Obama

What did I promise to write about last time? Bands and bananas? I'll try to get to the bands here but that's not where my inspiration is at currently. I'll write about my day and probably get there though.
I'm listening to Marc Maron's interview with Obama finally. I'm also eating leftover fried chicken from last night (dipped in Sweet Baby Ray's of course), blueberries and fries.
Just finished the fried chicken.
It's a warm summer night, as Chic would say (astute readers can guess this week's song by now).
Our neighbors left a bookcase outside our door for free, I took it for keeps and cleaned it up a bit, threw it in our living room and threw my records on it. I'll pick up my turntable from Brooklyn Heights tomorrow hopefully. More feelings of settlement into the apartment and neighborhood.

I went and practiced soccer against the wall in the playground of the school a few blocks down from us.  Some neighborhood kids were playing basketball across the fence, (I assume they're neighborhood kids), and an older guy was exercising. He eventually joined me in playing soccer, but pulled a muscle while playing. Tough guy though, walked it off and started shadowboxing. Tougher than me.
The kids were loud and betting on the games. Mostly 1 on 1 games, kids wearing jeans on the outside of the court, shorts in the key.
Lost the thread here.
I guess I've just settled into the neighborhood more. On the walk back I played a piano that was sitting out for sale, and accepted a brochure from a local waitress. Cars, birds, reggaeton, sirens crop up in the background occasionally.

We played our last show two Mondays ago.  It was even more of a last show because half our band wasn't there, so it was barely a Metrofono show.  But it was fun. We played one song, thought we were playing two, it was a slow jam version of Miss You that transitioned into a funk jam of Miss You.  We meant to play Fooled Around and Fell in Love after but were cut short because of the jam packed guest list of the open mic.  The guy running the open mic bought our band drinks at the end of the night, which was very nice of him. He didn't have to, he could have just said "tough luck sorry", but he bought us drinks, said sorry, complimented our sound, and shook all our hands. That's the kind of guy I want to be when I'm his age.

What have I done since then? Had some interviews at a razor company, didn't get the job, but oh well. There's lots of jobs I haven't gotten. Socrates didn't get a lot of jobs, he kept true to himself instead. Not that I have a hankering for hemlock, but you get me.

Is this blog stream of consciousness? I should ask my comparative literature roommate.

That last line was tongue in cheek. Blueberry in cheek actually.
I need to get better at writing. It's been a while since I've done serious writing, an essay or something, so forgive me. I'll post my Pedrito Martinez concert review, I'm told it's a good read and a good example of my good writing.
The biggest challenge is trying to be honest instead of clever. Clever is a wall you can easily hide behind. Honest is
a tree facing a wave? A Raisin in the Sun? as honest does?
Clever again. Brevity is the soul of wit, but James Brown had more soul than wit.
That last line is supposed to mean something or be deep, but I think I muddled it.



Alright this post got waaaay to self indulgent. Here's some music for y'all, Chic with A Warm Summer Night from Risque.  Some truly pretty guitar playing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoyMam0Iv2I


Bananas will be discussed at some point.