Talking to Minya: A phone call from New York to Boston

Joe: Tell me about getting into hip-hop.
Minya: Getting into it and starting to actually rap and make beats are two different and long stories… In seventh grade, Justin Desmond had given or maybe he had lent this tape of Death Certificate by Ice Cube to this kid Mike Gilbreth. Mike brought this Ice Cube tape over to my house and played it for me. It blew my mind. It was like nothing I had ever heard. At the time even MTV didn’t play a lot of rap Vermont radio certainly didn’t play it. Especially this kind of political, controversial stuff.
So, anyway, he forgot the tape at my house and I ended up with it. Mike ended up moving away. I think I still have that tape somewhere. But I listened to that thing over and over again, after that. It got all worn out from listening to it.
In Seventh grade I knew all the words to,” Wrong Nigga to F**k With.”

Joe: When did you start making beats and raps?
Minya: When we were juniors or seniors we had this band 250 Dead Passengers,

Joe: Wait. That was a punk band of sorts. You played that dance?
Minya: (Laughter) Yeah. It was me, Jason Grey, Justin Desmond and Ethan Clarke on drums. We had only the one gig. The Mount Abe Winter Carnival Dance. But we practiced our asses of for that show! For real, we took it so seriously. For two months, everyday after school, we would meet up, go over to Justin’s dad’s house and practice. We practiced so hard for that, man.
Anyway, one night, as a joke, I rapped “Police Truck” by Dead Kennedys into the mic through my keyboard with this beat going.

Joe: A Dead Kennedys’ song was your first rap? That’s rad!
Minya: Yeah! So, we thought that was funny and kept going with it. It was joke for a while. Justin realized it was pretty fun to play guitar and bass along with the beats. So we goofed off listening to more and more hip-hop. We played along and rapped non-rap songs.
Adam Grey was doing a lot of poetry then, so he started rapping sometimes. Over time, we sort of got good at it, surprisingly. So, we sort of started making our own beats and writing our own rhymes.

The Massive, Bristol, Vermont

On December 26th-30th, 2006, Nine37 Productions will host it's 8th Annual FIVE TOWN MASSIVE!! Featuring: new paintings from ELENA PEABODY, photos by MIKAEL KENNEDY, films by ETHAN CLARKE, GRAHAM HUBER and Rooftop Films and music by THE G13, MINEFIELD and BROWN BIRD!!!!!!!!!

Cobbs Creek Parkway, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

On the way to the RV repair shop at dawn. October, 2006.

Federal Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

A fine early birthday celebration at Ray's.

Ground Zero, New York, New York

Five years later. September 11th, 2006.

Moore Street, Brooklyn, New York


Bogart & Moore Street, Brooklyn, New York

Multitasking and proud. September 8th, 2006

Moore Street, Brooklyn, New York

Stash Desbro. Rooftop of Down or Out show after party. September 8th, 2006

Water Shed Dam, New Haven, Vermont

As summer drew to a close; just one last walk with the girl, before she left the North Country.

Northeast Kingdom Music Festival, Albany, Vermont

Donny at NEKMF
"No...I don't think you guys understand, you're all a bunch off wussies. I was up until six in the morning, running around with these crazy kids. We were up by the fire when that crazy lady started screamin'...Shit...You guys missed it...All of you, you're all wussies...All I know is, you'd better stay up tonight."

Hip Hop in the Hills, South Starksboro, Vermont

DMLH. Holdin' it down, for the Five Town.

Water Shed Trail, New Haven, Vermont

Wendi and I came across this guy on a last minute hike, we took, before she caught the train back to New York. This is certainly the largest reptile I have ever seen in the North Country. This ranks right up there, with the lynx and the fire spirit, on the list of crazy shit I saw this summer.

Hollow Road, Monkton, Vermont

A Tuesday night of great purpose and fun.

Pransky Road, Cabot, Vermont

The rest of us, went to Festivus.

Pransky Road, Cabot, Vermont

I am generally very skeptical about such matters. However, this is clearly a fire spirit raising up and making eye contact with DMLH.

McCullough Turnpike, Buels Gore, Vermont

At the top of the Five Towns, anything can and does happen.

Dark Hollow, Shenandoah Nat. Park, Virginia

The dark woods of the south. July 2006.

Cameron Road, Albany, Ohio

" want one, man? I can make ya one..."

Poplar Street, Nelsonville, Ohio

We sat in the kitchen all morning, solving the problems of the world. The only problem was no one was around to listen.

Neilson Road, Stillwater, New York

It was most tragic, when our old and dear friend had a sudden flashback, thinking himself not at a mere solstice party but back in the throws of Vietnam.

U.S. Route 50, Cold Springs, Nevada

We escaped Utah, unscathed and found ourselves alone, in the high desert.

SOHO, New York, New York

In the kitchen, after a fine vegetarian dinner.

Harajuku, Tokyo, Japan

In a city of millions, one man stands alone.

Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan

"So...Uh...We really did this, eh?"

Medicine Bow Nat. Forest, Wyoming

Wyoming Rocks2
Originally uploaded by mjosefshafer.
A welcome sight, after hundreds of miles of mind numbingly flat prairie land.

I-4, Orlando, Florida

Melvin & Joe
Originally uploaded by mjosefshafer.
"Florida drivers, can't drive in this rain, you're a lucky son-of-a-bitch," Melvin explained after we totalled the production van.

The Elks Club, Athens Ohio

Pop, Dan and Smoke
Originally uploaded by mjosefshafer.
The girl and I got the hairy eye-ball from many in the lounge that night. But we were in good hands.

A fine winter's day...

Atlanta, GA

Since being out on this BBC show, I have been really detached from all my friends and family in a very serious way. Even though I have this decent job and am traveling around, I have no real news or stories to report. And even though Corey and Mikael are on this shoot now, I feel off, in a way I never have before. I feel like I am wasting time or missing out on something where as work and travel have never done this to me before. I like working and I like traveling but this show sucks. And hearing of good times in New York or Vermont, just make me homesick. So I have remained a little aloof. To keep my sanity, I have been reminiscing about the good ole days and just remembering all these funny stories. I can't wait to get home to make new one. In the meantime, in an effort to make myself happy and to amuse you all, I would share some old tales, in light of my stories from the road being less then exciting.

Story #1

Sunday, January 13th, 2002

After graduating Hampshire in the fall of 2001, I had planned to move out to Seattle with my buddy Nick Crandall. But then September 11th went down, and I was dating a lovely Pakistani women. She was living in New York since graduating, and there was no way I could bounce for the west coast. Then September 11th happened, and since it didn't seem right to split up anyway, I decided to stay on the east coast; potentially moving to New York with her.
I did the already scheduled road trip to Seattle with Crandall, that October, to get him back to his Saab, which was parked in Oregon and help him get settled in his new place. With little money and no plan, I returned to the east coast. I had lived in New York the previous summer with Mariam and felt like I couldn't handle it at the time. So, somewhat randomly, I wound up living in the now famous Outback Shack.
The outback shack, for those of you who don't know, is little more then a converted barn on the backside of my friend Dan's parents' land in Lincoln, Vermont. It has plywood floors, poorly insulated walls, only a wood stove for heat and no running water. It has become a hub of activity for the G13/9:37 crew, making it music and art there, pretty much none stop since I lived there.
I had just returned from India for a second time earlier that year and was still on the Buddhism tip, big time. The shack was right across from Sunray Meditation Society who had recently built a stupa... I had to chop wood and carry water. I was at home, but not at MY folks place. I was in the five towns, living alone and could do whatever, take off for NYC or Montreal or just stay in and play Nintendo, smoke weed with Tatonka or make art. It was perfect. It was exactly what I needed at 22.
In fact, it was the most productive I have ever been, in terms of my own artistic endeavors. I had a dial up Internet connection, tons of cameras and a lot of time on my hands. I worked my ass off for the Five Town Massive that year and it was the best one up until this year's. I made weird "Buddhist films" on my web cam and made fires. I wrote a lot, keeping an extensive journal. I took tons of pictures and made collages. I cooked sweet dinners and smoked tobacco pipes. I meditated and storyboarded (still) unmade films. Mariam would come for visits, from time to time and we would have a blast running around in the mountains. But she hated the Outback Shack. We slept out on the couch, by the wood stove most days, as she would be freezing up on the mountain. One day we woke up to a red squirrel hanging on the wall about two feet above us...It made some sound and twitched...She screamed and it jumped off the wall down on our blankets and ran around for a bit before escaping through a whole in the wall. She also didn't like the fact that a mouse had made a highway in this piece of exposed insulation, where clear plastic held it up; when you where lying on my bed, looking up at the ceiling you could see it's belly as it ran through, sort of like an ant farm. So, she didn't care for this place much. But I loved it...

That winter, I worked at Sugarbush in order to get a free season pass. But it sucked and I quit, keeping my season pass and continuing to shred all season for free. In any case, I quit in order to work on a film called "Pursuing Happiness." I was hired on as the production manager one Sunday morning after meeting with Jon, the director/producer. But this experience is a story in and of itself and not an important part of this story; the rest of that particular Sunday is...

It was one of those mornings in Vermont where, it snowed really heavily over night and tapered off in the dawn, revealing snow covered trees and big puffy clouds in the sky. One of those days where the sun shines with god's rays through the clouds and the snow cascades off the trees like a water fall, catching those sun rays, just so, it looks like golden confetti blowing through the forest...It was a beautiful fucking winter day in other words.
I woke up on that day, for a meeting with Jon, the director, at the Bristol Bakery. When he hired me and I was beside myself, "A film job in Vermont? Sweetude!" I was walking on air leaving the bakery and decided to take a drive and enjoy the weather.
As I said the outback shack doesn't have running water so I would go up to a natural spring in Ripton to fetch water, once or twice a week. As it I happened to have my gallon jugs in my car and a bunch of weed, I decided to take the long way around to get my water for the week.
I smoked a bowl and headed up over Bristol Notch road. The light was just right, golden spots on the all white trees, stunning. Absolutely stunning. If you have ever driven Notch Road, you know how, the mountain is revealed, the whole ridge just pops out from the trees out of nowhere. Boom...Just magnificent, the high clouds just whipping through the deep blue winter sky, just above the peak. The mountain, itself completely snow capped perfect white against the blue and the sun was casting these yellow shapes onto it like inverse shadow puppets.
I just stopped my car, got out and stared at it. A half hour probably went by before I realized I was freezing and it was getting a little late. I would loose the daylight for my water-fetching mission. So, I jumped in the ole Subie and headed down to "Lucky Seven's" spring.
If you don't know Lucky Seven's, it's a spot on Ripton-Lincoln Road, just over the town line in Ripton, where someone, long ago place a pipe in a natural spring and ran it down to the side of the road. There is a tiny pull off there, where the pipe streams water in a perfect faucet like fashion. It empties into a big trough that is bolted into a cement slab. This trough has the words Lucky Seven's etched into it. And that's why we call it that. This trough overflows and spills into a ditch, which runs next to the pull off, down into a culvert and eventually empties into the river that runs next to Lincoln-Ripton Road.
I only explain all that to set the scene:
I come down off the notch and pulled around to Lucky Seven's. There was already some one there, which I though was a little strange; I had never seen anyone up here, especially in winter. The gentleman who was filling is water jugs had parked his rusty old caravan in the pull off, so I just pulled over as much as I could. I grabbed a few jugs and walked over to see how long the guy had left...I wanted to pull my car off the road, into the pull off. So, I walk up there and there stands, a total Vermonter. From toe to head: Old rubber barn boots, with green woolen pants tucked down into them, a red and black checkered woolen jacket, a grey mustache and a two weeks worth of stubble, a bright orange hunting hat, complete with ear flaps and mismatched work gloves, one with so many wholes it probably didn't make much difference that he had a glove on anyway.
Before I even say hello, he belts out in a full tilt Champlain Valley-Vermont accent,"Wewl, by golly, AYE'm glaad AYE'm nah the awnly crraazy fool who comes up heeer in-nah dead-ah winnah ta get freeeesh waahder."
"Yut,” I say, "I live over in Lincoln and don't have runnin' water, so I come here to get it."
"Nah baad," he says and starts on this whole story about he meet this crazy Irish brew master who had moved to Burlington some years back and how that Irishmen swore by the Lucky Seven's water when making his homebrewed beer. And went on to tell me about how he and his wife use the water in various ways, but before he finished, his last bottle of water filled up and he pulled the Vermont farwell,"Yut bwye." And jumped in his car and left.
I love that about Vermonters, it's like small talk is just to pass the time while your doing something else, and there really isn't anything polite about it really. It's like, I'm here getting water, all of a sudden your here, let's talk about water, but oh, see ya, cuts off the story and leaves. No formality, nothing polite, nothing rude, just this understanding that our interaction is just cause I like to talk and we both happened upon this spot at the same point in time.

Anyway, he leaves and I pull my car into the pull off. But I pull to far to the right and the snow bank gives way into the slushy ditch that the water flows into. My passenger side tires just sink, right down into this icy mess and freezing ass water. I was in pretty deep, but I figured, hey, I have an all wheel drive, trusted old Subaru, I can get out.
Start it back up. Hit the gas and moved forward a bit, trying to turn left back onto the road, but I end up just spinning, donut style and sinking the back tires and basically ending up in the same situation, only facing a 80 degrees differently. And I can't go anywhere, I am clearly stuck at this point, the tires are just spinning and trying to get out just makes it worse.
FUCK! No one is ever on Lincoln-Ripton Road, I'll never get out of this one, alone, and I need a tow I think.
I think some more.
How the hell am I gonna get out of this one?
I decided instead of waling down the mountain to Ripton General Store or waiting for someone with a truck to come by, I would use this old hand winch I had in my car, if your in the know, a "come along". This is a wonderful gadget. Two simple machines, a wheel and a lever. It basically makes 250 pounds 5 pounds and you can hand crank a car, or whatever. It's great everyone should get one.
Anyway, the thing is you need to attach one end to something before you can winch away. I had no real angle way I needed to go, to hook to a tree or a bolder. The only thing really there was the Lucky Seven's trough itself. Which wasn't even the right way I wanted to go. But I decided to try it anyway.
So I hooked on and started inching my car slowly out of the ditch. It was taking a long time as I had the entire length of the come along cable extended. I was getting cold and pissed off. Although I was still high and rightly enjoying the scenery.
About half way through my tugging another Subaru Outback with North Carolina plates pulled up, with two Middlebury College students inside, a couple. The girl rolls down the window and asks if I need help.
"Well, yeah," I say sheepishly,” But do you think a Subie Outback would tow a Subie Outback?"
"Worth a shot," the guy exclaims from the drivers seat.
So, I take off the come along form the trough, attach it their car and they are able to get me out a bit, but can't quite crest the edge of the ditch, I am just to far in there. I ask them for a ride to the store and give up all hope for getting out on my own. And we start undoing the cabling...

Tangential story: I was down in DC for a protest against the potential war in Iraq, this is back when it was merely a threat and not an actual thing yet. Kingdom, Claire, Powsner and I had met up with Corey down there and after the day of Marching we went into Adam's Morgan, the hip corner of DC. Where to Kingdom's delight we found a restaurant called the Ghana Cafe. We sat outside, drank a couple beers and waited for our dinners. In my periphery, I saw people walking up to us, but they have caught Claire's eye first. I hear,"Hey can you give us directions to..."
In the middle of the sentence I look up and standing there is this same couple from Middlebury College. "Damn, I know you guys, remember, Subie Outback, tows a Subie Outback?"
"Yeah, totally, what's up man?" They say and we shot the shit about that day and they said they had moved to Baltimore and gotten married...Wow.

Back to the task at hand:

So, we are winding up the hand wench thing and I am about to hop in for a ride to the store with them, when a bug ass Dodge truck pulls up. The window rolls down. "Need a hand?" The deep voice says...As I can only really see a hat, as the truck is so tall.
"Hells yeah!"
So, I break out the come along and the guy in the truck jumps down, grabs some chains and the Middlebury couple take off.
He pulls me out in one second. Sweetude!
As we break down our rigging he tells me he was just out for a drive and he never really comes up here, lucky for me. We continue to shoot the shit, but as soon as his last chain is wrapped,"Yut Bwye."
I followed him down around the bend, in order to turn around and try again to fill up my water jugs. But as soon as we curve around the corner, there is a little Honda Civic that went off the road; down over the side of this snow bank. There are just deep footprints leading through the snow back up on to the road. They totally walked to Ripton General I thought.
The Dodge truck stops, waves me up beside him. The window rolls down and the deep voice says,"Wanna try 'er?"
"You steer I pull." the guys says.
So, we hook back up the chains and my come along to this complete strangers, Honda, (but that's the kind of thing ya do in the North Country and it only seems weird that we did it in retrospect after living in NYC) we pull it back onto the road in one second.
As we're undoing all the cabling and chains, this old behemoth Oldsmobile pulls up and before it even stops the passenger jumps out, exclaiming. "Oh thank you boys so much, you totally didn't have to do that...But thank you thank you...I walked down to the Ripton Store and called my husband and he wasn't home and I didn't know what to do, but then I ran into my friend here (points to the driver, driver waves) and she's giving me a ride home, to wait for my husband and I was just stopping by to get a few things out and here you boys have done a great deed..."
Damn, she was psyched...
She calmed down a bit and checked out her car, everything a-ok, and she introduced herself. "Well, forgive me, I am Walterine Masterson..."
"Oh, no kidding,” I didn't even recognize her, my friend Adam's mom, who I had only met once on a dark and stormy night five years earlier...
Tangential story:
When I was 15, my friend Mary Bolton was sixteen and had a little Subaru Legacy sedan that we used just cruise dirt road in all the time. One night we got a bunch of weed, picked up our friends Zak and Betsy and went for a tour on "Scary Gary Road”, real name North Gary Road...(But was nicknamed Scary Gary Road as on this one mile stretch of it there were no houses and the trees hung real low over the road and blocked out the sun. At night it was also rumored that a ghost lurked up there; a young girl, who was raped and murdered up there, back in the 1700's when white people first settled in Lincoln...We thought it was funny and used to just drive along and stop on this road, smoke cigarettes and weed and listen to Nirvana...)
So, the four of us packed into Mary's little red Subie and headed up there. It was weird, as soon as we hit the road it started to down pour, really hard, big raindrops. And the Road had been washed away in one part...So we stopped at there and watched the rain just rip through the middle of the road. We smoked a bowl and turn around.
As we were backtracking along the road, Mary lost control of the car and we spun around 180 degrees and then flipped of the side of the road into a field landing on the roof of the car. As I unstrapped my seat belt and fell to the ceiling, I looked back and found Zak and Betsy still strapped in upside down, still screaming, aaaaaaahhhhh!
We busted open Mary's door and crawled out. All of us were okay. And we started walking in the rain toward a couple homes we could see in the distance. The first house no one was home except a man-eating dog. The second home was an old lady that was so freaked out and flustered by these four soaking teens on her doorstep she got said,” I just dunno!" And just the door in our face. Onto the third house...Where Walterine Masterson, who let us in, greeted us gave us warm tea, blankets and a phone call home.

Back to Lincoln-Ripton Road:

"Walterine, sorry I didn't recognize you, we've met, I am Joe Shafer, I'm friends with Adam and we met once when we flipped a car on ole Gary Road..."
"Oh yes, of course, I remember that, how are you Joe? Looks like you just returned the favor!"
And before the conversation went to far, everyone practically in unison, said, "Yut bwye!" Jumped in their respective cars and headed off.
I finally found a plowed drive way and turned around to head back up to Lucky Seven's to get my water.
When I got back up there, another white Subie Outback sat in the pull off and I thought "oh no not again." And made an extra special effort not to slide off into the slushy ditch again. This time a whole family was there filling up bottles, they looked like they were coming back from skiing or something. I thought it was strange that a sort of New England style yuppie family would be getting water up here. But whatever, I grabbed my jugs and walked up.
Before I could even say hello, the father looks at me and says in that Vermont yuppie way,” Well, I am glad to see I am not the only crazy fool that comes up here in the dead of winter to get fresh water."
I sort of stopped in my tracks. "Did that guy just say the same EXACT thing as the other dude?" I thought..."Damn." He was telling me about his great day of skiing and before he finished his bottle filled he capped and "Yut bwye." And no sooner was he the wife and the kids packed up and speeding away. At least I knew they were really Vermonters, even if they were yuppies...
So, I started filling up my jugs and enjoying the scenery. A few silent moments later another truck pulls up and another full tilt Vermonter hops out. He wore Carhart everything and a five-gallon Gatorade jug was in his hand. He walks up and I say,” Well, I'm glad to see I'm not the only crazy only crazy fool that comes up here in the dead of winter to get fresh water." And he says, "Yut" and starts telling me about this Irish brew master he meet up here a month back who swore by this water for his beer...
I was like this is the twilight zone; I made the joke for my own amusement by saying all of the same shit, yet a third time, but this was getting creepy. But before I got to freaked out, my last jug filled up and I politely nodded and said,"Yut, bwye," jumped in the car and headed home to the outback shack, just as the sun was setting and the rays projected pink colored shapes across the mountain ridge.
Fucking stunning, absolutely fucking stunning.

When I pulled into the shack, Madeline, Dan's mom was pulling in as well. "Hey, how was your day?" she said.
"Oh pretty cool, I got hired on this movie and went to fetch water..."
She was unloading groceries and I my water, we finished about the same time, cut our conversation short. "Have a good one, yut, bwye."
And I went home to the Outback Shack and built a fire.

On the road #1

Atlanta, GA.
I love and miss: Wendi and New York and Claire and Angelika Kitchen and Powsner and Elena and Snow and my car and maps and Minya and Vermont and Crandall and fucking shit up and DMLH and fucking shit up with DMLH and the river and 2179 Downingsville Road and Graham and my records and my bed and that field in Lincoln before they built a house in it and Alex Martin and the way he climbs trees and taking pictures without knowing anything about taking pictures and Grace and Zak and Eric and Emily and the corner store and skateboarding and not getting hurt when I fall and my Pop and the days before cell phones and row boating and Nick Patch and the time before scientists agreed dinosaurs had feathers and how I used to want to be a palentologist and I how I used to think and India and Vivek and being nieve and not caring that I was nieve and the time before I drank heavily and selling weed with Crandall and smoking weed with anyone and not being paranoid about cops and Mt. Abe, the actual mountain and Aurora and Abbi and Carmie and Rodey Burritt and Monkton Pond and Lake Champlain and believing in Champ and driving in blinding snow storms and my high hopes and the Rooftop kids and having things wiped from my permenent record and Deerleap and Trey and the Burlington punk rockers and Sky and Sky and Yale and bocce and Powsner family events and Eth and Ev and stopping to pee late at night on a dirt road and notcing Orion in the southern sky and Monkton and Bristol and Donny and Soph and Nina and Mike C. and people just walking in to 109 without knocking and random Hampshire kids at the bar and B&H and tofu and days off and Stowe and the Des-bros and the Grey Bros and BigRodd and Ena and Anna and a good frisbee game and lentil soup and Clyde and Jill and Bristol girls and Cubber's before I thought it gross and Black and White and Prospect Park and the Whitney on Friday nights and paying the Met a penny and the roof of the Met in the fall and Reggie's and the bakery the way it used to be and Caleb and stopping in on Minya when he still lived in South Starks when I would come back from Sugarbush and Talbott and the good times and the bad times and Alex Kelly and the Boxcar and short films randomly screened in the Opera House and playing pool in the afternoon and sleeping in and fucking around in general and Kingdom and fucking around in general with Kingdom and the days before I wasted time with blogs and the days when I just did whatever and the Dalai Lama and my momma and New Haven and Starksboro and Madeline and Dre and Noah and Stephen and Kate and Kate being down and Molly and Kiara and Piney Woods Road and Life Cafe and Neil Young and Mary Bolton and Russell and TT and Nissa and Eli and Gailer school kids and running into them at concerts and Dev and how we all used to live up there and land lines and answering machines and prayer flags and futons and wood stoves and the Powsner boys and their crazy drive way and walking back to Opera House from Life on that grimey street and getting drunk in Boston and spending way too much money on records and David Hoene and Deanna and Aaron Jacobs and Mr. Lexicon and Matt Moyer and driving into Bristol and eating Wokkies and the Williamsburg Bridge and the J train and staying up all night and having the time and not having debt and McCollough turnpike at night and the first snow and the New York skyline from the BQE after being away for a while and Serenity and Michael and Betsy and Joseph and Sam and Mountain Road as an escape route and Ernesto and lunches with Ernesto and Anais and reggae fest and Vermont summers the way they used to be and recycling and Zim and Mimi and Zim and Mimi as a thing and Montreal and Pete Wallis and Casey Macker and living on McKibbin Street and Daniel and snowboarding and Merle and Lucia and the Broughton boys and Hardscabble Road and Crandall's old Saab and my old Geo and Cheyenne and Silas and Ryan and the Lower East Side on a Thursday and the after Rooftop drink and walking home from the train in the evening and getting the mail and having good parties and Cat and Kali and sitting on the porch with lemonade and the way it gets quite in the Opera House in the morning, when all you can hear is the train and just sitting there smoking a cigarette before anyone gets up and listening to the ca-clunk-ca-clunk on the tracks...and...and...I can't fucking wait to get home.