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no room for hipsters

the occupation of Ashley and Levon

front porch by dustin addair

front porch by dustin addair

 

Rebekah, Ashley’s mom, and her husband Frankie live on a small farm with Ashley’s sisters ZoË and Ysa.  Its 40 minutes southwest of Washington D.C.  Since I come from Kentucky I help out a lot on the farm; I blog about them, I TiVo things while they’re gone, and keep Frankie’s guitar tuned.  We eat eggs in the morning so fresh they have feathers stuck to them and glow fluorescently, even compared to the $5 hippy eggs I buy.  We drink warm, frothy goat milk freshly squeezed.  My Chihuahua has been here for two weeks and thinks he’s become a farm dog, chasing chickens and baby goats like he’s a big dude.  He’s moving to Harlem in a few days so I’m building him up.     

zoe

zoe

 

Frankie has more music in his head than almost anyone I know.  In the evenings we get out the guitars and sing the likes of John Prine, Jerry Jeff Walker, and Little Feat.  Ashley and her sisters paint and do art projects.  Rebekah sings as she graces around the house, or talks with Ashley about designing our 10 x 7 bedroom.  Every night Ashley, the girls (ages 7 and 9), my dog, cat, me, and maybe another cat or two climb into a full sized bed.  We sleep in a jumbled knot after telling ridiculous bedtime stories where everyone takes turn contributing a line:

Ashley: there once was a turtle in the woods/ Ysa: his name was Sam/ Zoe: and he was afraid/ Levon: but he had a shell made of steel/ Ashley: and he was camouflaged in the leaves/ Ysa: and then he pooted!!

Chaos breaks loose and my dog is visibly annoyed.  Ashley and I make the stories more and more mundane until the girls are out of it.  I finish the story by myself and Ashley isn’t even listening.  My dog grunts at me to shut up.  I need to roll over but I can’t.  I’m breathing hair and I don’t know who’s. 

We’re moving in a few days to a renovated housing project in Harlem.  Its modernized with a gated entry, trellises, landscaping, and security cameras.  Inside is completely renovated with everything you would need: in a motor home.  Its a dark, brick building with metal windows and no architectural interest.  Kind of like a housing project.  People say that once you go to New York and see where non-movie star people live,  your perception changes about what “nice” means in Manhattan. That said, we have a nice place.  If you want to come stay with me in New York, feel free.  You can get the “Harlem projects of the 1980s” experience.  Many of the original tenants still live there.  I appreciate that. 

Our roommate recently signed a record deal, and her producer is giving me some part time work as a production assistant for random projects.  I told him I could drywall, which is the truth if you need temporary displays to sell things like murals or posters.  The first gig is May 20 for a week, and then another one in June; but they have to fly me to San Francisco or something like that.  He’s always in need of help from studio assistants; running cables, checking mics, moving gear.  Typical chops for any musician.  This crazy idea of ours may actually work.  

We’re also transferring the title of the Corolla to Ashley’s mom until we get back in exchange for new tires.  Why did I tell you that?  

photo by dustin addair

photo by dustin addair

Back to Knoxville tomorrow.  We’re having yard sale #2.  More things have to go: a dryer, queen size bed, book shelves, and stuff I can’t remember that was boxed up in February.  It will be at 1241 Armstrong.  

sisters

sisters

Here’s more of life on the farm:

Richard

Richard

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Let.... I am your father (Mr. Mister the rooster)

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