Savannah, Georgia is a small artistic city. It’s the second most haunted place in the states. It’s very easy to walk into a bad neighborhood.
We mostly stayed at a Walmart on an island outside the city, called Whitemarsh. But eventually we wandered into the city and parked in front of a college dorm so we called kids over to our van to talk to them. We met a cool cat named Billy.
Billy took us to bars. We walked around the city drunkenly laughing and freestyle rapping.
At a bar, I met a girl with pink hair and black lipstick who told me I should come to her show. And so our adventure in the underground world of Savannah began.
In Savannah, there are a few college houses (all built in slave times) who use their space as a venue for local artists to perform poetry and music. Just imagine a house of art students (and the dropouts) paintings on the walls, beer cans and ash trays everywhere. Supportive screams and chanting coming from the crowd. Dancing with strangers. Poetry about the struggle earth is going through and the path humans are taking towards consciousness.
The person recorded above is a great person. His name is Matthew. I don’t know how to describe the time him, Ariela and I shared together. But we loved each other like siblings on Earth, hanging out for a limited time. And eventually we all said goodbye. It was the first person Ariela and I got close with and had to say goodbye to. The feeling was familiar, even though we’ve never done it before.
This blog post doesn’t really tell you what Savannah is like. But we had fun. We loved. We danced. It was a good time.