I will be accompanying my friend R.S. McLennan on CJSF 90.1 fm tomorrow night. The program is Melodies in Mind, starting at 8:00 pm. Be sure to tune in! You can check out Ryan’s stuff here: http://www.myspace.com/northgatesounds
So I finished a new song today. weeeeeeeI’m glad I got over my writer’s block, its been a couple weeks since I had an inspiration. I didnt sleep Friday night, had a crazy day at work yesterday and last night my muze returned and ravished me. ;D It’s a good one, I think. Inspired by a person that I’ve come to know loosely through a friend. Maybe “know” is too strong a word, but I’ve heard more about her than I ever wanted to. haha. It’s strange, because an infatuation with one person can sometimes become displaced and focused on whatever it is they are infatuated with. There’s a word for that, it’s slipping my mind. Transference? Im going to record it tonight and work some more on it before the show. I hope it’s ready to debut at Chapel Arts. It is fitting, seeing as that night will be my send-off before jetting back to the island to start work on the 1st.I’m going to be overseeing two german homestay workers this spring/summer I just found out. I’m pretty excited to have another girl my age on the farm! I remember a little German from my time in the Waldorf system but im looking forward to learning a lot more.I’m also planning a camping trip to Tofino for May long weekend. I lucked out and got a beachfront spot at Bella Pacific, where I stayed last year. Praying for a repeat of the good weather!
In prep for my upcoming show *PLUG*
Nude-
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A collaborative look at the figurative art process.
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Some highlights of the exhibit/show:
- Figurative oil paintings/ Figurative Ink Drawings on Canvas/Figurative Acrylic paintings/Pastel Drawings
- Models will be present/Professional photos of the models(head shots) will be posted.
- Contributing artists (female vocalist, band, dj,photographer, make up artist, videographer)will be visible at the venue, in person as well as through visual representation
- Video will be shown to highlight the models preparing to be photographed, being photographed in preparation for the figurative work.It is also worth noting that it is a collective of people working together; collaborating, sharing, applying creative thought from their own area of specialization. This will allow the audience to see elements involved in the creation of a final piece of figurative art, as it is never a solely individual process.
Featured Artists:
Adrian Fuerth – oil paintings
Nathalie Morin – acrylic/ink paintings
Contributing Artists:
Elisha Clement -photo
Ellen Yang -pastel drawings (figurative)
Sheryda Warrener - poetry
Wiliam D. Amendola -video
Live Entertainment:
Bex- Folk
Never Forget Anyone
DJ Yes, Yes, NO! Yes
Models: Bex Apostoli, Elisha Clement, Ellen Yang, Erin Boswell, Laura Byspalko, Sarah Albrecht, Sara Mullin, Sheryda Warrener, Nikki Reimer
So i keep getting these emails saying I’ve won 50 gadjillion dollars in some overseas lottery. Thankfully most of them are diverted by my junk mail filter so I never have to actually see them, but occasionally one or two slips by. But it gets me to thinking… what if I actually won a lottery? how would it change me? or would it? I like to think I’d do what stereotypically cliche lottery-winners say and spoil my friends a little. Take everyone on a killer trip, maybe to hawaii or burning man or something. rent RV’s and fill them with pygmy goats and silly string and just get lost for a month or two. or give everyone I know really cool video cameras and $5000 to make their own indie films and then host my own film fest, with the winner getting a really cool prize. or I’d throw a really killer private concert with someone like U2 or dj shadow, but only for my real friends. fake friends would so be wishing they’d invited me to their parties or called me on my birthday. Maybe I’d fall in with the wrong crowd; start vacationing in miami, get a total plastic surgery makeover and develop a severe cocaine problem. Actually, that sounds pretty alright to me. On a totally unrelated note, I’ve been inundated with SXSW fever this past week. It seems like it’s everywhere, I keep seeing friend’s amazing shots of rockstars and hearing crazy stories about moon towers and mobile party RV’s. To say I’m a little jealous would be a shocking understatement. On the otherhand, I just heard there’s been an outbreak of rabid bats inhabiting the Austin convention center. Maybe it’s a good thing I passed this year. ;D
“Hey, I’m home!”
I pushed through the screen door, depositing bookbag and coat on the scarred linoleum with a tidy thud. Silence greeted me, along with the faux wood paneling and annoyingly cheerful 70’s décor. It wasn’t much, but it was now home. Tasteless tchotchkes lined the fireplace mantel, alongside my brother’s Little League trophies and dated family photos, showing two bright-eyed smiling youngers and their equally young and bright-eyed parents; a nice memory of the past, but the status quo no longer.
Dad left when I was nine and Sam only five years old. Mom took it well, or as well as to be expected of a college drop-out, divorced at twenty-eight and left to fend for herself and two children. She’s done the best she can, managing to keep a house and steady job for as long as I can remember. We’ve never wanted for food to eat or a roof over our heads- maybe for more quality time with Mom, but at this point I’ve learned that beggars can’t be choosers.
Mom always says don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, maybe that’s why she uprooted us- Sam, me and Maggie (our golden retriever,) to accept this promotion in New Haven. She always worked, for as long as I can remember. She constantly tells my brother and I how she struggled just to keep afloat in the early days, and that she just has to work a little harder, a little longer, and one day we’ll be able to take off into the sunset or something as equally corny. I used to be jealous of friends that came back from summer vacation with pictures of them waterskiing or visiting their grandparents in Utah. Now I just accept that sometimes life isn’t fair, those are the breaks, and anyways, my grandparents are long dead.
I wandered into the kitchen, pocketing a granola bar from the cupboard and let myself into the back yard. A shivering ball of golden fur streaked from behind the woodshed and darted between my legs.
“Maggie! How are you girl?” I bent down and wrapped my arms around her warm vibrating body, burying my face in her tawny fur. I grinned as she gave my face a liberal washing with her big pink tongue and scratched her favorite spot behind the ears. I felt a momentary flood of guilt at her being locked out of the house all day, but Mom says it’s the only fair thing for her and could I imagine behind locked up for ten hours without going to the toilet. Mom can be kind of blunt sometimes.
I grabbed Maggie’s favorite toy, a chewed-up yellowed tennis ball, and threw it into the far reaches of the backyard. A yellow streak of fur and wagging tail propelled after it, with an enthusiasm for life that I imagined I’d never know. Her innocent faith in me, that I would keep throwing this ball for as long as she had energy to retrieve it, was a silent comfort. Besides Mom and Sam, I’d seldom known the joy of unconditional love, and lately, Maggie was one of the few solid friends I could count on.
Since the move four months ago, everything has changed. I went from being a nobody in a high school of 3,000 to being a nobody in a school of barely 600. Well, not a total nobody; my first day at New Haven High I was subjected to many a queer stare and pregnant pause when lost in the halls, trying to find my advanced trig class. I guess they never saw a sophomore in senior’s advanced math before.
I can’t imagine they’ve had many kids from the “big city” of Des Moines try to join their ranks that often. I look different, I speak different, but there’s always one uniting factor at any school you go to- the cafeteria food always stinks. I ended up chatting uneasily to a group of straight laced Born-Agains over lumpy gravy and mystery meat casserole. They didn’t laugh at my “three rabbi’s walk into a bar” joke- maybe they’d never met anyone who wasn’t a Christian before. They were really concerned about my impending Judgment Day doom until I finally agreed to show up at one of their prayer meetings. They hold them outside the school in this dingy courtyard, but I figure it’s a good excuse to explore the marginalized sects of this infernal breeding ground for social misfits.
I’ve been trying to get a look at the kind of kids who hang out in the smoking section of the courtyard for weeks. I have English with one of them, I think. He has long dark hair that hangs past his collar and wears this leather jacket with a big Day Glo Abortions patch on the sleeve. I didn’t think anyone in Kansas even knew punk rock existed. I guess you learn something new everyday.
I mean, it’s not like I can just stroll up to these kids and make friends. It might seem that simple, but nothing is that straightforward, not when you’re in high school.
“Just stick it under your jacket!” Chelsea hissed as she forced a package of Cool Ranch Doritos into my nervous hands.
I shot a darting glance at the globelike security camera and did a quick mental calculation of the potential years in New Haven county juvenile detention center, should we be caught. I stuffed the bag of chips under my baggy Army surplus jacket and secured the zipper.
“I don’t like this. You know how my mom feels about shoplifting Chels.” I zeroed in on her gleaming green eyes with my own sorrowful brown ones.
“Don’t look at me like that. Your mom should have given you a bigger allowance if she wanted to keep you out of trouble.” Chelsea sighed. “Just look at it this way – the establishment has ignored you your whole life, letting you fall through the cracks, they expect you to exercise a little five-finger discount every now and then. So you get caught, get a tiny slap-on-the-wrist. The worst you do is a week community service, and voila- everyone feels better. Trust me, you’re fifteen, this is what we’re supposed to be doing!”
I swallowed hard, trying to believe what my best friend was telling me. It did make sense in illogical, round a bout kind of way.
I grabbed a Snickers and shoved it deep into my jacket pocket.
“That’s the spirit!” Chelsea grinned and slapped me on the back.
We traipsed through the snack food aisle and rounded the corner. A bored, acne-ridden teenager sat behind the cash register, filing her nails.
“Hey Suzanne.” Chelsea chimed cheerfully. Suzanne sighed and didn’t even look up.
Chelsea shrugged at me and bounced along, under the security camera and out through the door of AM/PM Convenience Store. The bells hanging on the glass door jangled hollowly as we made our escape.
I hugged my arms to my chest, concealing both a bounty of snack foods and a pounding heart. My legs felt a little like jelly, and I could hear my pulse in my eardrums like the bass at a rock show.
Chelsea casually strolled around to the back parking lot and leaned against a rust-colored Volvo.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” She grinned at me with mock-scorn, shaking her violent pink-streaked locks.
“I guess not.” I swallowed again. I could feel the hot dog from lunch, bumping against my larynx.
* * * * *
“So why did your family decide to move to New Haven anyway?”
I stared at Daniel for a split second too long and shrugged to myself.
“I never much thought about it.”
Rolling over to pick a rogue eyelash from his sun-warmed cheek, I smiled a secret smile reserved for only the likes of him.
“They say if you stare into the sun long enough, it will burn your retinas completely away and you’ll be blinded.” Daniel grinned, his slightly gap-toothed smile flashing in the rays of late-summer sun.
I sighed and rolled back onto the limp, sun-scorched grass.
“I don’t know… I think that’s one of those old wives’ tales that all paranoid mothers tell their offspring. Its part of the delicate balance of fear and guilt that parents use to control their kids.”
I tossed an ironic grin in his direction and flopped onto My belly. Clouds paraded serenely across the August sky, like so many unshorn sheep and spun cotton balls. Daniel squinted and focused on a spot far in the distance.
“It looks like rain.”
I didnt exactly make this hard for you. but kudos, anyway. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with this, mainly I just need somewhere to post my daily ramblings, notes, writing, etc. I’m working on a novelette. It’s going to be about teenagers. Maybe some sex, drugs, rock & roll, you know, the good stuff. I also write a lot of poetry and freeform prose, so I will dispose of that in this space as well. I dont care if anyone reads this. It’s for my own selfish use; mostly I like the idea of marking my territory. Maybe there’s too much iron in my diet or something *shrugs*
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bex0r
