Some thoughts on hugging

Posted 16 April, 2011 in Random Musings

I’ve always been a fan of hugging. I grew up in a demonstrative family and then lucked out in high school, finding a small group of cool friends who weren’t afraid to be physically affectionate. Everybody hugged everybody, regardless of gender or orientation.

The older I got, the less hugging factored into my interactions. I still hugged people sometimes, but I found that many people were uncomfortable with it – particularly other men – so I did it less and less. I remember having a conversation with a friend in Rochester about how little physical affection people show to one another on a daily basis in the U.S. We had both lived in other countries and experienced very different attitudes toward physical intimacy. Even in Japan, with what most outsiders would consider a very formal culture, it was common to see men, particularly of my generation, with their arms around one another and touching one another without being self-conscious about it.

Over the past couple years I’ve tried to put more frequent hugging back in my repertoire and have discovered a number of fairly standard reactions.

1. Good hugs

Some folks just get it. They put their arms around you and give you a strong – but not crushing – embrace that doesn’t involve back-patting or awkward chuckling. Those hugs make the world seem like a pretty good place, and, for me at least, give me a real sense of well-being, respect and love.

2. Molecular hugs

These are the hugs where one person is really giving a hug and the other person is trying to touch as few molecules of the hugger’s body as possible. These hugs seem to be motivated by a belief that hugging is what is socially required (particularly in certain political/activist/liberal/progressive circles, I’ve noticed) juxtaposed against the person’s strong desire to not be hugged. The weird thing about these hugs is that it’s most often the person who doesn’t want to be physically affectionate who initiates the hug. Again, I think as a sort of expected social interaction.

3. Burping-the-baby hugs

Apparently some people can only equate hugging with burping a baby. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for those hugs that involve lots of back-patting. Unless I’ve just told you that I’m feeling bloated and I ask for your help, I don’t need to be patted. Like the molecular hug, this always has the feel of obligation attached to it rather than a true desire for connection.

4. Guy-on-guy hugs

When these are done right (a la #1 above) they’re a rare and wonderful affirmation of shared humanity. Most of the time, though, they’re either the one-hand-clasped-half-hug or the awkward-chuckle hug. It’s 2011 and there are still many men who are completely shocked by the idea of receiving a hug from another man.

5. Surprise hugs

These are a subtle variation of #1 above. For me, receiving a hug from someone when you didn’t expect that level of connection is a wonderful surprise. I find this happens most often in my work as an interviewer. I always shake hands with the artists I interview when I first arrive and that’s usually what happens at the end, too. But every once in a while the guest will give me a hug at the end, which feels great because it means we’ve made a real connection during the interview. These hugs always make my day. Once in a while, I mess them up.

/ / /

So there’s my list. Not comprehensive, I’m sure. And you may have your own take on why some of these hugs happen. If so, feel free to share them in the comments. Then go hug somebody!

POEM: new york basement blues

Posted 13 April, 2011 in Jazz, Music, My poems, New York City, Poetry

I went to Jazz Standard tonight to see Ben Allison’s band with Michael Blake, Steve Cardenas, Jason Lindner and Rudy Royston. I wrote this poem during the show, inspired by things in the club, phrases I heard, song titles and my owned fevered imagination. The first quotation in the poem was said from the stage by Michael Blake.

new york basement blues

1.
grab your jazz hat
meet me in the bent-note basement
Jackie’s back of the bar
sloshing the occasional beer
on the tongue-colored tile

the Dutch couple near the stage
look trapped, unsure
told, perhaps, that this would be

something else

(close your eyes, dear,
and think of Holland)

2.
there was a monk on San Juan Hill
who could tell your fortune
in two bars of three

he could stop on a dime:
and give you nonsense and change

“you and me baby” he’d say
“let’s start our own country
and nobody will come”

(he had a sign in his window / it said:
MY BOSS IS KAREN CARPENTER)

3.
later, as the sleepy-eyed theater boys
slowly regain their senses
a sidewalk prophet in plaid and denim
hands us a poem by William Blake

on which he’s drawn a caricature
of Barrack Obama
hugging Margaret Thatcher

“April is the cruelest month” he says
“except for February, which I’ve never liked”

POEM: fireflies

Posted 11 April, 2011 in Jazz, Music, My poems, Poetry

This poem was inspired by seeing vocalist Fay Victor and bassist Dominic Lash perform together tonight at the Evolving Music Series. Here’s an album of photos from the event, which also included Theo Bleckmann & Jay Clayton, Charles Gayle’s Forgiveness and more.

fireflies

my mouth is full of fireflies
a spring night jack-o-lantern
with glowing cheeks
my honeyed ears hum
with the soft songs of bees
and their dancing maps
there are dogs and bears and tragic lovers
haunting the April sky
a night woodsman thunks his axe into a stump
I hear a grumbling ostinato in the trees
the song of an unseen singer
calling me homeward toward my little room
filled floor to ceiling with jars of fireflies
damp with saliva

POEM: song without words

Posted 7 April, 2011 in Jazz, Music, My poems, New York City, Poetry

I wrote this tonight at Bar Next Door while listening to James Shipp, Mike LaValle, Rogerio Boccato and Jo Lawry.

song without words

there is a way you sing
this song without words
that reminds me of
water touching sand

the bell falls to the ground
like a baby’s eyes opening

your fingers tap the chorro
I taste warm maté

what if we never get past
this slowly revolving door?

never get to the sunshine lands
where children play big drums
and dance without fear?

POEM: a fundamental understanding of the nature of the universe

Posted 7 April, 2011 in My poems, Poetry

a fundamental understanding of the nature of the universe

you went to hug me
I shook your hand
like a key that wouldn’t turn

there’s a fake sky painted
on the ceiling of this restaurant
much bluer than the real one
held at bay by thick windows
and sitar music

everyone in here is eating alone
as if that’s okay

one of the waitresses is singing

beside the door is a box
filled with slips of paper
imparting bits of wisdom

as if life can be changed
by words on a piece of paper

(which, of course, it can)

on the piano in your living room
you played me a song that your father loved
I sat on the floor and listened

POEM: it takes a certain kind of person

Posted 2 April, 2011 in My poems, New York City, Poetry

I wrote this last night at the Village Vanguard.

/ / /

it takes a certain kind of person

to pull off that many non-ironic flowers on the front of her shirt

to wear his hair in a ponytail in defiance of age stereotypes

to don red Chuck Taylors more appropriate for a man with fewer responsibilities

to absorb the needy stares of this late-night basement

to not believe that the knot in your intestines was tied by her careless fingers

to assume this verse is free when the truth is I paid for it

to sit beneath all those photographs but not know your history

to step over, to walk around, to pretend not to notice, to look away

to sit and scribble in the dark while the man in front of the curtain spills his blood

to run the tips of your fingers across the soft skin just below your throat, knowing everyone is looking

to drink that drink like you never raised your hand to another human being

to remember what I wore that night but only because you didn’t like it

to play those particular notes in that particular order

to not know that the other half of this arrangement is that you are supposed to look over here