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Sun 27th March 2011 Yesterdays assertions were put to the test immediately after I left the cafe, when my card was rejected by the ATM. Tricksy. I never check my bank balance, it just always happens that one day I'll withdraw a receipt instead of cash, which has the words insufficient funds where some historical face should be. The international currency of over-stretched wonga. I did the whole diminished ambition / diminishing hope routine, starting with $120 & reducing the amount with each rejection until a paltry, solitary $20 note popped out enthusiastically at first, only to be greeted with mixed feelings which struck him lame with wilted pride. Three full days in NYC with $20 is a sobering thought, but without $20 it would be impossible. I grasped the note firmly in my fingers, felt him swell, noted the irony of yesterdays blog with a wry nod, and strode out of the grocery store with renewed confidence. And this is when things started to get real weird. |
Sat 26th March 2011 Proper ran out of moulons, so I'm just skittering about town with the sun & the smiths, waiting until the show with Albert tonight. Soundcheck in a few hours, so I'm not likely to run out of ideas or battery power before then thanks to And who fixed up ma 'Pood & brought it with him when he visited at the weekend. You know that Biblical principle that the Good Lord Will Provide? I live by that principle, which is why I often find myself in precarious situations, and I always pull through. But Maybe it's not Him, maybe it's just Andrew Rayner sorting me out :o) But there's more. The shoes on my feet were given to me by Albert's brother Charles Goold who bought them the wrong size & couldn't take 'em back, the hoodie I'm wearing is borrowed from another new NY friend, and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for William. I never ask for anything. I'm so lucky that I almost feel guilty for it. The strap on my bag started falling apart a few months ago, and then one day I noticed it had been stitched up - and I don't even know who did that for me. Andrew said it wasn't him, though it is the kind of thing he'd do, I'm just so lucky to have good friends around me that give a shit. I aspire to be so thoughtful. Above & beyond - there does appear to be a guiding arm. A conductor, an orchestrator. A saving grace of balmy hoopla. We stretch to meet her meek proposal. |
Fri 25th March 2011 Was determined to finally have that day off drinking yesterday, but met someone for lunch, and the first place we went to had $3 Stellas. Lunch never happened. Lunch never does. You ever wonder what happened to the music? I wonder the same. Currently in the bar I used to use as a bathroom when I was homeless here. Bathroom in the English sense of the word. The same place I got kicked out of for getting naked & dipping my cock in my beer when Joe Gardner & Jet Tea were in town with me. The night I threw my shoe at Joe Gardner, the day before Huggabroomstock 2009. The soup here is a mockery. Swapped it for a handful of green beans. |
Wed 23rd March 2011 There are things I can tell you, and things I will never say. There are things I can communicate & those I can't convey. Many particulars you don't want to know, all you could do without, but none predictable. Such is a half life, sadly. Essentially. Thankfully dynamically, in the absence of another sense. Twas a ridiculous week, for sure, but the weekend wasn't only insane, it was classic. You get a certain combination of people together, and it's pure fucking magic. The four horsemen on this occasion were Albert Goold, And, Richard Pierre & My Fortunate Self:     Pics were taken by Katy Ziegel, who added her own character to the team, which became far more than the sum of it's parts, without question. I've been laughing non-stop for 4 days straight.. save for the crying; sometimes somewhat manically, perhaps, but still, there's something more. As last night's festivities drew to a close, I chose to spend a little time alone out in the street, under the falling snow. I took some Chelsea magic with me, and this line from a Gothic Archies song dominated my thoughts: "The truth is as sudden as a hailstorm And guides weary sailors to the maelstrom" I'd been trying trying to decide whether or not to take my flight today, as ten thousand reasons jostled for each side of the argument in my splintered nature. Principally, perhaps, from a practical perspective, is a live show with Albert in a recording studio on Sat, which I really want to be a part of. My ticket is non-changeable, and I can't afford another, so the decision is critical. Today was the day of my flight, and throughout, the Gothic Archies song still resonated in my bones. The truth is as sudden as a hailstorm; I sang it softly to myself as I stared with wonder at the paintings at the Met while Richard & Albert tried to pull with the line "Excuse me, if I was here only to try to get girls, what would be the best way to approach one?" Funny as hell to observe as a subplot to the agenda. Getting into the Met in the first place provided no end of amusement. I had to get a permission slip from security to get in with my laptop, meanwhile they wouldn't allow Richard in with his guitar, so we spent much of the afternoon trying to leave it 'accidentally' in a diner.. kinda like the opposite of trying to steal it, but always without success. "Excuse me, your friend left this by the coat rack." Cue Richard, "Oh, I completely forgot about that!" Ended up leaving it in a jewellers, of all places. As we re-approached the gallery, I joked that this time they probably wouldn't let me in with the bananas I'd bought. As it turned out, they didn't let me in with the bananas I'd bought. I had to go find a place to leave them, which didn't take too long (street vendor) & then get another permission slip for my laptop & then we were in. Perfect. Soul search & giggles. Later on, as I sat in a bar thinking about my flight, I did the next best thing to making a decision & simply didn't make a decision. As I stepped out into the evening, a huge bolt of lightening exploded a whisker away & triggered a tremendous hailstorm. I walked through it, in my t-shirt, and within two mins the ground was covered in ice. The sky was striking down with needles, my arms were stung with pellets projected, not falling. Words fail me here. I spoke to Andrew, he told me my flight had been cancelled. This meant that it could be re-scheduled for Monday, without charge. This fate I have to obey. A stranger helped me cry. A friend saw me through. A wine bar, alone, and I'm stuck like glue. |
Tue 22nd March 2011 |
Tue 22nd March 2011 I never want to leave the Chelsea Hotel, it's beautiful in every way. I'm sitting here quietly, soaking up the night, and I thought I could do with a beer - but knew it might not be the best idea for my health at the moment - so I decided to Paper Scissors Stone for it, clean forgetting that I need some other foo' to make that work. So I looked online for a game of it & found one immediately. Fortune says no, and I trust the strumpet, having lived under her fulsome favours for so long. |
Tue 22nd March 2011 I leave New York tomorrow, but there are so many decisions I'll have to make upon my return to London. Cue Paper, Scissors, Stone Week. |