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 (23)
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 (14)
…if you are having a nervous breakdown? When you don’t ask anymore? So I am safe? Well, maybe not out of the woods yet, but I have this odd little plan that just popped into my head at 12:30AM, on a now, Saturday morning that I thought I would share with the world wide web.
See in high school, I was a hermit. A nerdy little awkward honor roll good little girl hermit. Sure I had an equally nerdy awkward boyfriend of 4 years (starting in 8th grade, sorry Mom, I lied we WERE dating, but she found that out the yucky way when I was in surgery at 15 and found some (very) dirty poems he had written me in my purse I left with her, meaning, 14yrs old = DUMBASS) but then he ended up banging someone on his trip to Germany in my Junior year, but that is ok because I was being vigorously pursued by the (hotter than hot) boy named Scott, eventually ended up falling HOPELESSLY “in love with” (I really did, sadly) that we all know later broke my heart into ten thousand pieces so at the time, didn’t really care who Eric banged in Germany to be quite truthful….oh but you should have been there for that particular conversation (after he casually mentioned it to me as we were looking at his trip pix’s)….
“Hey, who is this ?”
“That’s Megan. We sort of had sex while I was over there.”
(crickets)
“Uh-huh-wait……..um, pardon, you did what?”
(pointing to the picture I was holding of some chick with piercings and a tattoo that obviously looked a little more “worldly” than I was)
“Yeah, I banged her, Carol (same breath) but I brought you home some soap that they use there which is called Carol Soap. Here…..”
(I even think I said thank you as he plopped it in my hand)
I wish you all had been there really. It was quite entertaining when I think of it now. Too bad there isn’t video. I would like to see it, actually.
Ah but these are (true) stories for other times.
ANYWAY
Before I discovered “boys” (and I will use the term “discovered” in loose terms) I was a hermit nerdy girl with depression/anxiety attacks that spent A LOT of time alone in my room after I got home from school, listening to my music in headphoneland (complete solace and bliss mind you) singing and acting out all songs that graced my ears while making my animated films (yes, Morgyn, they are on VHS, but I will have to look for them, I know you asked) I made a film every year starting in 6th grade until 12th grade on my little super 8 camera and hand painted cels. THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS upon THOUSANDS of drawings and plastic cels that were all painted on. I spent a year on each little film. And they all had soundtracks coordinated to them. It was quite the production.
All I know is that ANYTHING was possible in that room of mine. It was a magical place. I was gonna make it big, I was sure of it.
Although please note that the last film I made Junior/Senior year, I was distracted by my above romance drama and didn’t make the film I always envisioned which has always bugged me. Lost time I will never be able to get back and really, knowing what I know now, I SHOULD have stayed in my room making my stuff and listening to bad 80’s music.
Which by the way is the reason for this post.
So my plan is this. Since I was REALLY artistically productive during that time (roughly 1983-1989; quite the manic time) I have started importing all my shitty 80’s music and listening to it. And you know what? It ACTUALLY is making this process tonight, a LOT easier! I am chugging along here without the negative bastards pounding at the door of my mind. Wait. Gotta check again. Nope! They aren’t there! Did I find their secret out? That they HATE 80’s music? Is that all it took? A swift kick of Opposites Attract and Cold Hearted Snake to keep them at bay? We’ll see. This is just an experiment and may be short lived, and I may be blogging soon from the quiet hospital.
What are the tasty skeleton treats I have unlocked from my closet? I have no shame, here they are…
Early Madonna mainly La Isla Bonita (I had the 45, yes, the vinyl 45!) Cherish, Material Girl (I loved her vintage dress and the dance prodcution, I confess) and Into The Groove OH AND LET’S NOT FORGET the ultimate teenage romance song, True Blue. Yep, this was me in my room. I was quite the star of my own imagination. And frankly, I rocked.
Roxette, yes, that’s right, fricking Roxette. Got a problem with that? Too bad. Dressed for Success is taking me back to my happy place and there is nothing you can do about it.
Neneh Cherry! Buffalo Stance. I know this by heart. Even still which may in fact = sad.
Oh, and Debarge’s Who’s Johnny. Seriously. How can you NOT like this song? You have no soul if you do. I said the song, not the video mind you. The video sucks large amounts of poop.
The Thriller album should be coming up next because I was thrown into that by no fault of my own. I was just the right age at the right time. And he was dreamy. And had a llama. Where was this video for me to see in the 80’s??? I still want a llama. Keep the creepy monkey though. I don’t really like monkeys. (sorry Mo)
Oh if only we could have the righteous vintage MJ back with his voice and wicked dance moves.
But no, he had to piss it all away.
Like they all do.
(sigh)
Back to dreaming big dreams in my little room.
Everything old IS new again. How delightful.
September 6, 2008 | | Views (19)
But THIS time I’m staying put in my little inner tube. If you were passing by on a huge ocean-liner during this squall, you would probably point and say: Bloody madness! Sure. But what other choice do I have really?
Photo courtesy of The Onion
Care for a long story? Sure. That’s why you come here.
More... August 12, 2008 | | Views (11)
So on my internet travels this evening, I found this little gem that I totally forgot about. My band, Sweet Jelly, did a radio interview back in 2006 and I dug it up for your listening pleasure this evening. Or morning if this is that time for you.
Sweet Jelly Radio Interview March 2006
Official Radio Site
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
August 10, 2008 | | Views (11)
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