Teddy Thompson (teddythompson) wrote,
Teddy Thompson

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I give in to sin Because you have to make this life livable

Traveling can tire me quickly. Note the lack of any significant updates. Tuesday, the 18th, I flew out to LA early in the AM. On the plane ride over there I broke my watch when trying to use the loo and hitting a fun burst of turbulence. My wrist went flying into the side of the 1x1 spaced area. Luckily the watch protected my wrist, but it cracked and stopped working completely. My father gave me that watch anyway, so I suppose I could care less. Although now, I never know what time it is. In any light, the point of that was, when stepping off the plane I was exhausted and then had no idea what time it was… except that it was dim out. I took a cab directly to my hotel, trying not to bother with viewing the sites around me, as I know them all too well. Couldn’t I have been booked at a hotel in a different section of town? One I didn’t frequent? I hate it here.

The next day was my show at Largo, with an interesting twist and surprise… my mother. I arrived at the venue somewhat early to tune my guitar then, as Largo can get somewhat noisy toward the evening. When I walked in, guitar in hand, I saw the back of a person I thought resembled my mother. I brushed it off as my crazy illusion, as I know my mother was in London. I began walking toward the stage when I heard her laugh; I could know her laugh from anywhere. I turned around and noticed the woman chatting up the owner; she turned toward me and smiled widely. 'Teddy!' '…Mum?' was the only thing I could get out in response. She glided over toward me, because my mother does not walk, nor run, she glides, and threw her arms around me. I managed to get out something along the lines of 'what are you doing here' and she gave me some answer I didn’t quite catch. Basically saying she wanted to stop by and surprise me since she hadn’t talked to me in so long. I knew this wasn’t the actual reason. I had been in London for months now, why didn’t she stop by then? It was nice to see her, I suppose, so I guess I shouldn’t question any of the things I don’t want to know of anyhow.

The show went well, I thought. I always loved playing at Largo. The stage is a good size, but the setting is still very intimate. As much as I complain about the people in LA, the Largo crowd is generally very respectful while you are playing. It was just my guitar and I performing a couple of older tracks, a couple of newer ones, and two new ones I have been working on in the studio. Half way through my set I saw my Mother sitting in the audience with almost a glow surrounding her face. I decided to call her up and we did a couple of traditional folk songs together, and one of the songs from her CD. I always love performing with my Mother, and as much as I can dislike him offstage, I always love performing with my Father as well. After the show my mother decided to chat up a few more people while I wondered outside (after frequenting the bar a few times, of course). I knew down the street and to the left would take me to a place Rufus and I used to go, 2 stop lights down would take me to a place my father and I fought on his tour for the fifth time and I stormed off to walk down here. And a few or more blocks down to the right would take me to the intersection where I let go of Ville’s hand… or when I let go of him completely. Why could I remember the stupidest things, but not the important details? My head was spinning.

I reached into my pocket and dug around for my cell phone. I had already forgotten an important detail, when I arrived at the venue earlier; there were a bouquet of tulips waiting for me up front. Assuming they were from my mother I didn’t read the card until after I tuned my guitar and set up. They were from Hugh. I didn’t know what to think, in all honesty. I’m not one accustomed to the spoiled lifestyle. Of course I receive some lovely gifts from my friends every now and then, and I appreciate them completely. Though a call from them would work just as well. I’m not sure if I have ever received flowers from anyone before, just so randomly. The card was very sweet, and yet I could remember where my heart broke in all the places of LA but not to call him and thank him for the thought.

Time differences… I’m horrible with them. It was around 6am in London when I rang him, and I didn’t realise it until he picked up the phone with a scruffy voice. I apologised profusely but he assured me that it was perfectly alright and he was just happy that I called. We didn’t talk for too long because it was loud outside, I was thinking too much, and he needed to go back to sleep. I sent him a couple of things in response to his flowers the next day. I hope he enjoyed them.

To my discontent, I stayed in LA until Saturday morning so I could catch Jon Brion’s show Friday night. I gave him a call Thursday to let him know I would be there and he asked me out for coffee before the show. I met him in some small independently owned shop near Largo that I don’t remember seeing before. I assume it was new, which is always good for my peace of mind. We chatted about things… music mostly. I told him about my projects, he told me about his. We both strayed away from the words of personal lives, simply because it would be better that way. Last I heard from him, his wasn’t going so well. I didn’t ask, he didn’t ask, all was well. He did ask me if I wanted to perform with him that night and I extended my thanks for the offer but declined, as I just wanted to sit back and watch him. He’s just amazing live. We said our goodbyes after the show and I rang my mother to find out where she was. With some person, somewhere in Santa Barbara. Perfect.

I boarded my plane the next morning and headed to New York. I am playing at Club Passim once again on March 30th (Boston, MA or, rather Cambridge for those of you who are unaware). I liked the place last time I was there. Good food, although only for vegetarians, good crowd, nice sound… and all around good place. I’m lucky they are having me there again. So I figured I could fly into JFK and check up on my apartment again, stay there for a while and actually work on my music with no distractions, and then go to my show in Boston before going back home to London. I asked Rufus already if I could borrow his car and drive to MA. He never uses in anyhow; I mean it still has Montreal plates on it. He said I could borrow it as long as I remember to fill it up with gas this time… oops. Since the show is only a few days after mine, I will probably stay and drive up to (or take the train) Utica for Rufus’ show with Ben Folds on April 3rd. Upstate New York isn’t my favourite place in the world, but I haven’t seen Rufus perform in a while, and plus, I’d really like to see Ben Folds play. I invited Rufus and Juska along with me to Boston. Road trips are only fun with other people. I think they are still talking it over.

So here I am, in New York, finally caught up on my sleep. I haven’t really talked to anyone, nor seen anyone. I have just been sleeping, writing, and playing music for the past few days. I may call Rufus and ask him out for coffee later. I don’t remember who else is in New York. You all move way too fast.

I suppose I need to give Hugh a call too. I haven’t spoken to him in a few days and I believe I am beginning to miss him. Plus, he helps chase away everything else in my head for the short period of times we talk. I really wish I could see him sooner, but I guess you can’t pick your schedule, they pick it for you. I’ll be back in London soon enough. Though I can’t say being in this quiet little apartment, secluded, isn’t fun for the time being.

I do wish I had some bagels though.
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