I took off after jamming in Hollow Way to meet a friend in Chinatown. I had ringing in my ears on the subway down and tried to remember by favorite parts of what we had created together.

That’s how it happens– we kind of play around and fall into something we like and we keep it going for a while, until someone indicates a change, and at which point we either stop to take a break or begin the next thing. We never have any idea what we will play beforehand. It’s new and organic every time. We invent every jam. In Hollow Way, things are born. Practicing is relegated to individual time. That’s where you can learn whatever song. But together we never play other people’s songs, only the song of the moment.

So after that I headed down, #1 to 59th St station to catch the D down to Grand St, then walk a few blocks south to Confucius Plaza. It’s a great journey. There’s a bus stop on the sidewalk near Grand St that is NYC–>North Carolina. $20. Who the hell is making that trip enough for an entire Chinatown bus line to be on that route? Obviously, I’m tempted to take it, just because.

I slept in my t-shirt and found it hard to get out of the bed I was in. It’s multiple times more comfortable than mine, and after staying up too late, the exit was brutal. I came straight into work, 1.25 hours late. I need to clean up my act a bit. I’m wearing ripped jeans and metal t-shirt that I’m covering with a hoody. Sure hope there are no impromptu meetings today or I’m screwed.

Starving and sore, head to toe. It seems I’m in this state 80% of the time these days. Starving and sore, starving and sore. Let’s have a go at it. There’s a storm over asia.