ones and zeroes

Better living through modern chemistry.

4.15.2005

Asobi Seksu had finished her set of poppy rock, laced through and through with these eighties-ish organ-like keyboards that had me bouncing and shaking my head like there was no tomorrow, drinking Sierra cause it tasted so mighty fine refreshing. Johnny whispered something into Lucy's ear, she signaled to me, and the four of us - Johnny, Daylen, Lucy and myself - all went downstairs into the back.

The door clicked shut and we took our seats where we could. Johnny pulled out his batty and a baggy that, when opened, filled the room with an odor I can only call "You can't wait to smoke me." 2 solid lungfuls of smoke later, we were headed back upstairs to catch the rest of a set by MONO, this awesome post-rock band I had been told was similar to Mogwai.

I leaned against the cold brick wall along the right-hand side of the room, feeling an all-body all-mind high rushing over me, aware of all my capillaries and arteries as they chugged along like organic steam engines to keep me running keep me standing while my mind was bathed in sound. I fell right into the music, the slow droning guitars, the building bass, the declarative and undeniable drumbeats, and understood deeply and wonderfully that music is truly a Temporal art, and in that moment it replaced time. Anywhere it went, I went. Anything it felt, I felt. If a note was plucked, it was a reflection of how I felt. And how I felt was a reflection of the note just plucked.

I started writing words inside my head and fell in love with language all over again. It seemed to me that language suddenly didn't even need to be something so concrete, a concretization of the abstract - it could be abstract and temporal itself, and I was writing endless poetry inside my head. And as the music sunk into a dark and morbid moment I was struck by the sensation that I would forget these words. They would slip into the history of a marijuana haze and be forgotten in the morning. But even these thoughts were coming through poetically, temporally, moving with the music, a confluence of all energies and beings in time and space around me resulting in art created that would never leave my mind.

The show ended. We went out on to the street and while Johnny ran upstairs to get his coat a beautiful black homeless man came over to us, singing an old love song from the 1950's, the tune of which escapes me already, sadly. He talked to us for a long while and when Johnny came back we all were talking like Real Human Beings. Status, that meant nothing. We were all just talking. No one was even thinking about who was homeless and who wasn't. After about 15 minutes we needed to leave and he asked if any of us could maybe spare a dollar. The three of them each gave him something, and I opened my wallet and was sorely, sorely dismayed to see that I only had 2 twenty dollar bills.

"I'm so sorry, I don't have anything.." I said.

And he wheeled towards me, his eyes wide and white and bright and said -

"Don't you never be sorry! What you is giving me, this? [holds up the dollars] THat's just material possessions, that's just something that can help me get by day to day. But what you gave me most of all that's more important than that - is yourselves. We talked like real human beings. We had a real connection here and that is a beautiful and rare thing. So you don't be sorry none. You just go on and have a good night."

[all of us]: "You have a good night too."

"Don't put it all on me! Y'all have a BETTER night!"

I slept like a baby last night.

2 Comments:

  • At 4:03 PM, Blogger Laurence O'Neal Suarez said…

    Ahhh, makin friends wherver you go. That's the way to do it. What'd you guys talk about that formed such a fast connection?

     
  • At 7:02 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    what ever happened to the Hawk blog?

     

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