Two weeks in NYC so far & it's been a slow whirlwind. I've been playing tons, at Tagine Moroccan restaurant with Adam Good & Timothy Quigley, at Barbès in Brooklyn, & many subways; recorded with Orkestar (Matthew Fass's brass band), preparing four sets for the Golden Fest.... Yet it's one of those times I look back & ask, "what did I do yesterday again?"
Ack, Bush with more warmongering, Sharon gets reelected, not looking good for the ideals of compromise or reconciliation....
Back from NYC, inspired but wondering why i live in San Francisco. I'll give it a couple of months, but perhaps it's time to go east, young man. Maybe way east, like Istanbul, escape this country & complicity in Bush's world domination scheme. Or perhaps just Brooklyn.
Ok that wasn't much of an update for 22 days of life, so here's an excerpt from an email i sent a friend on the 21st (knowing that only exactly two people ever read this, i'm not editing very much out).
New York, as is its wont, has been glorious & yet I'm finding myself hibernating, once again feeling a cold passing through, becoming slightly numb this winter (even the locals complain of the chill), yet seeing lots to do in my life soon.
I'm thinking of living alone when i come back. I've never done it, except for housesitting Genie's place for three months (but that was HER place, still). I'd love to define a space, what would i do with complete control? I've lived so communally so long, it's a little too fascinating, probably sounds mundane & all, but i want my own damn pots (no more aluminum) & clean bathroom & i want to practice trumpet without worrying whether someone's home with me.
Shit, getting old.
In general, mindfulness, deliberateness. My friend Timothy, who i've stayed with for the last 10 days, composes & records all the time. He has his little studio, & percussion & flutes & guitars &c, & creates.
I've long had this disdain, loathing even, of money. Seen it as the crystallized abstraction of denial--those without money can't get the food they need, while unbought food rots. All our necessities are hoarded & only ransomed at great cost, as the money we pay with is bought with our time, our labor, our abdication of self-determination in favor of profits for our bosses. Money always has seemed a terrible bludgeon, a tool to keep us from what we need & to ensure the power of the pursekeepers.
Timothy, sincere, ribald Buddhist, sees money as a fluid force to be given freely & to be asked freely & without shame. We need it to survive, true, but it also enables us to do many things, including be generous.
For completely unrelated reasons, I'm considering a day job. Something fairly disposable, un café peut-être, perhaps 20 hours a week. I've been feeling a bit one-dimensional, & not just because I'm skinny. I spend all day practicing or writing or transcribing music, talk to musicians on the phone, go to rehearsal or a recording session at night, hang out with musicians over beer (whiskey rakija ouzo pernod damn i've been drinking a lot here). Notice the pattern? I mean, I'm all for immersion & devotion, but i'd like to be able to carry on a regular conversation as well;) Perhaps I'm romanticizing, but the prospect of joking with people waiting for lattes seems mind-expanding. Plus i'd get free coffee.
And some structure couldn't hurt either. A schedule might just kick my ass a little.