Meggie’s Farm

“Everyfuckinbody moves to Portland just because in this place you got nothing to lose”, that’s the line that my dad repeated every single month in different occasions.
For example when somebody moved to the next house, when somebody hit his car, when he saw the news about the rent going up… was always the same line.

My dad lives in Portland since day one, a bunch of Polish expatriates that found home in deep northwest. Nowadays the city got different kind of expatriates, nothing to do with war, I mean, still a war, but people come here because of freedom of choice and the absence of taxes.

Took some time for me to jump from one Portland to another. Maybe only when I was 19 and left my parents house. I did that to grown up, or at least was my main excuse… I wanted to see more but didn’t have enough brains to leave the state for a university. Move to fuckin Belinghan and start to live with all those assholes from Seattle, that got parents working on Microsoft and Boeing and enough cash to afford fancy lofts and expensive college. I was a working class boy… I could only dream with community university.

Trying to find a place to live, a flat to share I found out that the very same assholes from Belinghan now wanted to live in Portland, they found that with 400 bucks you can live quite easily and suddenly everybody was here. GLS wasn’t a forbidden word in the city also, people have a high tolerance without the whole flag thing that you can see in San Francisco.

In one of the cafes of the city, I found in a bulletin board a perfect location and a number. Her name was Meggie and we meet in the same evening that I saw the ad. Initially I was paying attention to the room itself… and the empty room was so huge, that I could have all the space in the world… I didn’t even bothered with the kitchen and the living room.

She was quite dry with me, she was interested in rent the place, not her friendship, I accepted that quite well. There was strict rules, no smoking, no parties and no hang out, that place wasn’t there for a happening. She said that was talking with more people and will come back soon. I got her call 6 days later, she asked if I was still interested and we closed the deal.

The first days where very strange, was my first time outside my family circle and even if I could reach my parents in 15 minutes, was like move to another country. Meggie wasn’t ready for long chats, maybe I reacted in a wrong way not being very communicative. After few weeks, maybe 3, things changed a bit… we started to talk and discover each other. The first time that we did something together was when a local cinema did a festival of Japanese film and I bought her a ticket to watch a movie that a friend described as a masterpiece. I felt Meggie very warm and from that day on we became friends.

I had zero sexual attraction with Meggie, she didn’t help either… she dressed like a 45 year old university teacher. And yeah, she was a big time dike, but never spoke about that, she didn’t need. I always wanted to meet her girlfriends or even friends… we were talking more but I didn’t receive the invitation to enter into her circle. In one of our conversations, watching Curb Your Entusiasm, I did the mistake of ask why the room was free to rent and she simply said: because of a big deception. Was too early to ask about deceptions… I shut my mouth.

In a matter of months my life started to have good chances in one side, bad in others. My dad died of a heart attack, and that was the worst time of my life. He was quite young, only 49, and was doing well, was happy… all the 3 kids where living and earning well, he did his part on the education. And my mom… only 41 was left alone in a house without any of her kids. She went thru a tuff time, but quite soon recovered, found a job in a charity institution and realized what I knew very well, she was made to make good things. On my side, a song that I wrote was picked by Bright Eyes on his latest record and was the first single. I meet Connor when he was a kid with the Commandos, we did several gigs with him in Portland, his spiritual home, specially because of Elliott Smith. Suddenly a publishing company signed me for that song, entitled “A Year Of Mondays”, a simple song that I wrote in a tuff time, but not tuff as my dad death.

Not being a musician or a songwriter and had a song being recorded in that way turned my life into a complicated phase, where I could easily get a record deal or shitload of money for a publishing agreement. I declined both, that song was like won the lottery. The funniest part is that I didn’t tell that to anybody… I mean, people eventually saw my name on the record, I asked Connor to keep low profile and he did, he understood my point, he wasn’t into the idea of hype somebody that don’t need/want that. I told Meggie about this whole thing, just because there was people knocking in our door quite constantly, I was afraid that she had an impression that I was involved with drugs

I was pretty feed up with my life and after a tuff day and a goodbye from my girlfriend, I started to cry. Meggie noticed and for the first time she entered in my room, and pass her hand in my back and said: let’s talk. I told her that I was too confused, had enough money to do whatever I wanted, but didn’t know what I wanted. On the top of it, my girlfriend simply left me, mainly because of my confusion and because she wanted a quite traditional boyfriend, better, she wanted a husband, and I was closer to death than a weeding. On that night everything melted in one big bad thing, my father’s death, my lack of hability for anything deeper, opportunities that I possibly left untouched… everything together. And after a couple of years with Meggie, she started to tell me the history of that room, that her sister used to live there and she died of leukemia. Meggie didn’t have mom and dad, both also died… she was alone in the world, that’s the reason to look so tuff. She wasn’t a dyke too… when her sister was dying, her boyfriend didn’t support her, he could not understand that was important for Meggie to help her sister and like any egoistic bastard left her in the most crucial time of her life.

As soon I heard that, I realized that my problems were absolutely nothing. I was a spoiled little fucker.  So I decided to change my life, just to realize few weeks later, that I had nothing to contribute to  the world. So I decided to see my mom and again I cried for good 2 hours… told her the whole story again. And she cried with me, we both missed Dad too much, he went too soon, wasn’t fair. He was my rock. Being a mom, she just looked into my eyes and said: son, you are a great person, you’re confused but confusion don’t last forever, take your time.

Things tend to settle. I bought a cafe, because looked like a good investment and I knew that people need warm drinks that keep you awake, specially in Portland. Did my little things, like poetry readings, acoustic sessions, once in a while I cooked something special… was a quite happy time. Around that, I realized a big thing, that we don’t need to put our feet on the moon to prove something, that “ordinary life” isn’t a bad thing, that you need to your part, and be fair… and it’s already quite hard to be fair and live simple. There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s why Meggie was dry, the only small thing that she needed, she didn’t receive. That’s why we missed dad so much, because we needed his simplicity on our side, to look thru tricky things with a simple eye. That’s why my mom was happy, because she found a way to help people. And that’s why I was starting to feel ok, just like the Moldy Peaches song, because people need warm drinks that keep you awake.

Everybody Is Talking About The Stormy Weather

Last time that I saw Mick was around 99. He was ready to move to Iceland, because of a girl that he meet 2 years ago at NYC film school. Mick was bright kid, I wasn’t at the same school, but he used to come to the parties that I was doing at The Closet, we became friends quite soon. At that point, the tonic was bring every single post-punk record back. We used to dress like the guys from A Certain Ratio, used to slag all forms of modern dance music. Basically we were stuck between 79-82, the greatest years ever.

Mick was into music and film, at school his main activity was restore old footage from the past, that was his thing. But not post-punk movies… footage from the 20’s and 30’s. Footage without any sound. He used to spent long periods at the lab, baking film, doing edits… he was more a scientist than a filmmaker. Once in a while, we did a special version of our party at The Closet, we did three times only, Mick would bring weird footage, super 8, beta, pixelvision… you name it, and we acted as if we’re the coolest cats in town, doing a pretty trendy party, being hailed by Time Out as “the thing” and meeting interesting people.

He was living in Williansburg, and don’t think that was cheaper than now, the difference is that there was less publicity around, less bars… the atmosphere was the same, the same restaurants and cafes, and I can even risk that the bulk of the locals is the same, wich is quite cool. I was living near Coney Island, I had no option… my uncle was living in Miami and he basically gave me his flat to live. Was a long journey from Coney Island to anywhere in New York, I didn’t feel like a New Yorker. But at least I could catch a train, if I leave early, I could arrive anywhere. In the first year I missed lots of things, gigs, dates and dignity because of the bloody train, now I could even pass information to the punters.

On the hot summer of 2005 I saw Mick again. I saw him around Irving Plaza, I was there to catch The Rapture, was a comeback gig after record the new album, being quite excited I arrived early, the promoter was a friend and I knew the boys, they used to hang out at The Closet with the whole DFA posse before they fall out. I was in the cue, the press/guest list cue is always slow, it’s full of hipsters that “knows Alan Mcgee quite well”, as the Pooh Sticks used to sing; and when their names aren’t in the list, they bring from the pocket the lastest sidekick/blackberry model to show how important they are. Paying attention to a blonde girl, an indie version of Paris Hilton, I saw Mick.

He looked exactly the same, but was talking quite slow and calm, something very different from the past years. I asked if he fancied to come to the concert(we always carry a plus one, for a girl or for a friend… because only losers come to concerts alone, right? Losers like me… you ask for plus one just to look cool, but in the end of the day, you are alone my friend, and because of me, somebody will miss the concert), but he wasn’t into the idea of enter into a dingy venue in the middle of the summer.

So I left the cue, Mick was more important than anything. For fuck sake, 6 years without him. He was so unique, that didn’t have an e-mail! Never bothered… was impossible to track him, but as my mom always says “bad things always come back”, and he was back.

Talking so slow, I was quite scared that he had some acid trips and got burned out. You know, people in Iceland are quite intense… Bjork? Sigur Ros? Sugarcubes? Well… they are so intense that I mentioned Bjork twice. They drink a lot… they believe in elfos… they live in a pretty fucked up island, fire and ice side by side. Mick possibly didn’t handle that place, Damon Albarn might have a bar down there and The Fall recorded there, but both live in England, they can’t risk. So I was scared with Mick’s slow action.

But he was fine… just a bit different. Instead of tales of drinks, drugs, elfos and Bjork(that also live in England), he told me that entered into a pretty normal life, learned Icelandic(and told me few dirty worlds, just in case if I see Bjork around) and eventually broke up with his girlfriend. He was too calm for somebody that spent 6 years in a VERY different country with somebody that he loved so much to the point of leave his home. He told me that as soon he arrived, he got a job at the Sound & Image Research Foundation, he was restoring the whole history of Iceland, he loved… he said that was like watch a new planet being discovered, that language, their costumes, for good 4 years he was so immersed in that thing, that he completely forgot that he was american, he said that was like arrive at the island where Lost happened, but with lots of things to do, full of computers and without the Others. I was speechless. I never heard such fascinating history of life.

But I was too curious to know what happened with his girlfriend. Why he was back? And after some parallel stories and few more drinks, he told me the truth, that after few years he discovered that she was seeing, not for one night or two, but for solid two years, another guy. And that killed him… because in her vision, nothing was wrong. He listed every single thing that he did for the last 7 years, he remembered every single day that he could to find a major fault that make somebody engage into a side life. And he couldn’t… and worst, when they started to talk(or better to fight), he found out that she didn’t have an explanation either! She said that loved him, as much as she liked the other guy, and one thing was a addition to the other, nothing changed, that she loved him as much as the last 7 years together, but she had another guy that she also liked to hang out and sleep with him, the only thing that she said was sorry for not being clear, but she knew that he’ll never understand. And that’s exactly what happened.

For a couple of months they split ways. She went to a friends house and he keep the house, but was more than a premises problem. Without her, there was no reason to stay in Iceland, the very same day that this whole thing happened, he remembered that he was from New York, a sentiment that never bothered him before. After some time, she came back to the house and said that wasn’t seeing the other guy anymore, that Mick was more important to her, she made a decision. And for a little bit more time, was ok… but Mick was always paranoid with her… if she was late, he was thinking that she was with the other guy, he wasn’t paranoid like that, but I truly understand the feeling. And them a month ago he simply left Iceland, with only the clothes that he was wearing.

And he was back, back to the university. A masters degree was the only thing in his mind. After two hours talking about him, he was curious about me… and i had not much to tell him, The Closet ended up around 2001(the same Time Out said “any venue should die after 2 yers”), I was in the very same Coney Island apartment(but now I had at least cable tv) , still single but in love with a girl that didn’t bother about me and working at Getty Images. Funny that after I finish to tell that, the feeling that I was a big loser came pretty strong to me… just to hear from him that at least I didn’t have a big deception like he had. So a strange argument started, where I was trying to prove a point where at least he followed a dream, and had a life experience that I didn’t have, on the other side he was saying that I did the right thing and being young, I had all the time of my life to find new experiences that will knock in my door at any point, the only thing was that I had to pay attention to the door.

I returned home that night in a very slow train, the one that stop in every single stop from Manhattan to Coney Island, the one that every tourist get when they try to come to the Cyclone. But on that night that train made lots of sense, cos I had time to think about my life, about how slow was my life. Mick sounded slow, but I was the slow train.

Next day I decided to talk with that girl after months, just o find out that she was a single mom, quite angry with the human race and specially with the male specimen. She wasn’t harsh, but she was straight to the point. She simply said: I noticed you around, and I am quite flattered that you like me, but let me tell you something, I am trouble because of la la la la la la la la and them after hear that thing for one hour, I found out that I need something a bit lighter. Great girl, maybe better after few visits do a shrink or few sundaes.

On that afternoon I called Mick, his phone was off. That was a classic Mick move… simply turn off the phone. I just wanted to hang out with him a bit more. I spent the next two weeks in LA, meeting people related to my job. I hate LA, you can’t walk in LA, there’s no trains, there’s no Coney Island down there, only Venice… Venice sucks, no slow trains, not a city for me. As soon I returned to New York, another friend from The Closet days told me that Mick decided to quit the masters degree and moved back to Washington DC, his home town. He couldn’t handle NYC anymore, wasn’t his home anymore, he couldn’t come back to Rejikavick either… he could only find peace in a friendly city, not the meat factory that is New York. Last week I got an e-mail for him, he’s good, working on the congress library… he’s the one that convinced the library that Daydream Nation is a masterpiece. That’s his little tribute to New York, and God bless him.

Please Choose A Different Park

I guess that I killed one more park this week. This happened before, and because I am only 27, the feeling that soon another will be part of my list is quite clear.

The first park that I killed was that park in Soho, behind the Astoria. Only 20 and full of myself, living a crazy lifestyle, based in go out every single night of the week and trying to meet more people, and more girls as possible. My job at that point was risky and rewarding, working in the 4 PM – midnight shift as a X-Ray operator I had several extras like the night shift extra charge, the extra money because came from the fact that working with nuclear devices means danger. Plus a really cool friend, an young doctor called Martin, Dr. Martin for you, my amphetamine supplier. The hospital was dull and boring, the only reason that I was there was because of the money. It’s quite hard to remember of any good looking girl there, apart from Therese, a young girl working at the swichtboard.

Therese didn’t like me in the beginning, but one day dancing at The End, I just can’t remember the night, tuesday or thursday, without any doubt a weeknight, because only boring people go out at Saturdays in London, could be Nag Nag Nag, who knows? Therese saw me there, she couldn’t believe that I was into nightclubbing, being quite shy she waved, and few minutes later we were at Bar Italia, sharing a panini and drinking coffee, she told me that always saw me as a dork, an idiot into James Blunt. Trying to be tuff, drinking coffee just because of her, to look strong, ready to sleep, a coffee was the worst idea in the world, could kill my morning, I had to spend at least 8 hours sleeping. For her coffee was necessary, she possibly had to go to work in 2 hours. No deep conversation that night, but a friendly one. I went with her to the bus stop, and we said goodbye.

Next day I didn’t see her, but them a couple of days later she brought me a coffee, and we started to talk. Quite soon I had something else apart from bones that looked like a art piece and Dr. Martin.

Therese didn’t look intense, but she was. She was into the most extreme types of art, and I can’t believe that she could go out with her taste. She told me that day that hated all the music being played in every single club in London, apart from the boat parties organized by Rephlex Records, where the most mental permutations of acid house ruled during the whole night, but she had to go out… and after some pills, anything could turn into interesting according to her. She got a point… I was also bored with the clubs in London, even with the concerts… we were living in a predictable time, everything sounds like something that already happened, everything looks like something that you already saw… even the feelings are old, everybody looked unreal.

Therese and I quickly started to go out, and when I say go out, means that we started to sleep together. In less than a month, she was living with me. For economical reasons, because all the hipsters discovered bloody Dalston, the rent started to go to the roof, and make a move like that could guarantee some extras for a trip to US, something that we’re planning a lot those days.

But was an early move… and I regret. Theresa was too extreme to me. Apart from art, she was into weird stuff… one night she suggested if I could bite her arm really really strong when we were in bed, and I am cool with little perversions… I was under control, maybe she was a kinky girl, I liked even more. But them things started to go a bit further, she wanted more hardcore stuff. Things that I can’t even mention, I am ashamed just to think about that… how a 21 year old girl could even KNOW about that. And I started to think about her boyfriends in the past… what kind of thing was passing thru her mind. On top of it, I was missing the action of go out every night… I liked Therese, but I knew that she was cool for a while… nothing could last forever at that point of my life. I guess that the whole sexual paraphernalia was just a big excuse to say: isn’t working. Was simple to just say: I don’t like that… instead, this feeling got locked in my head and everyday was a battle. At some point I didn’t want her in my flat… didn’t need her money, US could wait. I wanted my “normal “life back.

So I decided to tell her in a park, because a park is a safe place, a neutral place. That park always looked cool to me, the one behind Astoria. Was quite calm, but also central. Being quite straight I told her that we should split ways, happiness wasn’t on my side, confusion was a daily subject… all that crap that we say when we want to do this kind of thing. She was quite floored, but quite alright some weird way. All the months together where pretty good, but come on… she wasn’t that crazy about me either. When I arrived from work, she was always sleeping, she never left a simple fucking toast for me! I used to wake up early just to see her or arrive before my shift start to take a coffee with her. Was a good arrangement for her… cheap rental, a house ready to live… a great music collection(she went nuts when saw that I had some Crass Lps… that I saw Sunn:o))) live… that I even had common friends with Chris Corsano). And fast internet connection… she loved that, she always said… your internet is sooooooo fast. She never said: I like your kiss… but she could speak for HOURS about then internet connection!

So the reason that I killed that park is that after a month, I started to miss Therese… A LOT. And that was crazy… I think I liked her, maybe was the feeling of being too scared to live with somebody, maybe with the perspective of spend the rest of my life with her. I was so egoistic to kick her out without a solid reason. Few weeks later, she left the hospital, and for good 2 months I was 100% sure that was because of me being such an asshole. One day I got an e-mail for her… the e-mail was HUGE, and she was saying that was so happy, that was confused at that point… and now living in Berlin, was working with a friend in a bar. I didn’t ask what kind of bar, because there was a very strict line in the end of the e-mail, saying: don’t answer this message. And every time that I pass in front of the park, I missed Therese, the sentiment of being an asshole for my actions was something that never left my head.

Last week I killed another park. A big one… Regents Park. Living at the north side park, around Camden, but not in a flashy location. A couple of friends found a pretty bad, but huge and cheap basement flat. I had my own room with bathroom… was a council flat, I was paying only 100 pounds to live in central London!!! And my new job was in the other side of the park, near Marylebone train station, in a designers company, now anybody could be a designer, and I was one… doing trendy street art for non street art organizations. I was trying to make Marks & Spencers look like a grime party in deep Hackney. And again I was with a girl.

Valerie was everything that I wasn’t. She was from Croydon, from a traditional family, did big schools, was in a great job working with James Smith, the trendiest writer according to The Guardian. She was his sidekick… booking tables for him to share with the greatest minds of his generation, organizing trips, buying cool clothes… or better, just receiving cool clothes. She looked like the coolest secretary ever … with big hair and very cool clothes. And she was quite normal, and I liked that… I spend all these years after Therese still going out a lot… started to go out with a Spanish girl that stole some money from me to buy cocaine… pretty sad, things like that, Valerie was the exact opposite, she cared.

With Valerie, I had a pretty normal life… we see each other when possible, all the weekends. She had her own flat in south London, near Clapham common, her family gave her the flat when she graduate. To avoid any problem, and being a north London boy, I didn’t even tried to move to her flat, even if she insisted quite a lot over the years that we were together.

So everything was great… my life was great. I was paying 100 pounds in a quite bad flat, but I had my own room… and i was making quite a lot of money, 3000 pounds per month… for a 27 years old, that’s quite good. I had Valerie, that cares about me… I had everything, and at the same time, nothing. Nothing because again… happiness is a warm gun. Missing some edge of my life, I found out that I was being lived by a life, not living one. That Valerie was great… and she was ready to get married, ready to have a child, we were ready to move to Clapham. And all I wanted was to go to Thailand to find more about Asia, not know what’s gonna happen next day. Now I know how wrong I was… how good is to have some peace in your life. For good 7 years I was living this crazy life and you know what? People get old. People get old very early. Because you got tired. Maybe is a problem of my generation… we’re a bunch of losers. My dad didn’t even went to college and with 19 years old was married and had a kid! My mum did college in her spare time as a nurse and worked like hell so I could go to school everyday and not have to work in my spare time. And this happened with all my friends and relatives. Everybody went to the university, everybody took a year off to discover the world… we’re a disgrace to the human race, for Christ sake… my grampa was in a war with my age, we’re a spoiled generation.

Kill another park… that was the thing to do. I was so wrong, so wrong. I killed another park for a similar reason. Meeting Valerie on that afternoon, I was dry as the leaves on the ground. At least instead of being foolish as I did with Therese, I told the “real reason”, that I was unhappy… that I need something more in my life. And Valerie started to say that was her fault, that her job turned her into a old woman… she even blamed Clapham for her problems. And instead of loose a bit of my seriousness, I did even worst things, like being quiet when she was talking… I could say, don’t say that… could even leave a bit of hope and say, ok… let’s just have a break… let’s think. You know, things that people do all the time. Instead I helped her to go even deeper… left her with the impression that everything was her fault. And wasn’t… I had several crimes on that relationship. And I killed Regent’s Park… because again, few weeks later I realized how bad I was, how horrible was every single thing made on that day. And worst… realizing, that this time I knew Valerie, and she knew me… and we’re together for longer than I stayed with a girl, any friend, any human being apart from my parents. This is serious shit. When I was going to my job after that, was impossible pass thru the park… the park hated me, the park could send me a wave of pigeons to make me fall out from my bike. Or crossing a bridge, have something faulty there, and I could go straight to the tiny river and get drowned… all these things that an angry park could do with me.

And I suffered a lot… tried to track Valerie down, she was out in US, 6 months doing a masters degree. She couldn’t handle the park either… any park, she could not handle what I did. Change scene, it’s the best thing to do when something like that happens, because in our lives, we kill parks, streets, restaurants, houses… we destroy everything near our hands, sometimes with reasons, sometimes without any.