swim

You turned your fork over with quiet grace. Crumbs traced, fell into tiny raked lines, golden. I took another sip of coffee. I turned to the window. These late nights, the pressure in my head, my left hand stained with ink, my eyes tired and stale, these late nights had to end. You smiled and tilted your head to watch our waitress ramble down the aisle. Her shoes gleamed in their own rigid, florescent loveliness.

Holiday

500 hundred miles or so into tomorrow, I will turn and stretch in my car seat and look out into the darkness, scanning the horizon for that hint of light, that faded lovely glow in the distance. Birmingham. The Magic City. I will look to James and smile sleepy tears of excitement. Soon I will see our families. Soon I will hold my grandmother's hand.




Christina Courtin - Rainy -
one of my favorite tracks recently posted on Said The Gramaphone.

Winter 1993

Sometimes, dearest, I just stop. Because I don't understand.

Sometimes I look at my life and say...yes. All of these things.

Sometimes I turn and look at you.

Sometimes I remember that trailer on the edge of town. Sometimes I remember a white bench seat in an old two door, the engine humming in the chilly Winter wind. The awkward windows. The scene on the screened-in porch. Weren't they all scenes. Weren't they all waiting. Why didn't they say one thing. I was in the midst of a Midwestern Austen adaptation. Longing. Silence. Longing. Silence. Whispers. Anticipation. Silence. All in the middle of a god-damned cornfield.

You were there, corn silk hair and gray eyes. You were there, all form and no function. You were there, hands in pockets and digging at the gravel road with the toes and heels of your shoes. I was there and I walked away, cold air burning red into my tear-stained cheeks.



Sharon Van Etten - For You from the album Because I Was In Love

Pied Piper Triumphant

I reached down to nervously clutch my purse. My hand furrowed down between chair and desk to find a lonely lunch bag. I caught myself and stared up at my Advisor. I had almost captured her lunch. "So..." she smiled and dragged one hand across her hair as she tapped and tapped the mouse. She turned her head to me. Her bangs stood out sideways from her head, a dangerous angle, sharp and satirical.

"Um...I don't know. Um..." We stopped for a moment as I fumbled through the papers upon my lap. I was so ashamed of the amounts of Ds and Fs and what-have-you's on my transcripts, but so proud of the memories that they produced. Every year of incompletes, save one, stood for this lovely, terrific life I led. Every F for a series of mornings, overslept or just delinquent...from what adventures? From stuffing students into my little blue car for seemingly pointless but truly amazing day excursions to St. Louis. To the family farm. To Denver, Colorado. To defunct Utopian communities dotting the Midwest. To shows in Chicago, Atlanta, Nashville, and New Orleans. To late night rock shows at the Nick. To laying about on rainy days discussing nothing but the weather while Red House Painters beat the din that marched my heart to it's adolescent sadness My only regret is time. That I am 31 and have so much math yet to learn.

"So? What do you think?" She had brushed her unwieldy bangs down. Her eyes peered through her slim glasses. Click. Click-click.

"Yes. I think that's great. Those classes sound perfect."

And with that...I became a student again. At last.

Múm "Sing Along" from Team G on Vimeo.

Trip the Friday Fantastic!

-friday FANTASTIC shortmix-

Melbourne - R. Stevie Moore
No More Heroes - The Stranglers
Andy Warhol - David Bowie
Kay-ray-ku-ku-ko-kex - Mum
Wake - The Antlers
RR vs D - AU

Layers

While making bread this afternoon, I swayed a bit, leaning back and forth from foot to foot. Karen Berquist from Over the Rhine belted from my living room "My Funny Valentine." I realized that I could no longer feel my toes. In their place, I felt nothing but cold. Fingers stiff and covered with flour, I forgot, I forgot the flour. I reached down to touch my shoe, just to make sure my foot was still there. Yes. And now my Doc Marten Mary Jane was also covered with flour. The cold is unusual to me. I guess I've been spoiled by 8 years of Alabama weather. Our cavernous apartment has tall windows which still seem to let in little light. I've invested in leggings and long-sleeved knit shirts to put under every piece of clothing that I own. How could I forget? How could I forget the quiet bitter cold of the North? It stole so quickly into my days. The summer hung around so long, lazily reclined upon our living room couch, throwing his drunken stare in every direction. Fans and air conditioning units were installed and shifted from room to room. And instead of the bumbling, snail-like exit I had expected, Summer stole away in the middle of the night, leaving in his place this hollow dreadful chill.

fall falling footsteps

Fifteen lines on country roads. Fifteen hearts entangled. Turn a corner, down the lane, a darkness overtakes us. Through the brush and tottered trees, through the frozen Autumn eve, breath like cotton, hands curled close, gingerly, we follow.

Fifteen paces over hill. Fifteen miles upon us. Fifteen years we've lived until another night of burning light, of scorching heat, of feigned delight. Another moon leads us to stand around the burning embers. Your face distorted, features sharp, then fading with the flick of dawn.

*************************

J. Tillman - "First Born" from Vacilando Territory Blues from Western Vinyl on Vimeo.

Thank you.

Two days, 300 miles or so, not enough coffee, a paper bag full of Indian take-out, one hyper-active English sheepdog, one pint of whiskey, fake blood on hospital scrubs, a gypsy, a pirate, a tiger, a frozen lady, a wrecked kiddie car, a bamboo cane, a tiny mustache, a bowler hat, a bunny suit, and a pair of cheap glasses...all make for the beginning of a beautiful birthday.

nein on nine

We stopped in at the ever amazing Grammers on Saturday night for the Nein on Nine! shindig. Lovely and awesome.
I ran into the 5ch4r7z and his lovely other half in the lobby. The consumption of good beer and an insane array of pretzels and cake (one of which D later pulverized in the parking lot after someone dropped it on his car) and a great amount of inspiring discussion took place. Thanks for inviting us all out. Great evening. Love this video:

NEIN ON NINE! from PROJECTMILL on Vimeo.

Vote NO on Issue 9!!!

Starring Charlie Gibson
Manifesto Written by Mandy Levy
Shot and Edited by Pete Ohs
Music by Bad Veins

theprojectmill.com
peteohs.com
badveins.com
mandylevy.com

corrosion/colors

I climbed onto the table and stretched out, turning my gaze for a moment as I lay down, glancing lightly and quietly at the huge plastic and metal circular mouth of the MRI machine. My head came to rest upon a small pillow. The radiologist placed a frame over my head and locked it into place. I smiled up at her. "Woman in the iron mask," I nervously joked, staring up at the small mirror attached to the frame. My nose stared back, attached to a smile, attached to my eyes, my crinkled worry-worn forehead, attached to my face. The mirror was tilted strangely. It was supposed to reflect the radiologist's booth outside of the MRI room. It's purpose was to make the patient feel like they were not trapped inside a large magnetic machine, that the patient was still connected to the outside world. I kept staring at the reflection of my nose and thinking, "That is my nose. I like my nose. It's kind of pretty." As I thought these thoughts and kept quite still, the radiologist rolled me back into the machine, and then her voice came over the loudspeaker. "This should take about two hours. We'll take a break towards the end to do the injection. The first scan will be five and a half minutes." I closed my eyes. My breath became a slow rhythmic timer, my only companion. Charged little clicks and whirs resounded, then the pulsating, unending, staccato-ed "BUUURRRR" of the machine.



Give me this new lovely season. Give me cold air and cars rushing by. The leaves will start to turn. We'll sit on our porch in the crisp autumn evenings, smoking cigarettes and singing, squinting and smiling at the people walking past.

"i cross the line
and see a face that can’t be mine
through a long long night
to find a place where we all thrive
where every frail thing can survive
where we can live this dream of life..."

from handkerchiefs by the Winterpills

shortmix - songs to listen to while i cry into my yoga bolster

Head Home - Midlake from The Trials of Van Occupanther

Famous Blue Raincoat - Marissa Nadler from Songs III

In Silence - Low from Drums and Guns

Lump Sum - Bon Iver From For Emma, Forever Ago

Blue Line Swagger - Yo La Tengo from Prisoners of Love

Madzangara Dzimu - Green Arrow from 4-Track Recording Sessions

Freely - Devendra Banhart from Smokey Rolls

Clothes of Sand - Nick Drake from Time of No Reply

Where Do You Go To (My Lovely) - Peter Sarstedt from The Darjeeling Limited Soundtrack

Self-Portrait in Three Colors - Charles Mingus from Mingus Ah Um

I Give You What I Want - Hope For Agoldensummer from Ariadne Thread

Drive Me To The Center

Most probably my top pick for MidPoint Music Fest:

The Seedy Seeds - Drive Me To The Center from Soft City Lights on Vimeo.

I can't help it. I heart them like the madness.

Catch The Seedy Seeds @ the Contemporary Arts Center on Thursday, September 24th at 10:30pm.

Blue Ridge Mountains

Red Squirrel in the Morning

"Red squirrel in evening,
Red squirrel in the morning,
I'm coming to take you home...."
from Sun It Rises by Fleet Foxes

Sometimes I'm a little late. Sometimes I arrive hands wide open and wandering. Sometimes I turn and finally notice. Sorry it took so long.

These summer days have been long. I'm thankful that the weather has grown slightly cooler. I'm glad that the busy part of this season is over and we can finally enjoy a few weeks of quiet recreation and rest.

After James arrived home from the Vermont workshop, we packed up the car and set off for NYC. I was worried that such a big trip might add to the stresses of the Summer (workshop, broken toe, general hot season MS fatigue) but I think we both found the adventure rejuvenating. Two of our closest friends, Will and Amber, played host and guide for our very first visit to New York. We waited in the sauna-like subway, saw our first city rats, wandered the streets of Chinatown and Greenwich Village, pillaged Yogurtland, shopped in Soho, searched through the stacks in the Strand. The Strand is extraordinary and overwhelming. I found an out-of-print Nancy Mitford novel, Don't Tell Alfred. James wandered a bit, eyes large, taking it all in. It was a bit like the first time we reached the upper room of the Ohio Bookstore. We could have stayed there for hours...but we needed more coffee.

The Antlers CD release for Hospice was that Friday night at the Mercury Lounge on the Lower East Side. The show was incredible. I love the record. The narrative of the record is so powerful and I was unsure if they would be able to replicate that on stage, to interpret something so beautiful in a live (and uncomfortably hot) setting. I should never have had a doubt. They pulled it off beautifully.




Upcoming Events...happening in the near future...as in the next two days:

Tomorrow evening there will be a poetry reading at Sidewinder Coffee in Northside featuring several poets including but not limited to: Kristi Maxwell and Mitch Raney.

Saturday:
There will be a free performance of As You Like it at Eden Park.

Poet Matt Hart is reuniting with his band and playing in the front parlour of the Southgate House? That's the rumour, Kids. We'll be there to see if it's true.

Also, later in the evening we may stop by the Freddie Mercury Birthday Bash at Grammers.

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