[i]
Waking up around noon on a futon in a brightly lit bedroom in New York.
Green Tea.
Across the street from the apartment I grab an Everything Bagel with Cream Cheese and fresh squeezed Orange Juice.
Ladada has a rooftop show at Our Wicked Lady, a venue off Morgan Ave – a part of the Northside Festival happening in Brooklyn, which is supposed to be like a mini version of SXSW.
Before the show starts we meet up with Caitlin Pasko, Emily Hill, and two of Caitlin's friends at Esme, a café in Greenpoint. It's been years since I've seen Caitlin and Emily. Sipping on an Iced Coffee.
Kofi makes it out too. He accompanies me to a bodega around the corner for a Tuna Salad Wrap.
Back on the rooftop everything's hitting off. Alex, our old friend from The House Floor, a band Tokyo used to play shows with in Blacksburg is here – another face we haven't see in many years. The first band greets us with an atmospheric pop rock sound. Sipping on iced alcoholic beverages. Then, it's Ladada's turn. I affix the brown longhaired wig to my head and start sweating immediately. Despite fumbling through a few bad notes on the bass it turns out to be a good performance with a good response from the crowd.
The rest of the night consists of venue and bar crawling. Muchmore's. Baby's All Right.
At some point we grab Pizza from a place called Best Pizza. In my opinion it is the "best" pizza I've had in New York but others will disagree.
Ending up at a bar called The Grand with everyone minus a few people. Brock's friend is bartending. I have one of those moments whenever I go out of town where I question everything I'm doing in my life. Maybe I should move? Do I really want to teach music the rest of my life? Do I really want to own Music Makers and be a small business owner? Do I really want to settle down in Virginia Beach? Meanwhile, the drinks are slinging around. It's not as dark lit as a bar should be in here. Brock is spitting at us with compliments and his insight into Ladada and our performance. He pays attention to all the details and vibes. That's what I love about him.
We make it back to the apartment. And hilarity ensues. Entertaining ourselves with hat tricks, coin tricks, and acrobatics including a challenge where you have to bend down on one leg and grab a brown paper bag with your mouth, a feat Brock is especially talented at doing. I take up the challenge and successfully grab the bag a few times. Meanwhile, this French Canadian girl is dancing and kicking her legs out in a bicycle motion and saying strange things. She's an artist and good friend of Brock's. I take a few hits of weed but I keep hanging on the fence between high and not high. My body's had an intake of almost everything and I don't think it knows what to feel. High? Drunk? Buzzed? Nothing? Nothing I guess. I'm all socialized out. I want no further stimulation.
Crashing on the futon in the bedroom late after 5 a.m.
[i] Images by me.
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