As you can all clearly see, I’ve renamed my blog. “Hudblog” just wasn’t really doing it for me. So I decided to go with the slightly-more-enticing, “Bed-Stuy for the White Guy.” Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I should replace the word “for” with its numerical counterpart. “Bed-Stuy 4 the White Guy.” Final Answer.

The current couch-surfer at the Kosciuszko Motel is named Roy Pilgrim. I met Roy out at the Kerrville Folk Fesitval. He has a traveling soul. He recently blew on into Brooklyn like a ramblin’ tumbleweed. He’s 16 years old and one hell of songwriter. Anyhow, Roy told me story at dinner tonight that I thought would be a perfect BS4WG blog. Want to hear it? Here it goes:

Roy: Have you noticed it’s gotten a little shady down on Stuyvessant the last couple days?

Hud: Really? That street usually seems alright to me.

Roy: So I’m coming home from that party last night. And I’ve had a little bit to drink. But I’m doing my city walk. I look tough. I’m ready to tussle. And as I’m coming past the projects, this black car pulls up beside me. These two dudes start walking toward the car. And I’m crossing between them and the car. So they see me and one of them says, “Let me get that guitar! I gotta get some rocks!” I just put my head down and start walking faster. But I can hear them behind me. One of the dudes is still yelling “I gotta get some rocks!” And it sounds like they’re pursuing me so I book it all the way to the house.
I get home and I’m all out of breath from running all the way down Stuyvessant. And I tell Jah Jah and Duane about it. Jah Jah’s eyes lit up. “Patrol!” he shouted. He and Duane threw on their shoes and ran downstairs.

Hud: Damn, just when you start to get comfortable up in this neighborwoods some crazy shit like that happens.

Let this be a warning to all of you Bed-Stuy white guys out there--just because it’s springtime and the projects look all beautiful and shit, doesn’t mean that crack heads will not try to jack you for your guitar so they can get some rocks.