Flashback to three years ago, I when had just begun to find myself artistically, and allowed my imagination to take me for a ride. When I used everything I had, every naive notion to exploit my personal life. I don't know why I always felt driven to prove a point. To simply say, "this is what I meant, this is what was going through my head." To romanticize my sadness and ridiculous mistakes. To transform my mundane existence into a hollywood movie. By this point, the role of mad villain seemed to look good on me, and I ran with it. It changed me creatively, it made me feel like I could do anything. The woman that lost her shit was really a young girl who lacked experience and wisdom to pull herself out of her guilt. I remember this song didn't come to me right away, it took a great deal of pondering and marinating. Why was it that I did what I had done? Why had I felt caged, and cornered into holding on to what I had already let go of? I wrote it to set myself free of the guilt of wanting more. Wanting something new. I remember dying to know what it felt like to be in love. My little teenage heart beat like that of a hopeless romantic, waiting to be whisked away by it all. But by the time I had written this song, I felt crazy for wanting to throw it away on a whim. I felt crazy for being so in love one moment, and completely over it the next. I felt so cold, and worried if it would be like that forever. The fact of the matter is, love is a subject hammered into little girls early and thoroughly. There is neglect in the gesture of leaving out the little details growing up, that sometimes wanting other things is more important. That love will find itself to you, and your job in life is seeking out your own happiness. Make yourself the strong female you're going to need to be when love knocks on your door. Know who you are and what you want before someone comes along and causes you to question it. My first love was wonderful, and epic. But I was so dependent on it for a while, that I longed for independence. I wanted to need nobody. There is no guilt, or shame in that. The truth is, this theme perfectly correlates to my current existence. Love is fine and dandy, but not if you're going to lose your shit.
Unless of course losing your shit helps you write songs.
This is coincidentally a follow-up of my last post. It should be titled "This explains it all" because it only makes sense this watery moon cycle would drown me. Duh. This article was so eye-opening it helped me understand. I'm even more thrilled my newly purchased crystals are being cleansed this very moment under the symbolic supermoon. I've been feeling drained lately because I am. I released all these emotional toxins and I'm still not through. Self-healing is a journey worth taking. Which I hope finds you all tonight, being cleansed under moonlight, starting fresh with a clean slate.
Last night a strange feeling washed over me. It was so strong it carried into today, creeping like a fog over my thoughts. They are a powerful thing, our thoughts. I spend too much time dwelling on things that make me unhappy. Mistakes, outcomes I feel I can't control...my current reality. A positive outlook keeps us afloat, and always wins out in the end. But sometimes I get so tired, I wish I could sleep forever. I realize a lot of my positive affirmation is a ploy to gloss over my pain, lacking genuine intent and manipulating myself to believe I'm making progress instead. I do certain things like going out and drinking, dancing; Because in my head a good night is the best distraction. Attention is the best distraction. That mental block disintegrated last night. Nothing can distract me long enough from the core problem. The unsettling feeling that my unhappiness is self-inflicted. That I could at any time, change my outlook, or focus and put my stubborn heart to rest. That I have so much to look forward to, so many opportunities and gifts from the universe. Yet, I torture myself by thinking of everything I don't have. Sometimes, I'm so sad I feel almost sick. But I realize I am my own cure. My dreams and ambitions acting as medicinal hope, because I wasn't put here with these visions from the better part of my brain not to breathe them into existence. I wasn't put here to be consumed by sadness, and not overcome it.
I used to watch this movie endlessly as a kid. I'd hoped someday I'd know the feeling of being part of a sisterhood. A lasting friendship, to span decades and share everything with. Luckily, I did...I grew to have an intense, everlasting bond with my group of girls. Such different personalities, like those from Now & Then, but so much in common. Sure we tease each other, poke fun at the deepest personal things outsiders don't know; We argue and bicker. You do what it takes to keep it alive throughout the years, fighting tough times and lows. There is, however unconditional love and support at the end of the day. Through thick and thin, we stick it out because without them life would just not be the same. Even if one of us tells the other to fuck off, we're always here. No matter what.
I had the honor of being blessed to see a very intimate performance of Tony Bennett and Lady Gaga the other evening. It filled me with so much emotion, I was so overwhelmed by their connection and banter. Tony, a legend in his time and ours, who has lived it all and now recording a jazz album with Gaga, who is probably the greatest performer of our generation is just epic. This is so overdue, yet the timing couldn't be more perfect. Her career has unfolded so masterfully, it only depresses me. Could I ever live up to such perfection of a performer? There I was, sitting in my seat feeling guilty for being sad because so many would have killed to have been in my place. It runs deep though, and it's only stemmed from my own fears. In reality, she's doing now what I have wanted to for so long; Bringing the music of old to this generation. Jazz is not dead. The era of glamour and sophistication is not dead. She lives it everyday, and so do I. Although I'm sad it's not me, I couldn't be happier that it's her. Who cares who it is that shines the light on past influence of our culture, as long as it's shined, right? May that grand spotlight keep shining, because I'll be ready soon to join the ranks of the renaissance men and women who are still doing it the way it was done back in the day. It's delicious...it's delightful, and man it's de-lovely.
It's crazy to imagine how time can pass between two people and change nothing, yet it can all shift in the blink of an eye. One moment, one soft sweep of wind while watching the sun wake up, when the world feels like it's not turning. After so much pain and ache, we created our own sun rise, bringing light to all the darkness we had casted on ourselves. We washed away our grudges in a way that it doesn't matter what the future holds, or how we travel there. It matters that we can look upon our faces and see the hate and anger melt away. More time will pass and once more nothing much will change, not at the core anyway. The hourglass will be turned upside down after it fills, the same way the sun will go on rising. We can plan for the future in so many ways, prepare for any curve ball that is thrown in our direction to make us lose our balance with harmony. In reality though, there is only so much preparing one can do. My favorite hollywood romance between Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton proves this in the most beautiful way. Those two went through everything. Money troubles, jealousy, alcoholism, divorce, remarriage, deaths, and everything else in between that tested their love. Somehow though they always found their way back to each other. They wouldn't see each other for months, maybe years but the minute they were in the same room, no one else existed. They're connection and chemistry stood the test of time. And even in the end, when Liz was forbidden to attend Burton's funeral by his widow, she visited his grave and wept as if she had been the widow. In her heart she always would be. Time didn't exist between those two. It never changed who they truly gave their heart to.
I witnessed many forks in many roads today. It was unlike those fairytales where the obvious choice is presented by a sunny, friendly road versus a winding, creepy one. No, it was more conspicuous and mysterious. The danger had not presented itself so willingly, not at first. It appeared after the choice had been made, almost like a storm rumbling above me. I had a birds eye view, though I would have preferred to have turned away. But it's almost like we can't avert our eyes to disaster, to that fire or that accident. Once we actually get a glimpse, we can't undo it. So many signs we see and receive in a lifetime, yet the most dangerous are the one's we don't notice. Because getting lost is a terrible misfortune, and even worse when there's no one to ask for directions. Sometime's we face the road alone, or that choice is forced upon us because a safe and sunny path can turn dark depending on who you take with you.
Matty Walker is a character that taught me a very important lesson at a crucial age. By being the type of woman that would "do what was necessary" even if it meant lying, cheating, or concocting some badass plan, she taught me no one comes first but yourself. Body Heat is a film I've blogged about in the past, but it's so good it's worth referencing every time. In times when I need to remember what to place at the very top of my priorities, this character tells me all I need to know. I won't reveal any spoilers, but let's just say her go-getter attitude helps her achieve what we witnessed her life goal to be in her high school senior yearbook, "To be rich and live in an exotic land" at the very end of this shocker of a movie. And at the expense of a poor man who falls madly in love with her, no less. She scapegoats him only to leave him in prison at the end, alone and rethinking every detail of their affair. Wondering how he could be so foolish, and how she deceived him in such a cruel way. I'm always reminded that in many situations, I want to come out like Matty Walker, and certainly not the heartbroken jailbird.
I'll never forget when the time came to update some close friends on my progress with the album, and I played them song by song, most reactions were "It's amazing but, I hope your next album is happier" or "Wow, you've got to make more feel good music next time." Thinking back to almost a year now when I began this journey, I kind of laughed and agreed. And while I do believe every artist needs to be well-rounded with diverse material in order to maintain longevity, I will never, and I repeat NEVER indulge this again. Simply meaning: I sing the blues. I rip my fucking heart out for every song, and write the words down in my own blood. I won't waste my time telling all you lovely people to put your hands up in the club, because you have enough "musicians" out there reminding you to swallow your pain along with that shot. To close your eyes to your shame, or heart ache or whatever the fuck is you feel that makes you want to escape. I'M here to remind you to face your pain head on, deal with the process of overcoming it, because the longer you pretend it's not there, the more it will eat away at you. Yes, in the future I will explore other parts of my artistic expression, but at the moment my purpose is to share this enormous depression I couldn't shut my eyes to, or swallow with my whiskey.
I'll make "happy" music when I actually fucking feel it. Namaste.
Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again...
That famous opening line written by Daphne Du Marier in her gothic suspense novel Rebecca is haunting me lately. My dreams always take me to strange places, maybe known to me in a past life, or perhaps foreshadowing a future visit. I believe we leave our spirit every place we visit; A piece of us remaining there and in return we take a piece with us. It affects us, swelling our memory with what we would do if we could go back. This is touched upon in Rebecca mostly relating to the grand English estate known as Manderley, in such a way that the grounds so eloquently described becomes a character of it's own. I intend to find a Manderley of my own, even if in my imagination, so enchanting I could escape whenever I choose. A place only the mind of a dreamer could thrive, a garden to plant more magic. A true utopia, an artist's escape.
One can only dream
I always get this rush before a performance. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, making my heart beat so fast I almost go deaf. Being onstage is a high better than any drug could provide, and more fulfilling than anything else I do in life. Surprising an audience, or stirring emotion and seeing it on their faces is the most rewarding experience. I haven't felt it in so long, I'm hungry for it. I'm itching to lose myself in a performance; To become possessed with the message I want to convey, or whatever story there is to tell. I'd like to think it comes from a form greater than myself, that beckons me to express everything that is within me.
When I take the stage, I feel closer to God.
Check out my interview with Physical Graffiti and rehearsing for the showcase she will be hosting on June 21st. I'm always excited to be a part of her showcases because it gives me a sense of purpose and place amongst the local talent. Every show is like a little movement towards bringing awareness to all the amazing artists right in our backyard, just trying to make good music. It feels bigger than me, and I couldn't be more proud.
Check out more performers here
Life is funny in a cruel way. We learn our greatest lessons through pain and suffering, fighting each battle as if some war was waged between us and destiny. We make many mistakes, however gaining a sordid wisdom along the way. Especially more so if the same mistakes are repeated. Eventually though the true resolution presents itself and you never look back. I have made peace with a part of my life that for so long drained me. I have made peace with the role I was born to play. I can accept I will forever be viewed as someone else through his lens, and his viewpoint is skewed.
I've released every ugly feeling through artistic form, and he must still carry my burden.
My freedom is a revelation.
Life sure is funny.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Maybe it's a question of self-worth or dignity. If these themes can even be present when I've come to this point. In an effort to repress my old ghosts and demons from manifesting themselves I cling to current lackluster endeavors, which also lead me down dark paths. They may not twist and bend as wildly as my old ones, but they can be just as daunting. They're still able to draw me closer to danger, and closer to darkness. It is unfortunate I can only choose between dark and darker. There is rarely a light at the end of the tunnel, so whatever will indulge my temporary taste for passion will do.
I wish it would only meet me halfway.
It must have been a crime to have enjoyed spending time with you. It's a downright shame that I wanted to walk away with nothing but fond memories of the brief affair we shared. I should know by now no relation in my life ends gracefully. It's always harsh words and odd behavior. I'm not delusional, however. I know I have my many faults, and can sometimes carry myself in a way that puts people off, pushing them further away. I suppose others who have much to offer in life can often have that affect on people. Sometimes too much is offered where no more is desired. On the bright side, the story I tell never really has an ending. Only the names and faces change. The outcome seems near and then drifts away, taking the form of yet another strangers face.
Only the names and faces change, but never the story.
Too many times romantic words are spoken,
too many words of love are said in vain.
This fantastic mock-musical was written and directed by John Turturro, and boasts a star-studded cast including Susan Sarandon, Christopher Walken, and obviously the late great James Gandolfini. In this scene, Kate Winslet who plays Gandolfini's mistress expresses her confusion about their relationship through the musings of Connie Francis. This song has always struck a chord with me, and simply asks the question on most women's minds when they are intertwined with a lover. How much of this is real, and how much of it is playing along to what's expected of you? Anyway, I'm in debt to Turturro for introducing me to the song through this film, and expressing something so honest and real in such an interesting way. I highly recommend it.
I am too honest. So much so, it can feel like a curse. My candid tongue has brought me much misfortune, mostly making me unlucky in love. Most would say this is impossible. Preposterous, even! But, I assure you...nobody wants to be told the truth. In the game of life, the most cunning characters are those that conceal their true intentions, dangle the bait before they reveal themselves. Survival of the sneakiest. I, however am an open book. An exhibitionist of words and actions, because maybe the world is my stage. The script and my lines revealing all of me too quickly, where I tend to walk the line of regret and pride.
Where I sometimes want to tell myself shut the fuck up.
Because no one cares about the truth.
The distances people put between each other is an endless lonely burden. A road of push and pull, leading to lost opportunity. Why is it they don't realize that you're investing you're precious time in building a connection? All relations need nurturing, even if it's one that you wish meant less than it did. Lost time spent with someone who doesn't want to mean anything to you, time we can't get back. Those are moments we felt something that are tirelessly analyzed wondering if it was one-sided. These are hours, days, sleepovers, drinks I could have shared with someone else who would have appreciated it. I find it increasingly difficult to live in the moment with someone I like these days, because that moment always becomes a dead end. I have decided I won't give another ounce of myself to a bottomless, greedy taker. There is only so much of myself left.
We are programmed to feel, but somehow we're fighting not to feel. The human condition isn't so human these days, but more mechanical and cold. We have become numb to certain aspects of emotion lately. I don't know if it's a generation thing, or a culture thing, or whatever kind of thing it is. But It is somehow embedded like code to put aside our feelings, for whatever reasons we provide. Feelings are a useless, dead language. Even the phone call, the exchange of words and hearing the tone of the voice that speaks to you is dead. The art of conversation is dead. It is now read, like we're servers who process and store but never acknowledge. The text is the new emotion. The selfie is the new emotion. If this, as a technological advancement in our history is what I have to look forward to, someone remind me why I want to be here.