Currently, I am in that state of reality where my body is somewhat awake, my mind is semi-functional, and the hallucinations and shifts of what is actually going on versus what is going on in my head are keeping me entertained and completely (and literally, as I determined when I had some "functionality" issues with a door) off-balance.

New York was lovely, the concert even more so. I think I might make a habit of this, picking a band and following them. My band of choice might be going to Belgium early next year, so I may end up having to (finally) leave the country.

Something about finding yourself in a venue in Brooklyn, graffiti on the walls, inches separating you and the band, a host of people shoved into a forty by forty space, everyone equally set on experiencing the intensity that comes with this sort of music that grinds your bones and triggers emotions normally kept on reserve...

Then doing it again in Providence, another venue, better acoustics, circling the stage with a camera, hanging out with the band pre- and post- show, chatting with the drummer about his intense set-up, finding amusing pictures on your "borrowed" camera once the bassist returns it.

Walking the length of the river, the mini funeral-pyres of Halloween being kept lit by groups of boatmen, individual Charons traversing water, through music-filled canals...

You never know what you will find.

Sitting on the floor of the shower of my hotel, body aching, steam rising.
Curled up across two seats of a traincar.
Slouched against a friend's shoulder on the subway, riding in and out of consciousness.
Wandering Brooklyn residential neighborhoods, pumpkins and spiderwebs.

Three days.

Downtown Providence felt like a coming home, though I'd never been before. Images of a brick apartment and a window overlooking the street, fingers flying over a keyboard while the wind shoves leaves through gutters.

Pieces of self found in roaming streets, in the wind and light rain that fell outside the venue, polishing the sidewalk, gleaming. Huddled under the doorway, exchanging words while equipment is loaded into the van, watching the laughing drunks stagger by, wet and happy.