the Taxi and Take-off (day 2 and everything after that)

There's no remedy for love but to love more. -Henry David Thoreau

Day 2: is rainy and dim which I think could either be perfect for creative focus or dragging in ambition. They're working with Rob Freeman...it'll be the first. I'm sitting in the control room with him now- just me and him. Yeah, this is weird. He doesn't know me but was friendly initiating introduction and hasn't given me a nasty look to speak of. These are different times then what I've known. Yes, I'm sitting in a room with Rob and Nate's in the vocal booth directly across from me. And the two computer screens are lit with a bunch of colorful caterpillars that I know are the tracks of the song we'll all have a repeat soon enough. The headphones are on and Rob's shoes are off.

And I hear it.

No matter how much I think I know or what I am sure is true, everything changes after he sings this line. One year and this line is enough to fill it all. And now Rob is singing it. He's helping Nate with phrasing and notes, loving to have this voice in his hands, and I know the question I asked earlier has been answered. Moments create themselves, with the guidance of people who love you. People who believe in you. I know I will live here, somehow, some piece of me, forever. (Are ya happy, Cyph? I said it!) My jaw just eases, not drops. Nothing drops in this family without being caught. It eases to let out the air that has inflated my heart. My hand reaches for the back of my neck. Just something to keep me from floating away.

I like the way Nate dances in the booth but even more so I like the way he looks at me and giggles. I grasp the discreet smile we share when the much debated last line of the second verse earns a "I really like that line, good job" from Rob. "Work on the 'she'. Get that note." he tells Nate. I am the she. One year and this line is everything I need. One more year and this moment will still be enough. "Thanks" Rob says crisp and simple. Mike texts me. It's like they let me be in here alone to hear it- everything happens for a reason. Now Mike's texting "that's you!" Sometimes obvious feels good to hear. It's good to know what the hell Nick was stuttering about yesterday. They're so excited about this and I don't know what to say. What do I do? All I can do...write the words.

Nate comes in. I kinda forgot that I was going to see him again outside the booth. It's his true cubicle. "Do ya wanna read the words she wrote?" Mike grins to him. We sit quietly as Rob opens his eyes and shifts from creative vision to concentrated worker. Yes, I like his ears. And his eyes. Whatever's under all that hair. I like him for liking those lines and for taking a break for a phone call. It was his Dad.

Rob tells them this is their best song and his favorite. Nate turns to me and Mike immediately and gets silently stoked out of him mind. I wish I could pay to keep him here every week, though we'd probably want to kill him with all this blissful energy. "We might just make it, Erica." he says to me with sly eyes. "Maybe." I say. I can't not smile back at him.

What do you do when a moment's over? When vocal heroes turn back into your closest friends and producing geniuses are just the guy you saw yesterday- in the same clothes? Well...you thank god you're in a recording studio and that these walls immortalized everything you just felt.

I will remember when Nate Cyphert was 5 green dots on Rob Freeman's brand new studio rack. I believe in that.

How will this day end? Does it even matter? Coming around the backstretch of Day 2, I'm not afraid to walk into the control room. I've seen Nate screw up at least half a dozen notes. I have learned half a dozen new terms. I've watched Rob trip and I've "not" laughed at him. I believe that Nate Cyphert can hit any note he wants in a take or two. And I no longer disbelief in us coming out on the other side of this together.

It is tonight. The show is over, the lingering behind the van has concluded, and our bellies are full. The same song is playing in my stereo. It is tonight and we are...the family. We're still going to be the family tomorrow when the van pulls away from a New Hyde Park curb. I believe in still being the family 3 months from now. They each had had something to say to me:

"We're gonna call each other."
"I won't let you forget me."
"I'm goin to miss you."
"When we say goodbye, you will tell me what you really feel right then. And I will tell you I'll be back before you know it."
"Iverson dunked over O'Neill. I rule at NBA 2005 and I'm also extremely sexy."

My eyes opened so carefully this morning. But before my head could think, I decided something. I am not a nonbeliever. I'm just not as truly forgiving as I'd like to be. But I like words, words I definitely trust. This morning the evidence my eyes are looking for is in the words. There is 'good' in 'goodbye'. There is 'to u' in 'tour'.


I rode away from Rob Freeman the other day in Ant's 1967 Impala. It bottoms out as we go about 109mph towards the George Washington Bridge. And I wonder if there's such a thing as the perfect nonchalant moment, if there's a perfect way to end this. But for once I don't really care and I just let everything soak into me. Moments are created if you let them, songs are made when you sing them, love hoeds on when you believe in it.





...Rica.