A walking tour of your soul

"They'll name a city after us, and later say it's all our fault"
-Regina Spektor


So the new year has unfolded with strange days of Indian summer in January, interspersed with hours of cold fog that claws at your shins. I've been getting out and walking the streets at midnight. I'm tired of staying in. Nothing is taking form. I'm doing a jigsaw puzzle on my kitchen table. The pieces are everywhere. I just can't seem to make the Mona Lisa come into view.

So I've just been taking pictures. Out on the streets taking pictures. People from the past orbit me like satellites. They see the light from dead stars. Is there life on Mars? Am I the Little Prince? I don't think I'm the Little Prince anymore....the rose was white...that much I remember.

I walked past a church which is now a disco. Has been for a while. I am a DJ, I am what I play. The disco I was DJ-ing at that night was not in a church. I walked 48 blocks from Grand Central Station to the West Village. The lights were bright, but not on the ground.

The relaunch of the Mondo danceparty was a success. But truthfully I sometimes enjoy playing records more when there are only 5 people sitting glumly at tables. Then I get to play Mott The Hoople, and Neu! and old reggae records. But I'm sure the club and my fellow djs prefer when the dancefloor is full of sweaty happy people, and thats probably as it should be. I still managed to sneak in The Velvet Underground's "Rock n' Roll" and Roxy Music amongst the New Order and Blondie. If you live in New York you should really come by.

I walked 32 blocks towards home after I finished playing records but I don't know where I thought I was going. Only one man could cross the East River on foot. And I'm not him. Mon ami I am not him. I didn't want to wait for the subway, or perhaps I just didn't want to go under the ground. It's a healthy, if not inconvenient impulse. So I took a cab. I should be sleepy at four in the morning. I should be

A day or so later I walked 46 blocks from the 7 train to The Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the Fra Angelico & Rauschenberg shows with a dearie. It was crowded and she said it smelt like old people. I thought it smelt like old art, or old money. We enjoyed it though. Then we went to a cafe chain whose French name translates to My Daily Bread.

I then took a subway downtown to meet some potential singers at my favorite east village pub The Scratcher with my accordianist (the handsome Kurt Brondo) in tow. The search for a vocalist, the new songs, the new band etc... has been such an existential drama, that I will write about that in earnest all at once. The girls were all nice. We exchanged cds. One was the daughter of a famous cult musician who appears on many of the best records of all time. That was strange, but nice because she was just a normal down to earth girl who went to highschool on Long Island just like us.

After the girls departed and a few Smithwicks were drank, Kurt and I got tacos with stupid sauce. I said goodnight and walked 19 blocks to the foot of the Williamsburg bridge and then took another cab.

This was my first week back at the college. I had grown attatched to last semesters gang of punk rock community college misfits. I'm teaching a 5 credit design course which stretches over two days. I have a deaf student this semester who comes with two middle aged sign language translators whom remind me of my mother. Needless to say I am feeling inspired to both do a good job and behave.

Yesterday the fog came again. The L train stopped running. No one was happy. No sun. No art. Pad Thai when I wanted French Toast. At four o'clock I went to a "read through." I'm acting in a friend's short film. I play an ill-suited clergyman, in a role he, ahem, wrote just for me. I want to be Montogomery Clift, but I'd settle for Jon Cryer. The lead actor is a burly sweetheart named Arthur who took me out for dinner along with the director after rehearsal. He was wearing a t-shirt from an obscure black metal band.

I drove back to Sunnyside round ten. I had to park on the outskirts of town. I walked up the stairs and into the kitchen and stared at the puzzle pieces spread out upon the table. I realized that I'm not going to be able to eat at home until I finish it.

xo

Mickey Grace

You go brave

"Go write your time, go sing it on the streets. Go tell the world, but you go brave. " - Hymn for The Dudes, Mott The Hoople


OK Holiday recess is over, a new year has begun...and I need to get back to this, that and the other. 2005 was a year I will remember for reasons both good and bad, but 2006 is a year where my words and voice will be heard, and I hope yours is too! Its alright brought some good news, as the spectacular Mondo Danceparty I am part of has found a new venue and is now bi-weekly starting Jan 20th. Come on down for the rebirth! Check the link section to the right for details.

I had a nice holiday back on Long Island, with a small group of family, and although we didn't quite consume everything required by il traditione Siciliano 'Night of The Seven Fishes'... we shared many good things, and my four yearold cousin Meghan (self-crowned princess of suburbia) was so full of joy (and candy) that I couldn't help but smile and keep smiling. My mother (in typically adorable suburban cluelessness) had purchased a plastic battery powered nativity scene, where you press a button and the little star lights up and a distorted 50s announcer voice tells 9 seconds of the story of Christmas. It was both unavoidably cheesy and strangely affecting. Which pretty much sums up a lot of my hometown, and most of the people in it.

For a couple days leading up to New Years Eve, I met up with friends and current bandmates and raised a few pints. But on New Years Eve itself I decided to have my first one spent by myself. After a brief chat with my brother I decided to get some take out Chicken Tikka Masala, a few bottles of Newcastle and take one of my remaining Vicadin from last years wisdom tooth which I had saved for special occasions. I would eat, and then meditate, and then watch the glittery ball come down, and then fall asleep. It would be nice.

There were a couple problems. First, the Indian restaurant on my block was "out of" Chicken Tikka Masala. I was told they had Chicken Tikka, but no Masala. At that point it was getting to be around 10pm and I wondered if the joint in the next town over would be open/deliver so I decided to compromise and get some Chicken Biyrani...which I was optimistic about since the restaurant itself was called House Of Biyrani.

I brought it back to my apartment, which seemed all of a sudden almost mockingly sparse and lonesome. It was also a bit chilly.

The Chicken Biyrani was not all that tasty. And the spinach with chickpeas I ordered as back up was even worse. So I ended up drinking beer and eating Godiva chocolates that I had brought back from Strong Island. A wave of anxiety washed over me. It was so strange how a relatively self-assured person can start to feel almost invisible when on their own for New Years. I thought about throwing on my parka and trekking to the East Village where the Todbot was going to a party thrown by a nice bunch of gay skinheads. I felt ever so slightly like I was going to cry into some cold biyrani.

One of the reasons I decided to stay in this New Years Eve, was that last New Years...I had split up with a girlfriend for whom I cared for very much a just few days prior (I wasn't as bad or unexpected as it sounds), and she ended up on her own for New Years Eve. An experience she later described to me as both sad and strangely empowering. I felt that this year was a bit of contrition for me with the universe, and hell I need all the empowering I can get.

Come midnight however, it wasn't going well. I felt woozy and hyper-glycemic, and my scattered thoughts and general melancholy made meditation impossible. I was sprawled out on my bed, my rabbit ears antenna struggling to bring clarity to anything. At the strike of midnight I perked up, but as is the burden of man, I was more saddened my the 'happy new years' I did not receive...than I was uplifted by the ones I did.

Just before I was about to turn out the lights and drift into an evening of miserable, sour curry tossing and turning...I noticed a program called Walk On By:The History of The Popular Song on PBS.

I proceeded to watch all six 45 minute episodes of the documentary series which discussed the evolution of the song in the 20th century from jazz and blues to country and theatre and pop and rock n' roll. It was brilliantly done, and I stayed up till 4:30 or so watching them. It was comfort, and insight, and consolation...and consultation...but then again I was buzzed. Still, it was like spirits whispering....when you wake up tomorrow, finish that song...And the three others, and keep writing, and have faith...for god's sake have faith...and also...eat something mild tomorrow....like maybe French Toast and coffee.

So I did and I have.

So this diary goes back to weekly now. Including an update on my music in the very near future. This entry has been illustrated by pictures my brother took on his New Years day walk across bridges and islands.

And here is the 'Viewer Mail' segment where i respond to some recent comments, and offer general good tidings!

scribe said...
This is beautiful writing. Happy Belated Birthday Michael.
9:52 PM

Thank you very much dear, on both accounts.

love said...
yeah, your blog is the most beautiful thing you can read on the internet right now.my favorite were always the best thing I know when you guys were still existing, and I still love you and always will.your lyrics have actually saved my life a couple of times, and ironically I had your music in my ears when I was very near dying this saturdaynight/sundaymorning. But I´m still alive and I look forward to hear more fantastic tunes from you Michael, in whatever shape it will take...
2:11 AM

Thanks luv, but in all seriousness...saving someone's life is not something I am qualified to do. I'm merely a folksinger. Hopefully you are just using some deliciously dramatic language...but if you do find yourself in serious peril, do your best to get thyself out. Hearing all the songs that I am busy writing is just the smallest of reasons to stay alive. There are so many more which will unfold like lillies after the thaw. Our bones are hard to break for a reason.

Janice said...
belated happy birthday!
5:30 AM

I ate pocky!

Anonymous said...
A late birthday wish! I too enjoy your writing as well as your songs. Will we see you at Tiswas later this month for Peter Hook DJing with the Editors playing beforehand?? Cheers!!
7:18 PM

Tempting, temping....old Hooky manning the turntables...you may see me lurking by the coatcheck sipping a whisky & Mr. Pibb

Anonymous said...
Michael-I was saddened to learn about the demise of My Favorite. But inspiration still lives and grows and I look forward to seeing and hearing what comes next.As for a centerfielder, I hope King George stays away from Johnny Damon, I want him back in Boston.-Chris
7:02 AM

Ah in the month since you wrote the Evil Empire has already taken your hairy hero, bathed him in pinstriped mystique (and ummm water) and placed him in the hallowed grounds of The House That Ruth Built. Yet I do feel strangely guilty...its always better to develop one's own folkheroes rather than simply pilfering someone elses...are you listening Music Journalists?
Thanks for the kind words about The Faves. Much appreciated...

j said...
i got my haircut too. anthony cut my bangs shorter than short. i hated it, until the woman at school who used to be an interior designer said that they were cute. validation, i take it from where i can. nothing bad fell on my head, only audrey the cat, who is a good girl. --jennifer
6:48 PM

All cats are grey, or so someone said. I am certain your bangs are cute.

scribe said...
Your writing never ceases to amaze me. I am sorry to hear of your loss. Here's to better days to come...Narnia is around the corner. Take that as you wish.
11:27 PM

Thank you. So Narnia came, and although it left me a bit, ahem, cold, the kiddos love it and it kicked King Kong's ass, which is cool with me. Hopefully in 7 years they'll let me direct The Last Battle, I assure you that I will go out in a blaze of glory!

Anonymous said...
Hi, i've been reading your blog since the beginning and listening to your song sin my room for even longer, but never had the nerve to say "hi". That gets that out of the way I guess... I wanted to tell you that you're one of my favorite songwriters (no pun intended), and wish you all the best in the coming year. :)Go forth and rock.-brian
6:42 PM

I shall go forth and rock, I promise. Thanks for saying hi.

Shaliza said...
This week was the second time I heard a My Favorite song on the MTV show Made. A few weeks ago, they played "The Happiest Days of My Life" and this week, "Rescue Us". It made me smile
10:09 AM

Sometimes when I hear a few seconds of one of our songs on an MTV program I smile, other times (usually when I think about the fact that we receive about 19 cents) I get a bit angsty. Plus no one really asks me if they can use it, so I guess I feel a bit used. I'm holding out for a Folgers commercial. But alas, anything that makes you smile, I'm happy about...

Janice said...
good to see you are writing again ... but your pupil is right! bad things do happen in 3s!
8:37 AM

Yeah but good things can happen in threes also right? I hope? My students always think their right so I shant tell them you concur.

Agent Ramona said...
After a period of silence in Punk Rock 101, Ramona raises her hand..."Mr. Grace, not Huggy Bear, Nation of Ulysses."because she knows this trivia is important to keep the mythology straight, even if no one else shows up to the lectures.

I agree! Thanks for the correction on the "a kid who tells on another kid is a dead kid" quote, which I believe actually originates from 70s teen explotation (and MF guitarist Darren Amadio's beloved) flick Over The Edge. I think there should be lectures, and slide identification. People should be able to discern between Amelia Fletcher and Lois Maffeo. I will be assistant Dean.

Penningtron said...
Grazia...the Italian version of your name? I always wondered how you got a name like Grace from Italian heritage...
10:25 AM

My real name is Robert Zimmerman! Got to serve somebody....

nils-m said...
I was about to write an essay about how sad I am that My Favorite broke up, but then my school decided that I should do something else, apparently more important (to them) instead. Your music lives on, which is at least OK. And, luckily, you live on after that terrible accident. I hope you'll get well soon. Thank you for the wonderful moments you and the gang served us at Hultsfred last summer. I thought my heart was going to burst when they finally let us into the place and you entered the stage. I am also eternally happy to be able to remember getting your self-portrait and sharing a piece of candy with the honorable Mr. Grace. Oh, being a fan is nice. All the best, Nils-Martin of Lund, Sweden.
11:39 AM

Your teachers have taken the universally accepted position that what we did (and do) is not worthy of much attention, but god bless you for feeling otherwise. The Hultsfred Festival was a real special event, and I'm so glad we got to share it (and the candy) with you. I drew a self-portrait? I assure you it was flattering! Much love...

thestile said...
MG, et. al.,I'm glad that you are beginning to feel better as well. Thanks for the movie reviews. You are one of the only people that I've known of that has seen "Buffalo 66". That movie has always had a special place in my heart, too. In the grand scheme of things, where I live is not that far from, or different than, Buffalo; and being a Cleveland Browns fan (foolishly and masochistically, I might add) since I was eight years old; I could relate fairly well to certain key aspects of that film.If you liked the general aesthetic of "Buffalo 66" and "The Brown Bunny", I suggest that you check out "Stranger than Paradise", directed by Jim Jarmusch. Jarmusch lives in NYC now, but, like me, is a native of Akron. The film contains a great deal of understated power in the unadulterated and unadorned manner in which it portrays the often monotonous nature of reality (kind of like this post, which is getting far too long.) It also has some (similarly understated) touching moments; and of course the scene in Cleveland on the shores of Lake Erie is priceless. Maybe I just like it because, like the main character in the film, my family is Hungarian (Italian on the other side). . .If I don't go out to the disco tonight, I too will convalesce at home. Depression is always such a Hobson's choice. It is a terribly bleak day here. This too shall pass. . .-thstl"I'm going crazy with boredom. . .Grey sky over a black town, I can feel depression all around."-Depeche Mode "Something to Do"
1:05 PM

"Stranger Than Paradise" is a real special film, and not just becuase its title could be used for existence itselfs' autobiography. I saw a few flicks over the holidays, perhaps I'll do another movie review posting soon.

killaferra said...
Dear Mr. Grace,First off I would like to say that I have been listening to Happiest Days of Our Lives a lot more. I always have loved the album, but recently I purchased the new Cocorosie CD and while I enjoyed it a lot it just does not have the depth My Favorite has. One day I revisited Happiest Days of Our Lives, after starting High School it means a lot more to me. My favorite song on it is Badge because it really sums up that feeling of longing that I have been plagued with. My Favorite will and always have more integrity, honesty, love, and beauty then bands like Stars and the Dears because you write songs about the little people that feel real, not songs for hopelessly hip 22 year olds that feel forced and over romantic. Now about my comment about Bush, I dont like him because he talks tough, but because he acts. The Middle East is the one of most beautiful regions of the world. It is filled with wonderful people, an amazing history and culture, and great food. It pains me to see what a few evil people can do to destroy this and cast the people in tyranny. The reason this has happened is that Islam has not been able to grow. Do to evil people like Bin Laden. If Judaism and Christianity stayed the same we would still be living in the middle ages. If we put democracy into countries like Iraq, then Islam can grow to be like it is in the US, a very peaceful religion. You can cast blame on the use of Islam in Afghanistan to fight the Soviets but that does not mean we should not fix these problem.Now about movies, Au Hasard Balthazar caught my eye beascuse of the donkey. Donkeys are faithful, loyal, obedient, anmials. I do a lot of farm work and I have never met a cruel donkey, even if was abused. If you ever get large peace of land buy a donkey and some alpacas and your life will be near perfect. This movie looks to have caught that spirt. I never saw Brown Bunny and really dont want to. 99.8% of the time graphic sex scenes are there just for publicity.Moving on to history homework, ferra P.S. Sorry for any grammer or spelling mistakes. I am trying...
2:42 PM

Well it is a bit humbling to be schooled by a young lady whom I believe is 15. Thanks you so much for sharing your thoughts and insights. I will never agree that Bush is a friend of peace, and sincerely believe if the Middle East did not have oil, he would never lift a hand to help, as we failed to do in East Timor, and Africa and else where. However...I agree that it is too easy for liberals to argue that we should just leave Islamic countries alone, becuase human rights and women's rights are aways in great peril, and for people to live in greater dignity....those who manipulate the Koran must be replaced by those who seek out its spirit and not its dogma. We have the same problems with Fundementalist Christian teachers in this country, who couldn't recognize the Holy Spirit if it came up and bit them on the ass....which I feel relatively confidant it will. Same thing with Hard core Zionists. Love in all its mystery will unite us all in the end, reveal that which is good, forgive that which is not. That's faith, and that's a start...

Plus may I say that if I ever come to own a peice of land and a donkey I think my life will be near perfect!