Well, somehow I ended up on a bench outside grand central at 4:45 in the morn. Not the first time but certainly the first with so much shit to carry. At least it's a nice night.....day....
Pale Sun is illuminating building tops.
Gonna be waiting for who knows how long. I'll check the schedule in a half hour. No trains running. That's a given. Last time I was down here with a guitar was during the blackout in '03. Caroline was pregnant with Angelina and I didn't even have a cell phone. I had eight dollars. But for some weird reason, I decided to bring my guitar down that day. I don't play well but well enough to entertain myself. I parlayed a few songs for a corona at tequillaville on Vanderbilt. I then walked back to the upper east and slept at work. But now I'm here with a suitcase and guitars. I should play. It's getting noisy.
How can I sum up tonight? Impossible. The room sounded like one instrument. Seamless performances. Jaw dropping-type shit. Stop-and-make-you-stare type shit. WOW. And a special appearance by Mr. Bromberg. The room was coming apart at the seems at times.....very quietly at times. Unexpectedly at times. But definitely most of the time.
Some images are burned in my mind. No camera caught the after hours living room session after porcofest. No one saw me meet almost all the performers for the first time. I introduced Sylvia Tyson to my wife and sister....I hugged many a man tonight. I kissed dominic chianese's cheeks. I guess I'm on the books here at folk city.
A good goddamed great time was had by all whether they wanted to or not. Those in that room had certainly expressed themselves to the performers. It was magical. Not a cut less.
Thank you all for coming and enjoying yourselves. To think this kind of thing took place every once in a while at folk city is astounding. Just priceless people and good times. Well done, porcofesters