No one remembers you so if they introduce themselves again, just say "it's nice to meet you."
I climbed down the stairs and stuck out my hand for a little lady in a merry christmas, regular sweatshirt: "it's nice to meet you."
It took all of my courage to muster my invisibility as a pressed my shoulders against the white wall. I was in the dining hall of a smoky house era 1960, wearing a brown winter jacket and green Sorels on my feet. A strobe light illuminated the room. I was straight as an arrow, watching people in holiday garb stumble around me. I was there, by myself, haunting a house where nobody would notice me.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
I tried to sell my horse today
I tried to give her away today. Luna who has been my steed since I was 14, the chestnut mare with the flaxen mane. There is a classified add with her description. I want feel my hands on her neck. Back when horses were sensual and kind, back when ecstasy was feeling wind on your face.
There is an email in my inbox with her picture in it and a question mark. An arching, aching, question mark. She is your only animal, and all you want is to be good to her. Someday, someone will love her more than me.
I want to move to Peperell, milk goats, and cook myself dinner every night. That was summer. That was Luna. That was galloping up the hill and having to walk her back because she came up lame. I felt myself on her back and saw the earth as it was, and can be no more. No one is as tall as when they are on horseback.
And when you ask me if I will miss it, I can only say yes, I will miss those memories. But knowing that Luna is eating grass in a field and galloping happily in the woods, is the best consolance that can be given to me.
There is an email in my inbox with her picture in it and a question mark. An arching, aching, question mark. She is your only animal, and all you want is to be good to her. Someday, someone will love her more than me.
I want to move to Peperell, milk goats, and cook myself dinner every night. That was summer. That was Luna. That was galloping up the hill and having to walk her back because she came up lame. I felt myself on her back and saw the earth as it was, and can be no more. No one is as tall as when they are on horseback.
And when you ask me if I will miss it, I can only say yes, I will miss those memories. But knowing that Luna is eating grass in a field and galloping happily in the woods, is the best consolance that can be given to me.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Loosing
I have a nervous stomach ache.
There is a parcel in the corner of my room with a card that I have yet to fill out. What would it say? "I feel you slipping away from me, Merry Christmas," or maybe, "I know you'll be gone soon, Hope all of your holiday wishes come true."
I wish I could take my intuition and drown it in the Merrimack. I wish I could pretend that I didn't notice this feigning interest. I'm all twisted in a knot. Why have I allowed myself to feel this way about someone? I am ruthless...I am notorious...I am about to have my ass handed to me in my own game (I think).
If I was 16 and on the train, I would be loosing at a staring contest with my reflection in the window. If I was 17, I'd been sitting on my hands in the passenger seat of a green Ford Torus. If I was 18, I would be in the cold in a basement, waiting to be noticed.
I'm 19, and I'm walking up a hill, and its cold outside, I'm shivering and thinking about how I would go to the end of the earth for you. I climb up the stairs, I'm out of breath. I knock, Paul opens the door. I go inside.
You are sitting at your computer with a word document open. I throw my backpack down on your bed, and you turn around and smile at me...
You haven't the slightest clue how I got there.
There is a parcel in the corner of my room with a card that I have yet to fill out. What would it say? "I feel you slipping away from me, Merry Christmas," or maybe, "I know you'll be gone soon, Hope all of your holiday wishes come true."
I wish I could take my intuition and drown it in the Merrimack. I wish I could pretend that I didn't notice this feigning interest. I'm all twisted in a knot. Why have I allowed myself to feel this way about someone? I am ruthless...I am notorious...I am about to have my ass handed to me in my own game (I think).
If I was 16 and on the train, I would be loosing at a staring contest with my reflection in the window. If I was 17, I'd been sitting on my hands in the passenger seat of a green Ford Torus. If I was 18, I would be in the cold in a basement, waiting to be noticed.
I'm 19, and I'm walking up a hill, and its cold outside, I'm shivering and thinking about how I would go to the end of the earth for you. I climb up the stairs, I'm out of breath. I knock, Paul opens the door. I go inside.
You are sitting at your computer with a word document open. I throw my backpack down on your bed, and you turn around and smile at me...
You haven't the slightest clue how I got there.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Last Summer
is a confirmed shithead. Whats worse is that I'll probably go through with everything. I'm heartless and evil and I hate it.
Right now I have to go loose another friend. I wish dudes wouldn't get my hopes up about friendships then SHUT ME DOWN when I wont date them
Didn't go home last night. Being driven to the t then i have work but i just want to sleep!
6 hour shift. I don't want to be working so much! but at least I'm getting paid mad bills/ i don't have keys anymore.
I'm really sad I lost my keys. I'm really sad that I dreamed about your dead dog. Today feels better but yesterday still stings.
I can't wait to go to CT this weekend. I'm waiting for the shit to hit the fan, its me getting what I deserve after all. It is all for you<3
I'm going to Peperell to feed the horses and milk the goats then fort fuck awesome to see atlas. Como se dice <3, en espanol?
I think I've been feeling so mixed up because I'm a jerk. I'm buying rolls of film today. I think I'm gonna take pictures in the rain.
I've got my hands on the one end, and I don't know where to put them :/
Just gave a stranger a ride home from the T under the pretences that he wasn't an axe murderer. He missed his bus
opening tomorrow. Gonna talk to some cutie on my cell phone before bed. Goodnight!
I feel out of sorts. Maybe I'm just inherently sad. I wish I knew why. I think I'm going to go listen to owen records and do a rain dance.
Maybe if it wasn't raining I could ride my bike, or use my camera. I would know what to do with myself. I dreamed about snow.
Fuck i should have never gotten in the car with this kid. He's a douchebag and definetely some weird sexual deviant.
I can't figure out if this kids dick is real or not. It looks like he stuffed a sock in his pants or something. It is bugging me bad
Oh man it is DEFINITELY a sock. Wow thats so fucked up. I just brushed up against it by accident Just met the nicest dude on the train! He was talking to me about the fountainhead. He was so glad i was reading it. Hope i have enough gas
Rockin' out to nfg of the way back to ct!s
Bye bye little red car.
I heard a rumor that my phone sucks, my car is totaled, and i'm quitting ct. And i heard its true. I couldn't be sadder about my car. Kate just brought me oreos and chocolate soy milk. She rules so hard.
gonna bake a big fucking vegan birthday for the best dude in town!
new car. my phones ringing off the hook. I'm ALWAYS thinking of you. and I'm baking vegan funfetti cake! I can't wait to ice it
Glastonbury? I had a super wonderful day! Connecticut till monday
Shaun's house.
I was played a timpini in that church. Litterally, it was a tribute to musical instruments and i was the timpini!
has a train in 50 minutes. My hair is starting to make me look like a poison-listening 80's bimbo. And honestly, I'm sort of into it.
oh man, I got there. There is no one else there. Just my big brother telling me I'm wrong to feel this way. I'm a disaster when I'm home.
I wrote him and asked him to tell me about living on a commune and hopping trains. I'm a hopeless romantic.
I wish I could hug you
I'm working 35 hours this week. I hope none of the other employees notice that I'm an hour hogger. Oh well, I don't do the scheduling.
Shaun Harle is my boyfriend and I'm sick of feeling guilty about it. Goodnight
I'm trying to decide on the correct time to drop out of society. Its too soon to tell.
Had the yummiest breakfast with chelsea this morning! Hummus sandwhich and vegan cupcake for lunch!
In dunstable. Going on a driving adventure by myself tonight.
The woods in dublin new hampshire
I'm at boyscout camp
had a peanut butter sandwhich for breakfast cause we have no cereal :-(. I love cereal.
Watching moving mountains sound check. Then dinner with mitch. Then train to ct! Then shaun :) finally!
I am 19 today
@shauntron. I miss shaun's stupid face already.
making dinner. swimming with kate. brother!
I want my car back! Btw: cinnamon buns were a huge success! I wish @shauntron was here to eat them all.
So I'm packed for tour! Just need to finish packing for college tomorrow by 2:30! I'm putting away the computer until I go to school.
Out of work! Beginning my journey
Now, looking back on it, I only really have happy memories. The rest, I've forced myself to let go.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
It will take some time, but the dawn will come, the sun will rise.
I don't think I could ever love someone who was perfect. I'm not saying that because we're both in our underwear next to one another feigning sleep, but more or less that imperfections are the french-ticklers of love.
Everyone twitches as they fall asleep, everyone yells out in their sleep. Some even dream about a miniature horse named Lee-Anne.
Its mid-day and if I wasn't on my last day of a fever, I would be at work. I was almost glad to be sick. It could have been self induced for all I know. Even the thought of going into Boston one more day makes my stomach turn.
I want to finish the semester strong. I want to sit in my dorm room with my mother and Luke and talk about art.
Its a mess, the sun is pouring in. Luke's asleep in my bed and I could be in Michigan with Jeremy Quentin making music for the rest of my known life.
This flood was a choice I made.
And I'd rather be here.
Everyone twitches as they fall asleep, everyone yells out in their sleep. Some even dream about a miniature horse named Lee-Anne.
Its mid-day and if I wasn't on my last day of a fever, I would be at work. I was almost glad to be sick. It could have been self induced for all I know. Even the thought of going into Boston one more day makes my stomach turn.
I want to finish the semester strong. I want to sit in my dorm room with my mother and Luke and talk about art.
Its a mess, the sun is pouring in. Luke's asleep in my bed and I could be in Michigan with Jeremy Quentin making music for the rest of my known life.
This flood was a choice I made.
And I'd rather be here.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Not a Pianist
This is one of those days; If I could go to the front of the classroom and sit down at the piano, my fingers tensed, I would. I am anxious, my chest feels hollow and after a weekend of assessing where I stood, I miss you right now. This is Lowell, and its sunny and beautiful in October.
Kelsey left her desk light on this morning. I woke up earlier than my alarm because I thought I could see the sun pouring in. It was superficial. I looked to her empty bed, her sheets thrown about, and my mind quickly traveled to the corner of Pawtucket and School where there is a mattress on the third floor with crimson sheets that looks just the same.
The two tea-cups on my desk were empty. Two, not one, where two, not one, had sipped tea just the night before. But things change so quickly and now there is one, under the covers, staring at the ceiling, imagining her friends asleep next to each other on a southbound bus.
Even if I could stare the Merrimack right in the eyes, it would never take me west. My hair still hangs in my face and I feel guilt when I stand by as someone get hurts. I've never longed for the midwest more.
You've caught me out of sync in a silent classroom where the light pours in to the point where, even if I tried to make out the second bridge down the river, I would not be able to.
This is Manhattan, This is 2 miles south of Michigan, This is Atlanta, asleep in the passenger seat. If you loose your hat on the EL somewhere, just breath through the winter.
Kelsey left her desk light on this morning. I woke up earlier than my alarm because I thought I could see the sun pouring in. It was superficial. I looked to her empty bed, her sheets thrown about, and my mind quickly traveled to the corner of Pawtucket and School where there is a mattress on the third floor with crimson sheets that looks just the same.
The two tea-cups on my desk were empty. Two, not one, where two, not one, had sipped tea just the night before. But things change so quickly and now there is one, under the covers, staring at the ceiling, imagining her friends asleep next to each other on a southbound bus.
Even if I could stare the Merrimack right in the eyes, it would never take me west. My hair still hangs in my face and I feel guilt when I stand by as someone get hurts. I've never longed for the midwest more.
You've caught me out of sync in a silent classroom where the light pours in to the point where, even if I tried to make out the second bridge down the river, I would not be able to.
This is Manhattan, This is 2 miles south of Michigan, This is Atlanta, asleep in the passenger seat. If you loose your hat on the EL somewhere, just breath through the winter.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Secret Emails (this is why we need secrets)
| |||||||||||||||
| |||||||||||||||
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Minor Spider Unrest
Friday night I punched my best friend in the face.
There are lots of awkward things that happen during the course of a day. When I see Luke's back in a revolving-chair facing a computer, I know its him, and I know that he is probably reading the news. I just know and I start to fill up, with what, I do not know, but it begins at my toes, and I feel it in my belly, and my head swims. Algae, sea-turtles, Jerry in his fish-tank by the window where I sleep each night.
Then I hit my head. Not just then, but I few moments after, when he is saying goodbye to me in the student union. I swung around, my hand on the door nob, and banged my head against the hollow aluminum frame of the Student Activities Office.
I go dizzy, and it is Friday night. I'm in a tenement building on the corner of Pawtucket and School Street, where cars honk at one another, no matter the time of day, and I am crying, sitting there holding my knees in the stairwell. I am crying because I did not get to finish the conversation with the Luke. My eyes are puffy...pathetic. The door is locked. It's locked.
But he had thrown me on the spot, into a place where I had the upper hand because I had not yet assessed my feelings, where I had been crass to protect myself against everything everyone had told me. You are going to get hurt.
Okay fine, I'm ready.
(I'd love to waste some time with you)
But even as I walked down Walker Street, next to a young neighborhood boy, who knew not off me, or could here my sobs through his headphones, I knew what I would have said, and I was glad to not say it.
Then I was in the faculty parking lot, screaming at the top of my lungs at Tom: leave me alone. I threw my fists at him.
I miss grocery shopping with my mom
One to his stomach
I miss driving to Augusta with my father
One to his chest
I miss reading Calvin and Hobbes in bed with my brother
And one to his face.
I saw him hold his face in his hands as he fell behind and I hated him. I hated him for not letting me go, I hated Luke for not being there for me when I needed him. I hated...
...our legs, tangled up in one another, roaring with laughter. Probably holding hands, but not really noticing. I still mean what I said last night. I would probably have too, if I had been given the chance to say it.
There are lots of awkward things that happen during the course of a day. When I see Luke's back in a revolving-chair facing a computer, I know its him, and I know that he is probably reading the news. I just know and I start to fill up, with what, I do not know, but it begins at my toes, and I feel it in my belly, and my head swims. Algae, sea-turtles, Jerry in his fish-tank by the window where I sleep each night.
Then I hit my head. Not just then, but I few moments after, when he is saying goodbye to me in the student union. I swung around, my hand on the door nob, and banged my head against the hollow aluminum frame of the Student Activities Office.
I go dizzy, and it is Friday night. I'm in a tenement building on the corner of Pawtucket and School Street, where cars honk at one another, no matter the time of day, and I am crying, sitting there holding my knees in the stairwell. I am crying because I did not get to finish the conversation with the Luke. My eyes are puffy...pathetic. The door is locked. It's locked.
But he had thrown me on the spot, into a place where I had the upper hand because I had not yet assessed my feelings, where I had been crass to protect myself against everything everyone had told me. You are going to get hurt.
Okay fine, I'm ready.
(I'd love to waste some time with you)
But even as I walked down Walker Street, next to a young neighborhood boy, who knew not off me, or could here my sobs through his headphones, I knew what I would have said, and I was glad to not say it.
Then I was in the faculty parking lot, screaming at the top of my lungs at Tom: leave me alone. I threw my fists at him.
I miss grocery shopping with my mom
One to his stomach
I miss driving to Augusta with my father
One to his chest
I miss reading Calvin and Hobbes in bed with my brother
And one to his face.
I saw him hold his face in his hands as he fell behind and I hated him. I hated him for not letting me go, I hated Luke for not being there for me when I needed him. I hated...
...our legs, tangled up in one another, roaring with laughter. Probably holding hands, but not really noticing. I still mean what I said last night. I would probably have too, if I had been given the chance to say it.
Friday, October 9, 2009
I think
That I'll lean over to you and ask if you have to go to a store for really really tall people to buy pants.
That little room that we were cramped in together was thick with dust, and made hot by the amberic light bulb above our heads. I'm looking up into it, trying to read, and going blind. This is history.
I saw my friend in the newspaper today and smiled because newspapers make people look so happy.
That little room that we were cramped in together was thick with dust, and made hot by the amberic light bulb above our heads. I'm looking up into it, trying to read, and going blind. This is history.
I saw my friend in the newspaper today and smiled because newspapers make people look so happy.
Monday, October 5, 2009
I'm a lightbulb
fuck, I didn't mean to light up like that when you said "Jazz Director."
I didn't mean to sit straight up in my chair and smile hysterically.
Its our 1 year anniversary. Its been 1 year since the last leaf bouquet in McGovern, Phyllis, and the gang. I'm glad the good out-weighed the bad.
Wednesday is the 1 year anniversary of playing the piano for you. You walked me to the car. The last time we did that together, I asked you not to walk me to my car and you stood confused and sad in the hallway as I walked backwards, mouthing "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
I took the elevator to the mezzanine with a man with a crutch. We laughed about how slow it ran. I hoped he was Jodi Fisher.
Luke and my Mom reminded me in one day what it felt like to be taken care of.
"I would have bought you some soy-yogurt."
And then I'm crying, and I'm in a house somewhere in Lancaster, and there is love dripping from the walls.
I didn't mean to sit straight up in my chair and smile hysterically.
Its our 1 year anniversary. Its been 1 year since the last leaf bouquet in McGovern, Phyllis, and the gang. I'm glad the good out-weighed the bad.
Wednesday is the 1 year anniversary of playing the piano for you. You walked me to the car. The last time we did that together, I asked you not to walk me to my car and you stood confused and sad in the hallway as I walked backwards, mouthing "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
I took the elevator to the mezzanine with a man with a crutch. We laughed about how slow it ran. I hoped he was Jodi Fisher.
Luke and my Mom reminded me in one day what it felt like to be taken care of.
"I would have bought you some soy-yogurt."
And then I'm crying, and I'm in a house somewhere in Lancaster, and there is love dripping from the walls.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
16 Years Old
I wrote this the summer of my 17th birthday:
If there was any fondness, Faith no longer saw it, for it was as if it had been surgically removed overnight and feelings can change so quickly, sitting on day on the couch sharing a laugh, to the next day where his eyes begin to follow another, and sometimes she would linger, remember how he used to gaze at her until she looked over, then falter in step with no sorrow, no remorse, and a smile threatened to break, twist, turn into a scream. Them sometimes it was apparent to those around her that she was a daisy in the snow or a sunshower, for the time could fly beneath her, rolling her, tossing her about, and she might never notice.
If there was any fondness, Faith no longer saw it, for it was as if it had been surgically removed overnight and feelings can change so quickly, sitting on day on the couch sharing a laugh, to the next day where his eyes begin to follow another, and sometimes she would linger, remember how he used to gaze at her until she looked over, then falter in step with no sorrow, no remorse, and a smile threatened to break, twist, turn into a scream. Them sometimes it was apparent to those around her that she was a daisy in the snow or a sunshower, for the time could fly beneath her, rolling her, tossing her about, and she might never notice.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Green Blue Grey
Alot can happen while you're asleep.
Last night under my covers, I went back to store 96, in Peabody. I buttoned my denim shirt to the second button from the top and straightened my name tag as I walked out to the floor. Dana Snyder was there with a binder: "Can you please take this party?"
There was 15 guests in the party, nothing I couldn't handle. But there was Dana, reproachful, watching me become tongue tied, as I tried to explain the party process. The parents looked wary, the kids distracted. I kept smiling and tried to pull myself together while all the party guests used the bathroom.
But Dana was grabbing her purse, she was leaving the store, and there was only one other bear-builder on the floor. We made eye contact, and I ran out of the store after Dana.
My heart was pounding as I searched, trying to find her in the streets. I passed through a park laid with bricks. Where was I? She was not in the park, on the bricks, in a store. Where was she?
Then, on a busy sidewalk, I saw her walking towards me, and my heart filled with fear. I should have never left the floor, left the store, left my party. I swung around to beat her back, and bumped head-on into a stranger in a striped red shirt.
But he put his hands on my shoulders, and it wasn't it a stranger, and he told me he loved me.
I'm awake, and still confused.
Last night under my covers, I went back to store 96, in Peabody. I buttoned my denim shirt to the second button from the top and straightened my name tag as I walked out to the floor. Dana Snyder was there with a binder: "Can you please take this party?"
There was 15 guests in the party, nothing I couldn't handle. But there was Dana, reproachful, watching me become tongue tied, as I tried to explain the party process. The parents looked wary, the kids distracted. I kept smiling and tried to pull myself together while all the party guests used the bathroom.
But Dana was grabbing her purse, she was leaving the store, and there was only one other bear-builder on the floor. We made eye contact, and I ran out of the store after Dana.
My heart was pounding as I searched, trying to find her in the streets. I passed through a park laid with bricks. Where was I? She was not in the park, on the bricks, in a store. Where was she?
Then, on a busy sidewalk, I saw her walking towards me, and my heart filled with fear. I should have never left the floor, left the store, left my party. I swung around to beat her back, and bumped head-on into a stranger in a striped red shirt.
But he put his hands on my shoulders, and it wasn't it a stranger, and he told me he loved me.
I'm awake, and still confused.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
When I turn 19....
I'm so scared to finish anything at all.
I do my darnedest to ignore every warning from others.
Now I'm smiling and its only because I'm terrified
I think I'm going to ride my bike off your porch and see if it will take flight. Real Wizard of Oz style, basket and all, hair blowing in the wind.
Away from secondary-dominants, my grown-up job, and my 8th floor disaster.
Maybe I'll fly to France, across the big pond, through the Canary Islands, to Baptiste, the French boy that bought me coffee once. Now its is November 4th, 2007, and I swear:
I do my darnedest to ignore every warning from others.
Now I'm smiling and its only because I'm terrified
I think I'm going to ride my bike off your porch and see if it will take flight. Real Wizard of Oz style, basket and all, hair blowing in the wind.
Away from secondary-dominants, my grown-up job, and my 8th floor disaster.
Maybe I'll fly to France, across the big pond, through the Canary Islands, to Baptiste, the French boy that bought me coffee once. Now its is November 4th, 2007, and I swear:
I was on the clock, but I stood still, for time was standing still, and looked into his eyes while he messed with his words, trying to make me understand. I did not. But I still gazed into his eyes as his face turned red with frustration, or perhaps embarrassment. A divide I had become patient with over the past few months.
"Tuesday," he said. He wanted to tell me I was beautiful.
"Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday."
Well it was Tuesday, and I was cold even in my mothers wool coat. I shuffled on my feet. Bus after bus had come and I was growing anxious. I crossed the street with the same wobbly legs I had felt under his gaze as I worked. "Go gather your thoughts," Kerry had told me. They proved to be ungatherable.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, perfect locks of brown, dark blue eyes. In his lanky, awkward way he gathered me about, and kissed both of my cheeks, the custom, as it was understood.
Over coffee, we messed with a dictionary. Saying loving things, to complete strangers, who had in some strange way, decided upon one another the moment their eyes met. "Try, try," I pleaded and he had to look the word up.
On opposite sides of the subway we stood, staring at each other, legs slightly parted as if bracing to jump to the other side. He blew me a kiss, I caught it. His train was coming. I could see it encroaching from around the corner, we stood, desperation in our eyes. It whirred by, he disappeared from my view, and yet I stood, fists clenched. I saw him push through the crowd and press his face to the door. I made a heart with my fingers, and he returned it. There was sadness in his face and he stared at me until the very end. I watched his train disappear down the tracks, never once questioning how I had fallen in love with a stranger.
I'm not 17 anymore. I wont park my car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, or dream about anyone.
"Tuesday," he said. He wanted to tell me I was beautiful.
"Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday."
Well it was Tuesday, and I was cold even in my mothers wool coat. I shuffled on my feet. Bus after bus had come and I was growing anxious. I crossed the street with the same wobbly legs I had felt under his gaze as I worked. "Go gather your thoughts," Kerry had told me. They proved to be ungatherable.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs, perfect locks of brown, dark blue eyes. In his lanky, awkward way he gathered me about, and kissed both of my cheeks, the custom, as it was understood.
Over coffee, we messed with a dictionary. Saying loving things, to complete strangers, who had in some strange way, decided upon one another the moment their eyes met. "Try, try," I pleaded and he had to look the word up.
On opposite sides of the subway we stood, staring at each other, legs slightly parted as if bracing to jump to the other side. He blew me a kiss, I caught it. His train was coming. I could see it encroaching from around the corner, we stood, desperation in our eyes. It whirred by, he disappeared from my view, and yet I stood, fists clenched. I saw him push through the crowd and press his face to the door. I made a heart with my fingers, and he returned it. There was sadness in his face and he stared at me until the very end. I watched his train disappear down the tracks, never once questioning how I had fallen in love with a stranger.
I'm not 17 anymore. I wont park my car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, or dream about anyone.
I'm Still Awake
And, probably to anxious to fall asleep.
Today, I'm a puddle. Europe is on one side of the sky, California is on the other, the sun peaking through a quilted comforter with construction workers on it. You talked and talked until I fell asleep, mouth pressed to your shoulder, and you felt sort of soft next to me, like a fleece blanket, or a well-loved sectional.
I'll probably fall down today.
I'll probably have to deal with everything I have neglected this week. I have a best friend with a full head of hair who is disappointed in me. I'm a flake, I'm a cheater, I'm not proud.
I'll probably cross the river later, the beckoning, mighty, Merrimack river, that promises me a boat thats a maple leaf, to drift out to sea, past Plum Island.
If I go to Chicago, its only because I'm running.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
I'm a Big fan of the Pig-Pen
I hope someone will call 911 when my car spins out of control on the highway. Its gonna hurt. I will probably cry out for someone. Maybe wherever they are, they will look up from whatever it is they are doing and think of me, because that's how it works.
I think I finally know what it means to be part of this city. The first greeting came with a pang of fear, the second with internal warmth. My feet can carry me just as well through a drive-thru ATM machine as any sort of car may. I can creep down Decatur just as well as anyone.
We ran up your ice-cream-parlor stairs 4 times, twice for each load of laundry. The third time, you put your hand on mine. The fourth time, it had become dark in your room. The perfect waste of a beautiful day.
Smoke-filled lungs, and cold hands. I'm making waves in a hazy-cloud. I'd probably rather be wine drunk. I can see you though. Then we're screaming in your car and I'm fading faster into your passenger seat. We're singing, we're pouring out every last breath, into your car. It sticks to the window, it evaporates:
"I love you, I must confess"
I'm fading faster into your pillow, your sheets. I'm asleep.
I think I finally know what it means to be part of this city. The first greeting came with a pang of fear, the second with internal warmth. My feet can carry me just as well through a drive-thru ATM machine as any sort of car may. I can creep down Decatur just as well as anyone.
We ran up your ice-cream-parlor stairs 4 times, twice for each load of laundry. The third time, you put your hand on mine. The fourth time, it had become dark in your room. The perfect waste of a beautiful day.
Smoke-filled lungs, and cold hands. I'm making waves in a hazy-cloud. I'd probably rather be wine drunk. I can see you though. Then we're screaming in your car and I'm fading faster into your passenger seat. We're singing, we're pouring out every last breath, into your car. It sticks to the window, it evaporates:
"I love you, I must confess"
I'm fading faster into your pillow, your sheets. I'm asleep.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Sleeping in
We inherently thank people for whatever they have done before we depart.
If I could have asked for one more moment to lie under my sheets, wrapped up in my thoughts, the Promise Ring spinning at 33 rpm on the table next to me, I would be forever grateful. However, today is overcast, the sky promises rain. I can see the branches swaying back and forth anxiously outside my window, and it is time to wake up.
My mom took me the grocery store yesterday. Our feet paced nervously up and down tiled aisles looking for the things that would keep best: nuts, dried fruits, and whole grains. Her face looked worn with the wears of motherhood. Torn from lack of companionship, and the ungratefulness of her kin. If I had more courage, perhaps I could have reached out and touched her arm. Instead we shopped in silence, our hands touching the worn out cart, cartons of cereal, packaging shipped by freight. Once or twice I thought I heard her choke nervously as we weaved our way around the store.
It would be our last time, I think gently to myself as I pull my slacks up. It is not the grocery store, and I am no longer a child in lady-bug mittens, sucking orange juice from a cup with green handles. My mother is at the foot of the stairs, she is holding my backpack. We will sit in silence again in the car. She will return to the house, she will see our town again, everything familiar, the beach, market street, generations and generations of children.
We pull up to the freight yard. "I love you Al," I avert my eyes, "you too mom," and get out of the car.
There is a man in a reflective vest. I throw my pack over my shoulders and walk towards him.
"Excuse me?" He doesn't hear me. I puff out my chest:
"Excuse me?" He turns around. His face is hard from years of labor, the scruff on his neck is dark with collected dust and sweat.
"How can I help you?" I try to explain, knowing the extent of the law, and the liability of his job.
"I need a train. I need to go west," and after a pause I add, "I have no money."
"Who are you?"
"I don't rightly know, Sir"
"This train here will take you as far as Chicago, I will be done with this car in a moment, If you give me a hand I'll wedge the door open for you."
I climb into the boxcar and he hands me a bag of grain. I push my weight against the stack and throw it to the top.
"Good luck, kid," he says with disdain and wedges a scrap of lumber into the boxcar door. A few minutes later, I feel a stir and the train begins to push forward. I listen to it hum against the rails and adjust to watch as everything flies by the door. There are children playing where I once had lived. There are teenager girls walking to school, flirting in that way only teenage girls can flirt. There are business men in suits walking to the train station.
The air feels wet, I am glad for the shelter. I think about my bed, and about the Promise Ring LP still clicking on the turntable at 33, somewhere, in some room. The distance is fleeting, I wont be back.
If I could have asked for one more moment to lie under my sheets, wrapped up in my thoughts, the Promise Ring spinning at 33 rpm on the table next to me, I would be forever grateful. However, today is overcast, the sky promises rain. I can see the branches swaying back and forth anxiously outside my window, and it is time to wake up.
My mom took me the grocery store yesterday. Our feet paced nervously up and down tiled aisles looking for the things that would keep best: nuts, dried fruits, and whole grains. Her face looked worn with the wears of motherhood. Torn from lack of companionship, and the ungratefulness of her kin. If I had more courage, perhaps I could have reached out and touched her arm. Instead we shopped in silence, our hands touching the worn out cart, cartons of cereal, packaging shipped by freight. Once or twice I thought I heard her choke nervously as we weaved our way around the store.
It would be our last time, I think gently to myself as I pull my slacks up. It is not the grocery store, and I am no longer a child in lady-bug mittens, sucking orange juice from a cup with green handles. My mother is at the foot of the stairs, she is holding my backpack. We will sit in silence again in the car. She will return to the house, she will see our town again, everything familiar, the beach, market street, generations and generations of children.
We pull up to the freight yard. "I love you Al," I avert my eyes, "you too mom," and get out of the car.
There is a man in a reflective vest. I throw my pack over my shoulders and walk towards him.
"Excuse me?" He doesn't hear me. I puff out my chest:
"Excuse me?" He turns around. His face is hard from years of labor, the scruff on his neck is dark with collected dust and sweat.
"How can I help you?" I try to explain, knowing the extent of the law, and the liability of his job.
"I need a train. I need to go west," and after a pause I add, "I have no money."
"Who are you?"
"I don't rightly know, Sir"
"This train here will take you as far as Chicago, I will be done with this car in a moment, If you give me a hand I'll wedge the door open for you."
I climb into the boxcar and he hands me a bag of grain. I push my weight against the stack and throw it to the top.
"Good luck, kid," he says with disdain and wedges a scrap of lumber into the boxcar door. A few minutes later, I feel a stir and the train begins to push forward. I listen to it hum against the rails and adjust to watch as everything flies by the door. There are children playing where I once had lived. There are teenager girls walking to school, flirting in that way only teenage girls can flirt. There are business men in suits walking to the train station.
The air feels wet, I am glad for the shelter. I think about my bed, and about the Promise Ring LP still clicking on the turntable at 33, somewhere, in some room. The distance is fleeting, I wont be back.
What to do?
I think I'm going to take this blog in a new direction.
I'll probably write stuff...fiction...prose...stuff.
Who knows.
For music updates check out the WUML BLOG
I'll probably write stuff...fiction...prose...stuff.
Who knows.
For music updates check out the WUML BLOG
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
TOUR 09'
Until September, SUNDOWNING, will be the official tour journal for TRAGWAG. We are touring across the country.
So if your around in the area, we would love to see your face! We just cut our first studio album together (Tyler's been doing this alone for ages) Its called What with the economic downturn and all... because people say that a lot and it sure is silly! However, we are both really proud of it. I did all the artwork, Tyler did all the recording. Here is the cover:
you can listen to some of the tracks at www.myspace.com/tylerbisson
We're leaving on Friday and I'm really excited. I'll update when I can!
-Ali
| SUMMER TOUR- Bisson Manor Berlin, CT | Berlin, Connecticut | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- HOUSE SHOW Maryland | Arnold, Maryland | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- Kent, OH- The Kent Stage | Kent, Ohio | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- Fearless Radio Show! Chicago, IL | Chicago, Illinois | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- St. Louis MO- The Cranky Yellow Gallery | St Louis, Missouri | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- The Vertical Violet | Wichita, Kansas | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- Colorado (Day Off) | Boulder, Colorado | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- The New Song Underground | Salt Lake City, Utah | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- Reno, NV The Xeno House | Reno, Nevada | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- CALIFORNIA Los Angeles | Los Angeles, California | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- Arizona- DAY OFF FOR DRIVING | Grand Canyon!, Arizona | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- Denton, TX- JJ’s On The Square | Denton, Texas | ||
| SUMMER TOUR- Little Fish Huge Pond- Sanford, FL | Sanford, Florida |
So if your around in the area, we would love to see your face! We just cut our first studio album together (Tyler's been doing this alone for ages) Its called What with the economic downturn and all... because people say that a lot and it sure is silly! However, we are both really proud of it. I did all the artwork, Tyler did all the recording. Here is the cover:
you can listen to some of the tracks at www.myspace.com/tylerbisson
We're leaving on Friday and I'm really excited. I'll update when I can!
-Ali
Friday, July 10, 2009
The Seaside EP
Owen (Mike Kinsella), released an EP this month. It is his first release since the acclaimed "At Home With..." which was released in November of 2006.
The 7 song release begins with "Heads Will Ache." My first reaction was "hey I know this song," setting the stage for the rest of the album. The song, although one of my favorites, is a worse version of "Everyone Feels Like You," off of Owen's sophmore album, "No Good for No one Now." He replaces the dramatic ending of the original, replacing it with soft, droaning, noodly guitar parts.
He covers "More than Words" by Extreem. I never liked the song much and I don't think he does it much justice.
He also covers Bruce Springsteens, "Stolen Car," replacing the lyrics with "Stolen Bike." This is probably the best song on the EP. Its a beautiful song. I like his version better than the original.
It includes a live recording of "In the Morning before Work," a song off the EP, released in 2004. Its a really great song, but nothing new.
He also added "I'm not Seventeen," which can be found on the "Association of Utopian Hollogram Swallowers," a 4 way split between Joan of Arc, The Love of Everything, Owen, and Make Believe. It is worth it to buy just for the Love of Everything song "Proud by Looking Down."
The only new songs are "I woke up today," and "a fever." Both decent songs in their own respects.
I have to say, I'm a little disapointed in the Seaside EP and hope to see more for his upcoming full leangth release which is due to come out in the fall. "At home with..." was of course a masterpiece. Hopefully, he can live up to its repore. I have my fingers crossed.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Next Level Shit Fest
So I've been meaning to post for a while, but I've been busy at work and what not. June 20th, I attended Next Level Shit Fest with some friends in Brattleboro VT. I've always been pleased with the scene in Brattleboro: their support, and open mindedness.
This festival was organized by community members and Pat the Bunny who plays music under the name Wingnut Dishwasher's Union, and previously, Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains.
The purpose of the day was to utilize public space as if we lived in an Anarchy, putting beside all beliefs. Here is what the pamphlet said:
"Welcome, friends, both old and new. If today is not a practice run of a new world, the perhaps it is at least a prototype of a refugee camp between this society and another. Today is about public space, and redefining the limits of what legitimate use of it is. Are the streets only for moving from home to work to shop to home? Or are they perhaps, if only for one hour a year, also for dancing?
We beg you to treat this day as if anarchy could work, in the best sense of the word: no bosses or governments, because people can take responsibility for themselves and take care of each other without being forced to. Whatever your opinion of the practicality of this idea generally, we don't think it's too much to ask you to try it out for the next 24 hours or so."
There was an acoustic show, zombie tag, a parade, and a food line, followed up by a concert. Everyone was friendly. We were all friends for the day.
Here was the bill:
Compression Fracture-
This was a dance noise band from Brattleboro. I wasn't a huge fan of them but lots of people seemed to be enjoying them.
Pre-School-
This band is what remains of Micheal Jordan Touchdown Pass which is Pat's brother's band. They were grungy but wrote neat songs and put on a really good show. I don't know if they have a myspace or not, but I've had a lot of trouble finding it. I suggest you check them out if you have a chance!
Heathers
A duo from Dublin Ireland. They absolutely blew my mind with their beautiful, harmonically driven songs. This is their second tour in the US with Ghost Mice after their debut release Here, not There. It is one of my favorite albums right now and I highly, highly suggest you get your hands on it if you can. Look them up at myspace.com/heatherswhatsyourdamage
Ghost Mice
I've never been impressed generally with Ghosts Mice despite their status as a staple folk punk band. I could never get over Chris' inability to hit pitches correctly. However, seeing them live was a different experience. I definitely enjoyed them greatly! If you haven't already checked them out, you should: http://www.myspace.com/ghostmice
Endless Mike and the Beagle Club
I've already ranted and raved about how great I think Endless Mike is. They played great. I finally got their 4 way 7" split with Wingnut, Mischief Brew, and Guitar Bomb which is pure gold except for the Guitar Bomb song. They played a great set. This band rules! www.myspace.com/beagleclub
Wingnut Dishwashers Union
This time around, Pat played with a full band which was a unique experience. He has a real talent. He recorded new/old songs with Endless Mike and is now releasing it for a donation to help start and anarchist bus collective. It sounds like a really great idea. For more information, check out: http://www.wingnutdishwashersunion.com/
Thats all for now folks!
This festival was organized by community members and Pat the Bunny who plays music under the name Wingnut Dishwasher's Union, and previously, Johnny Hobo and the Freight Trains.
The purpose of the day was to utilize public space as if we lived in an Anarchy, putting beside all beliefs. Here is what the pamphlet said:
"Welcome, friends, both old and new. If today is not a practice run of a new world, the perhaps it is at least a prototype of a refugee camp between this society and another. Today is about public space, and redefining the limits of what legitimate use of it is. Are the streets only for moving from home to work to shop to home? Or are they perhaps, if only for one hour a year, also for dancing?
We beg you to treat this day as if anarchy could work, in the best sense of the word: no bosses or governments, because people can take responsibility for themselves and take care of each other without being forced to. Whatever your opinion of the practicality of this idea generally, we don't think it's too much to ask you to try it out for the next 24 hours or so."
There was an acoustic show, zombie tag, a parade, and a food line, followed up by a concert. Everyone was friendly. We were all friends for the day.
Here was the bill:
Compression Fracture-
This was a dance noise band from Brattleboro. I wasn't a huge fan of them but lots of people seemed to be enjoying them.
Pre-School-
This band is what remains of Micheal Jordan Touchdown Pass which is Pat's brother's band. They were grungy but wrote neat songs and put on a really good show. I don't know if they have a myspace or not, but I've had a lot of trouble finding it. I suggest you check them out if you have a chance!
Heathers
A duo from Dublin Ireland. They absolutely blew my mind with their beautiful, harmonically driven songs. This is their second tour in the US with Ghost Mice after their debut release Here, not There. It is one of my favorite albums right now and I highly, highly suggest you get your hands on it if you can. Look them up at myspace.com/heatherswhatsyourdamage
Ghost Mice
I've never been impressed generally with Ghosts Mice despite their status as a staple folk punk band. I could never get over Chris' inability to hit pitches correctly. However, seeing them live was a different experience. I definitely enjoyed them greatly! If you haven't already checked them out, you should: http://www.myspace.com/ghostmice
Endless Mike and the Beagle Club
I've already ranted and raved about how great I think Endless Mike is. They played great. I finally got their 4 way 7" split with Wingnut, Mischief Brew, and Guitar Bomb which is pure gold except for the Guitar Bomb song. They played a great set. This band rules! www.myspace.com/beagleclub
Wingnut Dishwashers Union
This time around, Pat played with a full band which was a unique experience. He has a real talent. He recorded new/old songs with Endless Mike and is now releasing it for a donation to help start and anarchist bus collective. It sounds like a really great idea. For more information, check out: http://www.wingnutdishwashersunion.com/
Thats all for now folks!
Friday, June 12, 2009
The Anniversary
The Anniversary
The Anniversary are a indie/emo band from Lawrence, Kansas who threw the towel in in 2004. They have a unique sound, driven by poppy keyboard riffs, and four part vocal harmonies.
"Designing a Nervous Breakdown," their 2000 release, is dark and urgent, but well balanced. I will play the entire album today because it is super.
]
"Designing a Nervous Breakdown," their 2000 release, is dark and urgent, but well balanced. I will play the entire album today because it is super.
]
Also because they're not a band anymore, here you go:
http://www.mediafire.com/?dijdghmozgb
http://www.mediafire.com/?dijdghmozgb
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Endless Mike and the Beagle Club
Sundowning will be happen 2-4 Friday afternoons. Listen at www.wuml.org or 91.5 FM if you are in the greater Lowell area.
Playlists will be posted at www.spinitron.com and we are, of course, WUML.
This weeks featured band is Endless Mike and the Beagle Club, a multifaceted folk-punk band hailing from Johnstown, PA.
Last week, my last.fm account saw 217 plays for this band (http://www.last.fm/user/aliface1815). Impossible? Not with this band. "The Husky Tenor" is one of the most fantastic albums I've heard in a long time, filled with perfect orchestraction and politically charged lyrics.
I heard of them when Tyler showed me their song on a 4 way split with Mischief Brew, Wingnut Dishwasher's Union, and Guitar Bomb. "In like and lion and out like a light," is an amazing song, influenzed by an influential article about the ethics of an anarchism. "If Bruce Springsteen's Generation was born to run, my generation was just born to run its mouth," is an example of the plays on words that are very prominant in their music.
"The Husky Tenor" has a number of upbeat and slower numbers which, in my opinion are improperly balanced throughout the album. My favorite tracks are Route 1981, This Machine Kills Pacifists, The Outlaw Trail, and Mr. Miller's Opus.
I am tempted to put this album up for download but I wont because they are local (in Johnstown) and worthy of your support.
You can listen to their music at www.myspace.com/beagleclub and of course on my show on Friday so make sure you tune in!
<3Ali
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Well First Off
Welcome to my blog. I'm doing this to talk business, and as a supplement to my summer radio show which will be starting in a couple weeks. I will post the day/time as soon as I know when it is.
My name is Alexandra, my friends call me Ali, my dad calls me Sasha. I am a music business major at Umass Lowell and my instrument is voice. I love to write and you can read my blog for that if you click here. I also enjoy photography: This is the link to my flickr.
I hate music journalism. Well, I don't hate it. But I don't like the idea of swaying people's opinions about music one way or the other. We should all decide if we like something, and then read its reviews.
Alright, down to business. Today is the 12th of May and on Thursday, Chin Up Chin Up will be playing their last show on Thursday. This is sad news to me because I think they are super great. That is them in the picture above. They are a Chicago indie-rock group in the same vein as a lot of 90's emo.
On the subject of the breakup (stolen from pitchfork):
"I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we really had intentions to keep making music together for an infinite amount of time, but just as this band began in a natural way it is naturally coming to an end. Thank you to the hundreds of people who have helped us along the way, we have been truly lucky, and as cliché as it may sound, we could not have done any of this without you."
They have three full lengths, all of which are fantastic. I highly suggest you check them out if you haven't before. Here is the Lowdown:
Selftitled/really long ep
01. Collide the Tide
02. Fuck You, Elton John
03. For All the Tanning Salons in Texas
04. The Soccer Mom Gets Her Fix
05. I'm Not Asking For A Tennis Bracelet
06. Pillage The Village
07. We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers [Stephen Snydacker Mix]
08. Falconz and Vulcanz [Acoustic Relapse]
09. The Architect Has a Gun [Ronald Simmons/Gene McDonald Mix]
00. We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers [Video]
02. Fuck You, Elton John
03. For All the Tanning Salons in Texas
04. The Soccer Mom Gets Her Fix
05. I'm Not Asking For A Tennis Bracelet
06. Pillage The Village
07. We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers [Stephen Snydacker Mix]
08. Falconz and Vulcanz [Acoustic Relapse]
09. The Architect Has a Gun [Ronald Simmons/Gene McDonald Mix]
00. We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers [Video]
This Harness Can't Ride Anything (Sophmore Album)01. This Harness Can't Ride Anything
02. Water Planes In Snow
03. We've Got To Keep Running
04. Islands Sink
05. Mansioned
06. I Need A Friend With A Boat
07. Blankets Like Beavers
08. Landlocked Lifeguards
09. Stolen Mountains
10. Trophies For Hire
We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers1. Why Is My Sleeping Bag a Ghetto Muppet?
2. We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers
3. Falcons and Vulcans
4. Virginia, Don't Drown
5. Collide the Tide
6. I Hope for Tumbleweeds
7. The Architect Has a Gun
8. Get Me Off This Fucking Island
9. I'll Be Your Avalanche
10. All My Hammocks Are Dying
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)