Re-recording.

With a metronome. It's easier for friends to play with my songs. That said, I have been so wrapped up in finishing a web site for a client, with my portfolio, with hand-sewing my own wedding dress and with wedding plans that I don't have the energy needed to record right now. It requires a concentration that I simply don't have. Once the the web site is done and the dress, I will be able to finish up the re-recording. I still play just about everyday because if I didn't, I'd be a wreck.

Had a weird dream last night. Something about JAE. I always want to get up and go play a gig somewhere after I dream of him. Had another dream a few weeks ago where I went to a club and there was a recording studio up on a second level. He was there chain-smoking and asked me to record one of my songs for him. I asked if there was a particular one, he said, "Anything! I want to take it back with me!" and I asked if there was a sepecific sort of guitar I could play. He said, "You don't need a fancy guitar! Just play the fucking song!" I woke up feeling really refreshed and feeling better about my music. Whenever he shows up in a dream, it's always about music and always about just PLAYING not over-thinking every little detail. Interesting...

I am making peace with the balancing a job-job and music. Just the way of the world, really. For most musicians. I can deal. And besides, once I have a job-job, I'll have money for...MORE EQUIPMENT! MWUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Fear.

It's ugly. It can cow us into believing that our dreams have no worth. It's dangerous stuff.

For the last month, I have been cowed. It's not that I don't think that I have the talent. I do. Well, some anyway. But sometimes I get so worried that I won't be able to find a snazzy, well-paying job, once I can actually work legally, that I think, "Oh I had better focus my energy on beefing up skills in a sector that I am dead sick of and am becoming less and less enchanted by everyday." By that I mean, web design.

I was in love with an idea of myself moving back to Paris, getting a design job not unlike the one I did in L.A., being one of those annoying bobo hipsters with her cool job and her cool clothes and blah blah blah. At first, it wasn't even design. I wanted to work at my friend's creative consulting and translating firm. She made it clear, finally, that she wouldn't hire me. That was a big let-down. I had pinned so many of my dreams, so much of myself on that job. When I didn't have that anymore, I was sure that I should go roaring back into the design world. I'd go freelance. Well, since January, every project I have worked on has gone belly-up for one reason or another. Meanwhile, every time I work on music and put it out there into the world, I get a lot of love. Why do I repeatedly refuse to listen to what the universe is telling me?

Fear.

Plain and simple.

This weekend, my fiancé was on eBay and he found a Squier (Fender P-Bass design) for a pittance. If the bidding stays that way, I may end up with it. And I certainly wouldn't grumble even if it does have a c-style neck (*grumble*). The more I have thought about having a bass again, the more I feel a circle completing. I love to write songs, and I love to play guitar and ukulele and just about any string instrument you throw at me. But I am a bassist first. I will always be a bassist first. The fear is subsiding as I realize I can sit in with people, I can do sessions again. I know it's not the best bass on earth. But it's a functional bass. I'd love to have one of John Entwistle's old sunburst p-basses or one of his lovely salmon pink ones, or even my old pre-CBS, solid body, delicious sunburst p-bass (which now lives in my brother's recording studio), I hunger after a real Fender P-bass. In due time, in due time. For now, all I need is something functional, one that's cheap enough that, if it gets stolen, I won't cry my eyes out..much. I have become completely smitten by the idea of having a bass again, playing again, joining together with the band.

I remember when I found out John Entwistle had died, my hands CRAVED a bass. Besides tears, my first response was to find one and play the hell out of it. I need one again. Badly.

I am making a commitment to my music. A re-commitment. It isn't an easy path. There is no garuntee that anything will grow from it other than my own personal happiness and satisfaction. But that's a start! I can't keep ignoring what I have seen to be true in my life. Music is my calling. It always has been. Not stardom, fame or money necessarily, but music. When I make music, I am happier and life goes well by and large. When I don't, I am miserable and everything falls to shit.

Which would you choose?

Basic Demo = Done.

I woke up the other morning with a lighter attitude toward the demo. I was insisting on having every song I wanted to put on an eventual album done on the demo. Big time denial of my musical reality. One of the songs requires a bunch of instruments I don't have, and, at this time, would be impossible for me to play live by myself. A big purpose of this demo is to get it into the hands of gig bookers and club/cafe/bar owners to give them a taste of what it is I do. Why put songs I cannot play live by myself on a demo to get gigs where I would be solo? I realized that if I held onto the idea of insisting on putting these two songs on the demo, I would never finish the demo. They were obstacles in this stage of the game. These two other songs are not forgotten and will go an eventual CD when I have more musical contacts and more money to record in a proper studio setting. So I finished up the last two tracks for a total of 12 numbers. 8 in French, 2 in English, and 2 in...strumentals. These need some polishing, a few aren't even finished, but as I listened to these 12 tracks on my iTunes, it all flowed just fine. Much better than I could have imagined.

My current houseguest has a law degree (totally forgot she had it), and she gave me some tips on copyright and Creative Commons and all that jazz, so as soon as I feel better about these recordings, I may put a few up on the Virb page for people to check out. She's a very good cheerleader, and, though I am very lucky to have a few great cheerleaders near and far, it never hurts to have more. Ego and fear being what they are.

One more session to go.

One more recording session and the very, very basic demos for my CD, Migration, will be finished. I need to re-record some bits that were less than spectacular, plus one more instrumental. Then comes the fleshing out. Some songs need more verses or a bridge or a solo. One needs to be rethought entirely, which is a little daunting. After I figure out which end is up, I will have to re-record everything while hoping that I don't get stuck in a loop. Once I have a demo I can live with, and maybe even be a little proud about, I'll start working up a live set so I can hit a stage if someone says yes to me.

An old friend is starting a new club in the 5th arrondissement in August, she says. So I have to be ready when I approach her about getting a weekly gig.

What's hard.

*Getting out of my own way.
*Believing that my music can be my career.
*Letting go of all the other crap I use to run away from my music.
*Believing anyone when they tell me I'm beautiful.
*Not trying to do every single thing every day all the time.
*Watching my sweet Wonder Corgi get old.
*Drinking enough water.
*Leaving the dishes in the sink.
*Not comparing myself to other people (I'm older than the Beatles were when they broke up! What have I done?)
*Believing I have inherent self-worth even when I don't get anything done.
*Being compassionate toward myself, and, therefore, truly compassionate toward others.
*Promoting my music and myself.
*Not looking for the net before I leap.

Blog Addict.

Actually not so much. But I do read a handful from time to time, and one of my favorites is at In The Attic, Rachel Fuller's contribution to the blogosphere.

One of the reasons I read it is that it's funny. Rachel is hilarious. I also read it because it's real, she doesn't hide herself much at all. She admits to being a TV junkie, to having self-esteem and self-image issues but without being maudlin about it, we're around the same age, and both musicians with muso backgrounds trying to make our way in the world of popular music. True, there are as many differences as similarities. My boyfriend isn't a rock icon. Nico and I are not wealthy. I cannot relate to some of her shopping posts because I have never been able to indulge in such things. But I don't slight her for it. She's being herself, and it's delightful.

She is really inspiring as an artist as well because she's so welcoming and nurturing to other musicians. No back-stabbing, no diva snottiness is to be found on her blog, but she's not above taking the piss and, frankly, some people need that to reconnect with their humility. Apparently, she's going to be getting a little place in Paris, I hope it isn't too forward or weird to hope that we might meet up for a chat about music one day. Odds are a gazillion to zero, but I'd love that.

One of her recent posts concerns body-image stuff, size zero and all that crap. I admit that I have problems myself in that department. I am stunned that someone much more visible than myself can be so open about them. It's inspiring. Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I wonder will I ever be accepted just for my music and talent alone? Or will my other "merits" or lack thereof always stand in the way? I think of other women musicians/songwriters like Joni Mitchell, Amiee Mann, Lucinda Williams, I notice that they aren't objectified...Chrissie Hynde, there's another. I know it's possible. It's just so easy to get caught up in the bullshit. So much now is about how you look. Not so much the clothes (wasn't it always a little bit about the clothes?), but, for women, this obstacle goes underneath the clothes to the body. No matter what our brains and hearts create, no matter how well we sing, sometimes it's all about the measurements. Compare even some serious rock journalism articles one day. Read some about men and some about women. The ones about men don't focus much on what the person is wearing or what they look like, at least not these days. But the ones about women almost always include what she wore to the interview, whether or not she's lost or gained weight, as if that has the slightest thing to do with how a person writes or performs a song! This crap can keep talented women from opening up and doing what they love. It's sick.

I usually don't let it interfere with my music, though. Because it has nothing to do with it. It's when i think about performing that it bugs me. But when I was the cellist, the bassist, and not the front person, I didn't care. What is it about also being the singer that brings in the body-issue element? Why do I buy into this bullshit?

Feh.

Why is it so hard for me to do two, three, four or five things at once these days? Multi-tasking was once my fortissimo forte, I was really proud about my ability to seem like I had a few extra pairs of arms. These days, I feel completely fucking useless.

I am finishing up A Tribe Called Request -- two more songs to go, some Kinks and a tune from Pet Sounds. It's been really fun working on so many different types of songs, each one has been a challenge. I moved the recording set-up from the livingroom to the bedroom. Experimenting. Turns out, for some songs, the bedroom is too dead. So now I'm back out in the livingroom. More light, more room for air, less cramped -- much better for my back, too. I still have such a long way to go before I get a really decent sound. Sometimes, I hit it, but most times, not. Some days I have drive, sometimes I have no patience whatsoever. Those are the days to do something else. Knit or play Tiger Woods PGA Tour 07, read, draw. Anything but record, frankly. I have learned that patience is mandatory when recording. Without it, it's just torture for you and anyone else nearby. It was easy when all I had to do was sit at the board or play/sing. Doing both can be really aggravating sometimes.

Between working on those songs, I have been trying to work on my own demo for my CD, Migration. But I can't seem to get anywhere with my own music. Most sessions end in total frustration and wondering why I ever thought any of my songs were worth two shits. My finacé is wonderful during these ego crises. Lots of hugs. Lots of "Well, I like them" and "They get stuck in my head all the time!" Which is lovely to hear, but the artist in me isn't only satisfied by the approbation of others. Most of the time, I think, "Well, that's nice of you. Thanks. But it doesn't fit/work/express what I meant to express..." Some of my songs are good, and I like them. Those are in French. Any song I write in English, however, usually gets guillotined. I am never happy with them no matter what I do to change them. I have decided that I am going to wrap up the one project and then move to the next. I guess that's just how I operate.

Chester gets wheels.

So yes, there are more songs at my virb page. I've been knocked out of the top ten after reaching #7. That was fun while it lasted! I got knocked out by Elliott Smith's page posting a second posthumous album. At first I was really concerned that the proceeds were going to someone who didn't really need them, someone capitalizing on his death. Turns out it all goes to a good cause, Outside In, I think it's called, an organization that tries to help the homeless in Portland, Oregon. So that's good.

I was really quite surprised that I ever got on Virb's chart and radar at all with my dinky little recordings. It was unexpected and a lovely little ego boost.

For the last two weeks, I have been having huge epiphanies left and right, memories have been resurfacing, etc. I have needed to take some time to be. I've been knitting, reading, sleeping, playing video games with my fiancé. There is some sort of energy block in me manifesting itself in about a hundred different ways, some obvious and some not. Yesterday the lesson (re)learned was not to force things. I was trying to record and everything was going wrong. I couldn't bounce down tracks (stupid computer!, I kept saying when in reality I wasn't thinking or seeing clearly due to sleep deprivation), I couldn't get the sound I wanted no matter how hard I tried. It was so frustrating. I recorded and re-recorded. Over and over. Nothing worked. A gentle voice in my mind said, "Stop forcing this" and I finally had the humility to listen to it.

Been sort of floating for the last two weeks, and sometimes a person needs to do that. Have been a little down. We ordered my dog's wheelchair. That makes me happy, but his diagnosis doesn't. He's got Degenerative Myelopathy. He has about another year to go before his back legs are both totally paralysed if typical progress of DM is to be believed so maybe another 2 years in total. Chester the Wonder Corgi is my first dog. And he truly is an amazing dog, but being a dog won't live as long as a human might, obviously. At first, it was easy to be in denial about that. Besides, why fixate? These last two weeks, I have had to make peace with watching him slowly lose the ability to move and knowing with a near certainty that he has about two years left, given how quickly the disease is moving. As long as he is not suffering and is still really interested in his food, playing with his toys, "chasing" pigeons, I refuse to put him down. Lots of people who see him when we take him outside heartlessly and thoughtlessly tell us to do just that (Welcome to France, euthanasia capital of the world!), and I would , if he were unhealthy in any other way or if he were suffering to the point of not sleeping, not eating, etc. But he still has that sweet Corgi smile for everyone he meets, he's still very aware of everything, he's still very vocal. I really think that these wheels are going to mean a new life for him, and his last years will be happier ones. These last two weeks, I have been making peace with the fact that in about two years (please give me more!), I will have to put him down. He will let me know when it's time, or it will be completely obvious. I won't be sick about it, searching for clues and signs every single second. Still...facing the reality of it now is better than skipping along in denial.

The vets here have been totally against wheelchairs saying that they've never seen a happy dog in a wheelchair. Any nasty behavior from them and not only can they squat down and pucker up to kiss my ass, but they can also explain themselves to the Board of Veterinary Medicine. They are lying right through their teeth, of course. There are clips all over the internet of dogs running and playing in their wheelchairs, some partially paralysed, some totally. None of them seem to care that they are in wheelchairs. Like most dogs, they want their owners to be happy. As long as they aren't kicked out of the pack, they're quite content. The French have a strange attitude toward the handicapped in general. The mind boggles that both sign language and Braille were invented by Frenchmen, that there was a time when this country was at the forefront of enlightened treatment for the handicapped. Well, that time is over, apparently. For humans and other animals. Chester's wheelchair will also be a means to communicate and teach people here that there are options to euthanasia. I've been warned by the lovely people at Eddie's Wheels that I will get one of two reactions: people will either think it's the cutest thing that they've ever seen and be happy for him (that will include us and everyone who lives in the apartment building with us), or they will still be hell-bent on heartlessness and tell us to kill him. But there are assholes everywhere on this planet, and there will be until this planet is finally done with our nonsense.

Meanwhile, my dog gets his mobility back, and we get to go on nice long walks again. Plus I get to make up songs about him and wheels. I always sing songs about Chester to Chester. He loves it. So he'll get new ones - and "wheels" "chair" and "cart" open up new possibilities for rhymes, so that will be nice, too!

WOW!

I'm #10! I'm #10! On the virb music page, I am in the top ten! Holy moly!

Too shy to say.

In order to combat my nerves about the French election, I recorded some tunes today. A request from a friend, and the song that made me want to learn to play ukulele, "Blue, Red and Grey."

I'm never satisfied with anything I've done, but maybe you will be.

Maybe not.

I was going to plop a link to BRG in comments on Pete Townshend: The Book, but feel it isn't appropriate somehow.

Art, money or fun?

Over at Pete Townshend's blog, his most recent post about the internet and music got my attention.

In this new internet-influenced music business, still so nascent in many ways, I think a lot of people are asking themselves this question regarding art, money or fun. It's a question that needs to be answered before a person puts music up onto the net, certainly.

The post ends with, "Nothing has changed." I am confused because most of the post talks about the changes: how anyone can "discover" a band now, etc. To end the post with, "Nothing has changed?" I don't understand.

Everything has changed. We're just not sure yet to what extent. But as far as liberty of expression, as far as promotion everything has changed. My reasons for putting my request line up were to share my recording experiments with the world by recording and to make downloadable my versions of the songs my friends wanted to hear. It's a fun little project. A way to introduce whomever wants to listen to my voice and style. It seems to be working. In one week, I have been on the front page of a PC gaming magazine's web page noted as their preferred soundtrack for the day and already mentioned on numerous music-related and non blogs. I have over 1000 all-time plays on my virb page!

When it comes to my own music, I am much more serious. It must be protected before I post it, I will only put up a few downloadable songs. What's changed is that I get to control that. And, for me, promotional control as well as artistic control are good things. It is my most sincere hope that I can make a living as a singing/songwriting musician, if only to prove my father wrong. I will promote. I admit that I hope someone will listen to my music and think, "Damn! We need to sign her!" I have no shame in that whatsoever. There are people like my brother who only record and post for the sheer fun of it. And that's valid, too. He doesn't want money, he just wants to play.

The real deal for me is connecting. I just do what comes naturally to me, and I share it. That sharing sometimes creates a connection between me and the listner. If one day I can take it further, get a deal, whatever, I'll be grateful. That's what I most want and that's what I am trying to do. For art, for fun, and for money? Why not all three? Why not change the "or" in the title of this post to an "and"?

One of the things I love about In The Attic is that it's not just a promotional tool. It's also, at least to me, about connecting. All the different musicians who come on are connecting with you two (three, really, hi Mikey!) and the fans are, too, and it's a win-win-win all the way around. There is no competition going on. It's inclusive and nuturing. Very healthy. It's a great concept, works in theory and in practice. And it shows the essential open nature of this new age in the music industry. I won't say I've never dreamed of being invited one day because that would be a total lie. Just for the FUN of it! Is fun the essential component of why any of us small fish or big make music? God, I hope so. We all know what happens when money is the primary motivator. I think the chain should go like this for the serious working musician: fun, art, then money. The money isn't an evil thing, I think, if fun and art come first. If the money is the motivator, first the art suffers and then the fun is gone.

Thunderstorm.

Have we needed this! It'll knock the pollen and pollution out of the air a bit. But besides that, in my top ten of favorite things is a Spring thunderstorm.

It's cooled off considerably. The air feels fresh, new, charged. Maybe it's that I love opposite forces confronting each other. Two different weather fronts meeting, battling it out. One of my favorite photos ever is an aerial shot of fresh water meeting salt water. Can't remember where it was taken. It's on these frontiers that amazing things can happen.

My mother used to tell me a story about my reaction to my first thunderstorm. We were in Virginia, in Winchester. My father was teaching at Shenandoah before getting hired at UT Austin. There was a massive storm stuck between the Appalachians and the Atlantic. My parents were watching TV in the other room when they realized that with all the crashing thunder, I was probably awake and terrified. When they peeked in on me, I was standing up in my crib, wide-eyed and smiling. I turned to them and whispered in ecstasy, "Rain booms."

Downloadabubble.

Friends! Friends! You can now download the request line songs at Virb.com!!!

Go here. Downloads are go!

Unprocessed blues on Vox.

Newest request is up. "Since I Fell for You" has been covered by Dinah Washington, Mose Allison, Nina Simone, Big Mama Thornton, and, and, and...a lot of other people. I did it in one track, one take. Simple felt best. Overprocessed blues feels, well, wrong to me. Do it, and if it's dirty, so much the better.

Disclaimer: I am not a blues guitarist, but I can shout.

Also managed to record basic tracks of four of my own songs (they're all in French). Was proud of myself for pushing through and doing it, taking mini-breaks along the way. Did you know that a square of fancy chocolate relaxes and resets your left hand after too many bar chords on a classical guitar? Did you? Well, now you do. So there.

First batch finished.

Oh you lucky, lucky people. The first round of requests is done, second round to come.

The two most recent I recorded in the bedroom as opposed to the huge livingroom. Smaller space and more textiles to eat unwanted noise and reverb. I'm learning. Also finally getting the finer points of Garageband. Patience is key, but not difficult. I lose myself and time in the process. I mix to the best of my abilities, and then remind myself that this is not product that I'm hoping someone will purchase, and load it up. It's for fun. It's to make my friends and family happy. It's stress release after dealing with the fucking French government for a year (and still no fucking carte de séjour) and knowing that my dog may have to go in for a major surgery. It forces me to focus and breathe. That's good.

First batch.

The first batch o' requests is almost complete. I put some songs up with a couple my brother helped me record in 2005 in this collection, Music I Make, on my Vox account. We've just exited the Geese City Limits and are moving on toward the Gulf of Fleetwood Mac for "Goat Dust Woman" -- oh sorry -- "GOLD Dust Woman."

Loads more to come.

More music, more music, more music....

Put up one of my own requests. This one goes out to my mother. A month before she passed, we discovered we were both huge Joni fans. How did we not know this about each other after almost 3 decades of family bonds and friendship?

Song up on Vox.

Was taking requests on my Vox blog from friends for recording projects to share with the world. The first one is up, if anyone (ahem) wants to hear it (ahem, wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Expect in coming weeks:

"Blackbird" by the Beatles (requested by my very best friend)
"Aquamarine" by Geese (requested by the songwriter himself)
"Gold Dust Woman" by Fleetwood Mac (requested by a new friend here in Paris who keeps me sane with baked goods)
"Desert Island" by the Magnetic Fields (requested by my fiancé)
"Since I Fell For You" -- loosely based on the Nina Simone version (requested by a fellow blogger)
"The Safety Dance" by Men Without Hats (requested by a dear friend who loves a laugh)
"Gone for Good" by the Shins (requested by another very dear friend who is the only British person I know who can accurately impersonate a Texan)

And, er, Mr. Tow-, er, Pete. I didn't follow the tips you left in comments, but I will this weekend. Thanks! Also, I obviously can't speak about Keith, but, whenever Kim and I would talk, I would have moments of total awe thinking, "How. On. Earth. Did. She. Survive. That. Marriage?" She and I discussed the Who once. I knew about her past -- at least what rock journalists had written -- I wanted to know about her present and what she was doing in the moment. The rest of the time we talked about dogs. I remember when she got mange after taking in some strays she found on the way to Manor. Such a big heart. We met through mutual friends who knew her in L.A. She was very supportive and always made me feel at ease. Once Mac was playing as a Bloke with Billy Bragg in Austin. She dragged me backstage and told anyone who would listen that I was this amazing singer. That meant a lot to me because I think she'd only heard me once. What she and Mac had is something I hoped for in my own life with all my heart, and I think I found it by accident! Mac is also such an inspiration. And, to this day, I stop myself before I dog-ear a page in a book! Glad to know that he's hanging in there.

Also, do you have a request? Or does Rachel? Either or both of you?

New toys.

I have two Apex 435s. I have an M-Audio Firewire 410 Interface. I have stands, cords, a P-popper. Everything is falling into place. Excellent...

Why the Apex 435s after so much nattering about the other mics? Research and price. I get more response and warmer tone for 40 euros less? Ok. That's fine by me. I'd love to copy my brother's home studio, I'd love to have his nice overflowing bank account as well. I have a feeling that this is more than enough for my demo and composing.

So starting the recording tomorrow. Too knackered tonight. Excitement and joy!

Friends.

Got in touch with my old friend from Austin. He's going to become an Episcopal priest! Funnily enough, he's moving to England to finish his studies at Oxford, and this summer he'll be living in Paris so we'll be seeing each other very soon! After so many years...

Have been thinking of friends a lot this year as I am largely alone in France when my fiancé is at work. I skype, chat, call my friends in the States and England, but it's not quite the same as meeting up with them in person for dinner or a pint or a nice walk and some shopping. Not the same at all. And it's hard to make friends with French people. It's a totally different dynamic.

Then I think of friends who are lost or died this year. One friend is in terrible grief because her mother died, and I don't know how to help her or if I should. She's shut in on herself and she's an ocean and half a continent away in Austin. I've called, sent letters and e-mails. Just to let her know she's always in my thoughts and to contact me when she feels ready to deal with the world again. I know exactly how she feels. The relationship she had with her mother was very similar to the one I had with mine. Truly best friends. Maybe that's why I don't want her to be alone. I want her to know that I understand what she's going through. I'll have to be patient, I suppose. But I hope she knows that the bridge between us will never burn.

I also think of a man named Mac also in Austin. I hung out with him a few times, used to house sit for his bassist, but I knew his wife better. She was killed in a car accident last year, and I have not been able to express to him personally how much she will be missed in my life. I signed the guest book. She was honestly one of the sweetest souls I have ever known. I'll never forget a random phone call I received from her one afternoon. She said, "Rachel, I know what you need! You need a Corgi! You're a Corgi person!" I was dead set on this Irish Wolfhound/Great Pyrenées mix rescue dog that I was going to save from the needle. When the papers didn't go through for the rescue, I was really sad. Mysteriously, I received a call from someone who wanted me to come pick up a "pet class" Pembroke Welsh Corgi puppy near Dallas. Kim's call and that one were totally unrelated...or were they? I got the very best Corgi in the world, Chester the Wonder Corgi, and I'll always wonder. Kim seemed to have this sort of happy magical effect on my life, she would say something and then through another channel, it would just happen. We were always going to set a play date for Chester and her Springer Spaniels. It never materialized, we lost touch, I moved away. I cried a lot when I got the news of her passing. The loss of such a wonderful person, even if they haven't cured an epidemic or anything like that, is still a big loss. We need more people like her in the world. So it's up to us to let ourselves be influenced by her humanity. She was an inspiration to me to face the world with love instead of fear. She was kindness incarnate.

Thank you, Internet!

Since it's SXSW in my hometown of Austin, Texas, I was thinking of some of my friends from Austin. Two especially. We've lost touch with each other, and I always think that's such a shame.

Well, I found them again thanks to the power of the internet.

One of them used to play in various bands with me. The other musicians came and went, we were the core. He was the drummer, I was the bassist. He was like the little brother I always wanted and never had. Googled him last night and found out he's in SF playing music. His band's sound is very club-oriented, which was a surprise. I never imagined he even enjoyed that kind of music. Found his myspace page. In the end, he's pretty much the same old guy. Sent him an e-mail.

The other person was my friend Ali's dad, Arthur (Brown, the man who brought us fire and taught us to burn). Ali left Austin, and Arthur and I would bump into each other from time to time. Either at Whole Foods or at a show. He once gave me a session of music therapy at Casa de Luz that was really helpful. I always felt so relaxed around him. Maybe it was his amazing smile. Anyway, I found him, too. Sent an e-mail. It would be nice to hear from one or the other or both!

Songs That Sometimes Make Me Cry.

When I was an angst-ridden teen, before the cancer and all that, I used to listen to songs that I knew would make me cry, and have a good solid bawl. Sort of like the restaurant in The Tin Drum by Günter Grass. All the former Hitler Youth had onions cut at their tables right under their noses so that they could cry. A torture and a therapy at the same time.

I had plenty to cry about. Normal didn't exist in my family (not sure it exists anywhere), and I learned early that extreme emotional pain cannot be endured everyday if you melt everytime it occurs. I guess I was stocking up. In the years between those days and these days, lots of horrible things have happened to me. The lowest points follow:

*I was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 17.
*An abusive man I lived with for 5 years threatened my life and stalked me for 2 years after I left him.
*My mother, my best friend, died while I was living in Paris, a week before I was to come home.

Lots of things pile up, and you have to harden to get through the day, the month, the year. It took me two years to emote "properly" about my mother's death. And you know who helped me the most besides my fiancé? E of Eels and the fabulous "Blinking Lights and Other Revelations." The song that never fails is "Last Time We Spoke." The first time I heard it, I was buying art supplies at the BHV in central Paris. I had just left the building and was standing on the corner about to walk home. But I couldn't move. Bobby, Jr.'s howl stopped me. But the line "nothing hurts/like someone who knows/everything about you/leaving you behind" almost killed me. Even now, that line squeezes my heart. It is so simple, but so complex. Just like grief. There's self-pity, it's acknowledged, and oddly, respected. And, for me, it is exactly what it feels like to have lost my mom. It is the worst pain I have ever experienced. Nothing hurts like it. Something happens, I have a bad day, I don't want to have to explain, but the one person who understood me completely is gone. Very singular and stabbing pain.

I sent my dad "Blinking Lights" for Christmas after another of his (this time successful?) stints in rehab. It speaks to him, too. But I think that those songs speak in a different language to anyone who hears them. They are specifically unspecific. They are perfect songs.

Of course, there's also "It's a Motherfucker" from Daisies of the Galaxy. That whole damn song. Simple, but really not at all.

The other song that sucker-punched me recently was "Imagine a Man" by The Who from Who By Numbers. I was having a Who night, just me and my iPod. I have listened to this song a million times, but that evening, I don't know. The music, the lyrics, the production quality, and something in that liquidy bass line that starts after "or a simple act of deceit" - especially that bass line weaving into eveything else - grabbed my heart and squished it. It's a response, a support, a voice of a loved one. A friend with open arms ready to hold you until you've stopped crying. Empathy translated into music. May have been the furthest thing from John's mind, but that's what it felt like in that moment, at that listening. The magical production quality of that beautiful song lifts it even higher. The image that comes to me is something shining in a blue sky full of fluffy clouds. Is it a UFO? An Angel? You think you know and then it's gone. Like trying to describe a moment of union with the divine. That song makes me cry because it's so damn beautiful.

Recording equipment.

Should be getting some stuff soon for recording on my computer. Nothing too fancy, but I am so excited. I've decided to go M-Audio, couple of (really very sweet and juicy) studio mics and the Firewire 410 with dual XLR inputs so I can record decent acoustic guitar sound and my voice while doing both at the same time. I don't like separating the two. It's never been a problem when I am singing on someone else's recording, but somehow I feel too separated to emote properly. Maybe that's just an excuse to throw down the money for two sweet and juicy studio mics. Not sure. I'll try both recording styles and see where that gets me.

Trying to figure out where to record in this small-ish apartment is a bit of a brainteaser. We have a very large closet that we want to convert into a small office. The acoustics are too tight and tinny. I would need something to soften the space. I've heard of one of my musical heros gluing cork against the walls in a similar situation. Our lease says that's illegal. Our lease says we even have to account for the yucky repeating pattern of upside-down Chinese character wallpaper in our bedroom if we change it. I was thinking of painting the room Robin's Egg blue. That would be an improvement. Then again, I like to think we'll be moving soon, so why bother?

I feel that I have really semi-integrated into living in France now. My psyche bucked at first. I'm getting married to a Frenchman, but one who isn't very, you know, *French*. This is it. This is pour toujours. It will become increasingly difficult to change our minds about where we want to live. The choice was between Paris and L.A. At first, the choice seemed obvious until I got here and endured nearly a year of French bureaucracy, the lack of a right to work, the lack of rights in general (all those truths which Americans hold to be self-evident), French *friendships* which seemed stable, but were in fact too brittle to last, loneliness, etc. The upside is that I finished writing a novel and wrote so many songs, I have more than enough for a CD, I drew a lot, read a lot. And people in L.A. aren't that much nicer, really.

It was just such a change even though I had lived here before. I was living in Venice, CA in a house a block from the beach, working 50 hour weeks at a web design company not even a mile away also a block from the beach. Things were mellow, sunshiney, flowery and I was getting used to that. I was getting used to jeans - tshirt - flip-flops, jumping on my bike every morning to go to work. And the place where I worked. I used to give my boss guitar lessons! He was a surfer. It was very, very relaxed even though the hours were a little tough sometimes. My fiancé and I decided on Paris because I love him too much to put him through the humiliation of visiting the INS in America. I have lived in France before. I know the system, I fought once before and almost won. But I wasn't allowed to have a proper job at first. I worked on creative projects exclusively. This sort of situation was always my dream, but it was difficult to abandon myself because of the fear and stress of my irregular status in France. Difficult also to accept that writing a novel and writing songs was *real* work. I want to do these things as my real work. Yet...it's a leap. This year was a time to learn whether or not I really had the discipline and desire to make a novel and a CD happen. The query's at a lit. agent's office and I'm about to record a demo (or possibly a CD, we'll see...), so there's my answer.

Now, I feel that I am getting the hang of France again. Shedding the overpowering work ethic and not feeling weird about it. Hope that doesn't keep me from finding a job in the coming months. My next big step will be to find places to play. I'll start with open mics and then bother a few promoters. After a really bad relationship with the leader of a very fun band (I was the singer) ended in Austin, TX a few years ago, I haven't really performed much. My early childhood shyness returned. Somehow I managed to lose that before the age of ten. How can I get back to that courage and sense of play?

Jeanne Moreau once said something to this effect about getting over nervousness on stage, "Go out there complete, awake, alive, and give what you've got as though it were a gift you are giving to the audience." I don't think she meant that one should be arrogant about it, though some arrogance may be necessary depending on what a person is doing. I think she meant in the way a sensitive child gives a gift to a parent. There's humility, and there has to be some fear or you aren't caring enough, but there's also generosity. A person has to be strong to be truly generous, to give without ever expecting thanks.

Yet another blog?

This is my third. I think I have a problem. Is there a 12 step program for blogs? I just finished the 12 step program for 12 step programs! Damn!

Not sure what I'll use this one for. Snippets of my as-yet unpublished novel? Lyrics? No clue.

I am also to be found here.