I walked into the bar for the same reason I always do when I’m alone, to kill time. At least that’s what I tell myself. I heard it had a great jukebox also. James was a washed up rocker from the early eighties selling Marilyn Monroe portraits at the bar. I sat beside his empty seat while he was outside smoking, upon returning I became his temporary best friend. The bartender asked him to put on some music and gave him his tips. It’s alright he said, I just started my shift. How could I not talk to this guy?
Every song was a gem and I screamed over each one battling James’ tinnitus when I answered his questions. Yes I’m a musician, isn’t everybody? When conversation turned to starting a band together I made my excuses and walked across the street to another bar. They had a jukebox too but it was democratically run. I tried to write but my pen and notebook stuck to the bar just as my feet had to the floor when I entered. Pretty soon I was licking my fingers apart and contemplating returning to the first bar. Drink will do that to you. Music too.
I went home instead and obsessed on the subway over that persistent thought again, that we are all made from the smallest possible indivisible things and the empty spaces in-between.
– September 2012
* New York Shots are those small moments that happen while living in New York. They’re so small that they are rarely mentioned yet take up considerable space in various notebooks I carry around with me at any given time. This blog was started as a writing exercise and I thought this would be a nice way to write shorter snippets of life in NYC. They won’t always be interesting but I don’t want them forgotten either.