I’ve been thinking a lot about the title’s question.  The house I lived in on Bell Street as a little girl started coming to me in my dreams several months before my Me Ma fell ill and had to suddenly, permanently move out into a nursing home.  This house was my sanctuary growing up.  I lived in it full time from when I was 3 until I was almost 9.  I have a connection to it.  I would feel its emotions and it would speak to me through the energies of my dreams.  It was warning me about the changes that were about to happen.  It was telling me goodbye, I can see that looking back.  After Me Ma got put in the nursing home the family shut the utilities off.  A few roof leaks have sprung up, the ceiling has completely fallen in in the den from such. Cracks are appearing in the floor from the foundation.  The whole place is just falling apart, into an advanced state of decay.  It’s sad.  It’s not the same anymore.

There is a bar/music venue in Austin that I’ve frequented for years and years.  It’s called The Mohawk.  I feel the Mohawk has a soul.  There’s a lot of venues nearby, it’s on a busy strip, but this place has something special about it.  I’m a huge fan of live music venues, I go to a ton of them across the globe and many have character.  But there’s a difference between character and soul.  The universe brought a terrible accident to SXSW a couple of years ago on a downtown street corner where there was loss of life. The venue whose staff had to help was The Mohawk.  I feel there was purpose behind this.  As traumatic as this is, if there were to be an accident God forbid this is the venue you’d want handling it.  Not that there’s a bunch of EMT’s on staff, it’s about the soul of the place. This brings something.  It calls to me, I feel it.

Last night I saw a local band play amazing rock tunes at The Mohawk.  The kind of electric guitar vibes that take you to another dimension.  It was magical.  I went to the inside bar afterwards, the place had mostly cleared out.  The owner of the venue came in with his vagina posse, meaning swarm of adoring women. He’s a really cute guy, I kind of have the hots for him myself though he’s not typically my type being such a ladies man.  They eventually cleared out and my friend texted me, wanting me to join her at a bar on the East side. So I left The Mohawk, got in my car, turned the key, and then I couldn’t leave.  I just couldn’t do it.  It was so weird.  I felt the building calling out to me, willing me to come back.  This makes no sense.  Bands over, crowds are gone. It’s not a hive of activity .  But I felt compelled to go back inside. So I canceled with my friend and went back into The Mohawk, alone (for the record I invited her to join me but she declined as she didn’t want to go downtown).  When I got back inside one of my favorite bands was playing, Lynyrd Skynyrd, a mournful “Tuesday’s Gone”.  I order a Lone Star and eventually wander back outside to where the empty stage is and I sit on the stairs, looking at the dark stage.

I feel there is a respect that must be paid to an empty stage that just housed an electrifying performance.  You must pay homage.  So I did, in silence, at 2AM, holding my beer. Kind of like saying a silent grace.  A thank you.  And this is why I feel this building talks to me, we “get” each other. There is synchronicity.  A…soul.

The NY Times newspaper had a write up recently on the changing face of NYC’s neighborhoods, from mom and pop to commercial endeavors like frozen yogurt shops and big chain brands.  This is the result of course of the increase cost of real estate.  The paper wondered, does it matter when these sort of local things move out and big brands move in, does it affect the people and the vibe of the blocks? The answer is yes, yes it does.