I haven’t had too much to report on lately. Sort of been keeping to myself again over here.
Fall is here and even though I don’t like to admit it to myself—-I am trying to fight off the urge to shut down and hibernate. And for some reason “hunger” comes with the colder weather and more darkness. Why is that? and why is it ALWAYS the heavy foods I have done so well to eat in moderation? Why can’t they scream: YUM! CARROT STICKS!
Instead of: Huge Block of Expensive Imported Creamy Cheeeeese…
(?)
Why can’t it look like this in my head?
So I have been ramping up the Netflix again, but not to be a vegetable and give into the hunger inducing sedentary demons of fall and winter in Wisconsin and lay on the couch while watching my Netflix TV show finds…
More... October 8, 2008 | | Views (65)
I got inspired today!
(tonight)
(whatever)
Here’s how.
So today, I finished up some client webwork, and decided to wander down State Street in Downtown Madison this afternoon to get inspired. I love the energy down there. And all things to look at. And the food smells. And a crazy protester who literally got in my face:
“Hey, carrot top! You with the gorgeous green eyes!”
(thank you by the way, don’t care if you are crazy and full of BS, it was still nice to hear)
“You look like you’re looking for something but don’t even know it!”
Oh, I know it alright. I am brutally aware, in fact. Every day. Thank you for confirming it though, (loudly might I add) to the surrounding lunch crowd, Sir. Next time keep your soul prying comments to yourself.
After that lovely call-out on a street corner, I went to my favorite store which sells all sorts of hooey fooey items and bought some yummy rose scented incense and sage bundles as I gather those for winter as I feel this house is going to need a lot of “clearing” considering the negative energy that seems to build up between 2 people while being shut in for 9 months. Ever see the Shining?
Also picked up a pin for my bag (purse whatever) that proudly says “Jesus was a Liberal”
…because come on, let’s face it, he was. Wandering the desert, living peacefully, trying to help others, live and let live, helping out the poor, hanging out with the dregs of society, plus he was Jewish, so why did HE get to go to heaven and sit on the good side of Pa and the other dude called the Holy Spirit, but supposedly all other Jewish folks go to hell?
…beeeeeeeeecause they don’t believe in Jesus.
…eeeeeeeeeeven though Jesus was a Jew.
…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand Jesus loves all the little children in the world (so the song goes)
Hm.
But I won’t even get into that discussion because THAT is the line of questioning that got me into a lot of trouble with my priest (Father Erv) when I was 8 and getting ready for communion and my first confession and all that bees wax. But I made it. I was saved. And got to confess all my 8 year old sins, and have a nice little wafer to seal the deal.
One thing I have learned is that the Catholic church does not like questions.
And I had (have) a lot of them.
Nuns, REALLY don’t like questions.
Especially ones like “How could Jesus have grown into a full man and died in less than a year?” I was sent to the back of Sat morn CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine class) and had to stand the rest of the class for that one because she thought I was being a smart ass, but I wasn’t. I really actually was quite confused. Hey lady, we just spent the whole month of December singing about sweet tiny non-walking baby Jesus less than 5 months ago. I might be 8, but even I know it takes a year for me to turn 9.
I get it now.
I think.
Sort of.
It isn’t important since I believe in my own version of a Higher Power and feel it should be that way for everyone. Whatever brings you sweet comfort in the dark of the frightening night of why we are all here. I’m still working with that. Which is one of the reasons why I “don’t” sleep.
Anyway, I did get inspired tonight and started writing up a little tune. Ohhhhhhhh, as you can see from the photos below, it was a rocking good time here in my studio. Complete with LSD in that one (and that other) photo. My dog was quite impressed by the magic. She’s the best fan ever. Though I wish she’d clap. She can’t though. She has no thumbs. And her arms don’t work that way.
First, allow me to introduce my lovely pet, my Archer Guitar complete with tiger stripes.
And a green leopard strap on.
it.
See it lounging languidly in my swank spinny 70’s chair, all gussied up, tired after rocking out.
I feel it needs a name, yet one has not found it. I’m working on it though.
Sometimes the musical inventing happens on the piano, sometimes in my head, sometimes on my guitar. I hope to post this little diddy soon. We’ll see. My guitar playing is, well, not very good. At. All. But Sometimes you just have to do it anyway. Right? Sure. What the hell.
September 11, 2008 | | Views (30)
Before I get into the context of this photo…
I need to discuss my first form of freedom located here:
I know. How can a bike be freedom? Oh but it is. Check out my sweet basket!
I now can go up to our local “market” (aka as the glorified Shell station with groceries) and pop them in my basket and viola! This excites me to no end. I have wanted a basket FOREVER. And now I have one. Too bad LuLu is a 65LB black lab and can’t fit in there like Toto.
I felt so incredibly European when I rode home from the bike shop this morning after they repaired my back tire, with my bag slung over my shoulder and the sun beaming down on me like a beacon.
I also need to point out that I break several rules when I ride my bike.
Please keep in mind that I live literally in the middle of nowhere and ride during the morning when everyone is at work already. That being said, I usually don’t wear my helmet AND I listen to my ipod (if I perish exercising, that will truly be the most ironic statement ever mind you)
It is just that the motion plus the music makes me feel truly alive. And free. Kind of like when I am playing rockstar on a stage, as a matter of fact.
Hm.
That just dawned on me.
Very interesting.
It’s pure euphoria. Riding my bike with music and rocking out onstage which involves (albeit lame) movement on my part and music. Can I have that in a bottle please? No. The drug companies and street pushers haven’t picked up on this quite yet. I will have to settle on my bike and pipedreams.
Speaking of that, this afternoon after a long grueling trip to the grocery store crammed with the most oblivious people on the planet and one way-beyond-irritable spouse, instead of slipping into some sort of downward domestic spiral that may have required alcohol, I instead pretended the beginning of this afternoon didn’t happen (denial is an incredibly underestimated river in Egypt I am discovering) and laid down some vocals for Sweet Jelly, our drummer Anthony sent me several days ago.
Anthony has been working very hard behind the scenes with our recording process, and I wanted to devote my full attention to laying down the best vocals I possibly could. Polishing up Here We Go, is what we are working on right now.
The internet is, and always has been, a wondrous and glorious thing for Sweet Jelly. Living 2 hours away from my bandmates, I feel this set-up is going to work out really good for us (finally).
However as I was losing myself and repairing the damage that was done at the grocery store earlier, the outside world was making this euphoric musical journey a challenging one this afternoon. What seemed like every 15 minutes, someone would ring our doorbell and hand out election flyers (3 times this happened). I am fine with the flyers, but why do I have to come to the door and receive them? And since ALL of our windows and doors were open, how do I even try to explain what it is I am doing? Singing at the top of my lungs while all the music action is taking place inside my headphones? They really must have wondered when they waltzed up our walk. So in context, unfortunately, this is the face our uninvited guests got every time I opened the door.
“Hi, can I help you? No really, how can I help you? Oh good, more paper. Election? No I haven’t heard. President. You DON’T SAY.“
Here is me realizing there is someone (again) at the door mid-verse.
…right before interrupting this…
…and this…
…and this…
Oh and my neighbors were trying to have a cookout behind us today, but I am afraid I may have ruined that too as, once again, our windows are all open and when I sing, well, I’m not exactly quiet. Sorry neighborhood. Oh hell, what do I care. They all know I’m in a band and look at me all cock-eyed when they ask about it while I cut the grass, make my garbage pilgrimage to the curb every Wednesday night or get my mail. Might as well humor them with loud vocals sans instruments on a quiet sunny September Sunday afternoon.
September 7, 2008 | | Views (21)