2 weeks in Treviso, Italy went by. Usually, I'm scared of small towns because I always feel like theres some hidden ancient bad shit underneath the surface and I can somehow feel it. And I also know small towns usually don't like outsiders like me. But I have to thank my friend Vittorio for being a real pal, housing me and teaching me some very basic classical music exercises that have already helped spawn some early sketches for the next release. Special thanks to Federico, Chiara, Elisa and the Demarin family. Thank you all for all your hospitality. I feel lucky to have friends in this part of the world that will lend out a helping hand when you are a stranger in a new town. I've always hated transitions. They feel like limbo, a never ending hell of some sort where all you can do is wait. and wait. and wait. Like burying your head into some imaginary opponent who is twice as big as you, and you just lay it out on him the best you can, meanwhile not even fazing him, until you run out of breath and feel that impending doom of defeat and helplessness. I'm incredibly impatient and waiting can sometimes really fuck me up. Doubts start to surface. Old blood and bad shit that lies beneath the surface.
Its now 5am, the sun is about to rise in Lisbon. Upon arrival tonight at midnight, my friend Sergio picked me up from the airport, and we proceeded to the old town where ZDB is. Natxo, originally from Barcelona has a beautiful house next to ZDB thats only 500 eu/month. fucking amazing...
I took Natxo's advice and went to a neighborhood bar, the only one thats open late around here. He said, "there, you won't find anyone there at this hour on a sunday, maybe the occasional journalists or some guy writing, drinking and smoking, yapping about politics and what not. Go have a steak and treat yourself a drink. You look like you could use one. Go have a proper meal." I followed his directions and ended up there, a mysterious wooden door (locked) but looked obviously open as it was the only shop with lights on. I rang the bell, an older Portugese man answers the door, I ask: "are you still open?" "Yes" he replies. I sit down, looked over at the menu, ordered a steak with egg and fries and a glass of beer. I'm happy as a pig in shit at this point, its cooked rare. Then the waitress comes over, and asks me if I would like some dessert. I asked her what it was and she replied "pudding, flan pudding" I almost died. I ate it in 40 sec or so. Smoked a cigarette, pounded my 2nd beer and paid my bill (20eu) and left a 2 euro tip. I'm retracing some memories of walking here from my last two visits here playing at ZDB, but somehow this time I can feel the wind of the city, of the old walls speaking to me, the dim street lights and narrow alleys, completely empty. I know on weekends this neighborhood is like a warzone full of drunk kids and foreigners but at this very moment, I can feel new life being breathed into me, reviving me from the fatigue of last year and showing me a path that will kick start this new year. Not to mention its 15 degrees celsius outside. I'm grinning. This will be the perfect place for me to digest all that I saw and lived in Berlin, and counter all that craziness from last year's what seemed like at the time a never ending tour. I worked myself and the boys to death.
A new chapter begins. 33, ready to take on the world. Growth. Spirits and shit.
Pacific boy
Jan 6th, 2014 - Lisbon
