In his early years (pre-founding of gmRH), like any soon to be doc finishing up their education, Dr. $uss did his residency and rotations. These weren't any ol' ordinary rotations though. You'd think that there would be a level of professionalism and camaraderie among the peers and professors - this is not so. Young Dr. $uss was the subject of continually targeted fuditis campaigns. A young Dr. $uss was told he wasn't going to make it and his research (art) would never amount to anything. Soon, $ussitis started to grow inside Dr. $. Feelings of total i$olation, $elf doubt, and crippling nGMI-69.
These symptoms resulted in late sleepless nights - rotating between the couch, studio, apt and back again. Creativity seemed blocked, heart blocked, the couch was a block, the studio was a block, he lived on a block, his apt was a block, all the buildings were lifeless blocks, everything around him was a block. One night, as he laid in his block bed, in his block room, contemplating the density of each respective life block Dr. $uss finally had a moment of catharsis and clarity. He went into a trance like state while watching the car lights and emergency sirens reflect off of the wet 9th ave pavement through his window, onto the wall of his block. The visuals, the hums and laughs of night life below. The rolling splash of cabs trying to make that green light. The stomach shaking honks from NYPD cruisers. There was an abundance of life and beauty within these blocks. Dr. $ began to welcome the shade from his peers and started embracing that $truggle inside. Because from those dense and dark !vibes, the Block Nights were born.

Block Nights I

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