Baguette on the Brain

I am writing this with a freshly rolled RASTA cig dangling from my mouth...hunger a grumbling below the quickly bristling skin encasing my slim figure.  The golden brown of my skin has been attracting the pigeons in their daily hunt for scraps...funny, right and ironic, since I have been studying their methods for sustaining themselves over the past couple of days...as I am going on Day3 with no food.  Yes, I am a starving artist in Paris.  Yet another Cliche' I can add to the mantle.

This was not my intention, never is/was.  I tend to go on feeling - some call it NOT looking before you leap - and at the time I departed NYC Paris was feelin' GOOD!  That is until I stepped of the plane.  I arrived with no money, had to borrow a cell and call my BANDMATE Julien to come get me.  On the train ride from CDG [he paid for] we talked about how exhilerating it was going to be to actually be DOING OUR MUSIC.  On the walk down Rue de Batignolles he pointed out the boulangerie that was to be my spot for the next couple of months, as well the FRANPRIX and the closest METRO stops.  As we made our way up to #61 and his Long-Tall Frere [Nicholas] standing at the door I noticed how PICTURESQUe everything seemed - like out of a movie set with tree-lined streets, a beautiful white church sitting right outside my door, cafes, shops, sun and blue sky, ie possibility.  As we made our way up the steps to the flat on the Premier Etage, his brother asked, "Did you tell him?!"  "No, Oh..." was my mate's response.  As he turned the key and the door popped open, "The rent is 50Euro more than what I said...making it 500Euro."  I anxiously, flippantly responded, "Oh...ok!"  Seemingly unfazed, I quickly recalculated and recalibrated my financial structure to now include LESS money for food Monthly - GET A JOB.

And so I arrived to a dirty flat, in a not-so-cool part of town, with little more than hope in my pocket and already Paris was making it known - I CANNOT AFFORD HER!  However, I was here to do music.  Put my bags down, headed to Pigalle and the cave I would lovingly call home...for the next couple of months.

Enter Debra & Co.  I'd met these two women walking along the street with my then partner Major my last trip to Paris.  As we are all Americans, pleasantries were exchanged and FastFacebookFriends soon made.  They were part of the people I reached out to upon my return and quickly opened up their hearts and home to me.  My summer 2010 was magic because of it.  Bike rides and picnics...long conversations full of giggles and reflections on the US/Paris living.  Restaurants and cafes filled my care-free days as I CHARGED WITH THE NOTION OF DOING WHAT I AM SUPPOSED TO DO, languished in having so easily "found my tribe a Paris." Parties and pretties followed, as I assumed that I could HUSTLE in the same manner that got me here to make a bit of extra change while creating my FUTURE.  I availed myself, in as much as I could, in much the same manner they did to me...helping out whereever I could...and asking for nothing in return.  Silly me...they had suspicions.  So much so, that somewhere along the way things got...FUCKED UP and by September these folks - Debra, Liba, Shavonne, Walter, Maya and Debra's husband Anthony [Fellow Adoptee] left me reeling and confused...hurt and confounded on just what went wrong.  [I had even begun consulting with LOTTY DOTTY - Shavonne's pet project, expecting no less than 300 Euro, per our agreement per month for the work.  YAAAA, THIS IS REAL!!!  That was the first chip to fall, as she quickly withdrew the offer, citing restructuring of the brand and paid me 50Euro for the work I'd done up to that point - ie a press release!]  I am still not sure, however I feel my UNBELIEVABLE State of Celibacy played into it, as well as the Care-free attitude I seemed to wield with abandon.  I am JUST being ME...no stress, no worry...I will work it out.

I lost my Expat friends in a frenzy of CRAZY...leaving scars that have yet to heal...or at least find proper context.  I reasoned, I am not here to make friends, though.  I am here to make music and as long as we've got a studio to goto...My purpose is clear.  By the end of September, just after I was able to make my first contribution to the STUDIO RENT I was informed that we are loosing the studio, as the landlord for the building was so far behind on the rent from the failing business of his other tenants that he was looking to sell.  HUH?  WHAT? 

I'd determined that the economy was so bad in the states and judging by my lack of work just prior to leaving, it did not make sense to return right away...opting instead to stay on, at whatever risk, and flesh out the follow-through to my dream.  Now, that dream was being challenged by Fiscal realities the world over.  The have's were having their way with the Have-Nots and I was caught up in the fray.  Press on, I say...it is the fall/winter...and I was just getting into the swing of being able to order baguette with no problem.

I noticed almost immediately upon my arrival, my presence garnered Pop-Star worthy stares.  This made me immediately uncomfortable - something I am just now adapting to.  People - men, women, children and their dogs - would make such efforts to look IN MY EYES, peruse my ensembles, giggle at my gate or simply just find their way IN my path that negotiating the path between my flat and the studio felt more like a psychological mindfield than brisk canter to Pigalle.  This attention gave me a complex...I did not know if it was adulation or mockery fueling their gaze.  Initially, this was kinda' cute.  However, as time wore on...relationships frayed, my social outlets reduced to lil' or nothing besides Julien and money seemed to sputtering quickly OUT of my account, with none coming in...my nerves got the best of me.  I did not want to be looked, as I had done nothing to warrant the attention except walk.  I am not a celebrity or model...I am an artist/man...making his way on his grind.  STOP LOOKING AT ME!

We shifted our operation to Julien's flat - AKA The TREEHOUSE - determined not to be tripped up by this financial stuff.  Fall was coming and Julien would find part-time work in the convention business.  He tried to get me on, but my lack of papers/WorkVISA was a No-GO!  It is ok, I thought, I will just become a master budgeter...LEARN myself how to LIVE on these meager monies...and create.  It is a funny thing...when you challenge yourself to do something you have never REALLY done before...a safety net better be ready...as you will most certainly fall.  And I did.

6 songs in, some recorded in Julien's flat...and we had hit a lull.  The stress of bringing this all about was beginning to effect me physically, as dry patches were beginning to form...ALL OVER my body.  The Fall brought a seamless transition to the grey, dower, depressing Winter - all rain, black/grey/white fashions, attitude and angst.  I had my winter "stuff" sent to me via Roger and buckled down.  2hrs [as well as nightly subliminal sessions] of French each day, Muselix, Pasta et Poulet, Studio, then home.  This was my routine...the safest, least expensive I could curate.  There were extras...but there were also some essentials missing.  You see, as I have evolved into being just WHO I AM and gauging just HOW I REACT to life, I have often called on VICE as a buffer.  My VICE[s] of choice...in the past have been extreme - Sex, Drugs, Silliness with friends, as well as the occasional hospital stay.  Since being here, all of those have dried up.  I have been Celibate, with 1 exception - Halloween 2010.  I have few friends and fewer folks I can truly trust to be silly with [as most people think a 39yo man, from NYC coming to Paris to do music are crazy anyway.]  I have no health benefits, so there has been alot of adhoc meditation going on.  Finally DRUGS.  None.  My days of experimentation behind, I'd found the one thing that satiated my urges, inspired and seemed to compliment my life [besides music] - WISDOM.  In NYC I have "My Guy" who delivers; a back-up plan who delivers and friends who are always there to share.  HERE - you drink alcohol, do a line of cocaine; or singe your vocal chords on Hashish!!!  I was doing none of those - although I have had wine by virtue of the formality and hash by circumstance, but...nothing to get me where I longed to go.  NO WISDOM?!?!?!  How is that possible?  WHY is that Possible?  During the summer, we had a cool connect...who seemed reliable.  I would soon learn that the French value follow-through as much as I used to...lol...and that when they say they are going to do something/be somewhere/or HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU...maybe...maybe not.  As time wore on here...and the chill of this reality brought REAL stress...and with my skin now BROKEN in ways that sent me straight to the pearly gates, WISDOM [or lack there of] became a factor.  Long stretches of NOTHING, bore angst and insecurity again in me.  What was I here for?  Why...HOW am I still here?  Is this really happening?  Am I crazy!?
Buckled Down and Focus...I say.  be the man you have always imgained yourself to be...about this!  Do NOT let it sway you.  I forged on, determined to complete this demo.  As the wind whipped my rail-thin figure into a frenzy daily...the visage leaned into a brittle beige...and I reasoned that if I did make it through this...alive and well I am doing just what I am supposed to be doing.  I reasoned this until one night in November just after the lone snow storm to cover Paris had passed on and the streets burned bright with car lights and were sloppy with snow/caca/wine bottles/spit.  I was walking home from the local Bio coop, run by these 2 women from Cameroon, with juice-the'-pain-miel et leau in my bag...having just stopped off to say, "Bonjour to the Senegalese shop owner who was going to search for a new goatskin for me.  Crossing the Carrefour enroute to my latest baguette I slipped on snow-ice and fell...crashing down onto my right knee, but somehow saving my bottle of jus'd pomme.  The thing is...for all of their staring (as this spectacle warranted the oogling stares) they did nothing.  Literally nothing.  They stopped...the French folks walking along the street...they stared, some even pointed.  However, as I lay in the street...in full sight of the street cleaners whose shoddy work precipitated the fall, as well as the cigarette break and convo they were having...I could not help but be pissed.  AND I LOST IT - J'Detesse Paris.  I hobbled-ran back to my flat SCREAMING this at the top of my lungs.  I made it back into my flat fell out and fell off.  My knee swole up to almost bowling ball size, as I pressed a bag of frozen mixed veggies on it all night.  I pissed out of my window onto the courtyard, as I was soon in far too much pain to walk.  My body battled against me, with a fresh new coat of flaky dryness covering every inch of my body and of course I had NO Money, so...VIOLA!  I am going to die....I deduced...in this drafty, dirty, filthy, unsympathetic city.  I came all of the way here...to Pass On and STILL no music.  I cannot call a friend or mate to help.  This is on me.  My bandmates made their lone trip to my flat and brought me a grec.  After that, I was bedridden for almost 2 weeks.  My impression of Paris sealed in the would pumping on to my leg...I determined I was getting out ASAP.   But to what...where?!

I am now going into August.  I have no job and no more funds.  I turned 40here...which was NOT what I had hoped to do.  It was telling - blazing hot, no food, and confused.  Julien shared some wisdom and I sat on his balcony, looking into the IMPRESSIONIST dream of a sky, listening to SOUL/FUNK music and wondering, "What Now!?"  I thought...I felt maturity creeping in and I was open to the onslaught.  However, as I have stated before, I find it IMPOSSIBLE because of the person I have been to be the Man that I AM!  Interestingly enough, I am who I am because of what I am...that is inescapable.  Therein lies the greatest of HURDLES I am still struggling to clear.  ME.  This whole process has brought about introspection, disection, revelation and some resolve...but greater still the truths borne out of being here have not always been so easy to digest.  However, uncomfortable...I realize I have to embrace accept and move on from them.  This artistic space is now filled with memories - good, bad and ugly - of Beige History I hope to inform my art.  However, they have done more to stunt my heart and give me pause than anything else.  I was determined not to repeat any of the mistakes I found folly in earlier...opting instead for a new path.  Funny how hard it is to shake off Old Rags...despite the holes!!!

Thought of the Moment

I truly can ONLY be me, 

as YOU can ONLY be YOU.

For that reason, 

spending one's LIFE trying to be anything BUT

...regardless of familial or Friends' pressure

...c'est crazy!!!

Steadfast and TRUE to YOU

...That's What I Say!!!