INCREASE-DECREASE

Fuck you.

(Sorry kids, but trust Uncle Jason, there ARE appropriate times to say this. This is one of those times.)

It was awesome. I really got to JUST spend time with fam and friends, without having to do any shows or anything like that. I didn’t even hang out anywhere heavily populated. Just really shared quality…QUALITY time.
Though the majority of the trip was pleasantries one thing that all of my friends and fam addressed was that I look and seem so tired, and so pensive. Like my mind is cluttered. I explained that I’ve been a bit restless lately. I can’t figure out what it is, but I just feel like I don’t belong anywhere, but instead…everywhere. And that I don’t really wanna do anything, but instead…everything. And though that sounds cool, and presents an opportunity for the easy response “you cannnn do everything,” the truth is, it aint that simple. It’s actually a bit torturous. It feels like I’m caring six cupsof water in two hands, and I’m carrying them pretty well, but its gonna take a lot of time, patience and planning to get them where they need to go without spilling any water from them.

Not sure if this makes any sense. Just sharing.

Nonetheless, I am who I am. And what I am. And what that is, is young. And insane. And whether or not anyone understands it, i have to be okay with it. At least that’s what mama said.

So last night, it was so hot that I had to take water bottles, put them in the freezer, let them freeze, then take them out and put them in bed with me.

Period.

WANTED: Winter…or a f*cking AC window unit. Willing to trade, hot ass summer, or stupid f*cking fan. Reach me at jason@increase-decrease.com

Thanks

(Falls on floor and drowns in own sweat)

So, I’m home. And I’m happy here. I feel like someone’s punched me in the face with a fist full of sunshine. I mean, I feel pregnant. Without the sickness…or belly…or baby inside. But the glow? Yeah, the glow.

I’m only going to be here for a few more hours, then it’s back to NYC. I can honestly say that I’m sad to go back to hustle, but it’s what I have to do. There is something there for me, I think. At least I hope. But I can admit, that I’m not loving NYC right now. I mean, I never really love it, it’s always more of a love/hate thing between NYC and I. But I recognize the energy, and the grind there. And for that, I continue to pound it’s pavement, tapping out the code to my dreams.

But when I come home…I can breathe. And smile. And sleep.

More on this, Monday.

Yesterday I saw a rich white woman, wearing all white, and I’m sure, feeling all white walking down Lafayette with her daughter. Her daughter threw her arms around her mother, and begins to hug her tight, smiling lovingly. Her mother pushed her away…pushed her away…PUSHEd HER AWAY and said “Dont get me dirty!”

She sees me looking. She smiles to protect her pride. I frown to shatter it all over the pavement.

Maam, you’ll be begging for those hugs when your daughter is older. When she’s in therapy, or totally disconnected from you and your lifestyle. When she’s so ashamed of it all that she’ll dress in all black. When you write her checks for her rent in Brooklyn, where she drinks cheap beer and tattoos her ribcage, refuses to buy bras or anything full price, and rolls her own cigarettes. Dont worry, you’ll know all her friends. They’re all your friends’, children.

Thanks lady. You’ve broken another heart, and created another hipster.

Right now in New York City, there are pianos set up in various high traffic areas. One at 34th and 6th, one at Astor place, and several other hot spots. Whenever you walk by, you’ll notice people sitting there playing, and a crowd around, some watching and enjoying the musician, other waiting on their turn to jam out. The pianos are all worn, and have clearly been banged around a bit. But that’s expected since they’ve been traveling around the world!

I want to give you all the exact details, but frankly, my internet is tripping right now, and I’m unable to open another tab to google it and make sure I get all the facts right. But I’ll tell you what I think I remember from the article I read a few days ago.

This guy started it as a social experiment to pretty much watch how an ungoverned body of people interact and share when it comes to something like music. It’s also an interesting notion to watch people who may have never played a piano, give it a shot, or learn a quick ditty from one of the more trained musicians who just happens to be on site at the same time. And lets not forget about the fact these pianos have traveled and many, many hands have graced their keys. You never know, Quincy Jones could’ve sat at one. Better yet, the Dali Lama. Or the next Beethoven…or Biz Markie.

It’s just a really cool experiment, and I encourage everyone to look up Play Me, I’m Yours, and go and check it out for yourself. It’s literally just a piano in the middle of a central location that says, “Play Me, I’m Yours.” That’s it. And the magic that happens is…well…magical.

And the awesome part is…Pianos are hard to steal!!!

Dear Michael,

I have decided that today, in your honor, I will give moonwalking my best shot. I will try to glide and move magically across the floor. I will attempt to make it look smooth and effortless the way you did. I will float. Of course, in tube socks.

And tomorrow I will put my shoes on and attempt to do the same, out there. In honor of me. Thank you.

In the mirror,

Jason

Indeed.

Boomshakalaka BAM!

Yes. Only a quarter. But seriously how?

Hmpf. Magicians all around me.