It's October third again, late at night, another night in the Digital Age. I'm online. I'm looking at my photographs and my journals, looking back on the last couple months. There's been so many miles and so many moments, and most of them have been good. I'm thankful and lucky and happy to be home, back at my base camp, with time to rest and time to reflect and time to be with people I love.
The time dial is set: September 2009. My travels with Debbie (which are mentioned in previous posts) put me back in Maryland on the ninth day of September. Back in Maryland for the very end of summer. The crape myrtle in front of our house was still putting on a fine pink show. I arrived at home and continued planning. There were future missions to carry out.
First, the zoo. My mother and I took a day and went to the Washington D.C. Zoo. It was my first time there. I was supposed to go for an assignment back in college, but I was busy with working and scheming and I never went. Maybe the assignment was for extra credit. Or maybe it was mandatory. I don't remember. I took college on my own terms, and did what I wanted, but I passed. Anyway, I didn't come here to rant about my college days so I must focus. Late night focus is key for early morning writing.
Zoos can sometimes be a little sad--animals far from home with sad eyes--but there are other things happening too. Education. Protection. And Beauty. Beauty in the raw power and agility that many of the species possess. And beauty in the diversity. Humans interact with humans so much, it's easy to forget about the millions of other species that live on this planet. My mother and I saw about a couple hundred different species at the D.C. Zoo, and we enjoyed our time there. Thanks Mom! (You can never say that enough.) Some zoo photos:
After weeks and months on the road, it was good to be at home. But I was only home for a few days. And then my mother dropped me off at the downtown Baltimore Greyhound station. I rode north.
A few hours later I stepped off the bus in New York City. Manhattan to be exact, near Times Square. I had been there before (on other hound trips), but they were brief stops and I hadn't really seen too much. I was back in the city to see the city, yes, but that was just a perk. I had come to New York City to spend some time with my friend Matt Wellschlager.
I ran up the stairs and out of the Port Authority Terminal. I called Matt with my semi-recently obtained cell phone. He was on his way over. I was standing out on the street, wearing my backpack and holding my NYC Lonely Planet guidebook in just the right way: against my side and with the cover facing in and the spine facing down so no one could easily tell it was a guide book. Stealth mode. Yes yes! Ho ho! I was in the Big City--Santa Claus's quagmire--the biggest city in the U.S. Over 8.3 million people living there. I felt my traveling powers coming back to me. The switch had been flipped. I was a pod of observation.
Matt found me outside the station and we started our first mission, a walk around the City, the first of many good missions. It was great to see Matt again. It was a fine day--warm solar rays, cool fall air, and lots of city energy on display for free. Still lots of leaves on the trees in the parks and along the streets. Matt had been in the city for years, and he knew his way around. We walked. We talked. I was got excited about the metal reinforcements--curb guards--which are on many of curbs. Tough streets. They sustain much punishment.
Matt and I both love much of the same music, so Matt showed me some of the famous music landmarks in the city: Bob Dylan's old apartment, Cafe Wha?, the Zeppelin album cover photo site, and the old site of CBGB. And while we walked to these music places, we were talking about music: setlists, Jerry Garcia, the Dead, and the great guitarist Les Paul who used to play every Monday night at the Iridium Jazz Club on Broadway (a show I was dreaming of going to). But Les would play no more; he had died a few weeks ago at the age of 81. I felt sad, but I did what I always do when someone dies: I mourned the loss and celebrated the life. Play it pretty, Les. Play it pretty. (Here's a youtube link with Les. Why not? (Les Paul went to the library. Later he learn to shred.)
I am filling with joy and wild excitement as I think about my time with Matt in New York City. I had great fun walking around and seeing the fountains and the parks and all the many streets and people. I dreamed about the big city days ahead. I ate pizza. I rode the subway. Central Park enveloped me. My pizza diet actually began the day I got there (I think I averaged about 4 slices a day). I was happy to meet Kate, girlfriend to Matt, who was wonderful with hospitality and knowledge about the city. Matt and Kate briefed me on the city. I learned quick. On the weekends and evenings, I spent time with Kate and Matt. And during the weekdays, while Matt and Kate were at work, I was off walking and doing my city research.
One week day I walked across all of Manhattan. As many of my friends already know, I am proud of my bipedal crossing of the Manhattan Island from the south to the north (plus some extra miles for fun). I started in the East Village, went down to Battery Park (the south side of the island), and then walked northeast to the very top of Manhattan Island, where the Harlem River slides by, and where the cross street numbers are somewhere up near 217. I was walking for about nine or ten hours--maybe 17 or 18 miles. It felt like 25 or 30. Walking north, I watched the street numbers rise, slowly, like page numbers in some giant volume--each street was its own page, and each page was its own book--worlds inside of worlds, very dense but with strong creative and comic overtones, like a Pynchon book. And while I was crawling through the pages, and sorting through the words, a million different stories were happening all around. I bought dollar slices of pizza on the street and ate while I was walking.
Ah yes, that was one big day of walking. I don't want to brag too much here. And it's not about the distance or the miles. That's not the point. I just got the crazy idea that I should walk across the whole Island. So I did it. And it was a joyous and footsore occasion. And I can't wait to write the whole story out someday soon.
At the top of the island my feet were sore. I had bruised them. I hopped on the train and rode back south to meet Matt and Kate. I drank some coffee and changed my socks, and limped around the apartment talking about my adventure.
After my goodbyes, I was back on the bus riding to Maryland with my sore feet sitting loose in my shoes. There had been many days of walking, with weight on my back and hard pavement--and I tried to walk softly--but my feet got plenty punished, all in the name of exploration, of course. But my mantras and my rest helped me though. The miles were good ones. And pain is part of the road. Thanks again Matt and Kate! Thanks for making my first New York City mission a great one. Now it's time for some more NYC photos:
Central Park.
I cried for John Lennon in Central Park.
I took this on my Island Walk. It was hard not to think
On Williamsburg Bridge, looking west.
Now I can't go through all the details off all the various adventures--I'll save that for the book version--but I will mention a few things. I have a lot of territory to cover, so I might as well get to work. It's nearing two in the morning. It's quiet. People are sleeping, including many of the manics and morons, a fact that gives me comfort in this Age of Modern Mayhem. I have one can of beer and one cup of coffee. I'm sipping slow, looking forward to that moment when both liquids will reach the same temperature.
The time dial is set: September 2009. My travels with Debbie (which are mentioned in previous posts) put me back in Maryland on the ninth day of September. Back in Maryland for the very end of summer. The crape myrtle in front of our house was still putting on a fine pink show. I arrived at home and continued planning. There were future missions to carry out.
First, the zoo. My mother and I took a day and went to the Washington D.C. Zoo. It was my first time there. I was supposed to go for an assignment back in college, but I was busy with working and scheming and I never went. Maybe the assignment was for extra credit. Or maybe it was mandatory. I don't remember. I took college on my own terms, and did what I wanted, but I passed. Anyway, I didn't come here to rant about my college days so I must focus. Late night focus is key for early morning writing.
Zoos can sometimes be a little sad--animals far from home with sad eyes--but there are other things happening too. Education. Protection. And Beauty. Beauty in the raw power and agility that many of the species possess. And beauty in the diversity. Humans interact with humans so much, it's easy to forget about the millions of other species that live on this planet. My mother and I saw about a couple hundred different species at the D.C. Zoo, and we enjoyed our time there. Thanks Mom! (You can never say that enough.) Some zoo photos:
After weeks and months on the road, it was good to be at home. But I was only home for a few days. And then my mother dropped me off at the downtown Baltimore Greyhound station. I rode north.
A few hours later I stepped off the bus in New York City. Manhattan to be exact, near Times Square. I had been there before (on other hound trips), but they were brief stops and I hadn't really seen too much. I was back in the city to see the city, yes, but that was just a perk. I had come to New York City to spend some time with my friend Matt Wellschlager.
I ran up the stairs and out of the Port Authority Terminal. I called Matt with my semi-recently obtained cell phone. He was on his way over. I was standing out on the street, wearing my backpack and holding my NYC Lonely Planet guidebook in just the right way: against my side and with the cover facing in and the spine facing down so no one could easily tell it was a guide book. Stealth mode. Yes yes! Ho ho! I was in the Big City--Santa Claus's quagmire--the biggest city in the U.S. Over 8.3 million people living there. I felt my traveling powers coming back to me. The switch had been flipped. I was a pod of observation.
Matt found me outside the station and we started our first mission, a walk around the City, the first of many good missions. It was great to see Matt again. It was a fine day--warm solar rays, cool fall air, and lots of city energy on display for free. Still lots of leaves on the trees in the parks and along the streets. Matt had been in the city for years, and he knew his way around. We walked. We talked. I was got excited about the metal reinforcements--curb guards--which are on many of curbs. Tough streets. They sustain much punishment.
Matt and I both love much of the same music, so Matt showed me some of the famous music landmarks in the city: Bob Dylan's old apartment, Cafe Wha?, the Zeppelin album cover photo site, and the old site of CBGB. And while we walked to these music places, we were talking about music: setlists, Jerry Garcia, the Dead, and the great guitarist Les Paul who used to play every Monday night at the Iridium Jazz Club on Broadway (a show I was dreaming of going to). But Les would play no more; he had died a few weeks ago at the age of 81. I felt sad, but I did what I always do when someone dies: I mourned the loss and celebrated the life. Play it pretty, Les. Play it pretty. (Here's a youtube link with Les. Why not? (Les Paul went to the library. Later he learn to shred.)
I am filling with joy and wild excitement as I think about my time with Matt in New York City. I had great fun walking around and seeing the fountains and the parks and all the many streets and people. I dreamed about the big city days ahead. I ate pizza. I rode the subway. Central Park enveloped me. My pizza diet actually began the day I got there (I think I averaged about 4 slices a day). I was happy to meet Kate, girlfriend to Matt, who was wonderful with hospitality and knowledge about the city. Matt and Kate briefed me on the city. I learned quick. On the weekends and evenings, I spent time with Kate and Matt. And during the weekdays, while Matt and Kate were at work, I was off walking and doing my city research.
One week day I walked across all of Manhattan. As many of my friends already know, I am proud of my bipedal crossing of the Manhattan Island from the south to the north (plus some extra miles for fun). I started in the East Village, went down to Battery Park (the south side of the island), and then walked northeast to the very top of Manhattan Island, where the Harlem River slides by, and where the cross street numbers are somewhere up near 217. I was walking for about nine or ten hours--maybe 17 or 18 miles. It felt like 25 or 30. Walking north, I watched the street numbers rise, slowly, like page numbers in some giant volume--each street was its own page, and each page was its own book--worlds inside of worlds, very dense but with strong creative and comic overtones, like a Pynchon book. And while I was crawling through the pages, and sorting through the words, a million different stories were happening all around. I bought dollar slices of pizza on the street and ate while I was walking.
Ah yes, that was one big day of walking. I don't want to brag too much here. And it's not about the distance or the miles. That's not the point. I just got the crazy idea that I should walk across the whole Island. So I did it. And it was a joyous and footsore occasion. And I can't wait to write the whole story out someday soon.
At the top of the island my feet were sore. I had bruised them. I hopped on the train and rode back south to meet Matt and Kate. I drank some coffee and changed my socks, and limped around the apartment talking about my adventure.
Being in the city, I was also fortunate to spend some time with my friend Elliott who lives in Brooklyn. Unfortunately, Brad and Rosie were away. (I'll have to see ya'll next time.) Here's Me, Matt, and Elliot at a sports bar doing the necessary research.
After my goodbyes, I was back on the bus riding to Maryland with my sore feet sitting loose in my shoes. There had been many days of walking, with weight on my back and hard pavement--and I tried to walk softly--but my feet got plenty punished, all in the name of exploration, of course. But my mantras and my rest helped me though. The miles were good ones. And pain is part of the road. Thanks again Matt and Kate! Thanks for making my first New York City mission a great one. Now it's time for some more NYC photos:
Sun in the city.
Fuel for walking (or eating more pizza).
Central Park.
I cried for John Lennon in Central Park.
Respect, the Code of the City,
important all the time, but quite crucial when
you have 8.3 million human animals living close by.
you have 8.3 million human animals living close by.
I took this on my Island Walk. It was hard not to think
about the late John Hartford's song "In Tall Buildings."
Central Park.
On Williamsburg Bridge, looking west.
Also on Williamsburg Bridge.
American Museum of Natural History.
American Museum of Natural History.
Harlem River at the northern most end of Manhattan Island.
(Where I ended my big city walk.)
After four hours on the hound, I was back in MD. I was home, and there were things to do: unpacking, repacking, organizing, housekeeping, room cleaning, entropy fighting, foot resting. I also had some phone calls and emails to work on because a full-time friend needs to always try to stay in touch. I wanted to keep reaching out, and be a good friend, but I also knew I needed some time for myself.
The relationship you have with yourself is an important one. I've known for years that I am a friend to myself. We all do this. In fact, most people are their own best friends. We certainly spend quite a bit of time with ourselves. This is kind of a weird thought, a strange loop for the mind and body and spirit and persona--like holding up two mirrors so they face each other--the self friendship gets reflected to infinity. I shan't linger in this weirdness for too long, but I want to mention some self friending items.
What did I do for my friend Jeff? Well it all started with some good sleep, long and deep, no need for coffee after putting a good 12 hours in the sleep tank. Then some reading and music to start the day. Walk Marley. Sit in the sun. Eat and drink. Then I got down to some writing. Yes, when I'm not thinking about my family and friends, I'm usually thinking about my books. All my months of traveling and friending meant a hiatus from the work on my main manuscript, Book 1. But on that day, I decided to get back into it. So I fired up my old laptop and the most recent word document (every writing day I save a new draft with the date in the title), and I started at the beginning, page 1. Soon I was back in the word story groove, writing and rewriting and editing.
Jeff
The relationship you have with yourself is an important one. I've known for years that I am a friend to myself. We all do this. In fact, most people are their own best friends. We certainly spend quite a bit of time with ourselves. This is kind of a weird thought, a strange loop for the mind and body and spirit and persona--like holding up two mirrors so they face each other--the self friendship gets reflected to infinity. I shan't linger in this weirdness for too long, but I want to mention some self friending items.
What did I do for my friend Jeff? Well it all started with some good sleep, long and deep, no need for coffee after putting a good 12 hours in the sleep tank. Then some reading and music to start the day. Walk Marley. Sit in the sun. Eat and drink. Then I got down to some writing. Yes, when I'm not thinking about my family and friends, I'm usually thinking about my books. All my months of traveling and friending meant a hiatus from the work on my main manuscript, Book 1. But on that day, I decided to get back into it. So I fired up my old laptop and the most recent word document (every writing day I save a new draft with the date in the title), and I started at the beginning, page 1. Soon I was back in the word story groove, writing and rewriting and editing.
With only a couple writing days, I didn't make a ton of progress, but that was okay. The contact was what I needed, to be back in my writing chair, remembering the past and feeling the story.
And then one day I drove to the airport and picked up my brother. Chris had just flow in from San Fran, where he had been living for a couple weeks after his tour was over. I met him at the airport, and we headed home. Mom was very happy to see him. We celebrated his cross-country journey.
It was Chris and me at home, like the old days. Chris was still feeling the bike tour magic, and I was feeling good from months of traveling. And life was good for us in Maryland.
One day I did some recording with my friend Jake Posko. Jake and I have written a bunch of songs over the years. We worked on recording some of those songs. I dusted off the my strings and drove over to Linda's home (Jake's mother) where we had our studio set up in the basement. And then we played. Thank you Linda!
While at home, Chris and I spent time with our mother, trying to help out and do some cooking and take care of Marley. We also drove to our father's and spent some time there. Dad was very happy to see Chris, and we were happy to see him--two brothers, back with their father, in the midst of an endless summer. It was a good time.
My siblings and I really are lucky. Our parents are full of love and support and wisdom. They let us do our own things, go in our own directions. They've given us life and love and so many great oppoutunites. Thank you Mom and Dad! We love and appreciate everything you do. (You can never say these things enough.)
It was Chris and me at home, like the old days. Chris was still feeling the bike tour magic, and I was feeling good from months of traveling. And life was good for us in Maryland.
One day I did some recording with my friend Jake Posko. Jake and I have written a bunch of songs over the years. We worked on recording some of those songs. I dusted off the my strings and drove over to Linda's home (Jake's mother) where we had our studio set up in the basement. And then we played. Thank you Linda!
While at home, Chris and I spent time with our mother, trying to help out and do some cooking and take care of Marley. We also drove to our father's and spent some time there. Dad was very happy to see Chris, and we were happy to see him--two brothers, back with their father, in the midst of an endless summer. It was a good time.
My siblings and I really are lucky. Our parents are full of love and support and wisdom. They let us do our own things, go in our own directions. They've given us life and love and so many great oppoutunites. Thank you Mom and Dad! We love and appreciate everything you do. (You can never say these things enough.)
After saying goodbye to Dad and Sheila in Virginia, Chris and I drove to Pennsylvania. There, we visited our grandmother and grandfather. They were doing well and looking good, and we were so happy to be there with them. We helped out, and shared meals, and listened to stories. I knew how incredibly lucky Chris and I were, to be there with them. And to be totally free, able to travel and visit loved ones without work-related time commitments. We stayed in PA for a week or so, enjoying our time with our grandparents and our great aunt. We listened closely to their stories. They are older than us. They are wise. They have seen and felt so much, but their spirits are still young and full of joy. And we love them and they love us. And again, I knew that I was very lucky.
And then Chris and I came back to Maryland. I started getting packed. Another full-time friend mission was coming up. I was going west again . . .
That's all for now. The next post will continue with this story.
The coffee and the beer have reached the same temperature. I've combined the two, and I'm enjoying the last couple sips.
Good morning and namaste.
That's all for now. The next post will continue with this story.
The coffee and the beer have reached the same temperature. I've combined the two, and I'm enjoying the last couple sips.
Good morning and namaste.
Jeff
