Truth be told, even though I was trying everything possible to win Melody back, I was in my early twenties and dating and hooking up with other women. There were quite a few songs from that period where I explored the emptiness that resulted from these half hearted dalliances. Essentially, it was stuck in my head that I wasn’t going to truly experience happiness ever again until Melody and I were reunited.
One day I walked into the local deli called Hoffman’s for the express purpose of using the pay phone to call my parents on Long Island. If I remember correctly, I was in some sort of a financial jam and I was hoping they’d be able to help.
The answer was “no,” but I vaguely remember there was more to it. I hung up the phone feeling very sad and very alone in the world. Instead of receiving any support, I think there was some lecture about how I only called when I needed something.
After hanging up and feeling like I wanted to walk back to my apartment and get back under the covers until I starved to death, a girl named Marie from one of the NYC Boroughs began to approach the phone to make her call home for money. She must’ve seen the look on my face because she gave me a long, warm hug. She smelled of vanilla oil and her soft cashmere sweater against my skin combined with everything else, had a serious effect on me. It was as if a strange electricity ran through us and something in my heart told me that we were destined to play a major role in each other’s lives.
Back in those days, there was obviously no internet. One did not DM someone and hope for the best. If a guy had it in their heart to pursue a girl, it was generally on display for all the world to see. This gave romance a whole other dimension that it no longer possesses—that is, unless someone screenshots your sad attempt.
With life taking place out on Main Street in those days, word of my intentions got out quickly. My friends, both guys and girls, wanted me to put the whole idea out of my mind. The general consensus was, “You’re a great singer, you’ve got a cool band, but be reasonable. She’s incredibly beautiful, she is sophisticated and urban, and if that wasn’t enough, she’s even taller than you.”
As insensitive as that all sounds, there was quite a bit of truth to it. And before I could even make an attempt, she was hooking up with Fabrizio, the Uruguayan dude. I hated him for it and I had no problem mentioning it at rehearsal one day. His response, which was burned into my memory was, “I do for myself. You do for yourself.” His English wasn’t the best.
Well that relationship went belly up one night when we were playing at a bar called Snug Harbor. Fabrizio had a live-in girlfriend that he was cheating on with Marie and it all came out that night. It was a lot of nonsense and drama and it practically ruined a gig that we worked really hard to rehearse for.
As the weeks passed, I went along with my life, going to work every night and writing songs every day. The afternoon clerk at the hotel, the one whose shift ended as mine begun, had profound ADHD and one evening when I mentioned how exhausted I was, he gave me my first Ritalin. My brain reacted as you might expect and I found a way to get some every day.
My writing became prolific and I was able to get through the day on only a few hours sleep. Me and Chris were stockpiling a massive amount of material and, as is the case with this sort of thing, the more I wrote, the better the songs were getting.
One morning, I tapped into a place that I had never been able to truly capture artistically. It was a private world of sadness and despair–the type many of us, luckily, are able to leave behind in our twenties. I wrote a song from that place called, “A Bit Confused,” and a lot of the people who were around in those days still remember it. Like much of what I was writing at that time, it was raw, it was honest and it was emotional.
On April 1, 1995, Marie knocked on my apartment door and told me she could hear me playing the song over and over through the walls. I had a tendency to do this when I was really proud of something. She asked if she could come in. It was as if the dream that began in Hoffman’s was coming true. I will be honest: the feeling I had that day when we consummated our new relationship, was every bit as potent as if I would have gotten back with Melody.
A few days later, I imagined myself sitting down at a piano and writing the sort of heartfelt love song Ray Charles might’ve written. I didn’t play piano, but that didn’t stop me from imagining what it would sound like. Chris, of course, came through with a bass line for the bridge section that was haunting.
Then, if things weren’t perfect enough, my childhood friend from Long Island, Bob Parrillo came to New Paltz to help with the drums. He was like a secret weapon. He was a virtuoso who studied percussion since he was a child and spent much of his teenage years in Drum Corps. His understanding of how to play on a song went beyond every drummer I ever played with.
The result, which you’ll find above, was called “See Us Run.” And have a little patience. These are cassette recordings from 30 years ago. I still think the beauty of it will come through.
See Us Run
Sugar, why can’t you sleep, sugar
I can feel you so awake
Your soul cries like a baby and it makes you shake
As a child singing in the playground, I knew someday I’d sing to you
And I’d be a pirate and you would be too
And we’d hide from the good guys who never have fun
See us run
Sugar, I’m in your dreams, sugar
Watching over you as you go to sleep
Keep you in my neon circus, never let you fall too deep
As a child singing in the playground, I knew someday I’d sing to you
And I’d be a pirate and you would be too
And we’d hide from the good guys who never have fun
See Us Run
Lay down next to you/close my eyes
Lose myself within/ black fluorescent eyelid skies
I’m so glad you used it. ❤️
the beauty of it came through very clearly :)