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Sunday, July 19th, 2009
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11:14 pm
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3:41 pm
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1:27 pm
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from our last show at the skate park, 6-26-09. this was taken with our friend's digital camera, so he couldn't get the entire song.
I look like a dork. and it's weird to be watching myself. by weird I mean extremely disconcerting.
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(22 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, July 12th, 2009
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5:07 pm
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| Saturday, July 11th, 2009
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8:08 pm
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woke up this morning to a crisis averted. then to celebrate, mimosas, blueberry muffins. before noon, drove to the theatre, saw public enemies. only scoffed three times (max) so a good film! afterward, derek bought me new strings for my gretsch, which I still have not named. a nap with rainy dreams and then out to the porch to combat mosquitoes with the overhead fan and citronella incense while I dove into typing up my zine. right now the plan is three different threads, differentiated by the fonts - (perpetua, typewritten, handwritten). there's no real unity, and I feel strange even working on a zine at 25 because I am completely apolitical, and who wants to read the lazy summer vignettes of a girl my age?
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| Wednesday, July 8th, 2009
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10:19 pm
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all these photographs trying to represent "love" as though love is nothing more than two attractive people, slightly exposed (playfully hiding from the camera? aware but pretending not to be?) in some sort of embrace - curled up together in bed, kissing, running through fields half-nude. well, okay...but how shallow, how confining - how facile! I'm no expert, but I much prefer the idea of love being singing "hey jealousy" together in horrible falsettos and watching hours of human weapon on friday nights while eating pizza and car-dancing to the classic rock station at red lights.
and speaking of love - a new song:
torch song.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, July 7th, 2009
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9:56 pm
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| Sunday, July 5th, 2009
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5:12 pm
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another satisfying weekend. satisfying may be interchanged with other more-positive adjectives.
the show at the hub (friday) was great, even if certain moments were slightly strange (drunken girl in the bathroom telling me, "you look beautiful, darling"; skeezy dude apparently leering at me; drunken girl acting passive-aggresively confrontational (because she paused in front of me?); other drunken people saying things to me that made me feel uncomfortable/awkward, even though they were (probably) joking). derek and I hadn't able to find russ iron maiden slip-on vans (we were told they weren't making them anymore) so we got him slayer slip-on vans, instead. he spent the night, instead of saying "hi" to people, pointing at his feet in greeting, so I'm fairly confident he liked his gift. derek bought me a shot of absinthe, which I've wanted to try forever (mostly entirely because of its literary connections)(well, and because anything that may cause visions is intriguing). I knew it was supposed to taste like anise, which I loathe, but I thought the flavoring would be subtle. it wasn't. it was the most disgusting thing I had ever tasted - viscous black jellybean is what it was. everyone around watching me take the shot were amused by the awful faces I was making whilst trying to choke the poison down. another dream shattered by reality. the dukes and flat stanley were great. a third band from texas played. derek and jeff both told me afterward that we were all dancing, but I must have repressed this embarrassing moment, as I do not recollect it at all.
on saturday I slept in until 3pm - unheard of for me since work has raped me of any ounce of self and has turned me into an automaton like every other working droid. I got up and immediately set to making the strawberry cream cheese frosting for my cupcakes for the barbecue at travis and jamie's. derek and I showed up two hours late. we sat around, ate, played ping-pong. right before the fireworks were scheduled, a small group of us opted to go visit our friend who was stuck in the hospital. at tampa general, the smoking area for the patients is this cute, landscaped strip next to the hillsborough river. across the river we could hear the awful techno music coming out of channelside bars and clubs. we returned to the party. people were night-swimming. I told derek that I wished I had taken my bathing suit, even though it would have made me really uncomfortable. he grabbed me, to throw me into the pool still in my clothes. matt, a guy at the party, and derek's accomplice, grabbed my shoes and my glasses. I wrapped myself around derek. they tried to pry me free, but couldn't, so derek jumped in with me locked onto him. we swam around and played marco polo (most boring game ever) with the other people in the pool. after getting out, we joined jeff and phil in the driveway to set off firecrackers and light sparklers.
over the course of the night, ...y los dos pistoles was asked to play a show at the end of july at the punk house. we accepted, but I'm apprehensive about playing there; it's the punk house. derek reminded me that most of the people there will have already seen us, and I really do need to be less uptight about these things: I have to be happy (and I am) about people actually liking us and asking us to play.
having great weekends - a blessing and a curse. they make me feel wonderful, alive, energetic, but they make returning to work that much more difficult.
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(comment on this)
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12:39 pm
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I, cautious, opened the door into the periwinkle night. with delicate steps I headed out, feeling like kira argounova in her mother's wedding dress, crawling through the hinterlands in attempt to get abroad. I walked less than twenty paces before the ice cracked and I plunged into the antarctic waters. I swam, pulling myself through the shards of ice, back to the house, where I pulled myself through the door, only to find the floor, all ice, had cracked in there as well. somehow I managed to get onto the bed, which was floating. the walls, the furniture, were all floating in this ice water. how is this floating? I thought. my dream mother (not my real mother) was floating upright by the door, wearing a silvery white nightgown, wet and tight around her body. brown hair frizzy, coiling. she was in an evil way. my dream sister (in life I have no sister) was on a dresser, trying to maneuver herself over to the bed. "I don't know what happened," she kept repeating, trying to avoid our mother's menacing glare. it wasn't actually happening in the dream, but I remember feeling as though our mother was shooting some sort of hate rays out of her eyes, which had cracked the ice and left us in this hazardous situation. I was on the bed still, freezing, wet, trying to help my sister and still trying to understand how everything was floating, and if we were going to die - how could we not die, we were surrounded by ice and ocean and an evil motherlord. everything was blues, silvers and whites.
and in another dream, I ate a peach.
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| Friday, July 3rd, 2009
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6:32 pm
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today has not been relaxing in the least. I woke up around 10, tried to fall back asleep, couldn't, so I got up, went to the gym for an hour, then headed, sweaty and in my workout clothes, to the grocery store for cupcake makings. came home, began to work on the cupcakes (cutting up a scrillion strawberries into teeny-tiny pieces) and also made dough for soft pretzels, which I let rise while I made the first batch of cupcakes. (ultimately I wanted to make 2 dozen to take to the 4th of july party we're going to tomorrow, but I have a habit of putting my "recipes" on index cards with just a list of ingredients, no names, no instructions, so I had to make one dozen first to make sure it was the recipe I wanted. such a bad virgo!) after I pulled out the cupcakes, I made the soft pretzels, half with cheddar cheese inside, the other half with cheddar cheese and pepperoni inside (for my housemates/meat-eaters). while those baked, I mixed up the second batch of cupcakes; they're in the oven now. once they're done, I'll hop in the shower, then derek and I are heading to the mall to see if we can get russ his birthday present (iron maiden slip-on vans). after that, a dukes show at the hub. good lord! it never ends.
I'm using my "feet up" icon ironically.
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(4 comments | comment on this)
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1:27 am
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I told myself that tonight I was going to finish the zine I've been working on sporadically for months, but since I had the house to myself, I recorded a song instead:
body terror.
my typewriting skills are not necessarily musical, but it was funny playing around nonetheless.
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(9 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, July 1st, 2009
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11:33 pm
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| Sunday, June 28th, 2009
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11:09 pm
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I think I need to write this out quickly, or else I'll keep bottling it up, as I do so often these days - lack of time, trying to change, trying to keep my waves uncrested. I've mentioned this before but I keep returning to it because I've not yet reached a fully integrated point of resolution.
a lot of turmoil in my life is created by the dissonance between what I view as success for me, and how I measure it. what is success but achieving what you wanted to achieve? so why do I find myself measuring my success in terms of other people's achievements? my friends from high school and college are either getting married or have already married. they've got career-oriented jobs, have gone to law school, have gotten practical masters degrees. why do I feel bad about myself for not having achieved any of that stuff when I've never wanted any of that in the first place?
I'm achieving what I've wanted to achieve. I've gotten far, far away from Hermitage. I'm in a band and we're playing shows (how far I've come - that I wrote and sang my own songs used to be my deepest, most-guarded secret; it took a lot of courage to come out to my parents about it, because they'd always been very negative about my musical endeavors - asking me not to practice my clarinet, telling me when I sang I sounded like a dying cat, etc.). we've gone into an actual recording studio and have recorded some of our songs, and will record more in the future. people seem to like us, and have been extremely complimentary. we were asked to play with ninja gun and fake problems, which, for me, is big time. I'm still working on zines and my own little projects, still filling up my black journals and reading, and baking.
derek and I are able to go to shows almost whenever we want (the only things that have stopped us are time and traffic), and even though most people don't come to tampa, we've seen some pretty amazing bands here (chuck ragan, phosphorescent, leatherface, jennifer o'connor and haley bonar, and of course all of the amazing local or lesser-known bands). We're also able to drive to orlando, gainesville, have even made the trek to atlanta.
I live in a charming house with front and back porches, wooden floors, built-in bookshelves, a claw-foot bathtub and green walls. our dining room is full of instruments. I live with my boyfriend, my bandmates and their (other) bandmate. we have a cat who likes to curl up on my lap when I'm writing letters out on the couch (either the couch in the living room or the couch on our front porch). I work a job that expects little from me; while the job itself does not stimulate me in any way, I am able to work on stories or read books online while in my own office. I get paid enough to have a decent savings and am able to buy the things I need and want (such as my great guitars and great amp).
I've reached a level of functionality. though I still get extremely awkward and shy and uncomfortable around people I don't know, I'm finally starting to be able to hang out with derek's friends without being paralyzed by the thought that they all hate me. a part of me even believes that maybe they don't all hate me, and if someone comes up to me and says, "we should hang out sometime," I feel good that someone made the offer instead of trying to zero in on the hidden malicious intent, and am able to look forward to the interaction.
I am a bohemian. I am a creator. I will never get married and I will never have children. I will never drive a lexus nor will I ever live in a million dollar house. I don't want an iphone; I don't own an ipod. my desk is littered with zines and cds and letters from amanda and photos of my cats and my notebooks and journals. out in our kitchen we have our "family portrait" - a drawing and joke that we've all contributed to. in the hallway leading to the back door, the wall is papered with all the fliers from shows the house's bands have been in. when I see the ...y los dos pistoles fliers, my heart swells with pride.
fuck growing up. fuck having a career. fuck getting my head on straight and my feet on the ground. fuck "being a success". I am a success, goddamnit. I'm living the dream - my dream. sure, there are things that I want to do that I've not done - yet. I'll get to them, there's no doubt in my mind. I'll get to them, and I'll achieve everything I want to achieve, but I'm going to do it on my terms and at my own pace. I'm doing this my way, and I'm doing it.
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(8 comments | comment on this)
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10:58 pm
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| Saturday, June 27th, 2009
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8:50 am
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three things:
1. I am now, officially, a professional musician (as in, we got paid, not as in, I can quit my job and do this full-time).
2. holy shit - people seemed to like us.
3.we are playing with Ninja Gun in August! (!!!)
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(13 comments | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009
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9:27 pm
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having had such a great weekend (in short: gainesville, dinner, bowling, JV, brunch, tubing down the ichetucknee, orlando, JV) , it's been more difficult than usual to transition back into the work week. then, with ...y los dos pistoles playing thursday and friday, this upcoming weekend could be great, too. these are examples of what weekends should be.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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12:20 am
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| Thursday, June 18th, 2009
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10:06 pm
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either ticket master won't let me order, or I've just ordered 3 sets of tickets for JV in orlando. not really sure. but if it's the latter, joke's on them: I don't keep that much money in my account (I don't trust banks). if it's the former, I hope we can buy them at the show. JV two nights in a row!
and then next week, ...y los dos pistoles shows two nights in a row!
june is pretty kick-ass.
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(comment on this)
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9:27 pm
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for the past few days I've been wanting to crawl into jolie holland's songs. I can picture an attic bedroom with dark wood, floral wallpaper with the corners drooping from heat and humidity, a half-empty glass carafe on the bedstand, an old gramophone spinning lethargically, a free-standing full-length mirror in the corner reflecting ghosts and whims, a sheer white curtain billowing from a fan's wind, a few prayer candles lit, the heavy scent of magnolias or fresh bread from a bakery below.
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| Tuesday, June 16th, 2009
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11:17 pm
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for a long time I thought I had myself all figured out, which should have led to less of these feelings. it's becoming obvious that there's something much deeper, and I'm trying to figure out how to get to it. I've considered strapping someone down, forcing them to read all of my paper journals, and then asking them what I've been missing about myself.
have you ever shared or would you ever share your private paper journals with anyone? I guess in a way I have, with my zine "tragikotatos" but that was extremely censored (I picked each entry to be put into there). I wonder how it would turn out if I made a second "tragikotatos" where I chose each entry randomly, without prior reading, and forcing myself to be strong enough to use that entry no matter what? it doesn't help me to understand myself in any way, but it's bringing down those walls, which can be a good thing (sometimes).
today I asked derek if he thought I was more of a thinker or a feeler. he couldn't decide; neither could I.
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misera's journal