As soon as I started practicing law, I “lost the thread” and
it remained hidden to me for a long time after that. I
believe I saw it swimming away, looking like a silvery ribbon-fish racing fast submerging beyond surface sight.
Law school was creepy and deadening, with nothing but
boring reading, bad writing, one-note/one-topic (legal billing) professor “humor,” and the ever-present terror of being
called on in class and found unprepared and uninspired.
But the actual job of doing law, once I found a job, was
like hitting a solid, flat, featureless wall hard in the dark. It took a long time for my eyes to begin to adjust
and see shapes, forms, and the outlines of doors and doorknobs, doorknobs I found eventually I could turn to enter communicating
rooms and spaces.
I wasn’t crazy about what I found myself doing, but I chose law deliberately and for rational reasons I could easily
explain to you today in exactly the same way I often re-explained them to
myself during dark moments back then, when
I despaired of (I have to say it) Kafka-esque contradictions and the utter chaos of gritty New York City criminal
and civil litigation practice. It’s
impossible to be sufficiently rigorous in your daily preparation and zealous in your
client advocacy when you’re overwhelmed with confusion and
indifference.
Eventually I broke out of my trapped space and landed an excellent, prestigious job doing approximately what I wanted.
I was surprised then (less so now) to find that my previous trapped life
taught me some valuable lessons I could build on as I developed my new practice.
When you are mentally and sensually dead to the world as I
was then -- essentially turned completely
inward -- not a lot gets through, but those things that do are significant. I had basically abandoned my previous museum, gallery-going, art magazine and art history-reading life because I find it difficult handling multiple serious subjects simultaneously, and I knew I
needed to learn to be a good lawyer, which requires concentration and sacrifice. I still listened to music, of course (my wife
was in the music business and our life together was the great consolation the
period offered me – and I don’t mean just the free records and concerts), and
for a long while reggae became my consuming passion. Jamaican music taught me more about rhythm, melody, harmony
and the multiple levels great art plumbs than anything else had for a long
time. It also made me a better, more
tolerant and thoughtful person than I would otherwise have been during Manhattan’s
terrible and terrifying Bernie Goetz era.
One non-Jamaican song that really got through to me back then, which I hadn’t thought about until recently, was "Too Many Creeps" by The Bush Tetras. I first heard it when the company I worked for rented a hip downtown dance/music club called Tier 3 and threw a party to reward the marketing, sales and creative services teams for good work and excellent results on some challenging projects during the early days of home video “sell-through.” I was surprised and proud to find myself the only member of the legal department invited to attend. My colleagues concluded that I was a good counselor, facilitator, advocate and friend, and that I broke through the traditional corporate “lawyer impediment” role, so they decided to include me in their festivities, which was uplifting.
One non-Jamaican song that really got through to me back then, which I hadn’t thought about until recently, was "Too Many Creeps" by The Bush Tetras. I first heard it when the company I worked for rented a hip downtown dance/music club called Tier 3 and threw a party to reward the marketing, sales and creative services teams for good work and excellent results on some challenging projects during the early days of home video “sell-through.” I was surprised and proud to find myself the only member of the legal department invited to attend. My colleagues concluded that I was a good counselor, facilitator, advocate and friend, and that I broke through the traditional corporate “lawyer impediment” role, so they decided to include me in their festivities, which was uplifting.
The Bush Tetras often played Tier 3 and “Too Many
Creeps” is one of the really great downtown-but-everywhere-in-New York City
songs. Actually, I think it applies to
the whole world.
Do you know the song?
It’s funny, very direct and as true today as it was then.
Eventually years later, after many changes, I found the thread again.
I just don’t wanna go
Out in the streets no more
I just don’t wanna go
Out in the streets no more
Because these people they give me
They give me the creeps
Anymore
Because these people they give me
They give me the creeps
Anymore
I don’t wanna
Too many Creeps
Too many Creeps
Too many Creeps
Too many Creeps
Too many Creeps
Too many Creeps
Eventually years later, after many changes, I found the thread again.
Note: "Too Many Creeps", Bush Tetras and Tier 3 links in paragraph 7. Polka-dot ribbon-fish immediately above.
