Hey all, I’m Adam. I run and write for hahamusic, a music blog that Matt contributes to from time to time. He and I also went to high-school and college together. The first time we hung out, we ended up listening to Rage Against The Machine at full volume in a car doing donuts around the school parking lot late at night (neither one of us was driving). None of that is really important. Ok, here we go!
Generally, at any given time, there are tons of options for free stuff to do in New York (where I currently live). Friday afternoons are especially easy pickings — museums throw open their doors to the non-paying public, art galleries and clubs all over town host dj sets and other live music, free wine flows like a river through the streets and all are made merry. It’s really quite exhilarating, in a kind of bum-like way, as if you were walking around hungry and dozens of restaurants just started heaping food onto plates and shoving them at you as you passed. Incidentally, as I wrote that, I realized there is a scene very much like it in the Marx Brothers movie A Night At The Opera, which you should all see as soon and as often as you possibly can. Here’s a still from another scene from the same film:

Anarchy at its very finest.
Like I was saying, there’s a lot of free stuff to do here. A couple Fridays ago, I walked up the block from work to the New York Public Library, which is hosting an exhibit called “Beatific Soul: Jack Kerouac On The Road.” Now, if this was eight years ago, this exhibit would have been my own little personal paradise — my minute mecca — my humble heaven, because I was REALLY into the Beat writers around age 15. On a family trip to San Fransisco around that time I had my picture taken looking sulky and very much like a bitter little 15 year old under the sign for Jack Kerouac Street outside City Lights Bookstore, and met Lawrence Ferlinghetti, which at the time was a mind-blowing experience. Here I was, this little punk kid, talking to the guy who wrote “Dog” and “I Am Waiting,” and published some of the greatest works of contemporary literature in the world. Like wow, indeed.
These days, though my favorite poet is still Frank O’Hara (an also-ran from the same time), I’m not into all the Beat stuff as much. Now an exhibit like the Kerouac one is more interesting than life-changing. Interesting, and also incredibly intimidating. Because not only did the exhibit include the scroll on which Kerouac wrote On The Road, but it also included book after book after display after display of his journals, his notes, his letters, his sketches, his photos — a exhaustive cross-section of this (extremely prolific) man’s entire creative life. And that can be pretty intimidating to someone who likes to think of himself as a writer and yet hasn’t written anything substantial except music blog entries (not particularly substantial themselves) for about half a year, let alone produced any other kind of meaningful art or music.
But as intimidating as it was, the exhibit was also inspiring. And as I walked the few blocks from the Library over to the International Center of Photography (also free on Fridays after 5:00) — for an exhibit of an artist named Barbara Brown (a lot of physical pop art, a rug facsimile of the cover of the second edition of Nabokov’s Lolita, etc), and a larger exhibit including a piece which paired Edison footage from a moving train going through a mountain (in and out of tunnels) with a reading of passages from Proust’s In Search of Lost Time (descriptions of falling asleep and waking without knowing sleep had occurred, each tunnel entrance marked with a corresponding narration about slipping into sleep) — as I was walking through those exhibits, I was thinking about my own creative output and how lacking it has been since I left college (and the deadlines and structure of writing classes especially). How sure, I go to a lot of comedy shows and go see a fair amount of art, occasionally going to a concert — plenty of cultural stuff — but thinking about how I never really do anything myself. All this activity is me experiencing without really DOING, without really producing anything.
The entire afternoon convinced me that I need to DO more, that I’m wasting time by being a passive viewer of life exclusively. Before, on weekends or lazy days, I would chide myself for not getting out and seeing more (as motivation to get up off the couch or away from the computer), taking in more of what this city had to offer (a LOT) and moreover, what life had to offer (also a LOT) — telling myself that experiencing life was the important part. But now, I’m starting to think that that just isn’t enough.
So what am I excited about? I’m excited about inspiration from unexpected places. I’m excited about new and unexplored avenues of expression, about looking at the world around me in a different way and finding a way to put myself into it — to add something of myself in a new way. Not merely resigning myself to the experience but reciprocating in as many ways as are available. To add myself to my own experience, to become a full collaborator in my own life. I haven’t come to any conclusions about quite how I’m going to be doing this, but I’m sure figuring it out is going to be plenty exciting as well.
Yeah!