OK,
Yesterday was the re-birth. I can't really tell you how it worked out, but I woke up and did not feel weighed down by all the things that have been weighing me down over the past 2 years. I think it was completing the 7-week program at my new university. Maybe it was the 7 weeks in the Bronx, which feels like 7 pre-1990 Harlems stitched together but in Spanish. Maybe it was starting up my old part-time job and seeing old friends. A co-worker reminded me that the world we work in is not real . . . it is selling a fantasy. Good to know.
So the uplifting things . . . let's see. First Joe's playlist on his Myspace is fumkin' slammin'. Get yourself a taste.
I saw Rat-mo last weekend. First tapas (I hate tapas bars, I think they are pretentious, especially when chased by caipirinhas that are too gritty. You got to really mix the lime and sugar) on Saturday, followed by wine during the week. I talked to Rat-mo about life and as usual he was telling me to be precautious about love and commitments in no uncertain terms. I was screaming at him across the table that all one needs is to be brave. I guess the solutions lies in the middle. Rat-mo gets me, so I had a great time.
The other positive thing happened last night. After 2 months of Sundays of not being in the East Village I ventured there after work. I totally forgot about that part of town. Funny, on Sunday nights the ghost of the East Village past lifts its head. I remember when venturing down past 6th and 2nd Avenue was the beginning the Netherworld. Now it is more subdued. Thankfully, the free spirits out number the tourists and schucksters on Sunday nights (at least on this one), on the other days of the week it is a wigged out mall, a fictitious remnant of those nights when I saw a bare chested man walking down the street with a gun sticking out from behind his belt-buckle framed by a chinchilla; or seeing Claudia Schiffer and Naomi Campbell roller blading at 4 in the morning wearing long orange light-reflecting vest.
So, I got down to the Leopard Lounge at about 8:00. It was before the band arrived. Ayana was moving back and forth from the sofa and Ms. E. I looked around and the area was sparse. Ms. E. and I sat. We talked. Ayana spun glistening vintage Marley, with its Motown meets calypso melodies and multi-layered yet well organized pre-slang tang rhythms. The crowd appeared, a Motley crew of downtown dreads, Brooklynites and NYC couples who followed the music up the stairs into the lounge. Then Zili Misik performed -- an all girl band in white. I felt cleansed for a split second. It was Sunday and church. It was an experience I have not felted in a while. The composed sisters sang in Portuguese, English and Haitian Kreyol and for once I felt invited . . . to something . . . besides the little heartache and financial strain from making my summer stipend produce fruit.
Yesterday was the re-birth. I can't really tell you how it worked out, but I woke up and did not feel weighed down by all the things that have been weighing me down over the past 2 years. I think it was completing the 7-week program at my new university. Maybe it was the 7 weeks in the Bronx, which feels like 7 pre-1990 Harlems stitched together but in Spanish. Maybe it was starting up my old part-time job and seeing old friends. A co-worker reminded me that the world we work in is not real . . . it is selling a fantasy. Good to know.
So the uplifting things . . . let's see. First Joe's playlist on his Myspace is fumkin' slammin'. Get yourself a taste.
I saw Rat-mo last weekend. First tapas (I hate tapas bars, I think they are pretentious, especially when chased by caipirinhas that are too gritty. You got to really mix the lime and sugar) on Saturday, followed by wine during the week. I talked to Rat-mo about life and as usual he was telling me to be precautious about love and commitments in no uncertain terms. I was screaming at him across the table that all one needs is to be brave. I guess the solutions lies in the middle. Rat-mo gets me, so I had a great time.
The other positive thing happened last night. After 2 months of Sundays of not being in the East Village I ventured there after work. I totally forgot about that part of town. Funny, on Sunday nights the ghost of the East Village past lifts its head. I remember when venturing down past 6th and 2nd Avenue was the beginning the Netherworld. Now it is more subdued. Thankfully, the free spirits out number the tourists and schucksters on Sunday nights (at least on this one), on the other days of the week it is a wigged out mall, a fictitious remnant of those nights when I saw a bare chested man walking down the street with a gun sticking out from behind his belt-buckle framed by a chinchilla; or seeing Claudia Schiffer and Naomi Campbell roller blading at 4 in the morning wearing long orange light-reflecting vest.
So, I got down to the Leopard Lounge at about 8:00. It was before the band arrived. Ayana was moving back and forth from the sofa and Ms. E. I looked around and the area was sparse. Ms. E. and I sat. We talked. Ayana spun glistening vintage Marley, with its Motown meets calypso melodies and multi-layered yet well organized pre-slang tang rhythms. The crowd appeared, a Motley crew of downtown dreads, Brooklynites and NYC couples who followed the music up the stairs into the lounge. Then Zili Misik performed -- an all girl band in white. I felt cleansed for a split second. It was Sunday and church. It was an experience I have not felted in a while. The composed sisters sang in Portuguese, English and Haitian Kreyol and for once I felt invited . . . to something . . . besides the little heartache and financial strain from making my summer stipend produce fruit.
Check these sites out.
Zili Misik
Universal Sundays @ Leopard Lounge
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