Logs:Of Heat and Hippies (Or, A Tough Industry)
| Of Heat and Hippies (Or, A Tough Industry) | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-12-14 "It really hasn't been so bad." |
| Location
<NYC> The Bowery Hostel - The Bowery | |
<NYC> The Bowery Hostel - The Bowery There has been a hostel here for decades, though it hasn't always been the *same* hostel. Granted, little seems to change other than the name and the *purported* owner. It's an aging walk-up with a certain amount of historic charm somewhat ruined by the peeling walls, the decaying trim, and the rats. There are no amenities to speak of, the climate control is unreliable, and the service is minimal. The only thing that recommends this place is its location, low cost, and no-questions-asked policy. What happens at the...whatever this place is called currently, stays here. Harm has opted to splurge on a private room rather than share a dorm with a random assortment of men or women or whatever gender the hostel staff sees fit to assign them. The room is tiny and musty and cold, with a radiator that dispenses more noise than heat. They're in a rainbow ombre sweater and thick lined jeans, their hair tucked up under a purple tam, sitting cross-legged on top of the radiator, gazing out the window through the rusting fire escape at the busy street outside, their hands moving somewhat automatically with the simple motion of crocheting something as-yet unidentifiable out of soft black yarn. Was there a knock on the door? Who knows. Maybe. If there was, though, Harm certainly did not hear one -- has no real notice of when or how long they've had company at all. At some point Kavalam is just there, sitting cross-legged on the creaky bed, boots tucked neatly at its foot. He's in a mustard-yellow sweater over a grey button-down, thick-waled corduroys, and is currently polishing his glasses. "This," he tells Harm, conversationally like he's been here quite some time, "is one real shithole. Have you tried making some more money only?" Harm doesn't start, exactly, but their expression is blank for a moment before brightening into a smile. "Oh!" They toss their project aside and jump down from the radiator, bounding nimbly up beside Kavalam to wrap him in a tight hug. Though it's not visible through the loose sweater and layers underneath, they have put on some muscle since the last time Kavalam has (probably) seen them. "I've --" They pull back to study him. "-- I've missed...missing you. How are you? Oh no, did I totally ignore you in the chat?" They're digging their phone out to check before he can answer. "I've tried." This is maybe just a little defensive. "I have. Just not recently. Busking is pretty lucrative here, though." Kavalam returns the hug fiercely, then returns to slouching against Harm's thin pillows. "Okay but have you tried really or have you only hippie-tried. Gaétan makes some good money doing silly musics because he works with the capitalists about it." Harm sighs heavily. "Hippie-tried, mostly. I actually had a really nice gig for a while in San Francisco, until I got arrested." They suck in a breath through their teeth. "Healing, not music. But you kind of need equipment and space and all that to do music capitalistically, and that's hard when you're traveling and also broke." They don't see very bothered by this. "I know this won't impress you, but I have gotten free room and board at a lot of hippie farms and communes for the music." "Arrested for the healing or the music or --" Kavalam's brows lift. His head wobbles side-to-side noncommittally. "How many of them gave you scabies though. I can get you the free room and board at a very-very cushy swank hotel as long as you don't so much mind switching rooms every couple days." He turns up one hand as if in offering. "Also Spencer's nonsense musician," he is saying this as if Ryan Black is not one of the most famous musicians on earth, "is starting some place. For the music. Equipment and all. It's not open yet but I took anyway one peek. So plush inside." "Only a few!" Harm protests, then winces, presumably at the phrasing of their protest. "It really hasn't been so bad. I've seen beautiful places, jammed with amazing musicians, learned all kinds of things. But..." They hug themself against the cold kind of sheepishly. "It would be nice to stay somewhere nice. Or at least with working heat. Switching rooms every couple days should be pretty familiar, anyway." They perk up at the news about the studio. "I was thinking of picking Gae's brain about. Monetizing music in...maybe slightly more stable ways than earning a place by the fire with a song --" They sit up suddenly straighter, blushing. "Oh no, I hadn't meant to have any company here! Do you want to get out of this shithole? We can go get dim sum." "You can tell me all about it somewhere with a real heat. -- tell me about the music anyway, yes? The people. Not the scabies, that sounds very awful." Kavalam is sliding to the edge of the mattress and reaching down to shove his boots back on. "I'm paying." | |
