Thursday, May 27, 2010

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

The most important thing

So I can't remember if I've blogged about this before or not, but if I have, I'm doing it again.  No one reads this consistently enough to mind, I'm sure.  (Except you, KP.  But your memory, well...)

In July of 2005, I made a road trip from Lexington, KY to Whidbey Island near Seattle, WA.  I took a video camera and I approached and interviewed complete strangers along the way (mostly at gas stations because my ex was opposed to stopping for any other reason... no really, after stopping to visit my family in Iowa, we made the whole trip in 36 hours straight).  I asked them all one question:  What do you think is the most important thing in life?  Now, my evil ex took and kept that tape and won't send it to me, even though it contains footage of the last semi-coherent moments I spent with my Grandma Ruth, who suffered from dementia for many years and has since passed away. (Everyone boo & hiss my evil ex now.  Thank you.)  Anyway, the result is that I have to rely on my memory of that trip.

Here's what I recall of the answers:

My Iowan grandmother said, "Well, for me it's always been home sweet home!"

Her husband, my grandpa, raised a very bushy eyebrow at me and said, "Did you hear what they did over in England?" (Referring to the London bombings.)  I nodded and he nearly growled, "I think we need to get back to Christianity."

My other grandpa said "Getting down to see my grandchildren once in awhile."  I think my other grandma made a joke about getting down to the casino along the way.

A gang of Harley riders near Omaha agreed the most important thing was friends and family.  "And Aflac," one said.  The rest laughed.

A middle-aged couple on a ferry boat on the way to the island said the most important thing was to care for the earth.

A lot of people said family.

Some said God.

A few said happiness or being true to yourself.

And one.  One very nervous young man from Mexico who was meeting his girlfriend's family for the first time that day and had joined them on their visit to the Badlands in South Dakota -- one person answered love.

Today I've been thinking again about my purpose in life, which led me to think about why we're all here at all, which led me to ask myself this question, again.  What's the most important thing in life?  To me it's still undeniably love.  So...where does that leave me?  I'm not really sure, but at the moment I'm wondering why I don't do stuff like this anymore.

Monday, May 24, 2010

I am

reading ::  Farenheit 451

grieving ::  the sea and its inhabitants and the state of humanity that made this possible

loving :: the return of the sweetgum leaves

thinking :: somehow, in the midst of all my ongoing hand-wringing uncertainty about what I ought to be doing with my life, how I ought to be spending my precious time and energy, what would be fulfilling to me, how much I am toiling over things that are not -- somehow, I have managed to help create music that I believe in.  something beautiful.  if I died today, there would be much to regret.  Love damaged and lost.  time squandered.  dreams sabotaged.  I don't forget that.  ever.  yes, I have spent hours on FarmVille instead of putting my hands in the dirt.  yes, I work at a job that is about as nourishing (and challenging) as a pretzel.  yes, I read art and writing blogs instead of making art and writing stories.  but.  I co-wrote Slow Dance Slow.  and I perform and have now recorded it with honesty and with heart.  and soon it will be out in the world in a bigger way.  so I won't die with ALL my music still in me.  so... so there?

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Time Lord anyone?

Looks like I haven't written a "real" entry here in awhile...  hm.  

See, it's just that all I really feel like doing is curling up and watching Dr. Who.  

Although if anyone knows of a spiritually rewarding career and/or artistic and peaceful (and really, really cheap) apartment available for me, please let me know.  

Or a TARDIS.  That'd be sweet, too.


Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Now please let me float to space while the stars sing their songs

I discovered this NY band today called Apollo Run.  
(Through this wonderful writer & photographer, by the way.)  
Maybe you should, too.


Tuesday, May 18, 2010

If you could spy on my head

No more broken hearts, we're better off apart, let's give it a try... 

There are SO many people in the world.

Maybe I'll start drawing a mandala every day instead of trying to journal in words.

Hell yeah

Hmm

Tell me lies tell me sweet little lies...

Huh.  That's our version I'm hearing, not Fleetwood Mac's.  Sweet.

Oh my god the envelope is right there in your hand; stop treating me like I'm a moron.

Ha.  Told you.

I completely understand, though.

Oh no no-o you can't disguise... 

What if this song stays in my head for months?

What if it stays in my head forever?

Saturday, May 15, 2010

My gemini twin

"I have to do something else besides just rock and roll.  Rock and roll is wonderful and I love it, but it's not everything.  And it's important for me to do other things.  It always has been, though.  I can't live on just one.  I'm a gemini." - Stevie on why she practiced ballet.

Well there you go.  Turns out Stevie's birthday is 5 days before mine, on May 26th.  (Mine's the 31st.  Aaron's is the 27th and Mark's is the 22nd...  guess we'll add Stevie to the list of honorees for our Gemini Potluck Party.)

And by the way, with that quote?  I am Sold.  Officially obsessed with Stevie Nicks.  Scratch  my entire birthday entry down there and just get me her biography, discography, whatever you can find. I'm diving in.  There's something about her that I understand.  Yes.

Here's our setlist for tonight, by the way:

Second Hand News
Little Lies
Dreams
Hold Me
Go Your Own Way
Don't Stop

Yes, I had to sacrifice all the other best Stevie songs to get Dreams, but um.  I was GOING to get Dreams.  And the rest - well, they're all just so This Blue Heavenly. 

So one last time, the Fleetwood Mac Cover-Up is tonight at Lizard Lounge. Doors at 7, starts at 8.  Please refer to the last few entries for all the details and links you could possibly need.

Friday, May 14, 2010

You know, it's like I try to fit the impossible into twenty-four hours.

I've been reading about Stevie, trying to pin down exactly what went on in her personal life....  As far as I can tell, she had an electrical love with Lindsey Buckingham, a soulmate love with Joe Walsh, a great love affair with Mick Fleetwood, and a best-friendship with Tom Petty.  All these creators...

So if not for me, then do it for yourself.  If not for me, then do it for the world.  Poet, priest of nothing. - from "Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You"

About that line, she said:  

It means all of the rock and roll stars in the world that I know. They're all poets and they're all priests of nothing and they're all legends.

It's like, they are poets. But they don't push themselves to their limits. 'Priests of nothing' means they don't try hard enough. They don't do with what they have what I feel they could do. And so whenever I get involved with any of them, I tend to become like their manager and their agent. You know, 'Why don't we get out your piano and plug it in and write a song or something? Or arrange this for me.'

It's like, I even know that if I could even just get them to the piano, if I could just lure them with a glass of wine and some carrots and stuff and just like get them to the piano, that they'll be home free and so will I because I'll get to stand there and watch them be brilliant, and probably write something, and they will be knocked out because they're doing what they do, and they forget they have a job, you know.

This is a woman who, when on the road, would get in to her hotel room at 4 a.m. after a show and then light some candles and incense, sit down at her typewriter and write for another three hours, journaling the trip.  At the end of a tour she would bind up the notes, make copies and give them out to the band members.

I don't know where I'm going with this.  But I identify with this woman.  I identify with her experience of these significant loves.  I identify with her pleasure in standing there watching them be brilliant.  I identify with her need for atmosphere and the perfect solitude of writing while the world sleeps.  I identify with her going off while the instrument-players recorded at the studio, finding her own space, sitting down at her keyboard and writing Dreams.

She calls herself a priestess of way too much -- her problem the opposite of not trying hard enough:  not knowing when to stop.  And I think it's the not-stopping that makes me scared of the ways I identify with her.  Because as much as I want to endlessly chase all my urges to create and inspire, I equally want a home with a height chart on the wall and heavy furniture.  How do I fit all that into my twenty-four?

Thursday, May 13, 2010

I was not going to be a stupid girl singer. I was going to be way more than that.



THIS SATURDAY NIGHT, MAY 15th!
The Cover Up with Brendan Boogie presents
FLEETWOOD MAC


Seriously, get tickets now... here.  Come early & stay late.  Don't know Tusk?  Here's a sample...

Monday, May 10, 2010

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman who loves you

Well, it was only a matter of time, and as of this posting, it is only a matter of SIX days before This Blue Heaven takes the Lizard Lounge stage and does our best to live up to all those Fleetwood Mac comparisons!



So in anticipation & celebration of this amazing event, this week's blog will be over-taken by...

(A) incessant reminders about show details:


THIS SATURDAY NIGHT, MAY 15th!
The Cover Up with Brendan Boogie presents
FLEETWOOD MAC


Our set will feature special guests:
  
Boston Band Crush's sparkling star atop the local music scene, Ashley Willard

Pop effervescents Leesa Coyne & Travis Richter of Naked on Roller Skates

Smoldering soprano Sophie Innerfield of Highly Personal Trash

The incandescent Magen Tracy from St. Helena (because we wouldn't want her to have any extra downtime... or drinking time)

And last but never least, Cover-Up ringmaster -- 
the prolific, the profane, the promiscuous 
Brendan Boogie himself!  

THIS SHOW WILL SELL OUT.  BUY ADVANCE TIX HERE.

(B) Fleetwood Mac-themed entries:

I kinda suspect that my entries will tend to be maybe a bit Stevie Nicks-focused.  As a woman up front with nothing but her voice and (suddenly) a tambourine, what can I say?  Stevie's a frontwoman model for me.

According to Stevie's bio page, this song (which, to my knowledge, no one will be performing Saturday night) was the cause of a lot of turmoil for her -- and possibly the reason she first decided to strike out on her own.  It was a song about Lindsey, left off of Rumours:  According to Bob Brunning's biography of the band, Stevie "tore out into the parking lot and screamed with anger, frustration, and shock that the song she wrote about Lindsey was going to be relegated to the B-side of his song about her, 'Go Your Own Way.'"




I can't help but wonder if Lindsey's continuing resistance to that song had anything to do with that lyric. You'll never get away from the sound of the woman who loves you.  Could any lyric sum up the band's tension better than that?

Friday, May 7, 2010

Birthday List (a work in progress)










(for my Leonard Cohen NY show poster)




(or maybe just:)


(to visit my beloveds)















Thursday, May 6, 2010

List

oil pastels

striped apples

new leaves that are wings taking first flight

the world keeps shapeshifting beyond these beige walls and fluorescent lights

a tiny bird with a song like 100 pebbles dropping all at once into 100 magic ponds

thoughts that unfurl completely

phone calls from my sister

nightswimming, rem

a finished story

overhauled overalls

a perfect meeting of talent and need

her problem is she's problematic

a daring move

there is no right decision, only one that reflects priorities

a summer picnic

satisfaction

friends singing harmonies on dreams

friends spontaneously showing up in town

rocksitting

orange salamander

this is grace, this is bliss