Today I went to Monks and listened to a guy play his electric guitar for an audience of about 15. The atmosphere was casual and chill, with the scattered couches, tables, and chairs all around the shop. The guy working the counter would periodically go sit at a table with a girl. Very chill.
The guitarist was better than the average player, but he was an excellent song writer. At the end of his set, he played two original songs, and, while I can only vividly remember one of them, they were really good. The song I can remember talks about the singer as he struggles with his relationship with God and his relationship with a girlfriend/wife/lover. The song hinges around the chorus as he sings that "if I were precious cargo, you would have cradled my head." Sorrow and regret filled the room at the end of the song as the singer stepped away from the mike and just sang the end at the top of his lungs, sort of off key but not caring, because the words were so powerful that they had to be said, and they had to be said that way. I wondered how I could get my hands on a copy of that song, how I could possess it, but then I realized that I was focusing more on obtaining the song than enjoying it. So I decided to let the song play in my memory of the night, like an uncultivated horse, running free over the hills and valleys of my mind.
Mihir had come to hear the concert, but his night was interrupted when he met a homeless man on the street who talked his ear off, and later mine as well. Although he told me, I cannot remember his name (I think it was something like Maximus). He told us about his life, in detail, and Mihir came to the conclusion that homeless people talk to themselves because no one else is willing to listen. When someone actually does listen, then (at least for Maximus) it's like Christmas. Mihir bought him several water bottles, and we talked with him for about 20 minutes. As we walked away, I wondered if that was enough, if we could have done more for him. But that was all we could do, at least right then.
Mihir and I hung out the rest of the night. We were sitting on the curb by the Paramount, and a movie had just gotten out, so all the cars were leaving and subsequently stopping at the stop sign right in front of us. I get nervous when people stop because I'm scared they'll yell at me or throw something. Mihir said that wasn't normal. I concluded that I cared too much about what others think of me. Mihir said the only way to overcome that is to "not give a shit," he said as he closed his car door and drove away. Is that really it? You don't care what other people think at all?
It's worth a shot. Cuz I'm tired of caring what everyone thinks, all the time.
I really do that. I depend on what the people in the car next to me could possibly be thinking. I care what everyone thinks. And it's infuriating. I can't be who I want to be because I'm too worried that it will not be liked by someone. Fuck that. I need to be who I want to be, and the people who like him are the people worth caring about.
I realize all this "be who you want to be" talk sounds like a Disney channel song, like an immature teenager trying to be an individual. Well, that's kind of what it is, minus Walt. I am an immature teenager trying to be an individual. So what?
Trying to find out who I am is really difficult.
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