5pm Journal Entry
Sitting in Virgin Megastore (every choice is big business in these parts), killing an hour over iced coffee before venturing to West Oakland for a "ghetto open mic," hosted by my new friend Dre. My life has taken on this amorphous "what will today bring?" glow sense of adventurism that fills me up with unparalleled joy. I rap, "what's goin' on in Oakland, the whole town be smokin!" and laugh, Dre replying, "are you high?" and though this is Cali, where a comment as such would normally not be off mark, I say no man, just in good spirits!
Yum.
I just came from coffee with Anthem Salgado, another Yarrow BK to Bay linkage. Anthem is a fellow poet, performer, educator and traveler, who just returned from a stretch in the Philippines. We meet at Powell, a commercial downtown area of San Francisco and he leads us to the restaurant at the ritzy Four Seasons hotel. "I'm trying to expand my wealth consciousness," he explains. In order to attract money, one must be comfortable around money. A good philosophy if any for a broke artist, so we get cozy on a couch, eating complimentary Wasabi peanuts and talk life journeys, loving being waited on like royalty in a pink dashiki.
Anthem, gangsta in the Four Seasons
The Four Seasons Ritz
A tip Anthem shared that I will, in turn, share with you: Whilst traveling, utilize hotel restaurants as work spaces. The staff won't ever know that you aren't actually staying there, the environment is cushy and comfy and you can spend little money on lattes but hours of uninterrupted work time. Mental note. Of course, Anthem is a "never-enough" artist, and like myself, full of unrealized projects and potential. Brimming with it. We share many of the same philosophies on our lives and work and after story and laughter swapping, we part ways but not without setting a date a week from today to "geek out" on our laptops. The plan is an afternoon of quiet company, working along side one another. This is exactly what this trip has been missing. I relish the thought of an opportunity to get cracking on these pending grants whilst still "expanding my left coast family," as Chris describes it.
The days have been flying here. To all afraid to uproot, explore, throw caution to the wind... I say, Man Up! Life is meant to be lived. I would have never described myself as a traveler, but here I am, crashing on couches (courteously, of course), literally letting the wind determine my next adventure and trusting that some great unknown force has my back. As Anthem and I discussed, it takes stepping out of your routine to learn spiritual lessons. Mostly, understanding how to feel distinctly comfortable in your own skin. "Wherever you go, there you are." The ole' bumper sticker adage rings terrifyingly true. The clouds overhead are moving through the sky visibly fast. The world is spinning on its axis and here I am.
10pm Journal Entry
And... here I am, listening to a wayward harmonica of a subway performer, waiting for the BART home. I made it out to Oakland to meet Dre, and instead, am greeted by "I", his sister. She is a poet too, and mentions names that make my New York heart smile wide. We rap for awhile until Dre arrives and head over to Dorsey's Bar, where he has just taken up residency as host. The bar is dark and full of drunk old men. The DJ plays early '90s slow jams and all I can think about is food, so we order Red Snapper and three soul food sides while I dodge the alcohol laden advances of random men. Dre looks at me apologetically, all the beer-amped swagger deflated from his sweet smile. Day two is always interesting. Christina, a big Beau Sia admirer, steps on the mic and reads two hilarious poems.
Poets out here are full of young vigor. Christina already had recognized my name via the Dalva and Chico slam announcements. Its a warm welcome. I tell her about Beau's birthday party a few years back, where he wore a ridiculous sequined shirt and we danced the night away, fueled on vodka and cranberry. She eats up the story like candy. I am pleased to be able to bring joy with such a small memory. Her energy reminds me of myself and Aja a few years back, before we became the people we are today, drooling and eager to meet each poet with a "name" and fire under their tongue. I stay at the open mic long enough to share one poem and Dre walks me halfway to the train. Feeling ready to be back home where I can commence to writing, Baraka rings.
Christina & I
Christina, I & Caits
Dorseys Bar blurry style
"Heyyyy Barrraaakkka!" I sing-song, happy to see his name flash on the phone, but knowing full well my adventure barometer has hit capacity and I will be declining any invites to a night on the town. My mind has gotten ahead of me once again, Baraka is not calling to hang, but rather, asks to read me a new poem. Now I am really transported three years into the past back to my Brooklyn stoop, sucking a cigarette and drinking in the fresh words of Rachel or Aja or Marbre or Survivor, or perhaps all, on a good night. "Of course! I'm just walking to the train." Baraka's words are fluid, gorgeous and moving. They touch something deep in me and I am thankful to have received this moment so graciously. No, Caitlin, he says, thank you for all the inspiration. Just how it should be. He asks about Dorsey's and I hem and haw a bit searching for ways to compliment the experience carefully and he laughs, seeing straight through my transparent charade. "Yeah man, I thought about going to Dorsey's to support Dre and all but then I'd have to take BART or drive and lurch up the place..." Lurch is a perfect description of how you roll up to Dorseys, I say aloud. We sign off with a "soon!" and I board the train, ready for home.
A new poem that was just dying to come out shoots outta my pen after reading Shruti's brilliant short story, full of magical realism and set in India. Of course I am housing with a writer, accidentally! I call her for directions home from the station, turned around by the night sky and never-ending parking lots and sigh this to her over the phone. Giddy, she responds that she loves my poems. We swapped over breakfast this morning. Another worthy exchange.
So I've somehow managed to pick up two more freelance jobs while I'm out here, which is welcome, of course, but I'll have to be more careful to balance work and play. Tomorrow, work for sure. So no new stories will be spun, but do know that I will be behind the screen spinning magic of a different nature.
'Till next time...
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