case in point...my friend's cabin-of-a-house in stony brook, long island, is literally like experiencing a story-kind-of-fairytale of a lifestyle. a one-headlight drive on the dirt driveway alone makes you feel like you've been plopped into a story, or even movie. if i was a camerawoman at that moment, that's exactly how i would document it. you sort of get lost in the tunnel-vision of the headlight, so mesmerized that you forget that you're heading towards a destination.
it's night. we arrive towards the "house," where a campfire's already been flickering away, and a circle of people are sitting, enjoying themselves with beer and food in hand. it's like, "really? this is happening?" small groups are chatting away and the fire is burning. smiles abound. i know this scene isn't anything novel, but compared to the loft-style/greenpoint/nyc/devil-wears-prada lifestyle that i carry on with, this is quite a change of scenery to say the least. "hey i'm karen, i just arrived after a 3-hour ride on the train that was stopped due to police investigation. but it's finally good to be here. nice to meet ya." i meet a music therapist and split a raspberry tart with my friend kim. then levy sets up his drums and i go into the "music room" for a mini-jam session with him and some of his ex-bandmates. there wasn't an amp to the keyboard but was still fun anyway. someone said i was doing "epic" things with the keys....i credit that all to TPF. haha.
the thing is, this is everyday for my friend levy. campfires, beaching at 3-am, tent-sleeping...cabin fever has become the normal standard. and yet everyone who lives there is a post-doc candidate...the interior of the house strikes the fancy of the the marine biologist, chef, musician....full of energy, intelligence, partying....Life.
2 jam sessions later (replete with bagpipes), we roast marshmallows, then hit the beach. the Beach is like their backyard, a short one-minute stair-case walk from the house, though could've been a bit treacherous without a flashlight. stretching along the horizon, the low-tide remains calm for the evening, and someone lights up fireworks. i do my usual "whoooaaaa"...people splash into the water, others sit on the beach, and i'm sitting on the ledge of the "crack house," a small square "room" graffitied up and filled with a single surfboard propped diagonally along the planked floor. it would've been a perfect photoshoot opportunity. the juxtaposition of high-end clothes and beauty against a shitty boarded up crack house. to each their own artistic beauty. it was such a refreshing view, at 2am. so graceful and calming to look out onto a few blinking lights on the water, shadows of heads and arms splashing, and the zing of fireworks. endless horizon along the deepest midnite navy sky.
it's back to the cabin for mini weiner and kielbasa roasting...radiohead provided the backdrop, then turned to MJ. we set up tents in record time...caught a bit of sleep just as the rain started to tap dance on our makeshift roof.
and scene.
...just got the chills listening to John Mayer's cover of Free Fallin'...from "Where The Light Is, LIve in Lost Angeles."
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