2005 – Flirting with My Shadow

Levelsix was entering its peak state. We were regularly rehearsing, meeting, planning, and semi-frequently performing. We were focusing on developing our band image and experimented with dark themes in a photo shoot in January. We had chosen black and red for our band colors. These photos depict various unholy scenes bathed in red light with the other dominant color being black. I wore the costume crown of thorns and black eye liner. I was bold enough to express myself in daring ways, though I was a bit lost and confused. 

One day I recorded myself as I lie on the floor in The BASEment apartment with the lights off shredding improvisations on my electric guitar. I could fluidly and articulately express myself on my instrument and through it pored my various feelings and perceptions be they confusing, stressful, chaotic, beautiful or awe-inspiring. As I was simultaneously guitar teacher, composer, and player, much of my improvising was able to follow fairly logical patterns imbued with whim, fancy, and passion. I was allotted a small portion of the Levelsix live show to perform a guitar solo. This was our mini-version homage to the glory days of preceding decades of extended one-man instrumental solos thrown into the middle of long sets. Anyway, the electric guitar solo that I drafted for this purpose was an ever-evolving piece of fast arpeggios and palm muting which I called “Shape Shifter”[1]. I was teaching and playing the guitar in a very exploratory, fluid, and free-spirited fashion.

Mid-winter I went to Albuquerque, NM to visit Jason Hills in his new location in for an extended weekend. This was my first time in the American southwest and I liked it. I appreciated the expansiveness, the desert-like environment, the elements of Native American culture, the colors (especially turquoise and coral in combination) and the local food. We drove near some military bases and the theme of UFOs and government secrets crossed my mind, relevant to me, as the band name Levelsix referred to the sixth underground level of a discreet military base in Dulce, NM. Front man Lou was big into conspiracy theories, aliens, government cover-ups, and the like. His lyrics in the early Levelsix song “These Things” touches on the subject: Controlled and seized / To the point of nothing / To know that the problem lies / Where there’s no confronting / These things you won’t believe /These things they will deceive / Take a look at where the problem lies / Catch them all and when they all deny / These things you won’t believe. 

We played at Don Hill’s night club in NYC on Saturday January 29^th. It was an energetic and somewhat theatrical show. I was coming into my own as a guitar madman and speedy explorer of the instrument. I looked and dressed the part, on that night at Don Hill’s I was wearing boot cut blue jeans, black boots, black tank top with tattoos showing and wearing a hammer of Thor silver necklace with my long blonde hair flowing freely topped by my costume-piece crown of thorns. I was in my element as a guitar player owning my piece of the stage with confidence and high energy. The other guys in the band were also coming into their own and feeling more comfortable as members of an aspiring local heavy rock band that seemed to be “going places”.

On Friday February 4^th, there was a performance scheduled with Dirty Mother Nation at Club Rare (416 West 14^thStreet, motto “Bands and babes in the meatpacking district”). It was a bit of a different venue, like a lounge with multiple rooms including couches and a TV monitor in the bar. So the crowd was not necessarily right in front of the band. It had a kind of darker sexy vibe. After the show I was exhausted and headed home. Kelly Edgewater chose to continue partying with some mutual friends. One loose-lipped uncouth friend of the group made a remark that Kelly found quite insulting. She hit him hard. It caused a scene and, from what I gathered, ruined the night for everyone. Since he was hit by a girl, the uncouth friend managed to refrain from hitting her back, although barely. Word of this debacle reached my cell phone by the time I got home. While I did not feel defensive on behalf of the uncouth friend, I recognized that what Kelly did was out of line, and I did not want any violent energy or complicated vibes between the band crew and my girlfriend. I came to a decision instinctively and called up Kelly in the wee hours. I’m sure she was shaken by the whole thing herself and perhaps feeling somewhat regretful about how things turned out. I told her without anger (perhaps with sadness) that what she did was not cool even though I agreed the uncouth friend was a total jerk. I went on to say that I preferred to stop seeing her. She didn’t like what I was telling her and became a bit unpleasant with me, understandably. I explained sincerely that I had love for her just the same as before, but that our romantic relationship no longer felt right. She doubted I held any love for her. I was not “in love” with her, but I truly loved her as as a fellow soul on this crazy journey of life. And so around 5:00 a.m. on that chilly morning we ended our adventurous, interesting, and sexy involvement with one another. I was disappointed at how sudden it all was, and was not looking forward to soon after dealing with band member’s opinions, but I was glad I acted swiftly and from my heart. Kelly and I were able to distantly maintain a friendly acquaintance.

A month later in early March, several friends from the Levelsix crowd including Kelly, met at a bar near 34^th Street in Manhattan. After a few drinks, we headed down the block to see Mötley Crüe at Madison Square Garden. I had been a fan of the Crüe since the late 80’s and this would be my first time seeing them live. However, I was disappointed. I found it more like a caricature of Mötley Crüe - like a legacy act. There was little new, fresh, or exciting about it besides Tommy Lee’s long, indulgent floating and spinning drumset solo which was at least memorable, if not absurd. Even though I seemed to be on the path to a career in the rock music business, subconsciously I was feeling jaded to the idea of a career as a rock musician and this concert only increased my doubts about the meaning of it all.

Since summer 2004, I had been diligently working on composing the music to my second children’s musical, Painting the Wind adapted by, and book and lyrics by my dear friend Paul Kaplan. During April and May we were busy getting the book and score in shape for a live reading. On Sunday, May 22^nd we held Painting the Wind: A Reading with Music at Frank Jump’s The Fading Ad Gallery in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn. The audience was a cozy gathering filling the limited space of the venue. The actors did not wear costumes and I supplied all the music live with guitar and vocal as the readers did not have time to learn the songs. Paul also sang with me.

As I was single again, by June I had reconnected with my old phlebotomist-turned romantic playmate, Aurora Cruz. Around 4^th of July, a large group of friends went on a return camping trip to Charlie Staples’ family property off the Delaware River in PA. The plan was to leave late night Thursday. I had a date with Aurora on Thursday night which got hot and heavy while listening to music in my BASEment apartment. When she removed her diabetic pump, I marvelled at how challenging that must be to live with and hoped it would be fine for me to touch her. We walked out together around 2AM. I kissed her good night and she walked to her car. Some friends were hanging out across the street by the Lanza’s house. They ribbed me inquiring as to what I was up to down there with my lady friend. Normally I did not kiss and tell, but I don’t think I was able to hide my inner glow this time. Later that night as we cruised down the highway to the campsite listening to music and passing a blunt around, I partook and relished the carefree joy of living like a rock star for at least a few fleeting moments of my existence. I felt like a fully expressed, young, magnetic and carefree male in my prime. 

When we began setting up camp it was Friday morning and we were pulling an all-nighter. Early in the day blunts were being passed around and by afternoon mushrooms were being distributed. I consumed my share and began to embark on my second psylocibin-induced soul trip. This trip was somewhat milder than that of the previous year, yet there were special moments in the forest with Timmy Vagonis, Mickey Galligan, and a few others. It is my impression that we had a collective experience of a timeless and magical forest embracing us as magical sunlight filtered and danced through the tree canopy high above. Druidic, pagan and otherwise ancient and forest-related “memories” came into purview. Later that night, BBQ, firepit, drinking and smoking ensued.

The next day after breakfast and climbing trees I went for a walk across the road up into the forest via a steep and rocky hillside. Before long I was deep in the woods out of earshot of fellow campers. I did not bring a cell phone and no ID card. I was going primitive. Fortunately I was sober beyond lingering fatigue and head fog. I was struck with a nature call and pooped in the forest using leaves to wipe. I wandered and came to a rocky area resembling caves. I nervously wondered if I might be in bear territory. I heard a sound, turned and perhaps 100 feet away I saw a black bear sniffing around. Did it notice me?? I don’t think so. I hope not. I was in great shock and confronted with my body’s fight or flight response! I looked around for a big stick with which I might be able to scare off or worse yet, fight the bear with. Though I was a good runner and capable of climbing trees, I had heard that bears were as well. My options as I understood them were to either play dead or stand tall and try to scare the bear away with the stick while making loud noises. I couldn’t possibly play dead because my heart was nearly pounding out of my chest. I severely doubted my capacity to fight a bear, but perhaps I could scare it away if need be. I began inching my way out of the forest or so I hoped since I did not really know where I was. Looking in all directions constantly, I felt like an animal being preyed on. Or perhaps like a soldier walking through unknown enemy territory. I couldn’t believe how much there was to see when accounting for a 360º view of one’s position. And I was amazed at how uniform the forest appeared. Wait, did I check this way already??

A few minutes later I looked back and saw the bear again! Or was it another bear? This time it was a bit farther off and fortunately still uninterested in me. As I walked I heard sounds and encountered several animals: squirrels, chipmunks, birds, deer and raccoons. No more bears much to my relief. I noticed a clearing up ahead. I came out in what appeared to be someone’s front yard property. Images of the numerous “No Trespassing” signs I had passed along the way flashed though my mind. I hoped I wouldn’t be shot by an unhappy local. 

I saw someone on the balcony of a house and called out, “I’m sorry. I’m lost. Which way is the road?”

The man unenthusiastically pointed.

“Thank you!” I hollered back and quickly made tracks. Whew! That was close.

Now I was on a road on the side of the mountain. Not sure where to go, I figured the best idea would be to go downhill. After several minutes of uncertainty I was able to recognize something. When I arrived back, I don’t know that anyone even realized I had been gone. I couldn’t believe what I had experienced in the intervening time. Over the course of the following hours and days I would share my bear-y scary story.

Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was coming to theaters. My friends started telling me what I was missing by not having seen Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as a kid. So Beef lent me his DVD of it. I watched it twice in two days. Fortunately for me, stores were selling Wonka chocolate bars to enhance my experience. I loved the original and teared up from the music. 

In late July, Levelsix travelled to the town of Weed in Northern California. Our purpose to record with esteemed music producer Silvia Massey Shivy on a “spec deal”. Essentially she gave us a steep discount to record with her under the agreement that she’d help to promote us and would get a cut of our earnings down the line should we become successful through the music she produced for us. Some current songs on the radio caught my ear as we drove through the northern Californian wilderness. I was attracted to Foo Fighters’ “Best of You” and Audioslave’s “Be Yourself”. I also paid attention to some new heavy rock bands in an effort to know our genre better. Most I didn’t care for, but two that I could at least appreciate were Disturbed and System of a Down. 

  While in the unique small town of Weed, CA, I had the strange fortune to befriend two unusual characters whom I nicknamed Ron the ex-con Leprechaun and The Purple Witch Widow. Both seemed stranded and lonely, in their late 50’s or so, trying to make the most of daily existence. Ron’s fondest memories was winning wrestling matches on a battleship in the Pacific Ocean during the Vietnam War where he worked as a ship engineer. Bear in mind he was about 5’ tall and maybe 100 pounds soaking wet. Ron took a liking to us and especially me because I paid attention to him. The other guys regarded him as a nuisance when he came looking to hang out. I sensed that Ron was just a lonely guy who desired companionship. Besides, his outlook and life stories were far more interesting to me than sitting around in a dark air-conditioned studio all day shooting the same old shit with the guys. 

And this is how I met The Purple Witch Widow. On the evening of July 31^st I was in the haunted apartment upstairs from Radio Star Studios. The other guys went out to party. I was not in the mood. It happened to be the 18^th anniversary of Dad’s death and I wanted some alone time. I smoked a little weed. I sat at this little kitchen table by a window overlooking the street, the giant Mount Shasta loomed in the distance. Sunset brought magical colors to the sky. The urge to capture the moment seized me. I grabbed my camera and ran down the street until I found an excellent view of the sky. There were thunderheads brewing and a pinkish-purplish hue illuminating the sky. As I took pictures, a woman crossed the street approaching me. I found this peculiar since there was nothing on this side of the street but an empty grassy field. She had a strange handmade cane that a friend designed for her late husband. She was dressed in all purple, aged, wore some jewelry, and was short and stocky.

“What are you photographing?” she inquired. 

“The gorgeous scenery”, I replied.

“It is beautiful isn't it? You know living here all my life I hardly appreciate it as often as I should. Do you believe in Jesus?” 

We jumped into a discussion of religion, philosophy, morals, life stories, turning the other cheek and living by one’s own rules. We discussed how it is better to live from one’s own high standards rather than according to someone else’s lower standards. This resonated with me as it was sometimes difficult to maintain my own standards within the band unit and its group think. 

In combination with all the various emotions I was experiencing on this journey, the memorable interactions with my two unique new friends inspired my creativity and a fresh desire to express myself. The next day I went up to the haunted room by myself where I found an old Dobro-style guitar lying around. I did an open tuning and penned the song “Penance”[2], the first decent song I had written in many months. The song just poured out of me. It expressed an acceptance of the innate imperfections of being human and my acknowledgement that the only worthwhile option we really have in life is to enjoy our selves, to pick ourselves up when we fall, and make the best of each situation. I think I’m about up and done with the life I’ve had before / Nobody has got it made, of this I am quite sure / There is no one under the sun, who is completely pure / All you can do, is give it your all / The best you can do, is get up when you fall / All you can do, is be who you are, truly.

Back in Brooklyn later that month, we heard about the natural and national disaster that occurred in the USA during Hurricane Katrina. It was sad, shocking, and eye-opening as to how unprepared we seemed to be as a country when something like that occurred. It was also a humbling reminder of how fragile our manmade infrastructures can be, something which had often crossed my mind after the news of the Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami of late December 2004. On the occasional walk down the block from our Rockaway studio to the beach, we would say to each other, “Imagine, a huge tsunami wave coming at us with no time to escape.”

After our recording trip we now had a highly polished 4-song demo to “shop around” to labels and managers. And of course to hand out to fans. On Saturday October 29^th Levelsix performed at The Starland Ballroom in Sayresville, NJ. We were the opening act on a bill featuring several bands and headlined by the legendary punk band The Misfits! This was an exciting evening and a breakthrough in many ways. We were playing alongside a well-known group in the global rock community, our stage show was improving, and we actually had some merchandise to sell and a table setup in the back of the venue. We performed a short set in front of several hundred people. Most of the audience were new to us and we were received well enough. As we wound our way through the crowd to the backstage area after our performance, we were greeted enthusiastically by the crowd and a few of us received strong requests from some ladies to autograph their bosoms. We gladly obliged. 

Amongst the gleeful mayhem one girl from the audience snatched the crown of thorns from my head. She refused to give it back and instead gave me her number and said if I wanted it back, I’d have to come and get it from her. As it turned out she lived in Elizabeth, New Jersey and it costs me time and money to go there and retrieve it later that week. I guess I realized this was a strange opportunity to “hook up” with this mischievous girl who wanted my attention, but there was no chemistry. I felt she could probably benefit more from my kindness as well as a bit of forgiveness for putting me out. As we walked the streets of this Jersey town she revealed that she was a self-proclaimed slut. She was attractive, but her lack of self-esteem and nihilistic attitude was off-putting. We entered a small vacant church and I proceeded to make myself at home and play the organ there. We had a quiet moment there together which helped to restore some of my faith in humanity. We kissed on the lips as I left. I deleted her number from my phone. That was weird.

Not long after the band drove up to the Bronx to visit our friend Mel who had videotaped the Starland Ballroom performance. Mel and his girlfriend were cool and they loved to smoke weed. We arrived, got high, and watched the 20 minute video. It was a pretty awesome performance and he captured good footage. The only drawback was that there was not even one shot of the crowd! Oh well! It was a fun hang and as it approached time to go home, I embarrasingly realized I was too wasted to drive. Fortunately I had driven everyone in my car that night including bassist Timmy Manhoff. Ususally Timmy drove in his own vehicle but this time he came with us. Anyway, he was sober and I trusted him as a driver. He drove us all home in one piece. One time among many that I was protected by good fortune.

Ever since childhood I was a fan of The Chronicles of Narnia series by C.S. Lewis so I was ready to go to the theater once the big budget production of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was released in December. I loved it and was so inspired by it that by the end of the month I had composed five simple piano pieces with Narnia themes.

The new social media sites MySpace and Facebook were getting popular. My initial intent in joining MySpace was to promote the band. At some point however, I realized that there a was a potential opportunity to meet girls through one or both of these interesting platforms. I used it for such a purpose around mid-December. I connected with Alice Antonova, a girl whom I went to high school with. I invited her to a John Lennon Memorial show in Manhattan where I was performing with Bob Henson. She came to the event and it was flirtatious. We connected and, within the next few days, hooked up as fast as you could say “Greased Lightning”! She was fun, a bit wild and clearly a casual lover. I enjoyed playing around, but my heart was longing for a true and deep connection to a stable and consistent companion. 

I was back working at Brooklyn College Registration before the start of the Winter semester. It was there that I met a shy, attractive, and good-natured young woman Felicia Bamberg. I asked her to hang out sometime and she was up for it - awesome! We connected over e-mail and soon she came over to my BASEment apartment. I had made kielbasa, eggs, toast, and coffee and was feeling quite proud before I learned that she was a vegetarian and she didn’t drink coffee. Oops! We found a work around – cheese on bread, fruit, and tea. All was well.

On my kitchen wall was a calendar with my cryptic markings. I was keeping track of my daily consumptions habits: cigarettes, weed, and alcohol. While I was not yet ready to clean up my lifestyle I had at least enough presence of mind to get a realistic picture of what I was doing. Anyway, Felicia inquired about this unusual calendar hanging in plain sight. I figured it best to be direct and told her. If she wasn’t cool about who I was, better to find out straight away. She found it odd and shrugged it off. We took a leisurely walk in The Creek along with the feisty Sheridan family puppy Zippity Ann. She told me about her love for nature and hiking. Felicia was from Ukraine and had only been in the USA for a few years. We got along swimmingly and ended our daytime date early as I had guitar lessons to give. I really enjoyed being with her. I had no interest in rushing into anything physical with her, but hoped it might happen in its own good time.

For our next “date” we met up at Starbucks just outside of Brooklyn College campus. We had some laughs and I felt we were truly connecting. As we parted, we gave each other a hug and I went in for the much-anticipated kiss on the lips. Something was happening between us. Soon after she went to Israel to visit her father. We maintained regular email contact while she was away, a sign to me that we were becoming more than friends. For my part, I was seven years older than her and I vowed to myself that if we did indeed begin a committed relationship, I would honor the privilege by being the best first boyfriend to her that I could be.

In the interim Alice Antonova reached out to me again to hang out and fool around. I was technically still single and wouldn’t have been cheating, but it didn’t felt like the right thing to do. I politely declined and Alice got the picture. Now I was looking forward to Felicia’s return and our new relationship to grow and blossom.