I’m often very eager to get away from Manhattan. When I travel I find new perspectives. I’m not sure what the specific causal attribute is.  Movement and travel can change a perspective so quickly,  provoking new considerations that were impossible just hours before when I was there. Now that I’m here, I see things so differently. Travel awakens motivations, new urgencies to live. Being away is a rock thrown in the calm pond of an habituated mind. Waking up in a strange place far from “home” starts new waves disrupting the old channels and directions, eventually settling into new patterns, new linkages, new constructions of knowledge and meanings.

The bus is a rock. The strange look from that huge woman with her tits hanging out is a rock. The weird accent from that black dude is a rock. The mustache of the man tearing my boarding pass is a rock, as is his subtle eye makeup. The teenaged girl reading the romance novel next to me is a rock. The way suddenly everyone wants orange or apple juice is a rock. The guy with the huge arms wearing sunglasses in the plane in a rock. The stewardess’s ass is a rock. My backpack under my legs is a rock. My hunger is a rock. The way my arm veins look on this armrest in this sunlight coming through this window is a rock.

The strange thing is that, despite all the great rocks and waves, as soon as I’m back in town I find myself feeling glad about it.

Firstly, I think about all the performances I’ll see. Extreme metal soothes me, just about anything from any subgenre– doom, sludge, grindcore (Godflesh is playing on the east coast this summer, btw) and the best way to experience this art form, like jazz, is live in a small venue. NYC is an important stop for these bands so I’ve been able to really dive into that culture pretty much whenever I want or need. That won’t be the case everywhere, that’s for sure, and I try not to take it for granted.

There are other things about this place that make me glad when I’m back. I like my apartment and my neighborhood. My place is small but I’m really comfortable there and like coming home. It’s humble and safe, it has enough space for what I need and contains nothing excessive or gaudy. I think if someone were to meet me and get a sense of what kind of person I am, they’d probably find my place to be a pretty good match. If I were spending dumps of money on a fancy place somewhere else in Manhattan, every time I’d come home I’d feel like a fraud, a person saying some things and secretly living other things.

There are many advantages living where I do. For one thing, I walk to work, it’s about 15 minutes away. That means I can come home for lunch if I want to. My workplace is ideal. The campus is beautiful and filled with neat things. I only have to wear goofy-fuck costumes if the meeting calls for it– some clients are jacket and tie puppets, and some are t-shirt and jeans. I just have to be respectful of those differences and not mismatch too extremely– no death metal t-shirts at the senior management meeting. No big deal.

My campus has two of the best libraries in the world and I make good use of them. I walk in on the weekends to spend a few hours reading or searching in peace. My gym and heavy bag are here,  good compliments to the MMA club downtown. I can work out in the middle of day or late at night, I can shower and sauna just about any time between 5a and midnight, 7 days a week, and I do all the time.

The other thing that’s nice about getting home is my building itself. There’s lots of weird tenant drama–hate– but the place itself is pretty solid. I can play extremely high distortion, high volume guitar and it doesn’t matter. I have an entire stack of amps that go from the floor to the ceiling that I can stand directly in front of and blast-wash myself with. I’m separated from my only neighbor by an elevator shaft and they can’t really hear anything.

I like being within walking distance of my favorite supermarket, it really sets me up well, though I haven’t actually been there in months, maybe since the injury, actually.

I like the people in my neighborhood. They’re all Dominican and they recognize me now and we nod. That took more than two years to develop.

My trip has been extended a bit, a few days. Happy out here, but will be happy getting back, too.

I haven’t been able to clean up the recordings I mentioned earlier in the week, but they’re waiting for processing once I get back home, which was supposed to be today. It’ll be worth it, don’t worry.

Look yourself closely in the mirror and find out whether you’re authentic in your context, or if you’re merely a pawn being controlled by forces around you. You can choose either way to be, of course, but you should always start by knowing the truth of yourself first, and then deciding how you want to be.

See you soon.