Today was one of the more perfect days of life.
My first thought this morning was "I woke up today with a poem in my teeth". And then I wrote a poem and said to myself, "make your own happiness today".
And I had some shits to do. So I got up early, biked to HEMA on the Kinkerstraat to buy batteries for my recorder, and then I google mapped where my interview was and biked over. It was Cassie's host mom, and I watched a program showing Sinterklaas come from Spanje to Nederland, with his 6 to 8 black men.
Definitely helped my Dutch to watch the program for an hour. And then I interviewed my interviewee, and ate some pepernoten, little round gingerbread-type cookies, and got some good information from her. After I left, I biked around the Museumplein, thinking I felt like visiting a museum. And I decided I didn't feel like a museum after all, I wanted to do something outside.
Instead, I biked through Vondelpark, the largest park in Amsterdam. So I had some xxx and cheese, and biked the entire park while I listened to my ipod loudly. It was a totally gorgeous fall day, not too chilly and it wasn't raining. At some point I really had to pee, though, so I peed in some bushes. Hopefully no one noticed but if they did, whatever.
And when I came out of the bushes, a friend had decided to join me. The tiniest of snails was slowly snailing on my iPod. Seriously, this snail was so small and fragile and adorable. Smaller than my pinky nail. Awww. But I took it as a sign- since snails are my favorite. And I placed him on a mossy tree because iPods are no place for snails.
When I'd biked the entire park through a few times, I decided to bike my way back towards SIT to Rembrandtplein and maybe grab a coffee or something. On my way I got to hear a punk band performing on a moving stage surrounded by bikes and paraders. I took some video.
When I got to the plein I heard a fantastic street musician. He was older, with long grey hair, and definitely no amateur. I sat next to a tree, and just became a part of his music. I can't really describe his sound... it was riffy, electric guitar, but with electronic and eastern influences. I listened to him until he ended his set, and then threw some money in his guitar case.
As someone who has also busked, you can tell from your crowd what type of people they are: Some dudes sitting at the cafe a few feet away clapped after his songs, and some people listened to one or two and shuffled off to go get smashed in bars or fill up the coffeeshops, or whatever touristy things they wanted to do. Only two of us listened to his entire set- me and an old man leaning on a trashcan, drumming with his fingers and smiling.
I sat and freely fed off his music. I wasn't inspired to write or paint like I usually am. Instead, I was just happy to be there and make the choice to sit and listen in the corner.
When I went to thank him and throw a euro in his case, he asked me if I was a musician. I said, yes, what makes you say that? and he "you look like a musician. That, and it's the energy." He's totally right. Musicians can totally feel each other's energy. He knew I loved and appreciated his music just by the fact that I listened to him like I would listen to a performer. (So many people, however, see a busker as a homeless person or as a poor person who has nothing else to do. Even if the music is as good as the music people pay for, they won't listen because they haven't paid.) He knew, and if I was him, I would have known. I was always good at that, seeing myself from a third person perspective, or switching bodies for a moment and looking from above at the scene. Maybe I SHOULD have become a Director of Photography like the "find out what job you should do" Test told me in high school.
But anyway, I told him I appreciated his set and his conversation, and we parted ways. I wish I'd asked his name or where I could hear him again, because his guitar was THAT good.
The experience reminded me of the Joni Mitchell song "for free". I always love things more when they're free... something that has always been rewarded in my upbringing. A good bargain, a steal. I'm the bandit. I know, I'm such a fucking Freegan- but I love it! And when music is free, it's sweeter, cleaner. I'll pull the Wilde card and say Art for Art's Sake here. But as much as I love art that has meaning and reason, that says something and makes you feel a point- I really love art for art's sake. I don't care how many times Russ has called me bougy for it, but when someone sits on a corner and plays music, and I get to stop what I'm doing to listen as the sun sets and the lights flicker on, slowly, I just love it! Winter Wonderland Amsterdam, flash the signs. Rembrandtplein becomes a skating rink, as well as the IDFA (documentary film festival where I'm volunteering) center, for a few weeks.
A great thing about having the day all oneself is you can do whatever you want. Such beauty in that simplicity. You can actually sit and listen to the free concert. You can actually bike all over the park. Take the day and make the day.
Really, quite lovely.
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