guitar
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if there is a heaven — pretty sure there is one — it must be something like the boardwalk at Coney Island at 4 PM on a beautiful spring day, the Atlantic Ocean on one hand and Deno’s Wonder Wheel on the other. The annual Blessing of the Rides ceremony takes place today at 10…
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I work at a donut shop in lower Manhattan. between shifts I earn extra income as a server. a few times a month I’m also a nighttime dishwasher. I pick up some part-time work at Macy’s Herald Square at Christmastime, and I have stood on 6th and Broadway with an ad board over my neck,…
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a walk in the park/my heart goes bang bang, thinking of you/I shout at the East River hoping it will shout back/where do you go at night, is it to the one who calls you, the one you love/when I thought that me and you will end, I/didn’t think it would be like this,/a thousand…
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my abuela is extremely nostalgic about the music she listened to when she was a teenager in the mid-1960s. The Beach Boys, The Beatles, The Supremes. sources say she even danced The Twist but those claims won’t be confirmed or denied. (psst I bet she did.) if you were a teen in the 1970s, then…
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some nights, when I’m perched on a stool with just my guitar, keeping a little crowd fixed (or at least I hope), it hits me: the only time I don’t feel like such a fuck up is when I’m making music. or playing it for people who care. choosing to be an artist is really…
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I’ve been thinking about this recently. it’s something we talk about a lot in group. we wrestle with, at the same time, trying to maintain this sense we’re OK as we are, and where we are, being works in progress, while striving each day to climb out of someplace dark over to somewhere brighter. it…
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when I made this song I was thinking about West 4th Street Courts aka The Cage in Greenwich Village. but it could be about anyplace in the city where sirens wail while streetball is played and two ropes swing on beat. you gave that person your heart and soul. you might have lost them, but…
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[WARNING: dumb joke] two nuts walked down a dark alley in Brooklyn. one was a salted. (I warned you.) and now for some candy.
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playing notes is the basic idea of music. but it’s an impression, and just a shallow one. it’s not enough to play the notes. what I really have to do as a musician is everything that is not in the notation (which by the way I can’t read anyway). the same way I need time…
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you know that group of friends in high school that shared a lunch table and spent practically every Friday night together? you know, the cool kids, the populars, the jocks, the brains, the floaters (who got in with everyone), the good-ats? I wasn’t one of them. I was the one all those kids labeled a…
cookie nieves 