My View
One of my favorite things about Buenos Aires has been partaking in mellow degeneracy on the 43 and 44th-floor balconies. I happen to live in a glass cage. My thoughts leave my mind and drift off the deck – into the streets and through the bustling urban circuit.
I peek down and see the city’s pointy white Obelisco monument. I only learned of its existence when Argentina won the World Cup and the images of millions of ecstatic Argentinian fans in the streets emerged. In those pictures, the monument towered above the Buenos Aires populace and made itself appear significant.
From my balcony, the monument is just another structure erected from concrete, contributing mildly to the BA skyline. It seems small from here.
My eyes follow groups of yellow cabs, flocks of vintage Mercedes buses, and lines of puny pedestrians crossing the street. I hear no words from my balcony – just industrial sounds, echoes, dogs barking for no reason, and the AC fan humming in tune with the city’s ongoing rhythm. Every thirty seconds or so, I hear buses screeching to a halt somewhere in the concrete jungle. The high pitch makes its way to my apartment from an undefined spot. It sounds like an instrument.
The Obelisco belongs to Avenida 9 de Julio which facilitates a major flow of traffic and sounds through the day and night; it captivates me more than other streets. It grabs me as I produce music and search for live representations of the instrumentals.
The synths and droning guitar dance with the city lights. Each light is a fan at my show – a performance that goes on inside my head as I build these worlds through sound.
Urban life is great for making a certain kind of music. Ambient features of the environment are borrowed and reconfigured through the songs I create. Inspiration is everywhere in front of me – from my glass box in the sky to the edges of the BA metropolitan area where buildings decline in height and life slows down.
There are hundreds, if not thousands, of buildings decorating the landscape. I happen to live in Retiro. I can see what appears to be new skyscrapers in Puerto Madero and behind that batch of buildings, I can trace the coast of Uruguay. There are factories by the water and planes landing in the Aeroparque.
Ironically, the WeWork building serves as one of Buenos Aires’s tallest structures; it feels just that the struggling coworking empire stands highest in a nation where people are also financially struggling below.
From the Spacestation
Meditations and medications flourish on the balcony. Conversations that inspire me to be a rockstar and ditch structure take off on the damn balcony. My friends make their weekly pilgrimage to these spots to let their dog out – let the id speak through the breeze and ganja.
My friends call it the space station. An opening in the wall where we let our minds melt, seeing the city for the first time every night. It is a club and a cult and a harmonious network of friendships.
Some nights never end. The day becomes a minor inconvenience given the primal highs, insights, and raw nature of the night. We patiently wait for the sun to go down.
The lighter flickers as a joint begins its journey around the conversation. Buenos Aires is below us as we put on a show for ourselves.
The world (local dimension) is in the palm of our hands. We feel a surge of purpose in our position in the sky. Almost like a glimpse of enlightenment – a naive mirage and understanding backed by our recent adventures.
Have a pleasant day.
How to approach my first album