, carrots and hummus put me into a sleepy mood...i laid on the couch feeling scared, but trusting in what the shepherd is taught in The Alchemist...As I am pursuing my Personal Legend, the universe is conspiring with me for my success...even when it looks like all is lost, he is on his way to his treasure...I assume the same is true for me. for you. for everyone searching, wandering, loving, exploring...
...falling asleep...waking up 30 minutes later feeling overwhelmed...I cruised PUA articles, and received a hit of love via gmail chat with Sage...thanks again, love...
just before bed I felt the storm clearing, confidence building, determination beaming form my heart...I made signs with a sharpie and paper from my journal...one posted over my bed, "I will fly to France with $5,000 cash" The other posted over a map of Spain and Portugal Margo gave me, "I am backpacking here in April/May." The secret baby. Boom. Mine. I don't know how these things will happen, or what the steps will be to get there, but we never do. I'm just saying they are happening.
...I also posted a bunch of affirmations I wrote in Huntington Beach over my head...constant reminders...I need them nearly every second to stay on task...to keep my head in the game...
Saturday I would experience, Beginner's Luck...I was choosing it...
*As a note, I nearly didn't post this...I was feeling, and still feel some hesitance to post a blog that exposes the fear...on Friday I knew I would write this down, but keep it to myself, because it is a downer..."all of my posts should be good stories, ones that make people just see how amazing this trip is...all the beautiful and amazing things should be shared" i was thinking...but I think now that is kind of false...along this amazing journey I will have many ups and downs...and it is only fair to be honest about them...it is quite easy to romanticize this trip, and i hope this kind of blog, might bring it back down to earth, make it all seem a bit more real...i am a free spirit, but one that still battles fears...
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The Universe Hugged Me Tonight...
I tried doing dishes, but there is too much to say. Sorry Lucas. I am feeling envy for all writers who have ever successfully written about New York, for as I am about to dive into this beautiful beast of a task, I am overwhelmed with words and phrases swirling in my mind, images sketched on the chalkboard just behind my forehead blazing bright like a slideshow on cocaine. I will try to spill this ecstasy that is in my mind body and soul, a gift from this whirlwind city, as best as i can...
I feel I must start backwards, as the events that just transpired are most fresh, though climactically speaking it may not be the best choice... (climactically means referring to a climax, yes i made it up)
walking home at midnight from one williamsburg apartment to another, a brisk pace due to a combination of the urge to relieve myself, in the urinary sense, and also because I had just been given a gift from the Gods...love poured out on the streets of New York tonight, and seemed to follow me all evening, building to an orgasm of types on the L train heading in from 6th avenue...It began even before that, as LJB and I transferred from the F and waited for the L train and we spotted her...the dancing queen in all her glory: fingertip-clipped gloves, simple khakis worn with wear, a practical jacket for the chill, normal dirty blonde hair, an un-made-up face, average height, average frame, and armed with her modern boombox, that indeed was changing the world...
From just beyond the I-beam, about 10 yards away she moved like a goddess, free. Not too showy, but enough movement to attract herself a mighty load of attention at this hour of night in the subways...who was this angel, dancing on the edge of the track, the edge of life? everyone watched smiling, some uncomfortable, some curious, and most all of us jealous. How could she be so free? Didn't she know that someone would be laughing at her? LJB and I watched, smiled. Laughed. We wondered whether it was choreographed, it was like she was marking a dance she had learned many moons ago...her eyes closed, living in her own reality...a beautiful brother walked up to her and stuck his hand out, bobbing it to the beat she was pumping into all of our hearts...she smiled, but did not act as we all thought she might, (surprised that anyone was watching)...she just kept on dancing...we all boarded the train and LJB and I ended up sitting next to her...I wanted to find out what she was listening to...but mostly I just wanted the chance to connect with her, with God...She was half with us and half in the heavens, her soul infused with a beat that her body could never let go of...the brother sat on her other side and she shared her left earbud...LJB shared yet more music with us, but I was fixed on these two beautiful strangers...after both nodding their heads to the beat, eventually they just were resting them on each other, like two lovers who had lived a lifetime together...every once and a while she would sing a lyric and then back to the sweet smile...I tried to take a picture, but my camera was dead...an omen perhaps... i see now that a moment that beautiful could never be captured on film...I told LJB what I was feeling, "I am so in love with them right now. So beautiful."
I just stared as if I was gazing into the pupils of God...their love quenching my soul's thirst for IT...the train stopped and i saw that this moment was about to speed by faster than the train would leave and the angel leaned into the brother gave him a couple of generous kisses on the cheek...glowing, she skipped off the train like a fairy, only once pausing on the stairs to take one last look at her love, blowing him a kiss and a small one to me, she danced up the stairs...I sung her praises to my singing friend, LJB...I had to say something...I ran after her, just barely catching her before she glided through the turnstile...
"You are beautiful. Thank you, thank you so much. You're amazing, so free, what a gift..." I gushed...she smiled and turned into me...we hugged like two souls melting together, and she kissed my neck and as she turned to whisk herself through the turnstile, to vanish up the stairs and into the night, she laughed and said, "You're amazing!" Aha! She had one last gift for me after all...an affirmation of all that I know and believe, but yet sometimes gets clouded in fear...she reminded me that LOVE is absolutely all there is...
I was now glowing, and how could you not after hugging God...LJB and I laughed and announced our gratitude for the night...we seemed to be following her for a bit, then she turned left and whoosh... she skipped out of sight...even now I wonder if she was some kind of angel...
And now I sit here in my apartment thanking God I am here...and as I told LJB on the walk home..."A night like this, and I have no more financial worries...this is it...Love is enough, the rest will work itself out..."
I am going to try to remember that...
There is more to say about this night including running into Max Haymer, the number one jazz pianist in the world, and a college buddy on the subway going to our first show, another stunning moment of excitement in the subway, and he told us about his show at 9:45...we went first to see Jeff something at Rockwood music on "the lower east side" a simple man with brilliant lyrics and melodies that set feet tapping and hips swaying...
An aussie woman who was traveling opened me with a line, "How you going?" which confused me...and then I was thankful that she was courageous enough to talk to me, as we both sat silently, awkwardly, next to each other waiting for the next act...she had been traveling for 2 months, including two weeks in the city before heading back home next week...she said new york was not as glamorous as she thought it would be and made her appreciate her home more, that she realized Melbourne is actually a pretty cool place...she had been traveling with her boyfriend, a lighter for a successful Aussie Circus company until they broke up a week ago...she advised me that traveling with a girlfriend would be difficult, and I assured her that would not be the case for me, instead I was traveling with two of the biggest pain in the ass friends I'd ever met...(that's a joke)
I gazed to the window during the second set and noticed a man I recognized. An older dude, but someone you could never forget, balding short curly hair, bleached blonde and dressed like a rockstar...then he came inside, he came up to where LJB and I were sitting and LJB told him she recognized him, and he said the same, then I said the same and he said the same...that means that we all recognized each other...I couldn't remember where, and then I saw his necklace: a Buddha in a silver frame with glass over it...I was ecstatic, I had met him the night I left NY, December 16, 2008...he was at The Living Room when LJB and I went there to see another of her friends play...that night we had somehow gotten into a conversation and bizarrely enough joked about being in a relationship, doing the complaining that happens over a long stretch of time with a lover and ends in the demise of the thing, and then we said we had hoped we could still be friends...a bizarre joke that had us laughing hysterically...and here he was tonight....he didn't quite remember that night, which was fine because I did...I took it as an Omen that I was exactly where I was supposed to be...I watched him interacting with his beautiful lady friend...they were both older, but clearly attractive, and, when in their younger years, were the hottest thing on the block...as we decided to leave to make it to Max's...I couldn't leave without giving him something, but all that I felt was meaningful enough was my gratitude rock...even now I long for it a bit, but I needed him to know how grateful I was to see him...he thanked me and gave me a business card of types...wow...amazing to see him, and more so to remember him, a man I had only known for five minutes...
oh yeah...this means i'm back in new york...
lots and lots and lots...
good night.
-mitch
I feel I must start backwards, as the events that just transpired are most fresh, though climactically speaking it may not be the best choice... (climactically means referring to a climax, yes i made it up)
walking home at midnight from one williamsburg apartment to another, a brisk pace due to a combination of the urge to relieve myself, in the urinary sense, and also because I had just been given a gift from the Gods...love poured out on the streets of New York tonight, and seemed to follow me all evening, building to an orgasm of types on the L train heading in from 6th avenue...It began even before that, as LJB and I transferred from the F and waited for the L train and we spotted her...the dancing queen in all her glory: fingertip-clipped gloves, simple khakis worn with wear, a practical jacket for the chill, normal dirty blonde hair, an un-made-up face, average height, average frame, and armed with her modern boombox, that indeed was changing the world...
From just beyond the I-beam, about 10 yards away she moved like a goddess, free. Not too showy, but enough movement to attract herself a mighty load of attention at this hour of night in the subways...who was this angel, dancing on the edge of the track, the edge of life? everyone watched smiling, some uncomfortable, some curious, and most all of us jealous. How could she be so free? Didn't she know that someone would be laughing at her? LJB and I watched, smiled. Laughed. We wondered whether it was choreographed, it was like she was marking a dance she had learned many moons ago...her eyes closed, living in her own reality...a beautiful brother walked up to her and stuck his hand out, bobbing it to the beat she was pumping into all of our hearts...she smiled, but did not act as we all thought she might, (surprised that anyone was watching)...she just kept on dancing...we all boarded the train and LJB and I ended up sitting next to her...I wanted to find out what she was listening to...but mostly I just wanted the chance to connect with her, with God...She was half with us and half in the heavens, her soul infused with a beat that her body could never let go of...the brother sat on her other side and she shared her left earbud...LJB shared yet more music with us, but I was fixed on these two beautiful strangers...after both nodding their heads to the beat, eventually they just were resting them on each other, like two lovers who had lived a lifetime together...every once and a while she would sing a lyric and then back to the sweet smile...I tried to take a picture, but my camera was dead...an omen perhaps... i see now that a moment that beautiful could never be captured on film...I told LJB what I was feeling, "I am so in love with them right now. So beautiful."
I just stared as if I was gazing into the pupils of God...their love quenching my soul's thirst for IT...the train stopped and i saw that this moment was about to speed by faster than the train would leave and the angel leaned into the brother gave him a couple of generous kisses on the cheek...glowing, she skipped off the train like a fairy, only once pausing on the stairs to take one last look at her love, blowing him a kiss and a small one to me, she danced up the stairs...I sung her praises to my singing friend, LJB...I had to say something...I ran after her, just barely catching her before she glided through the turnstile...
"You are beautiful. Thank you, thank you so much. You're amazing, so free, what a gift..." I gushed...she smiled and turned into me...we hugged like two souls melting together, and she kissed my neck and as she turned to whisk herself through the turnstile, to vanish up the stairs and into the night, she laughed and said, "You're amazing!" Aha! She had one last gift for me after all...an affirmation of all that I know and believe, but yet sometimes gets clouded in fear...she reminded me that LOVE is absolutely all there is...
I was now glowing, and how could you not after hugging God...LJB and I laughed and announced our gratitude for the night...we seemed to be following her for a bit, then she turned left and whoosh... she skipped out of sight...even now I wonder if she was some kind of angel...
And now I sit here in my apartment thanking God I am here...and as I told LJB on the walk home..."A night like this, and I have no more financial worries...this is it...Love is enough, the rest will work itself out..."
I am going to try to remember that...
There is more to say about this night including running into Max Haymer, the number one jazz pianist in the world, and a college buddy on the subway going to our first show, another stunning moment of excitement in the subway, and he told us about his show at 9:45...we went first to see Jeff something at Rockwood music on "the lower east side" a simple man with brilliant lyrics and melodies that set feet tapping and hips swaying...
An aussie woman who was traveling opened me with a line, "How you going?" which confused me...and then I was thankful that she was courageous enough to talk to me, as we both sat silently, awkwardly, next to each other waiting for the next act...she had been traveling for 2 months, including two weeks in the city before heading back home next week...she said new york was not as glamorous as she thought it would be and made her appreciate her home more, that she realized Melbourne is actually a pretty cool place...she had been traveling with her boyfriend, a lighter for a successful Aussie Circus company until they broke up a week ago...she advised me that traveling with a girlfriend would be difficult, and I assured her that would not be the case for me, instead I was traveling with two of the biggest pain in the ass friends I'd ever met...(that's a joke)
I gazed to the window during the second set and noticed a man I recognized. An older dude, but someone you could never forget, balding short curly hair, bleached blonde and dressed like a rockstar...then he came inside, he came up to where LJB and I were sitting and LJB told him she recognized him, and he said the same, then I said the same and he said the same...that means that we all recognized each other...I couldn't remember where, and then I saw his necklace: a Buddha in a silver frame with glass over it...I was ecstatic, I had met him the night I left NY, December 16, 2008...he was at The Living Room when LJB and I went there to see another of her friends play...that night we had somehow gotten into a conversation and bizarrely enough joked about being in a relationship, doing the complaining that happens over a long stretch of time with a lover and ends in the demise of the thing, and then we said we had hoped we could still be friends...a bizarre joke that had us laughing hysterically...and here he was tonight....he didn't quite remember that night, which was fine because I did...I took it as an Omen that I was exactly where I was supposed to be...I watched him interacting with his beautiful lady friend...they were both older, but clearly attractive, and, when in their younger years, were the hottest thing on the block...as we decided to leave to make it to Max's...I couldn't leave without giving him something, but all that I felt was meaningful enough was my gratitude rock...even now I long for it a bit, but I needed him to know how grateful I was to see him...he thanked me and gave me a business card of types...wow...amazing to see him, and more so to remember him, a man I had only known for five minutes...
oh yeah...this means i'm back in new york...
lots and lots and lots...
good night.
-mitch
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Part One of a Two Part Series Entitled: Storming the Gates of Rich Orange County With One of My Soul Brothers, Nik Kazoura
An early start was out of the question. God knows what we were doing, but I can guess there was ample dicking around, the eating of a Popsicle, one solved Rubik's Cube, and a healthy dose of the British sketch comedy show: Man Stroke Woman. And cut.
The beautiful day snuck in the back door of Bluefish Lane, through Margo's mini-potted-forest on the back porch and eventually made its way over to Nik and I. We were seated in our underwear at the computer when it slapped us both in the face and said, "Get your asses out here. Do NOT waste me." We followed the instinct to soak up some California sun, and I took it in with a little greater appreciation, knowing that for the first time in five years I would not be enjoying a Southern California Spring or Summer. (which are not all that much different from a Southern California Fall or Winter)
Unsure of exactly where to go or what to do, we just hopped in the xB and started driving down PCH...I've driven this stretch a million times before, but on this drive I realized how quintessentially California it is. If one travels to California, they ought to spend an entire afternoon just driving through the beach cities. I told Nik about Esau, the saxophonist I had met on the subway in New York who told me he had never been to California, but that he hoped to be able to take his two daughters to Disneyland someday. I hoped instead he would just be able to make this drive some day. I cannot imagine not knowing what a California sunset feels like...I wish everyone in New York could experience just one, as I am sure it would help them embrace the idea of stopping to take a breath and just enjoy the moment as-is...Perhaps they would also come to understand the music of Jack Johnson, and Jimmy Buffet's hit tune, "Margaritaville."
We drove in and out of cities we had explored before, and I began to get anxious to find a new spot to start playing with Nik's camera during "magic hour." Dana Point presented itself nicely...Our walk started on a cliff overlooking the bay of ridiculous yachts. Orange County continues to blow my mind as one of the most outward displays of wealth I have encountered. What makes it so mind-boggling is that luxury is common: the sight of Porches, Lamborghinis, and Rolls Royces no longer receives a second glance. This is the area that causes America its confusion about wealth. We see "average Americans" with these luxurious toys, the newest technology, going shopping midday during the work week, and we think that only if we have the lifestyle they have, are we wealthy. What we forget is that they are among the top two percent wealthiest in the world, our context is totally skewed...
I see how easy it is to get going on a tangent in this blogging activity...yikes...
Along our walk we encountered another cultural gem. About twenty-five Orange County Parents gathered to take pictures of their precious fifteen and sixteen-year-olds going to what may have been their first winter formal. These kids were dressed to the nines, and have been groomed to be our nation's next wealthy upper-class, for they know no other way. As my mind wandered to thoughts of high school dances, and beautiful girls whom I had no idea how to act around, I remembered what it was like to be at the very beginning of this figurative dance between the sexes. Having absolutely no clue, and no experience, but acting as though it was the opposite...And as I look at myself now, not all that much has changed. I'm disappointed to say I haven't made all that much progress as far as my understanding of the dance goes. I've racked up a fairly wide range of experiences, but the female species continues to be one of the biggest question marks in my brain. As I told a dear friend once, "There is nothing on this planet that has such a polarizing affect on me as women." I like to believe that upon death this will be one of the first revelations, because as it stands now, I often tell God, "There has got to be an easier way."
Weaving our way downward toward sea-level, the sun neared its ritual setting...laughing at dogs and continuing to battle urges to punt the little ones, I articulated (one of my favorite words) my desire not to fall into the trap of society: buying a dog with your lover. Everywhere we looked there were couples walking quietly, often looking distracted or disengaged, led by a dog on a leash. At this point in my life it just looks like another beautiful distraction, and quite the money pit (this past summer my parents spent $1500 on dog surgery to retrieve five rocks and two Scrabble pieces from little Zoe's tummy).
Past pirate ships and private docks we came to the breakwater edge where Nik attempted a super-slow shutter speed picture of the water. Better luck next time. Gazing out at the Pacific Ocean I wondered about my plans to be on the other side of this little pond next summer in Thailand. I also remember thinking "this would be a great place to bring a girl."
Fulfilled. Exactly. IT. I experienced the joy of feeling alive, full of love, and accomplishment. I was glad the sun had coaxed us out of the comforts of home, and resisted the urge to kick myself for not enjoying sunsets more often...Let Go.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Practice Blog
Inspired both by three dear friends who keep what i consider to be the top three blogs of all time, and by the constant suggestion of people to "blog" my adventures this year, I am attempting to make this a habit...I have been hesitant to do so because I worry that I will share my best stories on this site. Then when I get back from my travels, I will see people, begin to tell them a story or joke and they will interrupt me with the punchline, having already read it on this site. I also have a small, fear that when the Y2K bug finally kicks in, all of my precious writing will be lost forever...yes, i know i can back it all up on an external hard drive, but call me old-fashioned, I just prefer writing in my journal...As I have started writing quite a bit in the past months I will use this as my tool to document events and keep track of my day-to-day life on the road. The journal will be used primarily for reflections, stream-of-consciousness thinking on paper, and experimental type stuff, (some people call this type of writing 'poetry')...it feels kinda silly to even be saying this on a public journal...as i reread it, i am already thinking, "who gives a shit?...this is the most boring blog ever-written." off to a good start...
also, be prepared for an abundance of ellipses...
also, be prepared for an abundance of ellipses...
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