“It took me until my 60th birthday to realize, I don’t have time for things I don’t want to do…” – (from memory & probably a misquote) from Paolo Sorrentino’s La Grande Bellezza
Hard times in New York town and good times too. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to get out. I was reaching the peak of the wrong mountain. Something was missing. Something was wrong.
I’d met this cat at a friend of mine’s show. He was a self-proclaimed “magician” but everyone who knows more than three tricks, no matter how bad they are, calls themself a magician. I’ve come to consider it a slur. Call me anything but that. Anyways, I met him through my friend, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
He told me he lived near Princeton, NJ in the rich part of town in a house that had its own pool. He said I could come by anytime I felt like. So I took him up on the offer. I bought a ticket on a train down to New Jersey. I’d only been once before and I was too young for it to count for anything.
I caught that train that goes straight from New York down to New Jersey. I’d spent some time vagrantly in New York so I had that bum-like look and that bum-like smell and was carrying a couple bags that had all of my possessions. I was bummin’ and naturally tired. I bought an expensive but still bad coffee at the station. It was too hot to drink, I figured I’d let it cool and drink it on the train.
As I walked through the aisle I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to find a seat that I could have all alone. So I turned to the next guy I saw. “Can I sit here?”
He was a business type guy and was not enthused, but he knew he couldn’t prevent me, so he hesitantly said “sure.” He didn’t like me at all.
I put my coffee down on the floor because there were no cup holders. I put my bags in the seat next to me. Just when I turned to grab my cup a foot hit my coffee and the whole thing spilled. Not one drop left in the cup. I didn’t even get a sip.
The guy in the seats with me just looked at me in scorn. There was a cute girl in the seat over to the left of me, she saw the whole thing happen. She felt bad. She saw me trying to clean it up with the towel I used for sink showers. She had that dog-eyed look, real compassionate. She said “do you need help with that?”
I said “no, I’m okay.” I would’ve said yes, but what could she really do? For her it was more so just one of those things to say to feel nicer about the situation. So she could feel like she’d done her civic duty. Nice of her nonetheless.
The ticket taker came by. He didn’t like my look too much either. Spoke mean words about me under his breath and also carried a scornful look. The same one that the guy in front of me had.
The ride passed quickly and at some point I got the return text message with directions to the house. It said to meet him there the next day. That gave me a day and a night to myself to explore Princeton.
I walked around with my guitar on my back. Some guys asked to hear me play for them so I did. They were college students, didn’t tip a cent. I carried on my way.
When it was dark, somewhere in a garden on the Princeton campus I found a statue of a man lit from a single light below it. The guy probably had something to do with the campus. I climbed on it as I recited poetry out loud, but to myself. Kerouac, then Henley, then Keats, then Poe. There was no one else around.
I found a place not far off the campus, it was near a WaWa and was close to where the train let off. I bought a drink and started writing while seated precariously in a little alcove.
I saw some skateboarder types doing tricks and hanging out. I went over and hung out with them for a while. We got along, but there wasn’t much to talk about. One guy was clearly better than all the rest. That’s often the case with things. But there was another guy I talked to more. He just wanted to hear stories from the road. Said he always wanted to just go out there. I’ve vaguely kept up with him. And he’s out there now, with a girl too. They’re traveling. As much as they can anyways.
The night passed, I couldn’t think too straight, my mind was all mixed up. I slept in that little alcove, but kept being awoken by the sound of drunk college students. Around 3:30 AM I realized that I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I got a coffee from the WaWa and started writing again with plenty of time to plan the day.
Finally I got to the house. It was closer to a mansion. Nothing about it was small. Even the door was fit for a giant to walk through. I met with the guy. We went to a back room and hung out. He had pet lizards, slept in a bed with his brother and was russian. He was a braggadocio fellow. But there was nothing for him to brag about. There was nothing there at all. His sleight of hand was awful and his ideas were useless. I just didn’t like him at all. It took about two minutes before I knew I didn’t want to be there. I had to leave and fast. I didn’t care where I went.
I pretended to go to the bathroom, instead I bought a ticket back to NYC. I’d be there for a couple more days, then go to Richmond, VA where I had three shows to do and some friends to see. The ticket wasn’t until the next day so I went for a swim in the pool before I left.
His parents came home at some point. He really built his whole living situation up like he was proud of it. Like it was his place. Never mentioned he still lived at home. He was a strange cat. I could see that he needed friends. But I wasn’t the guy.
I told ‘em all I had to go. They asked if they could drive me, I said no. I didn’t tell them it was because I had a train to catch in the morning hours.
They kept pressing me, trying to figure out where I was going and if I should stay the night. I just kept pushing back and making up excuses. Finally I grabbed my bags and left. I was grateful.
I went back to the WaWa joint. I saw the same skateboarders at it again. I slept in the same little alcove. Was awoken by the same groups of drunk college students. And caught the train the next morning back into NYC. Only to later catch a bus from New York to Richmond, VA.
The point is… you know the point… it’s a philosophy for life… “I ain’t got the time for things I don’t want to do.”
If you ever get back to Richmond, you know you have a place to stay!