Friday, February 16, 2007
I had a show last night. It was three years ago to the day that Ad Frank and I met. I did a cover of 'True Blue' and dedicated it to him. He had never heard the song before, he listened to far better music than I did in the 80's. Ad Frank+Me+three year anniversary=drunken late night. So, on four hours sleep and a hangover slowly creeping in, I will try and update from where my computer shit on me and erased my thoughtful prose.
Crap. Let's see.
I have not written any good lyrics in over a month. I have written sentences that won’t marry each other and then float around like phone numbers on scrap paper. I have chords, melodies, and rhythms that want so desperately to have words bring them to life, but nothing comes. I have decided that I need to paint or do something else with my hands besides worry about music. I recently painted some t-shirts for a valentines present, and that was nice. I neglected practicing to do it, but it was worth it to think differently. I haven’t painted anything besides walls in over a year. Ah yes, my familiar friends the walls.
At 6:30 last night I still had no idea what I was wearing to my show. This is very unlike me as I enjoy finding inexpensive pieces of tea-stained colored clothing and cutting it to look the way I want it to. Adorning it with my red sash, throwing on a petticoat or pantaloons and calling it a night. However, I didn’t feel like doing that this time. I don’t know if it was the weather, the fact that it was the day after Valentines, or general malaise. I wanted to wear black, which is weird because I never wear black onstage. I barely wear black in real life.
Earlier in the week I had purchased three black t-shirts with a haphazard idea that I was going to cut and paint them. It was 6:30pm, and I still had nothing to wear. I had a shitty day. I woke up incredibly sad for no reason. I was anxious all day. Taking scissors to a shirt sounded like the best idea ever, so very cathartic. So I pulled out my blue handled friend and began to cut. I took out my freshly purchased fabric paint and began to write ‘love will tear us apart’ around the newly formed ‘collar’. I was having fun so I decided the whole band needed shirts. An hour later all three shirts were done, ironed, sealed and ready to get sweat in. It made me feel infinitely better. It was small, but it did the trick.
I was talking to some friends at the show about Boston and moving to other places. I haven’t thought about it in a long time, I have had so much change—and things continue to change—but people were making valid points that I had been ignoring, or at least not letting it bother me, for awhile now.
This winter is killing me. We had it so good for months, abnormally good, really very wrong good, but it made it so tolerable. It has been 20 or below and wind-chills below 0 for two weeks now. I don’t want to leave my house, I don’t want to walk, I don’t want to do anything but be warm. And watch Six Feet Under. God, I love that show. I’m on season 4, only one more to go. Watching this show is heaven for me right now, every character and episode is like a good book I can’t put down. So I watch another episode, hours pass, and I escape from everything that is wrong for a little while more.
Lyrics continue to go unwritten.
In my personal life, that I won’t really talk about, I am dealing with a lot of different things; who to close off, to open up to, what to risk, real vs. the excitement of the first fresh stages, saying good-bye, aging, loss, and the ways that you saw your life and how that can change when someone throws a wrench in your plans, and not knowing if it’s a good wrench or a bad wrench.
I love my fans and friends. I love their emails and comments letting me know that they are thinking of me. I love having this thing that makes people feel connected to someone they don’t really know. It’s narcissistic, probably, but it keeps me going. It makes me feel special. Not more special than anyone else, just special.
A boy that came to my show a few months ago noted that the audience was 70% male to 30% female. That’s the way it’s always been, I don’t get it. I know I’ve talked about this before, but this has been happening both in my friendships and audience attendance since I was a child. Girls don’t like me and most boys are intimidated or something. Maybe it’s the problem I have where I can’t hide how I feel about someone….at all. If I like you or don’t, I can’t fake it. Never been good at it. I can tell from the second I meet someone if I like them or not. I mean I can fake it to a point, but not for a friendship or a potential date. I’d rather be alone than be with someone temporary or stupid. My friend Sue said something like ‘you’re not a girl to date, you’re a girl to fall in love with’. But she likes me.
Crap. Let's see.
I have not written any good lyrics in over a month. I have written sentences that won’t marry each other and then float around like phone numbers on scrap paper. I have chords, melodies, and rhythms that want so desperately to have words bring them to life, but nothing comes. I have decided that I need to paint or do something else with my hands besides worry about music. I recently painted some t-shirts for a valentines present, and that was nice. I neglected practicing to do it, but it was worth it to think differently. I haven’t painted anything besides walls in over a year. Ah yes, my familiar friends the walls.
At 6:30 last night I still had no idea what I was wearing to my show. This is very unlike me as I enjoy finding inexpensive pieces of tea-stained colored clothing and cutting it to look the way I want it to. Adorning it with my red sash, throwing on a petticoat or pantaloons and calling it a night. However, I didn’t feel like doing that this time. I don’t know if it was the weather, the fact that it was the day after Valentines, or general malaise. I wanted to wear black, which is weird because I never wear black onstage. I barely wear black in real life.
Earlier in the week I had purchased three black t-shirts with a haphazard idea that I was going to cut and paint them. It was 6:30pm, and I still had nothing to wear. I had a shitty day. I woke up incredibly sad for no reason. I was anxious all day. Taking scissors to a shirt sounded like the best idea ever, so very cathartic. So I pulled out my blue handled friend and began to cut. I took out my freshly purchased fabric paint and began to write ‘love will tear us apart’ around the newly formed ‘collar’. I was having fun so I decided the whole band needed shirts. An hour later all three shirts were done, ironed, sealed and ready to get sweat in. It made me feel infinitely better. It was small, but it did the trick.
I was talking to some friends at the show about Boston and moving to other places. I haven’t thought about it in a long time, I have had so much change—and things continue to change—but people were making valid points that I had been ignoring, or at least not letting it bother me, for awhile now.
This winter is killing me. We had it so good for months, abnormally good, really very wrong good, but it made it so tolerable. It has been 20 or below and wind-chills below 0 for two weeks now. I don’t want to leave my house, I don’t want to walk, I don’t want to do anything but be warm. And watch Six Feet Under. God, I love that show. I’m on season 4, only one more to go. Watching this show is heaven for me right now, every character and episode is like a good book I can’t put down. So I watch another episode, hours pass, and I escape from everything that is wrong for a little while more.
Lyrics continue to go unwritten.
In my personal life, that I won’t really talk about, I am dealing with a lot of different things; who to close off, to open up to, what to risk, real vs. the excitement of the first fresh stages, saying good-bye, aging, loss, and the ways that you saw your life and how that can change when someone throws a wrench in your plans, and not knowing if it’s a good wrench or a bad wrench.
I love my fans and friends. I love their emails and comments letting me know that they are thinking of me. I love having this thing that makes people feel connected to someone they don’t really know. It’s narcissistic, probably, but it keeps me going. It makes me feel special. Not more special than anyone else, just special.
A boy that came to my show a few months ago noted that the audience was 70% male to 30% female. That’s the way it’s always been, I don’t get it. I know I’ve talked about this before, but this has been happening both in my friendships and audience attendance since I was a child. Girls don’t like me and most boys are intimidated or something. Maybe it’s the problem I have where I can’t hide how I feel about someone….at all. If I like you or don’t, I can’t fake it. Never been good at it. I can tell from the second I meet someone if I like them or not. I mean I can fake it to a point, but not for a friendship or a potential date. I’d rather be alone than be with someone temporary or stupid. My friend Sue said something like ‘you’re not a girl to date, you’re a girl to fall in love with’. But she likes me.
posted by Sarah RabDAU at
11:13 AM
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