This is not Jack. Jack can be found, on these rare occasions, on the corner of Theobald's Road and Gray's Inn Road in Clerkenwell. It took me a while to talk to him, but that is mostly because he has no rhythm, no pattern for being where he is. Yet, you can still count on him being there, at that spot on Theobald's and Clerkenwell. You'll know right when you see him. He's the guy playing the six string acoustic with only 2 strings, 3 or 4 if you're lucky. Sometimes he comes with just a harmonica, but then you know you've been trying to find him too long ...
This is not Jack either, though, we are getting a bit closer. Jack is the white Jimmy Hendrix. Headband and all. When he is there, and I emphasize WHEN, you can't miss him. He is playing to a sold out stadium crowd of 50,000 people all out of their fucking heads crazy to hear Jack play his epics. All this on the corner of Theobald's and Gray's Inn ...
This is definitely NOT Jack. Jack never asks for tips. He gives tips. He gives advice to those lucky enough to catch his eye. A difficult thing to do really. Jack spits. He foams at the mouth, and because he is so excited, flinging "fucking" as if it were an integral word for the construction of every sentence in the english language, this spit will land on your face. Let it. You're lucky, you've caught Jack, Jack is giving you advice in front of 50,000 lunatic fans.
Jack, not even close. Any keen person would know thats in New York, and Jack is certainly not in New York, though, he might have played a sold out show there. Talk to Jack once, he'll remember you. How? I have no clue, but he'll wink as you pass by. Just once, talk to him and he'll tell you. He'll ask you, and he will tell. I told him I was studying architecture. He asked me why do we all stand there looking up at buildings as if we were looking at a pair of tits?
I said, "Maybe we are."
And to that he said, "well, you are a bunch of perverted fucks then!"
2 comments:
whats up? this is a great story. One thing that Rob was teliing me the other day is how in the city there are constant sounds, like water running in sewers. A student of mine told me a story about how when he was a high school student, everyday when he walked home, he would see this stone statue. But recently, this statue was moved to a different space, but on the same path. He felt really strange about it. Im all about disrupting the constants about everyday life, but maybe its becuse those constants are so comforting. like a nagging mother,a job, or even worse a mistake you keep repeating. Anyway congradultations on finishing AA. I wish you the best of luck in Spain
Beautiful, Luis.
Ten thousand Mozarts on the corner of eternity.
Post a Comment