Happy it is spring, and all things come back to life. Well, most things. Some things didn’t make it through the winter and are now decaying and providing energy to those who are still standing.
Sitting outside this past weekend, I found myself serenaded by a lone mockingbird. He went on for hours. I finally located him on top of our neighbors chimney. Now I find him out there most days, singing to the neighborhood.
First off, Here’s some stuff I’ve seen in NYC over the past couple of months:
This girl is not one to risk having anyone overhear her thoughts, or risk having anyone put their thought in her head. Because there’s a lot of that going on downtown.
It was a very hot summer indeed. Hot enough to melt things that don’t usually melt (and I’m not talking about your heart).
At Spring and Lafayette, with no water in sight, not even a drop.
I love this one, someone is keeping it real, straying away from the cute and nice. This takes me back to the old New York, the non-sanitized years where what you saw was what you got, and the empty buildings crumbled under the weight of anticipatory tourism.
And this one speaks for itself.
Greetings from Lake Winnipesaukee, NH. Live free of die.
I’ve been coming to this lakeside cabin since I was around 3 years old. My father’s parents had this cabin built, and there was nothing around. Now it is somewhat surrounded by year round multi million dollar ticonderoga style “log cabins” with numerous guest suites. Some kind of alternative gentrification, a bit different than what I’ve lived through (and participated in) repeatedly in urban environments.
I realized that this place has been with me longer than most anything else in my life, except my parents and sister. I’m not sure I can attach a meaning to it, other than feeling that people and places don’t last. And they don’t, of course. We’re all only here for a short time, bla bla bla.
It is kind of funny sitting in a room where I was once a little boy, yet I’m here now with a daughter of my own. I do feel like I’ve gone through a circle of some sort, closed a loop. There was a simplicity to childhood that I recall, maybe an innocence. I did a pretty good job of burning that innocence in to the ground in my 20’s. But just recently I’ve been feeling like that innocence has been being re-born, the hateful self abusive cynic is not in good health. I’ve actually been happy and optimistic and that’s felt okay.
To give you a sense of this area: Oliver North runs a syndicated column in the local paper. There are only 2 options for transportation: 4X4 pickup or a harley. But you can’t wear a helmet. One of the big articles in the newspaper was about a fundraising effort by a local family to get money to replace their daughter’s lost glass eye that fell out when she was swimming. Don’t get me wrong. I empathize with the girl and the family, and I don’t mean to make light of their situation. It just feels like an alternate reality.
I recall one trip here with my dad. This was back in my days of self destruction, as so many of these stories are. Sometimes I feel like I lived through that life just so I could walk out with stories. And shit, this isn’t even a story so much as a memory, a recollection, a reminder of how things were and why I try to make better decisions today.
Anyway, my dad had come down to NYC to see my band Cop Shoot Cop play at CBGB’s. I think Motherhead Bug was also playing that night. In those days, all types and everyone would show up. At this show there were 2 simultaneous girlfriends (which was not common), and 2 of my drug dealers (more common, sad to say). My dad was introduced to Joey, who pulled out a huge roll of bills to buy him a drink. At which point my dad said that he must be in construction.
A quick aside about Joey: Joey was a corner dealer, Bedford and South 2nd in Williamsburg. This was prior to Williamsburg becoming what it now is. Sometimes I would work with him as a watch out. He had a good heart but was definitely in the life. He would sometimes keep stuff at our house. This included an Uzi for a while. I’d also drive around with him, just hanging out while he did pickups and deliveries. I ended up pawning his beeper before going in to rehab. When I came out, somehow he got me to get in his car and threatened to break my legs. Luckily, this never happened. And I still always liked the guy. I hope he found his way out…
And, back to CBGB’s. After we played that night, my dad and I drove up to Lake Winnepasaukee. That’s closing in on a 7 hour drive, and we left NYC at 2 or 3 AM. I had my stash with me, but not enough. I mean, there will never be enough, really. But I stayed wired, driving through the night. When we got there, it was one of those weird things. I’ve had this happen in a couple of places. Places from my childhood, places of peace and innocence. I arrived there a mess, looking for some remnant of that lost peace. The echoes that I heard only served to remind me of how far removed from it I was. If I was religious, I would say my presence was a sacrilege. But I’m not, so I won’t.
I couldn’t get to sleep. Because I knew that once I woke up, the magic would be gone. I would awake in a full tilt depression. All would be dark. There would not be enough chemicals to save me, to allow me any kind of pleasure. I hated that fear of sleeping, of the inevitable dawn.
A few years later, I was free of all chemicals, and I went back to the lake with my dad. Some deliberate one on one time, to search out what was inside him, and me, and our family. I don’t quite know what I had in my head, but I did end up realizing that what I saw was what I got. There was no magical bond that was revealed, no “AH-HA!” But this, in it’s own way was eye opening. It became a bit more possible to be at peace with life, and our relationship, as it was. Acceptance. Lessening the fear.
Now, for a swim…
Well, I’ve tried to post several entries in this blog in the last week or so, but each time have ended up losing my Internet connection. At times, I could be found wandering around the south of France, iPad in hand, looking for a signal. If I happened to see myself, I’m sure I would laugh. So let’s hope the signal stays long enough this time.
Here is a photo from teho’s house in Roma.
And here is a photo from where we are in the south of France.
In one of the earlier lost posts, i waxed poetic about my friendship with Teho. We met by playing rock festivals together in separate bands back in the day. As CSC was breaking up, he asked if we would be interested in doing remixes of each others bands. Cop Shoot Cop vs Meathead. This was t.he last thing that Cop actually released. On its own, it was underwhelming. But it did start a communication and friendship between myself and Teho.
Teho and I went on to release an album under the name Here. In the process, I spent a lot of time in Italy with Teho, and we became best friends. Both of our creative work has continued to evolve and grow. He is now one of the top composers for film and tv in italy. I continue to learn so much from Teho, both on the level of life and living, and on a creative level. He has helped me become a better person through his selfless and loving approach to those around him. And at times I listen to his music and I feel like I don’t need to create any more, as these songs have already been realized. And this isn’t a bad thing, it’s not a feeling of futility. It’s more like a weight has been lifted.
Today is the last day in the south of France. We are staying up in the mountains above the Mediterranean , near a small town named mons. I came here with a long list of activities to do, but we all seem to find the most happiness just hanging around, reading, resting, swimming. Top,or row we are off to Paris. Then home. Looking forward to seeing the catacombs, something we tried to do in Roma but time just ran out.
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