Thursday, January 22, 2009

the coolest nerds in town

rock n' roll ain't easy, but that don't matter none 'cause you ain't got a choice. make music or turn to dust.

or something like that.

this is my band, yearbook pictures. we have been strumming and singing and banging on the drums together for a year now. my lord if you don't have some ups and downs and my lord if there ain't times when you consider throwing in the towel. but my lord if it ain't just the purdiest feeling to play together and love the sound that makes. we've been working hard lately to get things going, make things happen, that whole shpill. what with all the myspacin' to do, and the picture takin' to organize and the shows to line up and then play... speaking of which, those of you in the los angeles area, or those of you with a private jet or disposable income or a free ticket to ride, we will be playing this tuesday (january 27th) at 9 (that's pm, not am) at spaceland (1717 silverlake blvd. LA, CA 90027). JAM ON IT!

Saturday, January 10, 2009

lifesavers in a sea of silence

sara saved my life. something tells me it won't be the last time.

yesterday sara was my flotation device. just as I was drowning in a hopeless mass of sloshing traffic, the phone rang - a fog horn that shook me from the haze. saved.

she talked me off the ledge in my head - the edge of ok.

to those who have never been stuck in los angeles traffic, let me give you a brief and insufficient taste of the exhaust. it is endless. like a ship at sea thinking it might fall off the earth once it reaches its destination/wondering if it ever will. it is relentless - it is not an anecdote or a cliche, it is a pressing reality that replaces a sense of peace with a raging case of impatience in a matter of moments. I pride myself on my usual achievement of zen while in said situation. as others honk and curse and swerve, I listen to music or public radio, I admire the silhouetted palms and ignore the cacophonous mess. sometimes I even sit there in silence satisfied with the simple task of thought. but yesterday, my friends, I was at a disadvantage for I was driving home from a particularly disturbing audition. you should know that another side affect of los angeles living other than the traffic, is that somehow, someway, eventually you end up involved in "the industry". one way or another, from the most intentional to the most unsuspecting, you become a part of it whether by proxy or by jumping headfirst into its blue. I jumped. living here, waitressing while hearing tales of the riches one could make by simply endorsing deodorant or somesuch... I got an agent. I went on auditions. I booked jobs. yes that is my face selling you sour cream. no I do not want to talk about it.

so here I am, a victim of my own devices - putting myself in these "situations". I sit in traffic to get to these auditions only to sit in traffic to play the whole thing over in my head hoping to eventually get home. anyway, as I was saying, this audition was particularly unsettling for reasons I am going to briefly explain. first off, it was an audition for a print job, as in still photos. print auditions generally consist of standing in a line waiting for your turn to hold a number in front of your chest and smile for a camera. when I explained this to sara, she said it sounded very similar to the process of incarceration. (she is an insightful one, that sara). so I went to this audition expecting the usual bovine activity, only to walk into the room to be met by 5 silent strangers sitting on a couch. the audition started out as expected, but then, I was asked by one of the 5 strangers to dance. naturally I thought, where's the music? then I realized there wasn't any. and then I had to learn the harsh lesson that dancing without music is much like swimming without water - it doesn't really work. so I moved in nonrhythmic movements trying to find a song in my head. nothing. the strangers sat silently, judging my performance. I resorted to a khaki pants dance, at one point actually churning butter. after what felt like far too many measures of non-music, I was relieved of my duties.

this is the point that I am somehow not making - friends are what matters. at the end of a difficult day, they are the flashing light leading us out of the storm back to dry and stable land. I have friends because unlike some people, they would never ask me to dance to the sound of silence. I have friends because they call me when I'm stuck in traffic simply because they know how awful that can be. I have friends because if I didn't I wouldn't laugh nearly enough, like when I read the email jamie sent me after my awkward audition:

(i wrote you a song)

girl dance dance dance to the sounds of silence
yeah dance dance dance to tha rhythm of nothin
dance dance dance
oh dance dance dance
shake ur booty to the elec-tri-city thats pulsin in the air
that's. all. you. got.

Friday, January 9, 2009

when life hands you limes, make margaritas

my skin's itching and my eye's been twitching and I've been having this dream where I need to run but my legs won't move.

I haven't known what to write for this hopeful little blog of mine, I've felt like a traitor in thought - an absence of hope is no time to post. this blog was the challenge - take the lime, well past its shelf life, hard as a rock, and squeeze it. don't give up because it's just when you thought it was bone dry, a droplet of juice is let loose and you know because it's stinging in your eye. there is always something to extract - even from the sourest, dourest, more barren of sources. squeeze hard enough and you've got yourself an f'in margarita. I can't remember a time I wasn't happy with a margarita in my hand. salted rim salvation. saving your own soul while the mariachi music papers the walls.

Friday, January 2, 2009

why can't life be like tonight all the time?

it's not often that you drive home from a long holiday road trip, only to be invited to a ranch in the nevada desert that happens to be right on the way. it happens even less that you are invited to said ranch on new year's eve, a night you were prepared to spend in the car, counting down the new year at 80 miles an hour. 2009, so far, so good.

sandy valley ranch is a magical place on its own, but add to that good friends, lots of whiskey and champagne, sparklers, hot tubs, taquitos, and illegal fireworks lit by dudes drunker than you, and you've got yourself a serious party.

out there, I only confirmed my deep unshakable desire for compound living. in the middle of nowhere dancing and laughing with friends, I wondered to myself, why can't life be like tonight all the time?