INCREASE-DECREASE

Just something interesting…

Hmph.

This morning I’m sitting in the window of my favorite neighborhood coffee shop. While working tirelessly, as usual, I glance up for a moment to give my eyes and mind a breather. Across the street was a man and his daughter. She dressed in all pink, and sitting on an all pink bike, with matching training wheels, was having a bit of trouble propelling the bike forward just by pedaling.

The father smiled, and placed his hand on the back of the seat, and gave it a little bump. Just enough to get her going.

And off she went.

I have nothing more to say.

A book by Paolo Coelho. One of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read, and possibly one of the most beautiful stories ever written.

Just to show how incredible it is, check out the FIRST paragraph:

“By the River Piedra I sat down and wept. There is a legend that everything that falls into the waters of this river- leaves, insects, the feathers of birds- is transformed into the rocks that make the riverbed. If only I could tear out my heart and hurl it into the current, then pain and longing would be over, and I could finally forget.”

See? Wow.

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.