I walked myself home like an old, tired dog from a gig on Friday night dried up like astronaut ice cream. Trying to replenish my neurological desert with tears, I lost more of myself. I was to play the CBS morning show with Sunny War in 12 hours and to open for Jesse Malin in Asbury Park in 20 hours.
Sweet sleep. I slept.
I woke up at 5:30AM to run. My first run in weeks as I’d been ill with some odd sickness for too long. Pre-dawn Manhattan. Pre-dawn Hudson River. I learned a lesson: if I long for the lure of vacant streets of quieter towns in all their lonely, spacious glory, all I need do to find that in New York is lurk around in the morning twilight hour. A thrill.
Playing on TV was surreal. Being surrounded by such a high level of gear and equipment inspired me.
My friend and I drove out to Danny Clinch’s gallery in Asbury Park where I played a solo set for 90 polite listeners, opening for Jesse Malin.
Sunday. I am a limp noodle holed up in my apartment which has become a creative den, my personal Beggar’s Tomb, where I teeter between dissolving into madness or innovation. I completed a music video for my first release of 2023. Half of it is old VHS footage and I spent the rest of the time degrading the new footage to match. The art of video is just as alluring to me as music.
The Empire State Building was lit up the color of Solo Monk and singing Ruby, My Dear to me as I dropped off 35mm film from Italy and New York to be developed in the East Village. I stared up at it and all the lights from store windows, street lamps, cars, blurred just enough to give me the sense I am living in Van Gogh’s “The Café Terrace at Night.”
