After two weeks.

August 19, 2014

Crescent moon. Warm night. My hands hurt, throbs, little mini light blisters and thick calluses, the left one actually. I have been spending 7 hours a day working on the guitar for the last week. It’s 2:30 the night is winding it’s way to the morning. I played my 2.5 hours. I smiled and I laughed. I wish I had a softer guitar, I wish I knew some of these songs better… it’s trial by fire, learn a song in the afternoon, perform at night… got 30 something now all hand written in a notebook, … and it’s not all tight.

I play, sweat soaking through my shirt, I feel a drop rolling down my face, another down my neck. When I play something I actually do know, I can take my eyes off the music stand and watch the street life… so many walk by, I noticed that the little girls really watch me… they trail behind their parents, big eyed and they watch, to be then pulled along, come on.. they say. Tourists, so many tourists. lots of Brits and Dutch people. I didn’t realize but the Brits are getting quite large. One of them, a young guy told me that they are now the 2nd fattest people on the planet after America… colors, summer clothing, cute girls, young Turks speeding on scooters or very tiny motorbikes. the Gendarmes walk by, their uniforms calquing the old French gendarmes uniforms, with the leather strap crossing the back.. like in the old movies.

I feel better, I was in a very dark place. I will not explain, it’s not worth it. I don’t want to wallow in my madness. Yes, I call it madness. Feeling a lot makes for good songwriting, but it can make for life threatening mind sets. Tonight I am grateful for Facebook. Sometimes I think it is a curse,but tonight it made all the difference, it pulled me out of the abyss. I connected, first before the show, then after the show, with some really important souls.

black

Here to learn they say. Yeah… I know, I know…

What am I doing here… I wonder, been wondering. I came to work, to make money.. ha ha ha, one of those tourists I talked to laughed, he had just been asking me “what can’t you do?” and I replied “I’m not good with money. So when I told them what I was making… they laughed. Yeah, never had a knack for the money thing.

Mosquitoes. Dogs barking in the night endlessly. I love dogs but last night I had sinister dreams of strangling that mutt… Noise, it seems everywhere in Turkey noise is a constant. Even in the village, there was noise all night long, dogs, scooters, cows, roosters… that is one thing I long for. Silence. For a little bit. Then the other thing I long for is a bath tub… and a motorcycle ride, with me driving… oh and these days I would really enjoy playing one of my guitars, the PRS or the Gibson, my hands are begging for it… Fresh strings, that would be nice too… how did I get to this… ? I wander.

So yeah, after work tonight I spent two hours on Facebook, with friends, it was a wonder, Really. I would like, sometimes, to turn everything off, the facebook, the email, the blog.. not have this compulsion to see who wrote or who liked or if there are little red icons signifiying that someone cares or thinks of me. I should not need that.. I guess being new in a new place makes this social media so incredibly attractive… necessary.. but in the old days, real travelers just went on…

I did this until Selda closed the place… then I walked home. Saw a dog feasting on garbage, then a cute cat lying on the street.. then another mama cat with two young ones. Then home… up the stairs… it’s stifling hot in the hallway, there is a restaurant downstairs and I think the ovens, grills are against the wall.. during the day it must be 50 C in there… astounding. I walked in my place, dropped the guitar, went to the back balcony. Crescent moon. Stars. Be happy… they all tell me. I hear a nice song coming from the Jazz Bar, two doors down. I decide to head there. Three steps away. There is a little courtyard. There is wifi, so I looked at the cheapest thing on the menu, saving my money. Water 3 lira. OK.

The owner comes. I had talked to him the night before, I had stopped her very briefly to hear the musicians that I could hear from my flat. we spoke just a tiny bit, I was keeping a very low profile. Hello, how much, then he asked where I was from, I said Canada, he asked French or English, I said French he said he knew a lot of French Canadian backpackers and it seemed to be a good memory for him. And I left. That was last night. So tonight I slide in a seat in this inner garden. Pull out the laptop. He comes to take my order.

DSC03830

“Bonjour mademoiselle”

“Bonjour”

“So, you are a musician?”

“And how do you know this?”

“I asked around… I was told, you play down the bar street.”

“wow, I am very quiet… don’t know many people how could you know this…”

“I was told. Well when you came last night I had a feeling, you were watching the musicians intensely…”

“And I carry this funny thing.” I said referring to the Go Guitar’s unusual size.

“Yes, well you looked like a musician. I was right. I have met many musicians… I met Eric Clapton in Dalyan…”

I am wondering… one of the customers at Aleph mentioned that he knew the jazz bar… and he really liked me… so maybe he talked to this guy.. but it’s a small place, so I know nobody but they all know me…

“i was told you were the best performer in Dalyan right now.”

On the heels of all my worrying about playing these new songs so poorly, I didn’t know what to say…

“could you come and play one night, a few songs?”

“Yeah I could.”

“I wouldn’t pay for that…”

“like an audition, that is fine.”

“The guys here right now are not good… he had a girlfriend, she had a great voice, she was entertaining the people… but now.. it’s terrible.”

Again, I thought of my own weaknesses…

“How long are you in Dalyan for?”

“I am playing every night until the 21st then I am not sure, they said every other night.. but I don’t know if I will stay and do this… “

I can see him make calculations.

“you could come and play for an hour…”

“I’ll play a few songs, then you can see…”

“I would pay for an hour..”

He offered me free water, I went and asked for the internet code, he gave it to me. They were about to close.

“You are closing?”

“you can stay, in the dark here with your machine and the internet… just pull up the cushion when you are finished. Come this week, come and play.”

“I will.”

And so life goes, one thread linking to the other. and a design of life takes shape. The question being of course, is this a picture you want to draw? a shape you want to carve?

I’ll have to keep working on those songs. Looks like my guitar is going to feed me for a little bit more.

Monday night. So I sit here, a plane goes overhead and we can hear it, it’s actually quiet for once. The sound of a fridge humming in the night. A critter is crittering somewhere… maybe a cat. The sound of the last dishes being washed at the restaurant behind. An ever so slight breeze. I feel the tiredness in my shoulders… the stickiness of my skin from sweating so much.

Today I was also told that I could play every other night at Limon cafe, the owner, such a nice guy, Greek guy in Turkey, he had some eyebrows to lift about that… but it looks like I can play, play, play… don’t matter where. I don’t know if that is what I want. I still have high suspicious about my own ability to carry this cover song solo show, if I had a percusionist, it would be a blast… but this jukebox gig, I’m not good at it. He says I can play originals.. then says people want to hear songs they know. But some things, people, are pulling me back towards Istanbul Coming here has truly shown me what I left behind.. it’s been difficult. To follow your heart or the logic… the math of life, with money in the balance. I went for logic, I had massive regrets… It is a fucking lie, actually. Money is never the cause, source, reason. it’s an excuse. Because money is just energy. And somehow, when I need it it comes. I think maybe I ran in fear. And maybe it’s too late. Maybe not. Maybe I am delusional. Maybe not. Does it make sense? No. Nothing does. So what’s to worry about? It’s the main cognition about life.. Nothing at all makes sense. Choices are there, and they’re only choices because we think so, because we decided to look at them, because if you didn’t then they wouldn’t be there. Then ad the other illusion, Fear, and the soup is spicy. Life becomes “interesting”.

So anything makes sense if we decide it does. Then that goes into “Decide what you want.” and the other thing I am realizing is the “wants” those too are fucking lies. Those are another set of illusions. because truly, we need nothing much. The wanting is just a way to not be here.

ahhh and so it goes. Conundrums. Lack of drums. Live like bums. All all that hums.

Sincerely yours.

a52

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