The Subterraneans

"They are hip without being slick, they are intelligent without being corny, they are intellectual as hell and know all about the Pound without being pretentious or talking too much about it, they are very quiet, they are very Christlike." -quoted by a friend of Jack K.


"I want to dig them as a group.." - Jack K.




Today as I was traveling home on my city adventure, (I would normally be in the city tonite, but do to a lack of soul for comfort, I had to come home) I abruptly woke up from the half sleeping day dream I was having about a particular drummer, at the White Plains station. I got SO confused, because for some reason, I thought I was at marta. It looked the same as the station I used to leave from in Atlanta, and I even had two bags with me. It was quite a bizarre feeling, that feeling of excitement and independence I used to feel when I would go in there. I would become way too excited looking towards the weekends, not knowing what the hell we'd be getting into for those three days I spent there. I loved the people I was surrounded by. I loved that they loved me, I loved that they HEARD me. They were interested in things I had to say. I didnt find that at school, and I certainly can't find that in this town, but then I looked down at my book, looked at the title, and remembered that it was just a group of subterraneans.
We shared music, art, ideas. We shared stories, drinks, and ciggarettes. On the outside, before you got too deep, it was a beautiful place, an escape for me, if you will. I could explain it in a second. A picture for the imagination. Walking, yelling down the hallway late at night, drunks falling on you while the flash of a camera was in your face. Laughing so hard you couldnt breathe until the door opened, then your glass was immediately filled, your choice of any ciggarette, your music being played. A quick trip of 8 people piling into a car to go to a random warehouse, where you could rave all night, or an art walk with the greatest group of people. But just a taste, then back to that room, that kitchen, that place, and again, your best friends dancing, and nothing feeling better than knowing that they enjoy the drop of the beat just as much as you do. You'd never thought you'd find someone who just felt that dancing was the greatest remedy. (cue little boots). open the back door to the balcony and find one deep, soulfelt conversation after the next, and then all over again.
It was all a dream, until I woke up. Clearly moments like that do not last forever, and as soon as you let yourself become too close, and get too deep with someone, it'll fall through. It's guaranteed.
And it's okay. I miss it at times, feeling accepted, understood, having people WANT to hear what I had to say. But i believe that an end comes for a reason, and every pessimistic thought I could put into my head has a reason as well. I dont need to be upset that its over, and sad that I'm not happy where I am in life. Good things will come again. I say every up has a down, I hear people say every down has an up. I will smile because it happened, and remember that I could only stay sane in that place for the period of time the universe allowed me. I'm slowly but surely finding that escape again. New city, new friends. New love, new books, new ideas, new inspiration.

That will be my word for the rest of the month. New. I need to start new.