In Transition

I hadn't played my keyboard in at least 2 weeks. I'm in the process of moving and have neglected my art in lieu of packing my life up. I have lived in my apartment for 7 years, I have never lived anywhere as long as I have lived there, and I have been in denial about what it means to move from there. It will be good; I need change, my apartment isn't great but I have made it my own by painting and decorating, and I have grown to love it. Or maybe I just love it now because these are my last days there and I have had a lot of memories between those walls. Come Thursday, it will be but a square in a quilt that slowly grows as the years pass.

I visited my mom in NY over the weekend, I hadn't been to the house since April (which is actually a long time for me). On the way there I realized that I had only left the city for 6 hours this whole summer. I was supposed to be vacationing in Morocco last week but a family emergency cut the trip off, which was a bummer, but in the end the emergency would have been really bad had we all been in Morocco. It's a blessing in disguise. I would like a blessing in full evening gown.

Anyway, I went into NYC to visit some friends and hang out in more urban life (can't get enough of it apparently) for a few days. I do love New York. It does not overwhelm me, I actually feely quite comfortable there, it's the only place where I have a sense of direction. This trip, I was not as in the 'NY nostalgia' that I tend to get into. I think that is partly due to the fact that I spent most of the time bar hopping rather than seeing music or going to museums, which is really why I love the city. I love it for the art. For it's vibrancy. For it's diversity. I hope I can go back soon and actually do those things.
I went back to my mom's and played the piano for several hours. My sister requested that I play some of my new songs (which she seemed very fond of) for some of her friends. I did. They went over well.... I think. Everyone loves 'Oranges for Alcohol' and 'Cellophane', I do too.

The trip left me cold and lonely as I came back to torrential rain, brisk winds, and an empty apartment. Not even a whiskey with Ad Frank could warm me. I sat in the middle of my bare living room covered in blankets, thinking about a time when my apartment had once been a home and now it is my den of transition. I went to bed listening to a friend's demos, the window open and blowing damp air through the screen, my head and body covered and hidden beneath a pile of blankets and pillows.



I want a piano.



I want a lot of things.