HELLO FROM THE BOWERY

08/09/23

Hello from NYC, writing to you from the Bowery, from a different lifeline, and from a dimly lit lobby where the AC is good and the hospitality is ok. I hope you all are well.

We’ve been here for a handful of days. Two strange coincidences from days 1/2:

1. A family we were standing near while awaiting our ride at JFK Airport walked in the restaurant we ate dinner at hours later in the East Village and were sat at the table next to us.

2. After dinner we walked up Houston, passing my old apartment, to Whole Foods to get a few groceries for the room. In the self check-out line, we noticed another patient customer a few spaces behind us as Rainer was air drumming for him and he had interesting clothes on. The next day we walked to a clothing store in a different neighborhood and the same person opened the door for us, as they worked there. We were all surprised.

I don’t know what any of this really means. I suspect coincidence is rife in all of our lives, only sometimes we are open to catching them but usually we are too busy to notice. I’ve been trying to be more open to absorbing inspiration, life in general, exercising my senses, eating food slower, walking a little slower, looking deeper… I get so caught and burnt within the hustle that I start to disdain the hustle itself for the compromise that is less creation.

One evening I sat in bed and watched the lightning parade. But mostly I have been walking too many miles, on purpose. It’s not really getting me anywhere though. I don’t feel like a tourist but more of a stranger who knows their way around. It’s just that the landmarks have been replaced by things that don’t interest me and weren’t replaced by new affections. I’m not even positive I want any, any way. A few doors down from the hotel is where CBGB’s was, a place whose story super supersedes me, although I was lucky to play there over ten times (picture at top of this entry is AN there on December 23, 2001, by JC Carey). Don’t begrudge the past or present. The only constant with cities is that they are constantly changing. There are doors and things happen behind them and then the doors change colors and then different things happen behind them.

Here is a poem from my phone:

You were wrong that people don't change
How I wish I felt the same
To be young is to be pure
I don't feel it any more

More soon…