Friday, December 31, 2010
HAPPY NEW YEAR, FOLKS!!
Here's a song I've been listening to and loving:
Go Outside by Cults
2011!! What!?! Have a GREAT one!!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
heart broken
Thursday, September 24, 2009
PS.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Another Airport Adventure
But then it was also good, because I realized that I am incredibly strong, like Incredible Hulk strong because I had to quell my strength so as not to pick up my suitcase and throw it through the glass doors, because then I would probably not make it to New Jersey today. At least I'm not on stand-by.
Airports make me hate humanity.
And slow zones on the Blue Line make me want to rip the seats from the fixtures and scream like an animal. And then I would rip my ovaries out like that silverback gorilla does in "Congo" and throw them at the conductor and say, "GO THE SPEED LIMIT" and then I would cry and whimper, "I don't want to miss my flight" and then I would curl into a fetal position and rock myself to sleep, sprinkling my dreams with salty tears.
I'm going to Joisey! I'm excited! I'm moving to Korea! I'm scared!
My friend, Lauren, brings up an interesting point...
So come on, come on, come on and laugh and dance with me...
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Really Awesome Candy
Also, is it just me or does Mr. Hughes bear a slight resemblance to the dearly departed, Mr. Mitch Hedberg? Probably just the sunglasses, shaggy hair and my overexposure to the sun. Or, they could be brothers.
Friday, July 10, 2009
So it goes...
One good thing about the gates opening early was the cut in waiting time - we were probably only in line for an hour, or so. I got a sinking feeling in my chest as we pulled into the campgrounds, surrounded by unfamiliar, far off seeming landmarks of highways and fence borders... this looks miles away from last year, and to prove it, a map of camping locations relative to the festival grounds (if you'll note the main stage is in the top left-hand corner, the entrance to music just below the center lake... our camping spot last year was just before the second cluster of trees off the main road, on the left of center... this year, this year we were camped in the lower right-hand corner, down about 12 tents from the barn, on the right - that's right, we walked)..
(Above: view grounds from roof of car, KVH. Note: music straight ahead and to the left) Our neighbors were Max and Susie from DC, and Elliot, Colby and Derek from Iowa. We were all smiles. The clouds were perfect nap coverage, so Katie and I took advantage of the cool afternoon and snuggled down; in the tiny tent I threatened farts as we were head-to-feet and my butt was in her face; I laughed, she smacked.
Lifesavas and the Mighty Underdogs DJin' MJ shit from the Quannum All Stars. Future Rock was synth happy and bass heavy, super trance! I really liked Lotus. Katie and I opted for a seated side view, and watched the music and lights wash over the captivated crowd with guitar revelation. I really liked 'em. Really a lot. Agreed with the guy grinning giantly, one of the best sets of the fest. For sure. And spectacular lighting, too, but that can be said for a lot, if not all, of the shows. OH MY GOD! The Cool Kids, yes! Yes! They were so good. Ooh! And on the way from Future Rock to Lotus, I found a branch/walking stick that instantly became both a blessing and a burden, though it was the perfect dancing accessory to the hip-hop happiness and stirring it up while shaking it down. I was very happy to finally see the Cold War Kids live, and they were fantastic! Notes while waiting for the CWK:.

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The Dead played that night, and my. Wow. Well, that was an experience. Awesome and terrifying as there were moments the music felt like it was going to collapse around me. More pictures of the penguin during moments of high anxiety make me curious as to how they turned out... the naked, hopping, spinning hippies made me smile, but they weren't always in view as after half an hour or so their spinning spread a wider radius. There were two or three little hippie boys with their families on a blanket off to the right, in front of us, and one of the little boys wasn't enjoying the show at the same time I wasn't enjoying the show and we were both sitting down, but he had a blanket, and all I had was my penguin costume because we were tired of carrying that stinkin' blanket, so I hugged my knees and laughed as the moon rose through the trees and the sky painted itself from mauve to black. Thoughts of prioritizing penguins, reaching pure penguin potential and worries over origins and habitats were interrupted by one of the little hippies who wanted to know about Katie's and my glow laterns. As he quizzed Katie on the glow, the ends of his long golden hair flew in the fading sunlight, his lil pot belly poked out of his open plaid shirt and he titled his head inquisitively. He informed us that he did not, in fact, like it when glow sticks were thrown in the air in celebration because it was littering. Then he started going off on about how it'd be neat to ride in a balloon packed with so much helium that it'll fly up to outerspace and float around for a while... that's littering, too, kid, and a surefire way to get yourself lost in space, maybe you shouldn't eat so much acid next time. We made fun of his imagination as Katie and I watched his friends try to reproduce our glow latern by his instructions. We danced through the crowd for the rest of the Dead's set.
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SUNDAY!! chillin' [out max and relaxin' all cool]Finishing the festival out with more yoga. Still kind of tired from no nap on Saturday and end up drinking 5 beers and falling asleep on the blanket throughout different sets in the afternoon. Toots! and the Maytals were a fun time, sunnin'. Peter Rowan Bluegrass Band with Tony Rice was enjoyably Southern. Guster was great! Classic. Perfect Sunday afternoon easy listening. Fell asleep at Grace Potter and the Nocturnals and woke up to Matisyahu's wailing to mosey over to Willie Nelson & Family - I fell asleep in the shade for this one, then Katie wandered away and I didn't want to stay, but we forgot our whistles so I looked around and closed my eyes again. We left to take down camp to "Gotta Get Drunk" so that made me happy.
Tent take-down and once last trek inside for Dylan's closing. Phenomenal. The man has not lost his touch. So good to close on.
Farewell, Rothbury. With your stinkin' happy hippies and fans of music. Through the dust and the clouds we made it to dance in the sunshine and bask in the glory of it all. What a way to celebrate our freedoms by 4 days of fun. Though we forgot a few things, we made due and saw our way through, happily, through to the end, driving home with hopes to do it again.
1. Medicine 2. More costumes 3. Block ice 4. Jeans 5. Blanket/tapestry - and there was something else...
A Couple notes in closing....
"Wishing and hoping don't make things come true without action.
Life and music. Stop rushing to certain points without being aware and experiencing the ride there. It's a musical thing and we're supposed to dance or sing while the music is being played.
Shoulders lowered, elbows drawn in. To be one with and recognize our relation to the Earth. The center of our being. Oneness. The breath of life flowing in and out.
It really was a majestic and magnificent place, I have to say that. And for all the pictures that I meant to take, but didn't, at least I can hold the memory as beautiful and remember the serene, peaceful feeling upon stepping into those woods and breathing in the scent of pine and the cool, damp Earth; marvelous."
Also, I'd like to investigate the level of green-ness at this festival. Lighting, etc. Is it all solar? Didn't seem so. Festival claims to be green, but not all attendees seem to have the same feeling as there was so much trash at the end, yet so many places to trash, compose or recycle your waste. Disappointing, people, and I heard no artists encourage a brother or sister to throw away the trash they see. "Five pieces, everybody!" Noneathat. Though I did see some people helping out. Katie and me, too.
"My face hurts from smiling so much." KVH, 7/4/09
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
I digress.
Rewind. So, I volunteer as a script reader for a regional theater here in the city; yesterday I went in to return the last two [terrible, awful, how could the playwrights be proud!?] scripts I reviewed, and sheesh! What a relief it was to get them off my desk. Seriously bad, and I honestly believe I could do better than at least one of them, the second one had potential but was lacking in plot development and comprehension. Annnnyway, the one was so awful that I wrote, "I wanted to rip my hair out, strand by strand, by the end of the first page. Yeah, it’s another one of those, “Here’s my story on how I failed and succeeded at getting pregnant.” There was no conflict, no drama, no excitement. I didn’t care about any of the characters - they all annoyed me. This “play” may do better as a memoir, or a short story, or saved for the kids’ baby books. It read like a love letter to herself and she didn’t care whether or not anyone would be intrigued by reading, listening or watching it (nor did she even change her character's name from her own). Awful; throw it away and set fire to the trash can." So, that was fun to write a mean review rather than having to sift through all the pages singing praise about everything I loved. But so yeah, I'm talking to the boss man and he asks how my writing's going, and I say, oh, not really... at all, it's mostly just in my head. And it's not just thinking, if that's what you're thinking, it really is composition, only I'm not putting it to paper. I "write" and "re-write" in my head on runs and promise to put it to paper upon my return home, but stretching and other distractions lend to my forgetfulness. I digress. I told him that I hope my move to South Korea will be a blessing in terms of my writing because of the loneliness and isolation I will feel from lack of familiarity will spurn me to churn out page after page of prose and who knows. I digress.
This morning, over honey-drizzled strawberry waffles and soy milk-infused coffee, I read The New Yorker and my, how literary I felt, as still feel. The after effects of that magazine are truly dizzying in the most delicious way (note: I hope to be published in it one day). I read about potential panthers prowling in New Jersey, poems (of course) and a writer named Bruno Schulz, who seemed to have touched the lives of everyone he met with the life he lead and the words he wrote. "He was one of those men on whose head God lays His hand while they are asleep so that they get to know what they don't know, so that they are filled with intuitions and conjectures, while the reflections of distant worlds pass across their closed eyelids" ("Spring" a story by Schulz about Alexander the Great).
"And I always admired him, for the way he would talk and we would see a picture. We could smell the things he described. I remember how, for example, he described the smell of cinnamon, which was dominant in the commercial area of Drohobycz, and I, all my life, never could stand the smell of cinnamon, but only when he described it I loved it..." -- Ze'ev Fleischer, a pupil of Schulz.
Anyway, so I was inspired to sit down and write, digressing along the way, sharing things with you, if I may...
Yes, yes, you think, but you're probably wrong.
