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