Sunday April 3 2016
Waking up well rested underneath a new plant friend in a homey pad in New York.
Ordering a Breakfast Burrito from Jesse's across the street. Sipping on some Yerba Mate and having afternoon conversations with everyone.
"I love it. I can be naked out in my yard. I mean, I put my naked butt on moss," Brock says as he describes the beauty of living in his house upstate.
Bobby, Bianca, and Josiah decide to hang back at the pad while I venture out in the city solo. It's a whopping 40 degrees. I've got my warm winter coat on and gloves. I was gonna take my Razor scooter but the wind is too brisk for that. First on my agenda is to get some new clothes at Buffalo Exchange on Driggs Avenue.
At Peter Pan Donuts, a place I always revisit anytime I'm here. Cheap, delicious, and fresh donuts. Old school diner vibe. Ukranian girls wearing uniform green and salmon colored aprons. Eating a Honey Dip and Blueberry Buttermilk. Taking my time sipping on a Coffee with Cream. Observing the Ukrainian man have a little argument with one of the employee girls. It's kind of entertaining for some of us at the booth.
I walk on looking for a quiet place. On the corner of Berry Street and Nassau Avenue there's a cozy workshop turned into a coffee shop. Wooden benches and tables community style. I spend a lot of time reflecting...
"I wanna get LOST," I write. "In other words I wanna travel. I wanna move. Anytime I get out of town for a few days it inspires me. The idea of moving out of Virginia Beach frightens and excites me. What happens if I leave all my roots behind and everything I've built falls apart? Can I return and pick up the pieces and re-establish myself? Do I have it in me to grow roots somewhere else? Do I need to? How necessary is it to see what's out there in the world? The one thing I don't like about it is the feeling that the grass is greener wherever I am not. The desire to receive a clean slate – to seek opportunities elsewhere. Sometimes I forget the control I have to just up and go, to leave everything behind. But it just doesn't seem plausible. I have all the tools I need at home to be happy and make the music I want to make.
It haunts me every day like a constant shrieking ghost on my shoulder, 'CREATE, ROBERT!!!'
I need to create! I'm stuck imitating everybody else. It pays the bills but that's not enough for me."
Solution: I write out a list of things I'd like to spend more time doing and then a list of things I already spend a lot of time doing.
It's time to go. I browse around and purchase a couple bars of local soap, one cedar and one goat's milk.
Walking. Walking. Walking.
I find a store called Cacao Market dedicated to all things chocolate. I buy a couple treats to give Ana.
In the subway a man strokes a black cello making an earthy therapeutic sound.
Making my way to the vicinity of the venue. Stopping in this café called Bake Shop. I fill up on a bowl of Quinoa Veggie Bean Chili and a Buttered Bagel.
We're playing at a fairly new venue in Bushwick called Gold Sounds featuring Ben Seretan Group, Fieldings, Ladada, Suburban Living, and The Due Diligence. Skippy, Danny Rogers, Leisa, and her friend Amy make it out along with other friends of friends. The bar is out of all their well drinks. I was gonna get a Crispin but the bartender recommends another cider with a Jack of spades on it. It's a lot dryer and absolutely great. The first two bands put us all in a pleasantly mellow mood. I describe Fieldings as the ultimate lullaby. By the time we get up on the stage the rock n roll energy is hard to muster. But we do our best and it's a good response. Suburban Living rocks the stage next. Then The Due Diligence. Isaac's child-like charismatic nature is hard to ignore. He passes out LED rainbow colored tambourines for everyone to play.
I keep kicking the ciders back – four in total – they start to kick in – I'm on a good buzz.
Our crew is down to myself, Josiah, Danny, Bianca, Skippy, Brock, and two of his friends. Checking out The Three Diamond Door a couple blocks down the street. In the back room there's a smaller bar where things start getting hazy. I'm fully lit as I've never been before. 90's hip-hop and pop songs are blaring on the speakers. We dance, dance, dance. The strangers around us become instant friends as we sing along to familiar tunes. It's not often I get the chance to let myself go and get loose. One girl in particular is all over the place constantly taking on and off her jacket and other people's jackets. She shows me an Instagram for her lingerie company that's all about female empowerment or something.
"I'm just tired of meeting guys," she yells into my ear. "I'm tired of meeting guys who just leave – I want them to know who I am!"
I just listen to her, treat her like a sister, and tell her I understand. It's a good time until they kick us all out after 2 a.m.
Josiah texts me, "Hey we're next door at the Mexican."
I run over there. The guy behind the counter offers to sell me a box of Pork Tacos that they made on accident for only $5. I take it cause I'm drunk and need food in my body.
Driving back to Brock's pad. We bring in the futon mattress and a bunch of us pile into his bedroom. Bobby and Bryant hang out on the futon catching up on life and complaining about the fragility of their sex life as they get older. I fall asleep listening...
[i] Images by me.
Posted by James Robert Smith at 10:48 PM