When we met we said Yes. Nice to meet you. Yes. I love you already. Yes. In the early days it was all Yes. It was Yes just because. It was Yes because it felt so good. Yes because you said Yes to me and I wanted you to feel how good it was and I wanted to feel how good it was. And we Yessed, and Yessed.
Then the Nos came. They crept in, snuck in on the backs of the Yesses, turned them into Maybes. The Yesses drooped and got dragged down, Maybe became No. And then the Nos were cascading. No because you said No to me, because it felt bad, because I wanted to punish you for saying No to me. No because it was easier than Yes suddenly. No because life isn't fair and we don't all get what we want. No because I'm scared.
Scared of No.
*
The lasting, happy relationships I know are the ones in which the people are still saying Yes to each other. Friends, family, lovers, children, co-workers, clients, anyone you have a relationship with:
Say Yes. Because you can.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Days are Ravenous
"Why is there never enough time?" He asked, holding the empty jar and shaking out a few crumbs.
"Because seconds are delicious," she said, licking her lips, "and the minutes keep eating them. Then the hours eat the minutes. And the days are ravenous."
"Because seconds are delicious," she said, licking her lips, "and the minutes keep eating them. Then the hours eat the minutes. And the days are ravenous."
Friday, February 12, 2010
Live Recording and Brooklyn Breaking News!
At Zebulon with Kayla Oberlin - photo by Fairytale Vegas
I got a live recording from Zebulon which you can listen to and download for $5.
If you pre-ordered my album I emailed you a code so you can download it for free.
At Goodbye Blue Monday - photo by Autumn Adamme
My time in New York was incredible. I had two great shows, and an unforgettable webcast with Molly Crabapple - who convinced me to move in with her. I'll be in Brooklyn March - July with a residency at Goodbye Blue Monday and more shows to come!
On March 2nd I fly to Boston to finish recording my album - recording was moved from SF to Boston for logistical reasons. To finish recording I really need to hit my next fundraising goal of $10,000. This will allow me to pay Sean Slade, the producer, as well as the engineers, and the musicians. I will also be able to master the album and start putting together a package to get it out into the world.
Please spread the word about the project, it gets better every day. All the doubts I had have turned in on themselves and unfurled into tiny wings that carry my songs to new heights each time I play. The music is making itself, it wants to be heard, it wants to be free.
Tweet this!
If you haven't pre-ordered yet you can do so here:
At Goodbye Blue monday - photo by Fairytale Vegas
At Zebulon - photo by Fairytale Vegas
Saturday, February 6, 2010
New York is My Oyster - and Yours Too!
Yesterday in NYC was a whirlwind of many of my favorite people and things!
I went to MOMA with Kayla Oberlin, we looked at art, laughed at art, oohed at art, awed at art, talked about art!
Then I had an absinthe fueled, feathered, sequined, kiss filled webcast with Molly Crabapple. Molly is trying to convince me to move to NY - during the webcast she took a poll and the vote was 39/7 for me to move here! I'll put up a poll of my own soon!
Then we had cupcakes at Sweet Sugar Sunshine! Then drinks with Molly, wonderful blogger Gala Darling, and artist, model, and muse, Katelan Foisy. Suddenly I was in the East Village at a table full of beautiful, talented, amazing ladies.
Then it got better!
Autumn Adamme of Dark Garden Corsetry in SF, and her beautiful beau, Daniel, were in town for the weekend and we got to drink fancy cocktails, explore a little of NY, get lost, and visit a giant of NY's literary history - the Algonquin Hotel.
Then my phone/map/lifeline battery died and at 2am I managed to navigate the subway system back into Brooklyn where I am house sitting for my writer friend, Gabe Soria, who wrote a really good graphic novel you should all know about, it's called "Life Sucks."
Tonight I play in Brooklyn at Zebulon at 8pm. I really do play early so come early, stay late, bring friends - it's free!
Tomorrow I will curate an NYC field trip. Which basically just means that you are invited to come along for this adventure with me and whoever else shows up. I'm posting the itinerary here so you can join/leave/rejoin at any time. And also so that if you do join, and then get lost, you can always meet up with us later.
Get yourself an unlimited day pass for the metro.
Itinerary for Sunday, Feb. 7th:
12noon Main Entrance American Museum of Natural History - 79th St. at Central Park West
2:45 - Main Entrance AMNH - gather to leave for Grand Central Station
3:15 - Grand Central Terminal - waltzing
4:00 - City Bakery - 3 West 18th Street - Lunch and Hot Chocolate!
5:00 - City Bakery - gather to walk to The Standard Hotel
5:30 - The Standard Hotel - 848 Washington at 13th Street - Art, fancy drinks!
6:30 - Gather at Standard Hotel Lobby
7:00 - Rice to Riches - 37 Spring Street
Then we part ways!
I don't want to be a tour leader in the traditional sense of making sure everyone is together. I'm posting the itinerary so people can join and leave and rejoin at any point in the day. If you get separated and it's late and time for us to have moved on then assume we have moved on. There may be three of us, there may be ten of us. But all the information is here. And you can follow us on Twitter.
The day in more detail:
The day will start at noon at the American Museum of Natural History - Main Entrance (79th St. at Central Park West)
I love the museum in general, but am particularly interested in the world's only Spider Silk Rug!
We will convene once again at the main entrance to the Museum at 2:45pm (I know it's less 3 hours of Museum time, but there is so much I want to do!) and then make our way to the Grand Central Terminal to waltz with strangers. Yes, strangers. And without music.
Then on to City Bakery for hot chocolate and other goodies! The City Bakery has been voted Best Hot Chocolate for 20 years and this February is Hot Chocolate Festival month with a new flavor everyday.
Sunday, Feb 7th is Caramel Hot Chocolate Day at The City Bakery
www.thecitybakery.com
3 West 18th Street
New York, NY 10011-4610
At 5:00 we will walk to The Standard Hotel to see this amazing video collage which is on display in the elevators.
The Standard Hotel
848 Washington at 13th Street
http://www.standardhotels.com/new-york-city/location/
Civilization by Marco Brambilla from CRUSH on Vimeo.
"Civilization is a video installation we created with artist/director Marco Brambilla for the elevators Standard Hotel in NYC. It's comprised of over 400 video clips and it takes elevator passengers on a trip from hell to heaven as they go up or from heaven to hell as they go down."
The Standard Hotel noticed my tweets about this and this exchange ensued:
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I think we'll be at The Standard until 6:30 ish. Then we head to Rice to Riches for the best rice pudding in the universe!
http://www.ricetoriches.com/
37 Spring Street
NY, NY
Monday, February 1, 2010
Hit. And. Run.
I couldn't sleep due to the inexplicable smell of burnt marshmallow. Then I was crying. Then I remembered why I was crying: because I watched a man get run over by a car.
I was in my car, at a stoplight, a pedestrian crossed in front of me, not five feet away. A car peeled away from the curb on the cross street, driver's door swinging open still, the car veered sharply into the crosswalk. The pedestrian was hit, sucked under, and run over by front wheel. Crunch. Back wheel. Crunch.
Moments of emergency become hard crystalline structures, they obstruct the malleable flow of the mind. Shock.
Images when I close my eyes. The way a body flails.
He was 'conscious' when I got out of the car, people rushed in, his friend pulled on his arm, tried to pick him up, we shouted to stop moving him.
"Someone just jacked that car and hit that guy!" I heard someone say, "He just jumped into that car and stole it and hit that guy."
People took off their coats and made pillows and blankets, called 911. Cared.
I moved my car out of the way of incoming emergency vehicles and sat, shaking and shocked.
I said the world is broken. But the world isn't broken. Not more, not less. Just more of the same. Just more people stealing cars, running people over.
I said, the world is broken. But what I meant was, I am broken. A piece of me broke that night two weeks ago. A piece of me broke and fell into the pile of broken pieces that I carry with me everywhere.
It feels like I am floating most of the time, flying sometimes. My feet barely touch the ground. But every time part of me breaks it stops flying, becomes heavy, something I must carry. A collection of shards that we all share.
Someone ran over someone else and kept driving. And I cannot imagine how awful that would feel, and how much closing off and denying of myself I would have to do to be able to carry on about my days after doing something like that, or how awful life would be if I was stealing cars and killing people. My heart skips a few beats and I am so sad. And I want to love them, and show them they are loved, and worthy of love and that life is hard without making it harder for yourself and other people. And I want to show you that you are worthy of love, and that love is energy, not a romantic notion, and that energy is what makes up everything that we are, and were, and will be. And that no one is beneath love, because they are love, and love is energy, and energy is everything.
I feel like I have run over a man in the crosswalk. And that breaks me. And I feel like I was run over by a car, which breaks me. It hardly matters that my body was not in that car, and not on that pavement, because I feel it all.
And it feels like floating, and falling. And it feels like carrying broken pieces.
And it smells like burnt marshmallow.
I was in my car, at a stoplight, a pedestrian crossed in front of me, not five feet away. A car peeled away from the curb on the cross street, driver's door swinging open still, the car veered sharply into the crosswalk. The pedestrian was hit, sucked under, and run over by front wheel. Crunch. Back wheel. Crunch.
Moments of emergency become hard crystalline structures, they obstruct the malleable flow of the mind. Shock.
Images when I close my eyes. The way a body flails.
He was 'conscious' when I got out of the car, people rushed in, his friend pulled on his arm, tried to pick him up, we shouted to stop moving him.
"Someone just jacked that car and hit that guy!" I heard someone say, "He just jumped into that car and stole it and hit that guy."
People took off their coats and made pillows and blankets, called 911. Cared.
I moved my car out of the way of incoming emergency vehicles and sat, shaking and shocked.
I said the world is broken. But the world isn't broken. Not more, not less. Just more of the same. Just more people stealing cars, running people over.
I said, the world is broken. But what I meant was, I am broken. A piece of me broke that night two weeks ago. A piece of me broke and fell into the pile of broken pieces that I carry with me everywhere.
It feels like I am floating most of the time, flying sometimes. My feet barely touch the ground. But every time part of me breaks it stops flying, becomes heavy, something I must carry. A collection of shards that we all share.
Someone ran over someone else and kept driving. And I cannot imagine how awful that would feel, and how much closing off and denying of myself I would have to do to be able to carry on about my days after doing something like that, or how awful life would be if I was stealing cars and killing people. My heart skips a few beats and I am so sad. And I want to love them, and show them they are loved, and worthy of love and that life is hard without making it harder for yourself and other people. And I want to show you that you are worthy of love, and that love is energy, not a romantic notion, and that energy is what makes up everything that we are, and were, and will be. And that no one is beneath love, because they are love, and love is energy, and energy is everything.
I feel like I have run over a man in the crosswalk. And that breaks me. And I feel like I was run over by a car, which breaks me. It hardly matters that my body was not in that car, and not on that pavement, because I feel it all.
And it feels like floating, and falling. And it feels like carrying broken pieces.
And it smells like burnt marshmallow.
Dream - February 1, 2010
Last night I dreamt you were driving, telling me about how you got married by a government official who told you he didn't believe in love. I told you that I wasn't sure I believed in love. You said this was understandable given all the things I had been through in the past year. I pointed to the sky and said that we could see the reflections of all the bodies of water in North America - an aqueous map projected on the starscape.
When I looked out the car window I noticed the water on the lake was moving like a magnetic fluid, rising and falling in spires and pyramids. I marveled at it.
You asked me what was affecting me so much. I told you it was all the violence I had witnessed recently. You told me I should not let it live inside me this way.
We walked through a park, kissed in a stranger's living room. I told you about my dreams.
I woke up without you.
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