Tuesday September 10 2013


Waking up just before 2 p.m.

Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.

Watching Dead Man Down (2013).

Kofi's here noodling on the piano. He just quit his job and has obtained a sense of freedom.

Errands – getting my glass frames adjusted – groceries at Kroger. I run into Joe, an old guy I deliver to at the Russell House. He's there in an electronic wheel chair, curly white handlebar mustache, and comforting smile.

Him: "I know I never tipped you well but I always made sure to take care of you. It's the poor people that appreciate you the most."


It's about 5 p.m. Attempting to record drums at the storage unit but of course there's a thrash band practicing two units down from me. My mics will pick up their noise so it's not possible to record right now.

Trail Mix. Lentil Potato Curls. Honey Green Tea.

Back at the house. Bobby, a Bulgarian couch surfer has arrived and meets the resident impersonators, Richie, Mike Fry, and Kofi. I take Kofi with me to the basketball courts. Street ball is happening just like yesterday. This time I get to play. With 2 good shots and maybe 4 steals I feel satisfied with my appearance in the game. I get associated with Steve Nash.

Back to the storage unit but to my dismay the power is out in our section of units. I get angry and frustrated. It seems like anything I want to do here in music I can't do. I'm limited. I hate this! Technically we're only allowed to make noise between 5pm and 10ishpm. I feel defeated.

Kofi cooked a big batch of Ramen Noodles for the house. I snag a bowl and add Egg, Baby Broccoli, and Carrots.

Watching Disconnect (2012).

Mike Fry: "Are you about to go ridin'??"

Me: "Yeah. I'm a night rider."


Shooting down Laskin past the sweet smells from The Sugar Plum Bakery – going south on the boardwalk in speedy bursts passing the resourceful homeless lying on the benches with umbrellas to ward off the wind/sand in the middle of the night – at Grommet Island then back the way I came. I love this feeling of fresh salt air whooshing by my face entering my lungs and out again.

Back home. Richie has gone mad, so to speak, with paint stained on his red-checkered shorts and a new incomprehensible mural on the wall. Sasha sits nearby and paints on his face. I brought home bags of bagels from the dumpster across the street. This will be my breakfast for at least two weeks.

Honey Bunches of Oats with Brown Sugar and Milk.

Finishing the Disconnect movie. Emotional and thought provoking. Hit me straight in the gut. A Jónsi song comes on at the end credits. I miss this kind of earthy pop music. Beautiful. Just beautiful.

Sleep just before 5 a.m.

[i] Jónsi. Image not mine.

No comments: