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.
I've stepped on a landmine. Pieces of myself are flying everywhere, limbs torn and scattered. I'm frantically trying to pick them up, and put myself back together. My mind is blown, back at square one, and I wish I knew where to go next. I've been advised to take a different route, but I just feel like a lost Alice following a cheshire cat. I should be looking forward to so many things, but I when I take two steps forward, I somehow end up four steps back. My craft has become this mythological animal trapped in a box with a few holes to breathe and no exit. Will it grow so big and strong it tears it's way through? Or become weak and decrepit and die alone with no witnesses?
Only the masses can decide. The public owns me.
It's that time. When frustration kicks in and my patience runs thin. When it all get's too much, and anxiety wraps me in it's big strong arms. I know all great things take time, it's true but this process is wearing me down. I wish it could go along quicker, and I didn't have to rely or depend on so many people. People who's heart isn't into it as much as mine. People who don't care whether this album is finished or not. Sometimes, I don't know who to put my faith in fully. My trust in their work ethic or their artistic intention. I've never had something mean so much to me. Music has always meant the world, but this project takes precedence. The truth is I'm scared to death it will never be finished, doomed to be suspended in a state of creation without end. Like a rocket that never takes off. I just want people to believe in it and see what I see.
Who am I if not a lover of fine, luxury lingerie? I got the opportunity to brace myself in an Agent Provocateur corset today, a brand I've been a very fond fan of for many years. I must say, the price tag is beyond reach, even for my habit of splurging. But for any woman out there with a wallet fat enough in need of a great pick-me-up, go and get fitted for one. It's much more rewarding than a botox session, or a new handbag. The feeling of a piece so beautiful cinching your waist is absolutely divine. Take it from the girl who would buy the whole store, It's well worth it.
I have such grand ideas, it should be a crime that I cannot execute them. That I lack the resources, the funding, the extra hands, the support. My head boils up some visuals, a few unpainted masterpieces. Things I just want to see, outside of what my imagination has created, in the real world. In the realm where eyes can speculate and wonder and question. In a place where it can provoke thought in plain view. I want to look down on it all, like a master creator. Watching the audience eat the bread crumbs, one by one as I lead them to the bigger picture. Follow the paths and mazes to the true meaning, in the cavity where my heart lies.
What does the protagonist do when she's cornered? Getting to know strangers is always exhilarating, being overwhelmed by a new connection. I can't help but feel lustful in times like these, and it's hard to keep my balance when the lines are so blurred. To be trapped can be desirable, but not if I'll end up where I started, mimicking the person i was. I don't need to meet any more monsters, or fall for any more tricks. It seems like everywhere I step, I'm falling for another trick. Maybe I can just close my eyes, and let myself be blinded by all the fun I'm having.
I guess I'll have no trouble picking up the pieces after, since I'm an expert at it now.
C'est la vie.