Wednesday, May 6, 2009

One more try, Mr. Darwin

Yesterday I started writing this tirade about change and evolution. I was on the train to NYC and as soon as we went underground I lost service, and my diatribe with it. So now i'm sitting in my shirt sleeves in some park in Chelsea amongst elderly dog lovers. I'm sure we are both equally confused by the others existance. The funny thing is that I'm positive they don't even know the half if it.

As for yesterdays thoughts:
It's a strange feeling experiencin ones evolution. But perhaps that's the wrong word as it seems to have a positive connotation. I've been feeling quite weird lately, like I can tell I'm changing, but into what I don't know. I'd think that normally people don't recognize changes so much as they're occuring. When a college student returns home for his or her first thanksgiving there is often a reorientation in which old friends need to figure out where they fit in each others lives. Stories are shares of people they'll never meet, sights they'll never see and crushes they'll never be excited by. I think these are the moments we can begin to clearly see how much we've rearranged our makeups. Yet somehow here I am, a bit cold, without home amongst day dwellers, all of whom have little to do but sit in the park reflecting.

The other night Kelly told me of a train ticket you can buy that let's you ride the rails in the states anywhere you want for 30 days. 300 bones. Ten bucks a day is not too shabby. If I could figure out a way to bring merch with me it's be a great way to tour. Lots of drop shipping perhaps. I like the idea if becoming a rail rider as it would put me one step closer to being a true hobo. What a fucking dumb privledged white kid thing to do, idealize transients. And perhaps I'm alreay one. What does hobo even mean, is it short for homeless bohemian? If so that sounds about right.

Last night I stayed with my great mate Sam. Awesome guy. With me his current apartment population was five. For the record it's a two bedroom apartment but with a girlfriend and another couch surfer we'd balooned the place. My fellow surfer was quite the opposite of me, the picture of success and potential. Business grad school student in between apartments, early riser, runner, obviously intelligent and well groomed. I suppose there are many reasons to surf couches and think it's quite probable that we both secretly think we each know what life is about and that the other is missing out.

On a side note, one of sam's college buddies talked to me for about an hour about a contract I'll soon be signing. In the real world it wouldve cost me around 500 bucks. He did it as a favor to Sam. Amazing. I owe him huge and greatly appreciate it. It was also amazing to speak to someone so smart and on point. For his sake I won't name him, but thank you friend.

So while I feel a bit weird still I'm living in it. And while at times I feel like a bum when I'm not working I am getting paid for various music based services, one of which is today. So I guess I'm working. All I've eaten today is a bagel and drank a cup of terrible watered down coffee. It's almost 6 pm. I'm getting 15 dollars in a few hours so I can go buy dinner. Perhaps I'll go to the discount market next to the club and stretch them dollars out.

Ok I'm getting cold. I think I'll walk around for a while. I hope you're great.



  1. Hmmm...sort of irrelevant information, but a hobo is a derogatory term that was used to make fun of people from the good old town of Hoboken, New Jersey.

  2. were in NYC and didn't call me. Interesting....