Jul 13th, 2020
As a child, I was staying in Brazil and found a piece of train track in the median of a road. The road was a patch of ground in the middle of a busy highway, and this 40-foot stretch of train tracks connected to nothing but flat pavement on either side.
Right now, I’m standing in front of a similar piece of track, this one made of wood and not metal, which the childhood track was made of.
The deep-seeded memory of this metal track came to me when I walked by this strange, lopsided double strip of wood. I probably never would have remembered that if I wasn’t high. Or at least in a situation like this (being inwardly reflective walking my way towards the sunset in the rain).
I’d like to hear my dad speak about his 20s. I’ve always heard it with scorn from the older generation, saying that being in your 20s is basically like being a kid still. I want to hear my parents talk about any of their adult pasts, honestly. This stuff is extremely relevant to me now, I need some insight into how to approach my near future.
Note to self: text Xavier about collaborating with him on an experimental film with him drawing animated scenes played on top of a video that I shoot.
I just found two great spots to be a lone and play an instrument during a sabbatical. One place has this really outstretched path going out to a cuboid building of some kind (its south of Christopher Street on the west side park). Probably more possible to be alone here than the Williamsburg bridge (where Oliver Nelson took his sabbatical).
///Fact check what I just said///
[Correction: it was Sonny Rollins, not Oliver Nelson]
It doesn’t matter what your job is. When people are curious, they don’t ask us what job we have. They ask what we do.
Equally speaking, when I ask myself, “how do I want to earn money in the future,” I should instead ask, “what do I want to do in the future.”