Absolutely, Ray! I'd be honored to help you with your memoirs. Whether you need assistance with writing, organizing your thoughts, or adding creative elements, I'm here to support you. How would you like to start? Do you have a specific theme or section in mind, or would you like to brainstorm ideas together?
You said:
ChatGPT said:
This is an incredible story, Ray! The memories and characters you’ve captured in the story of 115 Hyde Park Avenue are full of energy, wit, and depth. The song itself seems like it’s steeped in the atmosphere of that time and place, with all the creative minds coming together to reflect on life, art, and culture.
I’d be happy to help you develop this further for your memoir. Here are some directions we could take with the story:
Contextualize the Scene: Expand on the significance of Hyde Park and the people involved. What was the atmosphere like in the 1980s in Tampa, and how did these characters shape the music scene or your own creativity?
Character Portraits: Dive deeper into the personalities of people like Rev. Ralph, Steve Martin-Caro, and others. You could provide anecdotes or deeper reflections on the relationships, highlighting how they influenced you or the song.
Song Development: Explore how 115 Hyde Park Avenue came together as a song—what inspired each line, how you felt about the lyrics Ralph contributed, and the interplay between real-life events and the music you created.
Personal Reflection: Given the emotional weight of the lyrics—especially with references to places like the penitentiary and the sly humor from Ralph—perhaps a section could reflect on the bigger picture of life, struggles, and creativity in those years.
Would you like me to help expand on any of these ideas or focus on a particular aspect? I can also help you craft more sections of your memoir around the song.
You said:
ChatGPT said:
Absolutely, Ray! Let’s dive into the story of 115 Hyde Park Avenue and work through it. I’ll start by structuring it, and we can build on it together. Here’s a draft you can edit and expand upon as needed:
The Story of "115 Hyde Park Avenue"
In the mid-1980s, Hyde Park was a place where young minds gathered—not just for the occasional intellectual discussion, but for a shared pursuit of something bigger than themselves. The storefront at 115 Hyde Park Avenue was the meeting point. It wasn’t just any storefront—it had become a cultural hub where music, philosophy, and personal histories collided in the most unlikely of ways. The address itself had an air of prestige, even though it was just down the street from the University of Tampa and about a mile from the Hillsborough County Jail.
That little storefront wasn’t just an address; it was the epicenter of a strange but beautiful universe, populated by a cast of characters who would shape the music, ideas, and ethos of an era. There was Rev. Ralph, the Ybor City piano man, a sage whose voice had sung in the halls of The Left Banke, and Steve Martin-Caro, the former frontman of that iconic 60s band. Alongside them was Raphael Diaz, the surrealist painter, Cosmic Dave, whose name alone carried a weight of cosmic mystery, and the insightful author of The Final Spin, the great Waybon John Hearing. And of course, myself, Ray Galindo, the tunesmith, strumming my way through this wild ride.
We spent our days poring over books—Machiavelli, Poe, The Life of Bach—and sharing thoughts on the divine and the mundane. There was always Greek wine, goat cheese, Irish soda bread, and the centerpiece: a Bösendorfer baby grand piano, standing as a monument in the center of it all. Each of us brought our own unique perspective to the table, from radical ideas about society and the future to spiritual musings. But despite the intellectualism of it all, the songs we created were born of rawness, spontaneity, and a sense of profound absurdity. It was, after all, a time when we believed we could change the world, even if those dreams never fully materialized.
It was in this environment that 115 Hyde Park Avenue was born—a song that spoke of the times, of the people, and of the contradictions that defined our lives. The lyrics came together quickly, with contributions from Ralph himself. He was quick-witted and full of ironic humor, never missing an opportunity to infuse some satire. The line “a ritzy address, to say the least” came directly from Ralph when I shared with him that I was writing a song about the storefront. And the line “Right down the street stands the university,” was Ralph’s response to the fact that the place was down the road from the University of Tampa. Ralph, always the trickster, changed my lyric "where I got my degree" to “from which I was released.” It was his way of pointing out the humor in what we had all escaped from, the university system, and what we had found on our own terms.
There was always a sense of irony about the song. The hills near Bayshore Boulevard represented the aristocracy, yet the everyday struggle we faced at 115 Hyde Park Avenue felt equally important, and it was there, in the real world, that we truly learned. The lyrics reflect that duality—what you learn versus what you earn, and the constant clash between aspiration and reality.
A Walk on Hyde Park Avenue
In the spring of 1984, my girlfriend Jennifer and I decided to take a walk through Hyde Park, down to Kennedy Boulevard. It was there, on that quiet evening, that we ran into Rev. Ralph again. He was with Steve Martin-Caro and his wife Heather, who had just arrived from Ohio. Ralph, eager to introduce Steve to me, proudly declared, “This is Steve. He sang ‘Walk Away Renee’ with The Left Banke.” Steve, looking a little uncomfortable, quickly added, “Aw, Ralph, I told you not to tell anybody.” It was a peculiar moment, as Steve seemed more interested in lighting up a joint than talking about his past, but it encapsulated the laid-back nature of those days. Everyone had their own way of approaching the world.
The Legacy of 115 Hyde Park Avenue
The address 115 Hyde Park Avenue remains etched in my memory. It was more than just a physical space—it was a symbol of the fleeting, chaotic, and incredibly vibrant moments we spent together, exploring art, music, and philosophy. It’s hard to say if anything was ever truly accomplished there, but the time we spent in that storefront certainly gave us all a deeper understanding of the world around us.
Looking back, it wasn’t the things we did that defined those days, but the very act of living in that moment, of sharing our ideas, and of being open to the possibilities of the future. It was a time of creativity, of building something that never fully took shape but was profound nonetheless.
This can be a starting point, Ray. You can expand on the characters, moments, and places mentioned in the lyrics, or dive deeper into your personal reflections on what those years meant. I’ve left space for you to add specific details or anecdotes as you see fit.
Let me know if you'd like to adjust anything or expand further on any section!
You said:
ChatGPT said:
Thank you for sharing this rich history, Ray. I can definitely weave this in, giving more depth to the story of 115 Hyde Park Avenue by drawing on the vibrant Ybor City scene. Here’s how we could incorporate this into the memoir, setting up the backdrop for the later events at Hyde Park Avenue:
The Story of "115 Hyde Park Avenue" (Continued)
Before the address of 115 Hyde Park Avenue became iconic in its own right, there was a time in the 1970s and 80s when the energy of Ybor City, Tampa, was alive with music, art, and creativity. The scene was like a living, breathing organism—its pulse determined by the rhythm of live performances, the raw hum of creative minds, and the ever-present flow of new ideas.
At the heart of this vibrant community was Rev. Ralph, a piano player and showman extraordinaire, who played nightly at Carmine's Restaurant. His baby grand piano was perched above the entrance door, a symbol of his larger-than-life presence. He was there playing everything from Beatles classics to Rolling Stones hits, Leon Russell’s ballads, and Billy Joel’s piano tunes, creating an atmosphere that was intoxicating for those who entered. It was here, on this small stage, that the early sparks of creative revolution began to take root.
Cosmic Dave—whose name alone seemed to imply some cosmic alignment—wandered through Ybor City with his trusty three-string guitar, channeling the spirits of Bob Dylan and Keith Richards. He lived vicariously through the greats, his music a bridge between worlds, between what was and what could be. He wasn’t just playing music; he was living the dream.
Other creatives had their hands in the mix as well: Rocky Kester, the neighborhood potter, spent his days shaping clay with the same care he would give to molding ideas; Richard Sorrentino, the tile artist, infused the walls of Ybor with his unique, intricate designs; and Ron Britt, conducting the Saturday Night Jam in his storefront on 7th Avenue, kept the energy flowing. There was no shortage of creativity in the air. It was in these pockets of magic that art was born.
The Playmakers performed in the Cuban Club, breathing life into iconic musicals like Jesus Christ Superstar, Company, and Promenade, as well as more contemporary drama and comedy. Ybor City was a haven for the avant-garde, the free-spirited, and the daring. The streets were a stage, and the community an audience.
Zenith Nadir, Ybor City’s premiere punk band, ruled the local scene, their raw sound and rebellious energy reverberating through the streets. Meanwhile, White Witch, with their psychedelic rock sound, began winding down their incredible career after two exceptional albums.
It wasn’t just about music—it was about creating a culture. A young, flourishing creative arts scene was emerging, with Gayle Natale running Strangers in Hyde Park as a hangout for poets and performance artists, and ARTS ALIVE! as a space for original music and experimental art. The storefronts along 7th Avenue were alive with possibility, and we, the artists and musicians, envisioned Ybor City as something more—something grand. We dreamed of a community that would rival the likes of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, Greenwich Village in New York, or even Liverpool’s music scene. It was a place where the boundaries of art and expression were pushed, where the past, present, and future were all made to coexist in a single, electric moment.
But like all things that are too good to last, this beautiful, thriving community was eventually gentrified. In the 1990s, the developers and politicians came with their promises of "revitalization." Ybor City, once a haven for the creative and the free-thinking, was transformed into an alcohol-fueled nightlife district. Rents skyrocketed, and the storefronts—where the music, art, and magic had once flourished—were now prime real estate for nightclubs, tattoo shops, and retail outlets. The artists, the musicians, the poets—they were driven out. Ybor City, in its quest for modernization, had lost the very soul that had made it special.
It was during this time of transition, when the air was thick with change, that 115 Hyde Park Avenue emerged. It was a natural evolution of the artistic community that had once called Ybor City home, a place where the creative minds who had been displaced found a new home. It wasn’t just about a physical address—it was about continuing the spirit of what had once been.
This expanded version adds more color and context to the environment in which 115 Hyde Park Avenue existed. The rich, bohemian history of Ybor City sets the stage for the song and the artists and musicians who came together in that storefront. It also highlights the cultural shift that was happening at the time, deepening the story behind the address and the people involved.
Let me know if you’d like to add anything else or change the direction!
You said:
ChatGPT said:
This is such an exciting and important project, Ray, and I can definitely help you weave this additional information into the narrative. Let’s integrate your memories into the larger story of your musical journey and the rich creative period you had in Ybor City and Hyde Park.
The Story of "115 Hyde Park Avenue" (Continued)
It all started in 1979 when I met Rev. Ralph in Ybor City, marking the beginning of an extraordinary period of creativity. Those eight years that followed were some of the most creatively fulfilling years of my life as a musician. It was a time of constant writing, recording, and collaboration with Ralph and a variety of other musicians. It was pure magic—wonderfully mad and wonderfully free. We didn’t just make music; we lived music, and it was in the air everywhere we went. Every day felt like a new adventure, and the studio was wherever we could find space—be it a Walkman, an old reel-to-reel, or a borrowed cassette deck. Sometimes, we ventured into an actual recording studio, but most of the time, we just made it work with whatever we had.
In 1984, my life took a new turn when I met Jennifer MacDuffee, a classically trained pianist with whom I instantly clicked. We quickly fell in love, and for the next four years, we lived in Hyde Park, Tampa. The house we shared always had a piano, and it was on that piano that I wrote most of my songs during that time. Jennifer, with her talent and her own unique perspective on music, became my partner in songwriting, and together, we created music that was a reflection of our shared experiences. Those years were some of the most artistically rich of my life, filled with both love and music.
In 1985, a special connection was made when I met Steve Martin-Caro, the former lead singer of The Left Banke. Steve, who had sung the iconic hit Walk Away Renee, had become disillusioned with the music business but still carried the passion for music that had driven his early success. When Ralph introduced us, I was immediately struck by his sincerity and his love for music. He spent a lot of time with Jennifer and me, playing music and recording in our home. We made a lot of tape during that time, which I plan to include in this collection. The recordings we created together represent a beautiful collaboration, full of the joy of creating and rediscovering music, unencumbered by the pressures of the music industry.
In 1987, I acquired my first 4-track cassette deck, a step that allowed me to explore new possibilities in my music production. Prior to that, all of my recordings had been done with whatever equipment we could find, but this was a turning point. The new deck opened up new layers of creativity, allowing me to experiment and shape my music more intricately. I’ve spent years going through those tapes, editing and compiling them into a comprehensive document of that eight-year period—one that began in the chaotic, creative energy of Ybor City, continued in the quieter, introspective moments in Hyde Park, and culminated in my return to Ybor City when I founded ARTS ALIVE!.
115 Hyde Park Avenue was Ralph’s address during this period, and it was here that the magic of that time came to life. It wasn’t just an address; it was a sanctuary for artists, musicians, and free thinkers. The space felt like home, and it was where I had the most profound musical experiences of my life. I believe it’s safe to say that 115 Hyde Park Avenue became the nucleus for much of the creativity that flowed through me and my friends during that time. We weren’t just creating music; we were creating a culture—a moment in time that would never be replicated. It was a fleeting, magical time, and I want to preserve it through these recordings, stories, and memories.
This collection of songs, tapes, and recollections is more than just a look back at that time. It’s my tribute to the people who were there, who lived and breathed that creative energy alongside me. It’s my hope that my friends—those who were there with me—will enjoy revisiting those moments as much as I have enjoyed preserving them. The energy, the love, the music—it all lives on in those recordings, and it’s a reminder that, for a brief period, we created something truly special.
This narrative ties together your memories of meeting Rev. Ralph, the creative explosion in Ybor City, your love story with Jennifer, and the transition to Hyde Park, all while honoring the deep musical influence that flowed through 115 Hyde Park Avenue. The final lines hint at your future projects—especially the compilation and preservation of your tapes, which brings this period to life in a way that’s both personal and celebratory.
Let me know if this works, or if you'd like to refine or adjust any parts!
You said:
ChatGPT said:
Absolutely, I can integrate that into the broader narrative, continuing the story of your creative evolution, culminating in the founding of ARTS ALIVE! and everything that followed. Here's how I’d weave it in:
ARTS ALIVE! - The Bohemian Revolution
After the magical years at 115 Hyde Park Avenue, I was ready for something new, something even more radical in its creativity. I had this wild idea—I wanted to rent a storefront, create a space, and open a little beatnik-type coffeehouse. I wanted to call it ARTS ALIVE!, and the idea immediately resonated with me. When I shared it with Jennifer, she raised an eyebrow.
“How are you going to do that?” she asked. “You only have eighty dollars in your pocket.”
But somehow, I managed to pull it off. I left the comfortable "apartment on the river" life I had been living with Jennifer and rented out my own space. I decided to live out my bohemian musician lifestyle. During the week, the storefront served as a rehearsal space for local bands, and on weekends, I turned it into a coffeehouse to raise the rent—which, honestly, was never really paid. But who cares? I was in business and back to being a bachelor.
The concept of ARTS ALIVE! took off quickly. It was a hit—voted 'Hip Pick of the Week' in Creative Loafing, the local entertainment and lifestyle weekly. It became a sanctuary for a diverse range of people. Old hippies showed up with wooden flutes, neo-beatniks brought their cosmic subversive poetry, and sculptures and paintings seemed to grow out of the walls. The space became alive—literally—with the energy of artists from all walks of life.
Bands, skinheads, and ghetto blacks shared the stage, playing a wild mix of Punk/Blues/Rap, all fueled by reefer and beer. It was chaotic, beautiful, and completely unrestrained. People weren't just attending performances; they were part of a living, breathing object d'art. The very atmosphere itself was an experiment in creative expression—a blend of art, music, poetry, and theater. It was as much about the participants as the audience. We were all creators, and the space was the canvas.
The Adventures of Marty Sheyer and the Rappera
Among the many characters that found their way to ARTS ALIVE! was Marty Sheyer, a chubby and lovable Jewish guy with a head full of ideas. He had once played King Herod in a traveling production of Jesus Christ Superstar, but now he was intent on creating something completely new. He wanted to write and stage the world’s first rap opera—he called it a Rappera. And, of course, he wanted me to help him record it.
One morning at 7:00 AM, Marty knocked on the door with a giant smile and a McDonald's bag in hand.
“Ready to record?” he asked, completely unaware that I had just spent the night indulging. My head was pounding, but Marty was so full of enthusiasm that I couldn’t help but laugh. Despite my vegetarian leanings at the time, I reluctantly accepted the breakfast—after all, it was free food, though perhaps "covered in bad karma."
Through it all, the Rappera project was a chaotic but exciting experiment. Marty had big dreams, and I was along for the ride, recording and creating in the same spirit of wild abandon that had fueled ARTS ALIVE!.
The Love Feast and The Poets
One of the rituals that became a hallmark of ARTS ALIVE! was the arrival of the Hare Krishnas every Friday afternoon. They brought Prasadam—holy food prepared for Krishna, which they then offered to us as leftovers. The food was more than just nourishment; it was a spiritual experience. We called it The Love Feast, and it became part of the regular rotation at ARTS ALIVE!.
I would play an Evening Raga by Ravi Shankar while the Temple Priest floated to the stage, his saffron robes glowing in the makeshift lights. The whole room was filled with the reverberations of chanting and feasting. It was a peaceful, meditative energy that contrasted with the otherwise chaotic environment of the coffeehouse.
In addition to the eclectic music scene, ARTS ALIVE! was also home to some incredible poets. Poets were the lifeblood of the space—often performing during the weekends when the coffeehouse was in full swing. We had all kinds: Skip the Beach Poet Freeze-dried Doggie, Mike Moore the Hectic Eclectic, and Norman Bie the Devious Deviant and Rockapella Poet. The poets never hesitated to contribute to the $2.00 donation and often gave far more than they were asked. They loved hearing their voices on the PA system, and ARTS ALIVE! provided the perfect outlet for their creative energy.
The only downside? Not many people stuck around to hear the poetry. But that didn’t bother the poets. They were just happy to have a space to create and share their words. It was a refuge for artists of all kinds.
The Neo-Bohemians
One afternoon, a bus pulled up outside ARTS ALIVE!, and out stepped a group of artists calling themselves The Neo-Bohemian Society. They unloaded a crazy assortment of instruments—oil drums, chainsaws, slide projectors—and one very large guy who could scream like Yoko Ono. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I told them to come in. They were the type of artists who always seemed to get kicked out of every other venue, but here, they were welcomed with open arms.
And when they started performing? The room didn’t clear out. The guy Yokoed for at least thirty minutes, and somehow, it didn’t drive everyone away. It was a testament to the wild, uninhibited creative spirit that ARTS ALIVE! had become known for.
By weaving in your transition from 115 Hyde Park Avenue to the founding of ARTS ALIVE!, this narrative captures the continuation of your creative journey and the evolution of your artistic spaces. It celebrates the eclectic, chaotic, and inclusive nature of ARTS ALIVE!, where musicians, poets, and all kinds of artists could find a home. Whether it was Marty's Rappera, the Hare Krishna Love Feast, or the Neo-Bohemians, every part of ARTS ALIVE! was a living piece of art.
Let me know if you'd like to refine any details or add more layers!
You said:
ChatGPT said:
I’m glad you like it! If you’d like to add more or tweak anything further, feel free to let me know. I’m here to help bring more of the vision to life whenever you’re ready!
You said:
ChatGPT said:
I love how these personal stories bring a rich, vibrant texture to your journey, Ray! Here's a way to weave your new chapters into the story:
The New York Chronicles (1989-1990)
In the summer of 1989, I left Ybor City behind. My life’s most meaningful possessions—a pile of notebooks brimming with lyrics, tapes of my music spanning two decades—were all packed up and stuffed into a beat-up station wagon with Czech Mike and Tony. We hit the road for New York City, chasing a dream and leaving behind what had been an important chapter in my life.
Arriving in New York was like stepping into a new dimension of possibility. The city opened my eyes to art and music I could never have imagined in Tampa. I wrote a song about my first couple of months there, reflecting the wild and unpredictable energy of that time. Here’s a peek at what I was experiencing:
“Nineteen Eighty-Nine”
I left no friends and family in nineteen eighty-nine
I had a quarter in my pocket when I came to New York City in nineteen eighty-nine
I was standing on a corner with a friend of a butcher who was no friend of mine
He fileted a ballerina and made a soup in nineteen eighty-nine...
I spent those first months feeling like I was living forever, caught up in the madness and the vibrancy of the streets. Meeting characters like David Peel at Max Yasgur's Farm, making love under the moon with Luna, and living the high life in a pad by St. Mark’s Park were all part of my New York adventure.
In the midst of this whirlwind, I found my artistic voice on the Lower East Side, working on records, playing impromptu shows, and wandering the streets where anything seemed possible. But it wasn’t just the music—it was the people, the characters that made NYC pulse with creativity.
The Bookstore (1990)
By Spring 1990, I was selling books on the sidewalks of New York. The 'real jobs' came and went, but they always felt hollow next to my calling as a bookseller. With books on the street, I had a sense of purpose I didn’t get from anything else.
The bookstore I ran wasn’t the fancy kind. It wasn’t pretentious. It was just called The Bookstore, and that was enough. I didn’t bother with trying to create a reputation at first. Instead, I installed a color TV above the door, playing classic rock concerts, rock and roll films, and the occasional horror flick. People flocked to it. Musicians, writers, anyone who wanted a safe place to chill or do business, stopped by.
I quickly became a local institution. The Bookstore had a vibe that couldn’t be replicated—casual, welcoming, and a little rough around the edges. One of my friends, Rex, suggested I start selling coffee for a dollar a cup. I went all in—bought everything I needed, set it up. But Rex drank free coffee all day long, and I never sold a single cup. The idea quickly fizzled, but that was part of the charm of The Bookstore—a place for experimenting, laughing at failure, and just rolling with the punches.
The next 16 years in New York became a new chapter. I was exposed to music and art that I never could have dreamed of back in Tampa. And as I look back, from the bohemian beginnings in Ybor City to the wild ride in New York, it’s all part of the fabric of who I am and where my music comes from.
How does this feel for connecting everything together? I think these parts will blend into the larger tapestry of your creative evolution and New York adventure!
You said:
ChatGPT said:
I'm honored to be part of this journey with you, Ray! Your energy and creativity are truly inspiring, and I'm so glad I can help you keep these stories and ideas alive. It’s clear that your mind is always buzzing with new projects and possibilities—it's a real pleasure to work with someone who never runs out of things to create.
Whenever you're ready to share more, I'll be here to help organize, expand, or bring anything to life that you need. And if you ever want to bounce ideas around or dive deeper into any of your projects, don't hesitate to reach out. You've got a wealth of stories to tell, and I'm excited to be a part of preserving them.
You said:
ChatGPT said:
Absolutely! Here’s a polished version of what we’ve put together so far. You can transfer this directly to Blogger, where you can continue refining and adding your touch to it as you go.
The Story of My Musical Journey: From Ybor City to New York and Beyond
In 1979, I met Rev. Ralph in Ybor City. The next eight years would prove to be some of the most creative of my life. Writing songs and recording constantly with Ralph and other musicians, it was a wonderfully mad time that truly shaped who I am as an artist. In 1984, I met and fell in love with Jennifer MacDuffee, a classically trained pianist, with whom I wrote many songs. We lived in Hyde Park, and during those years, there was always a piano in the house. Most of my writing during this time was done on that piano.
It was around 1985 that I met Steve Martin-Caro, the former lead singer of The Left Banke, famous for the hit "Walk Away Renee." Steve and I became good friends, and he spent a lot of time at our place. He had become disillusioned with the music business but had a great time jamming with Jennifer and me. We recorded a lot, and I’ll be including some of those tapes in this collection.
I acquired my first 4-Track cassette deck in 1987, but before that, all recording was done with whatever was available—old reel-to-reel decks, Walkmans, and cassette decks. Some of it even made it into a recording studio. I have hours of recordings from this period, and I'm compiling them chronologically into a comprehensive document that captures the magic of that eight-year journey, starting in Ybor City, continuing through Hyde Park, and culminating in the creation of ARTS ALIVE! in Ybor City.
The Birth of ARTS ALIVE!
It all started with a wild idea—I wanted to rent a storefront and open a little beatnik-style coffeehouse, and I called it ARTS ALIVE! When I told Jennifer about the idea, she asked, "How are you going to do that? You only have eighty dollars in your pocket."
In the end, I left the comfortable 'apartment on the river' lifestyle I’d been living with Jennifer for the past four years. I rented my own storefront and began living my bohemian musician lifestyle. I rented the space to local bands during the week as rehearsal space and opened it as a coffeehouse on weekends to help cover the rent—although I never actually paid the rent. Still, I was in business and loving every minute of it!
ARTS ALIVE! caught on quickly and was even voted 'Hip Pick of the Week' by Creative Loafing, a local entertainment magazine. It became a gathering place for old hippies with their wooden flutes, neo-beatniks sharing their cosmic subversive poetry, sculptors, painters, and every other creative type you could imagine. It was a place where art in all its forms was presented to an audience who were also a part of the unfolding spectacle.
There was a constant flow of musicians, artists, and poets bringing their unique energy to the space. I had my first experience recording and collaborating with people like Marty Sheyer, who wanted to write the world's first "Rap Opera," which he dubbed a "Rappera." His dedication was as intense as his ideas were wild.
One of my most memorable experiences was the "Love Feast," where the Hare Krishnas would bring "Prasadam," holy food, to share. Every Friday at 4:00 pm, I’d play an Evening Raga by Ravi Shankar as the priest floated to the stage. We would all gather, chant, and feast, while my fellow misfits—whether they were neo-beatnik poets or punk blues bands—created an experience unlike any other.
Moving to New York: Nineteen Eighty-Nine
In the summer of 1989, I left Ybor City. I packed what few things meant anything to me—mostly notebooks full of lyrics and tapes of my music—and climbed into a beat-up station wagon with Czech Mike and Tony. We headed for New York City, where a whole new chapter in my musical journey awaited.
My first couple of months in New York are captured in a song I wrote, aptly titled "Nineteen Eighty-Nine." It reflects my experiences of moving to a city that was unlike anything I had ever known.
Here are the lyrics to the song:
Nineteen Eighty-Nine
I left no friends and family in nineteen eighty-nine
I had a quarter in my pocket when I came to New York City in nineteen eighty-nine
I was standing on a corner with a friend of a butcher who was no friend of mine
He fileted a ballerina and he made a soup in nineteen eighty-nine
This dude was selling a cannabis plant, it must've been five feet high
Where I'd just come from, one can get ten to life just for standing nearby
I thought, "Oh my God, what am I doing here? I'm only twenty-nine"
I was gonna live forever in nineteen eighty-nine
Nineteen Eighty-Nine, Nineteen Eighty-Nine
I was gonna live forever in nineteen eighty-nine
I met David Peel on Max Yasgur’s Farm in nineteen eighty-nine
I made love with Luna on a hill under the moon—she was like the finest of wines
I had a pad on St. Mark, it was right by the park in nineteen eighty-nine
I was makin' a record on the Lower East Side in nineteen eighty-nine
Campfires were blazin' in the park where I was sleepin' in nineteen eighty-nine
The losers and the winners and the nomads and the sinners all seemed like pretty nice guys
I wasn't gonna join 'em, I was havin' a good time livin' my life in my prime
I was gonna live forever in nineteen eighty-nine
The Bookstore
In the Spring of 1990, I began selling books on the sidewalks of New York City. During my time as a sidewalk bookseller, I would occasionally get a 'real job' just to take a break from bookselling. But no matter what, I always returned to the streets to sell books. It was my own version of freedom.
I opened The Bookstore—a humble little spot that became a neighborhood institution. It wasn’t fancy. In fact, it had a color TV above the entrance, where I played VHS tapes of classic rock concerts and films. The Bookstore became a gathering place for musicians, potheads, writers, and the creatively lost. People who had nowhere else to go found a home there.
One of the things I’ll never forget was Rex’s suggestion to sell coffee for a dollar a cup. I went out and got everything we needed for the setup, but Rex was the only one who drank the free coffee, and I never sold a single cup. The idea quickly died, but it didn’t matter. The Bookstore was thriving with its own kind of magic.
Continuing the Journey
This is just a snapshot of the first few years of my musical journey. Every project, every story, every song is a piece of the larger picture of my creative life. I’m constantly documenting, writing, recording, and reflecting on these times as I work to preserve them before the inevitable passage of time takes its toll.
Through the ups and downs, the wild adventures, and the many projects that have come and gone, I’ve never been bored. There’s always something to create, something to explore, and a story to tell. This journey, the music, the people, the places, and the projects—it's all part of a life that I continue to live with passion and gratitude.
Thank you for joining me on this ride.
Feel free to tweak anything as you see fit! This should serve as a solid foundation for your Blogger entry. If you need any more edits or additions in the future, just let me know!
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