Song and Dance

“I remember my favorite nights were just getting drunk and walking around the East Village kicking over garbage cans. Just the night. Just the night. Just that it would be night again. And you could go out, you know? It just seemed glorious. And you'd be humming these great songs and anything could happen, and it was usually pretty good. You'd pick up some chick. You'd have an adventure. You'd go to some fantasy where you'd never been before." - Legs McNeil, Please Kill Me

This is it, boiled down to its essence. The intersection of authentic experience, passionate expectation, wandering, drifting, radiating subjectivity outwards, poetry in life. Not that we could stumble around the East Village today, kicking over garbage cans and singing Ramones songs, and expect a similar experience to the one McNeil describes. No, that time must be over. But the idea still exists. That merely to step outside one's front door, with an open-minded will to create, can open up a world of possibilities. I love those days when I and my companions set out with a place in mind - or even an idea ("Let's go for a walk") - imbued with poetry, whether in written form, sonic form (like the Ramones), or of the soul (or of the gut)... and end up somewhere. Somewhere beautiful. Days in Austin come to mind, many of which have been described on this blog (like here and here), partly because that city's combination of climate and urban layout seem to encourage pleasureful drifting. But it can happen anywhere.

Jeremy and I have been having these experiences lately on Saturdays in Cambridge. January 29, with the great Off With Their Heads in our heads, we set out for a temporarily-installed Estonian sauna at the Meme Gallery - it turned out that the space was too small for an actual sauna, so we got a presentation instead - and then ended up spending hours in the wondrous confines of Central Square. Places like the Middle East Corner, Falafel Palace, and the Field. On the T ride back to Quincy, a woman strangely asked me why I tapped my can of Coke before opening it. Thinking this might be a long ride with her next to me, I wearily explained the carbonation business. But as it turns out, she had been turned away from the sold-out last Konks show, worked at Hubba Hubba, and was married to one of the Real Kids. The three of us spent a very pleasant - and refreshing - ride back, trading stories and just shooting the shit. We made plans to meet up again.

The following Saturday, Jeremy and I set out at noon for either a Palestinian poetry reading in Cambridge or an Egyptian solidarity protest in Copley Square. The reading appeared to have been canceled or delayed, and by then, nourishment took precedence over protest. So we went to Crazy Dough's for Greek-topping pizza and a pitcher of PBR. On our way to Raven Books (our favorite book store in town), we stopped at one of my favorites, Charlie's Kitchen, home of the 23 ounce Hoegaarden and double cheeseburger. And an awesome jukebox. There, we ended up meeting a very interesting woman who used to hang out with Cheetah Chrome from the Dead Boys. (These Saturdays develop common themes.) After Raven, we went back to Charlie's, and spent the rest of the day with Katie, who had only ended up there herself because of an eye appointment next door.

Another time, another city. Visiting Susanna in Jacksonville, she and I went out one night after dinner. She had the smart idea to visit successively less classy places as the night went on. So we started with coffees at Biscotti's, an upscale cafe/wine bar. Then to the Casbah Cafe, a very cool Hookah lounge. As we walked into the third place, the great Lomax Lodge, a guy at the door with a pool cue told us there was free beer in the back. No way. "Yeah, there's free beer in the back." Get outta here. "Seriously, free beer in the back." Are you messing with us? "No, I mean it." We still didn't believe him, but made our way back, and sure enough, a keg of Lagunitas IPA, being poured by the jolliest of bartenders I've yet seen. And Four Loko in a cooler behind the bar. And whatever the occasion was, the DJs were playing awesome old soul music. The day before, the amazing "Up on the Roof" by the Drifters had spontaneously popped into my head. I asked one of the Lomax DJs, and she didn't think she had it. But then miraculously, at the stroke of midnight, its soulful harmonies emanated from the house PA. Seventh heaven. The place we went after was a bit classier, and correspondingly less memorable, but nevertheless, the night had been made.

What am I getting at with all of this? Simply that I want to live with this open-minded, spontaneous energy as much as possible. To create my days, brick by brick, with the whimsy of Mario making his way through the Mushroom Kingdom on his way to save Princess Toadstool. Two caveats: 1. Although I've emphasized bars, cafes, and restaurants, I feel that other venues of entertainment - amusement parks, caves, government buildings, jungles, etc., etc. - have not been properly exploited in the architecture of daily life. I want to extend creative living and wandering to all spheres. 2. Paradoxically, I'm well aware of the demands our current socio-political climate places on survival. We have to buy food, find shelter, go to the dentist, etc. These necessities don't necessarily jive with the free living I'm talking about, but... we can work on it, yeah? Build the new world in the shell of the old. Ideas reinforce practice, practice reinvigorates theory. And with a little bit of momentum, theory and practice together put a dent in the shell which hosts them. Thwomp.