In the Hustle of Hope

BrockaMood RoomLeave a Comment

Do you live in New York? It is an extreme environment representing all the world’s characters, every type of doer, shaker, or creator. Everyone either wants to be someone or already is someone. This is mainly due to the fact that the rent is so high. The hustle is non-negotiable. Most consider the expense worth the it. Those with the most discretionary income hustle in other ways, like funneling funds into expensive art at auctions, the new ‘appreciation’.

Have you visited New York and stayed in someone’s place, not a hotel? In these more private parts :: where drug smells can permeate the halls-where food smells can seep through the walls-where sounds of lovers fighting or loving can pierce through the walls-where sounds of any artist practicing can melodize the halls: the play acting, reading prep for casting calls, or the opera singer and the instrumentalist scaling their instrument.

The current that moves us, being around all the others moving.

Los Angeles has these same types of people, they’re just not so densely packed on top of each other. Every city has the main archetypes. Wherever you live, you are feeling its vibe, whether intense or mundane.

I reflect on this as I sit in my own condo. When I am moving about my space, there is often background noise of music or podcasts, rarely-very-rarely is there tv. I otherwise prefer silence in both my reading and writing modes.

My neighborhood is older and generally quiet but across the way from me is a small family. The main lead is a screamer. I think she shouts just in speaking. And you should know I don’t take it. I will walk across our shared entryway and knock on the door, screaming through it (irony not lost) ‘Stop Screaming!’. Once while their door was actually opened I saw it as an opportunity to frankly say, ‘it is possible to communicate without raising your voice.’    [I don’t & I won’t, nor have I ever in a relationship]    Thank god it’s not daily, and anytime I announce the fact that I hear her, silence can last a good week, like she’s all the sudden more cognizant. I also have ‘elephant ears’ as my family would say; people shouldn’t even think too loudly around me.

Sitting in bed a few nights ago, I kept hearing little indecipherable murmurs. I soon found myself with my ear pinned against my front door eavesdropping on a conversation going on in the shared entryway space. There was a police detective and my screamer neighbor reporting her teenage son missing. It took all of my will to not open the door and tell the detective that this woman is a raving lunatic and if I were her son, I would run away too! (would have long ago) He’s come home. I’m familiar with her over-dramatic type. She just wanted to make a point.

Living beside this melodrama is juxtaposed by my vocal performances, working out melodies for new songs or just warming up my voice on any given day. Everything about this set-up reminds me of living in New York; we’re all a character of sorts. Thank goodness I have double the square footage for less than half the rent cost.

And this observation is really how it is everywhere, though. Even if you live in a house, or your closest neighbor is down the street: everyone is living out their own hustle and trying to keep up their own hope.




BrockaIn the Hustle of Hope

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