tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91121536125468965912024-03-18T19:57:08.355-07:00What is this crazy thing called...LifeHere are some ideas:
A chance for me to display my creative faults and faulty creations. An experiment to see if the internet can really make me look better than real life can. A thing to have when I want to say strange, uninhibited things to the world!
Blog. Not super deep.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-22224411590598212572010-10-02T11:53:00.001-07:002010-10-02T13:00:24.145-07:00The Art of CraftI've been thinking about the art of craft lately. And vice versa. It seems as though the line between the two is very fine. When does a cooking trade become a culinary art? And when does wood working become sculpting? It's not the tools you use or even the ingredients it seems. Is it a matter of utility and purpose? If the pipe were to be a real pipe instead of a painting of a pipe, it would serve the purpose to burn and enjoy tobacco. But isn't it also sometimes the pleasure of holding the wooden shape in your hand? Enjoying the hand carved curves, and feeling the passage of time smooth its wooden contours? So how is that different than enjoying the idea of a pipe? I guess to me, the drawing of a pipe tells a story more than anything. <br /><br />All these thoughts were brought up after playing a show in Johnson City, TN. Why? Maybe after speaking to various people about their various crafty university programs, such as: Bluegrass and Old Time, and, my favorite of all, <a href="http://www.etsu.edu/stories/about.htm">Storytelling</a>. Yes you can get your masters degree in the (art?) (craft?) of storytelling. <br />There is also the <a href="http://bit.ly/ckgVz2">International Storytelling Center</a> right outside of town in Jonesborough, tn!<br /><br />I think part of me keeled over and fell in love with that town. Now sure, you probably don't need to go and spend money on a program like that if you already live in the Appalachian mountains and could learn from you old neighbor down the street, but if it's beginning to be a lost art, then why not? I'm glad it's out there. And people go to school for all kinds of crazy useless things, like philosophy and literature, so I don't really see the big difference frankly. <br /><br />When it comes down to it, isn't everything a story to be told? Don't know what exactly this all has to do with my question about art and craft, but I know it relates somehow. Any thoughts?Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-31074592686535325482010-09-07T06:31:00.000-07:002010-09-07T06:42:05.312-07:00Hey folks, I got a job. After living on nothing for 2 months (I'm still living on basically nothing), I miraculously got a job picking up shifts at a vegetarian restaurant. And it's the first one I've ever cooked for! I strangely love it, but that may be because it's one of the most friendly, easy going work places I've ever been in. Everyone works hard, it's just that we all help each other out and no one's grumpy about their job. I know...it's a bit creepy. The other part of it is that they let me go on tour! And I'm not alone. You can't throw a stone without hitting a musician there. <div><br /></div><div>Other news is that my roommate chopped all my hair off yesterday. Actually more like buzzed. It was the first time I had a buzzer taken to my noggin, and I have to say, it was quite liberating. It's definitely got character seeing as how some parts are longer than others, but I like it because i don't have to worry about it. I know it's not really hair buzzing season now that it's cooling off, but I was sick of the previous. Don't have any pictures, so you'll have to use your imagination. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have to be going...I'm going into the restaurant today to help with a deep cleaning. So I must say au revoir for now. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-48743094615739405942010-06-26T11:08:00.000-07:002010-06-26T11:59:03.742-07:00On the road againThis tour has been a roller coaster unpalatable to those with weak stomachs. In other words, we have not coasted, but rather have had severe highs and lows. Musically speaking, we've had some rough luck. Some due to canceled shows, and some due to no-show shows. Non-musically speaking, we've witnessed a shooting in Cleveland, and we missed a show in Iowa due to our car breaking down in Minnesota. Good news? Our car is fixed, (it was just the glow plugs that needed to be replaced), and instead of moping around in Iowa, we sold a large handful of CDs at an open mike which not only made up for our lost show, but for the car expenses we'd acquired too. <br />So here we are in Salt Lake City, getting ready to embark on a 2 day journey through desert winds and heat so we can make it to the great supple earth of California (or so people like to think), in hopes of completing the remainder of our tour with high spirits and worthwhile shows. <br /><br />It's hard to even try to summarize our trip so far since there's been many ups and downs, and it may be the full moon and my hormonal body speaking, but I could certainly use a moral boost. Maybe a couple of days in the desert 100 miles out from any working toilet will be a good place to cleanse my mind and clotted notion of where we are and where we're headed in life. <br />For those of you that actually read this blog when I actually keep up with it, I thank you for taking the time to stop and tune in to my little stories. It means a lot to know that even a couple of people are connected to me at a time when my life is transitory and friends are a distant idea. But I want to let you know that if I was at one point lucky enough to have cooked dinner with you, played scrabble with you, listened to music with you, come up with unforgivable but decidedly good puns, then you can be sure that I have a sentimental corner in my brain kept just for you. <br /><br />I have been too cheeseball today. But these are my sincere thoughts. I doubt I will gain access to blog until out of the desert, so until then, stay cool and go for a swim!Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-75596754086184386392010-01-21T16:24:00.000-08:002010-01-21T17:12:58.866-08:00Fall Tour '09<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4ky0l4Tref8H_wy9XYoO0HwkkYNRwQV-ABFlYBqA7aEU-boB3R9PSfdVZeu6vXjqpzpKcr4V2Y8Q66f8D7RvyIGsY1-ex7Nq0WHgmHsWeIGJOZotudJnf9l0RxtMgCZbwF3RAOzQ1qlD/s1600-h/08840002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4ky0l4Tref8H_wy9XYoO0HwkkYNRwQV-ABFlYBqA7aEU-boB3R9PSfdVZeu6vXjqpzpKcr4V2Y8Q66f8D7RvyIGsY1-ex7Nq0WHgmHsWeIGJOZotudJnf9l0RxtMgCZbwF3RAOzQ1qlD/s400/08840002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429365925240203538" border="0" /></a>Richmond, VA<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2Kqvd8DVttpjG1waXwOaTqJAdxjlUiAMs_wvkdXayoyMss7yBR0tvNV11tDTFyoh1X2q6LQDdtk6jP2Q4HS79zZKZ6yf-NPOPegX-dZsoJ1PYMAhuAudsQ_LQPlZHhSpnUC3bCis-aNB/s1600-h/FallTourPics1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2Kqvd8DVttpjG1waXwOaTqJAdxjlUiAMs_wvkdXayoyMss7yBR0tvNV11tDTFyoh1X2q6LQDdtk6jP2Q4HS79zZKZ6yf-NPOPegX-dZsoJ1PYMAhuAudsQ_LQPlZHhSpnUC3bCis-aNB/s320/FallTourPics1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429360358637499730" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2Kqvd8DVttpjG1waXwOaTqJAdxjlUiAMs_wvkdXayoyMss7yBR0tvNV11tDTFyoh1X2q6LQDdtk6jP2Q4HS79zZKZ6yf-NPOPegX-dZsoJ1PYMAhuAudsQ_LQPlZHhSpnUC3bCis-aNB/s1600-h/FallTourPics1.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: center;">This is our friend Alison who is 'Alison Self' who played a house show with us in her lovely Virginia home.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQKIo7qFNkuXXIFtAgRh3v3MpPhJ9xGuhZYWFw4eIpD675HXAnQNnWmzcDltiLm9PUX0jvsWOl85Ed6d5KZNYumDGDNL24XZy2QjYbon7AI47nNHgTQ4i7jOjUN2cDde7Nn_LFGF0HsYcp/s1600-h/08840003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQKIo7qFNkuXXIFtAgRh3v3MpPhJ9xGuhZYWFw4eIpD675HXAnQNnWmzcDltiLm9PUX0jvsWOl85Ed6d5KZNYumDGDNL24XZy2QjYbon7AI47nNHgTQ4i7jOjUN2cDde7Nn_LFGF0HsYcp/s400/08840003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429354187182739730" border="0" /></a>Old friends embracing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztQV3GrcbhpFmavm87etvJgWKzjRNgFiI2e93ZcbZn77DOcYyJbjqMAXlevAS80MoT0g22yoQvyX2OAa3kSGHingG-2LlaGsvaYPkkJq584zS-tWiIIqHgu7fCdgSSohEkVuLTwhg-dNF/s1600-h/08840007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztQV3GrcbhpFmavm87etvJgWKzjRNgFiI2e93ZcbZn77DOcYyJbjqMAXlevAS80MoT0g22yoQvyX2OAa3kSGHingG-2LlaGsvaYPkkJq584zS-tWiIIqHgu7fCdgSSohEkVuLTwhg-dNF/s400/08840007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429354782395746914" border="0" /></a>Our musical traveling partner Rae, or, 'One Tough Cookie' saying hello to a house cat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamssrGVcpXhziyVVyr220jZ0EjBE6KC1H31qQayysesgcgE77lFNAP7fsZiL2R5RapaXDcXFs2X4e0uCw1CDhT5VhNw0TOiyTBv1aEDfZsOkX0SfpuSO4x4Y5amdI_QHM2BK56-TWXtRv/s1600-h/08840008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjamssrGVcpXhziyVVyr220jZ0EjBE6KC1H31qQayysesgcgE77lFNAP7fsZiL2R5RapaXDcXFs2X4e0uCw1CDhT5VhNw0TOiyTBv1aEDfZsOkX0SfpuSO4x4Y5amdI_QHM2BK56-TWXtRv/s400/08840008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429361568853378402" border="0" /></a>It's a stand-off.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsaCl63hUY0n0bgW0aAqCCEJe0az75SxZ5QsZ2ekFb5IeWgPezpn3C3kEgvf5z1qhnPPX2xweKfq8vkHi-8PS2EzbOZ44r35pjqZ4ySoq0JCkgj-rQEQxCPG2tzhCIHtN4TkbGFoqvBgd/s1600-h/08840017.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCsaCl63hUY0n0bgW0aAqCCEJe0az75SxZ5QsZ2ekFb5IeWgPezpn3C3kEgvf5z1qhnPPX2xweKfq8vkHi-8PS2EzbOZ44r35pjqZ4ySoq0JCkgj-rQEQxCPG2tzhCIHtN4TkbGFoqvBgd/s400/08840017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429356245934005266" border="0" /></a>Dave and Stu and Williamsburg on our way to get delicious Italian food.<br /><br />These are all views from Dave's uncles' apartment balcony/fire escape. Beautiful, no?<br /><br />"View from Brooklyn no. 1"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOcUxpoF9krLtItbZDnuxyPBnuJj5tRo0C1mND430OHSPzpLRUkNh3jqha6KLHdtgaJmXmw_nxH8wSvosAiIc2b-eQ-tDWSLDcMXJFUGbPABOcQs3y3zHWote_rBY0ZfWsD1evFJFEV3Z/s1600-h/08840026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLOcUxpoF9krLtItbZDnuxyPBnuJj5tRo0C1mND430OHSPzpLRUkNh3jqha6KLHdtgaJmXmw_nxH8wSvosAiIc2b-eQ-tDWSLDcMXJFUGbPABOcQs3y3zHWote_rBY0ZfWsD1evFJFEV3Z/s400/08840026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429356481396255346" border="0" /></a><br />"View from Brooklyn no. 2"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhEwN5v_sQMAaqPmt6jUvEtS9efVLHWdIn_hFQvfMjnw1er8dj8XgZR6x9bfPuSkxhmJ5OvmMWLEYH3dyBpvQrQidetgx4xtHp6W1aOBUo1ltXkNoq7a28BPjngM87aHqoXS29660hCP-/s1600-h/08840024.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyhEwN5v_sQMAaqPmt6jUvEtS9efVLHWdIn_hFQvfMjnw1er8dj8XgZR6x9bfPuSkxhmJ5OvmMWLEYH3dyBpvQrQidetgx4xtHp6W1aOBUo1ltXkNoq7a28BPjngM87aHqoXS29660hCP-/s400/08840024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429365537778714882" border="0" /></a><br />"View from Brooklyn no. 3"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFa_RM0mBh0u4Gbo9z46xYCV120JgksSilxFo6G4d9-x0xOP-LXyO3Q32KrALDHEfAdgyKNvArpxqa8MDOtdG7vN-ReG9uptMbWXpp8WUwNuguMIcP4q020pV58NCZbJoqhOB5kP2CggC/s1600-h/08840034.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFa_RM0mBh0u4Gbo9z46xYCV120JgksSilxFo6G4d9-x0xOP-LXyO3Q32KrALDHEfAdgyKNvArpxqa8MDOtdG7vN-ReG9uptMbWXpp8WUwNuguMIcP4q020pV58NCZbJoqhOB5kP2CggC/s400/08840034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429356832975054338" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPl-Uu8sGtPAt8bpLS9aQ1NRNik5XHaRF4dlobgMVRFiqP3ODyCTQ7z_tZHDeEz1SXfYB469tB2P5V_BDOALPIptYQB9GStCTQhNOolDn3Dj0Cu4K4KZoXGzGHHarQSduC_6dBe5Da8Rpj/s1600-h/08840016.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPl-Uu8sGtPAt8bpLS9aQ1NRNik5XHaRF4dlobgMVRFiqP3ODyCTQ7z_tZHDeEz1SXfYB469tB2P5V_BDOALPIptYQB9GStCTQhNOolDn3Dj0Cu4K4KZoXGzGHHarQSduC_6dBe5Da8Rpj/s400/08840016.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429355207221630642" border="0" /></a>Goodbye New York.<br /><br /><br />Detroit, MI<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQVXGP3bp3BigRm61KndvL8nim61vsSgsMQJ9sMhJy0Hl36P4_ytVWcum-Flo9BA7SoSOw2FpnRrzEyRU2hlXuIDtrhqBHnCRmVfO1MXRNPLLp1oNzaPmmiewBwU7Q-FpKB1_yEvFvCIn/s1600-h/08840037.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQVXGP3bp3BigRm61KndvL8nim61vsSgsMQJ9sMhJy0Hl36P4_ytVWcum-Flo9BA7SoSOw2FpnRrzEyRU2hlXuIDtrhqBHnCRmVfO1MXRNPLLp1oNzaPmmiewBwU7Q-FpKB1_yEvFvCIn/s400/08840037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429357379506381474" border="0" /></a>The Trumbullplex. Just your average crumbling mansion.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6geJnMRqeICZy61QHYVBDZRAj-NS-iqNE06cecyCyyTpR7_7Eu_acy-JBFd3uPtBp5NQg5KFfdgtRXM373be0MLh-dSsAk8CF2C0_9C8ZZHpfoGVOnRBSEaaiHp96sFHWC9MIzNc9CFYy/s1600-h/08840031.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 333px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6geJnMRqeICZy61QHYVBDZRAj-NS-iqNE06cecyCyyTpR7_7Eu_acy-JBFd3uPtBp5NQg5KFfdgtRXM373be0MLh-dSsAk8CF2C0_9C8ZZHpfoGVOnRBSEaaiHp96sFHWC9MIzNc9CFYy/s400/08840031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429357314919612546" border="0" /></a>And just your average across the street crumbling mansion neighbor.<br />Oh Detroit, I think we have a future together.<br /><br />More pictures to come...<br /><br /></div>Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-43800780561815130612010-01-12T19:58:00.000-08:002010-01-12T20:19:12.532-08:00what to say in the new yearWell, it's true. I haven't said a thing since June, and I apologize. This is awkward because I am trying to type every so softly while Dave sings earnestly in front of me to record a song we're doing on our upcoming full length. I'm tuning out a little, but there are words that keep turning up: "Cause there's nothing left to say." <br /><br />"I know as little as one can know"<br /><br />There are so many lines in the song that are quandaries in themselves. <br /><br />That's how I've felt for the last 6 months or so. I've had trouble surmising the words to paste up here on this page. I feel like there have been so many transitions for us this year. We finally made one more to start off the new year though. We made a move to a cozy new house with some friends. We'll have Food Not Bombs here, we'll have shows in our shed, (which we've dubbed "The Outhouse"), and we're getting settled in our really comfy attic space which is our new bedroom, music studio, office space, meditation room and library, all in one.<br />It is indeed out with the old, in with the new this year and a new life has been birthed in this dwelling. It should be just the thing for our time here in Nashville when staying still between tours. <br />Let's see if we can manage to stay in one place this time for more than 6 months. And I'll try to find some place within me to spout thoughts and words and things that I don't know the meaning of, even if "there's nothing left to say."Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-31053074097356764582009-06-12T17:23:00.000-07:002009-06-12T18:01:45.695-07:00'Everywhere it goes it rains on me'I only say this because two of my best memories so far on tour are the cooling rains that have come after a very hot day. One was in New Orleans and one was in Austin. So the title is not a complaint, but rather a suggestion that the universe is taking care of us.<br /><br />For the first time, I understood the meaning of summer. Growing up in the mountains of North Carolina, I don't think I quite comprehended it. But somehow, traveling for only a week, I've gotten used to small doses of the thick omnipresent heat. New Orleans, that was like walking through a swamp at all times. But oh how lush, beautiful and vibrant a place that was. We were mainly hanging out at the local infoshop, Iron Rail, all day, and on our way back to the car, we were walking down a street as it started to drizzle a nice warm rain, and before us was a beautiful, large majenta tinted Crepe Myrtle tree. It's flowers were glowing amid the greying, cloud-absorbing sky. Standing below them was an older man, maybe in his 60s, wearing a mirror image of the tree's color. He stood barefoot in the damp warm street with his red-pink shirt barely buttoned to stay on, and his bald smiling face waited expectantly for the rain to cool down his city. I commented on the trees flowers and how they perfectly matched his blouse, and he proudly agreed saying I was the second person to stop and notice this. He then explained the history of the Crepe Myrtle and how he adored it, which is the only reason I am able to write about these trees in a mentionable way. For instance, I did not know it was called a Crepe Myrtle until he told me (and even spelled it out for me).<br /><br />The next day, Dave and I walked to the Mississippi and sat in the shade, and while he sat through meditation, I read and took pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwD6Gjps_2n6JmB-Zyh6BFJRN3jdsI0B0uajjUyK8mfUAszQR4i7Uz1-dF9Nj88UGac3lDqdyz_IXkMEbPpQEdwrDR63oXeVjJ0NEOaH7qDXVblFpj9vPDLsEEX-wzWDNFdxTSdPXwI-gk/s1600-h/New+Orleans+on+Tour+019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwD6Gjps_2n6JmB-Zyh6BFJRN3jdsI0B0uajjUyK8mfUAszQR4i7Uz1-dF9Nj88UGac3lDqdyz_IXkMEbPpQEdwrDR63oXeVjJ0NEOaH7qDXVblFpj9vPDLsEEX-wzWDNFdxTSdPXwI-gk/s400/New+Orleans+on+Tour+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346607879357597090" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JecyhCEqilPfKgY7na4_AzLN-Sk2V-YQqjfVWOthHYxpxqAjpwxQuYHTKxNTjcXleux9FNQvj3eM18hEeGWSk0qG96qqXrirvtrnZz6hKKxK3rXLT4wS62urc6JaPIwORfeGsqnqZtWP/s1600-h/New+Orleans+on+Tour+020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JecyhCEqilPfKgY7na4_AzLN-Sk2V-YQqjfVWOthHYxpxqAjpwxQuYHTKxNTjcXleux9FNQvj3eM18hEeGWSk0qG96qqXrirvtrnZz6hKKxK3rXLT4wS62urc6JaPIwORfeGsqnqZtWP/s400/New+Orleans+on+Tour+020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346607883945124450" border="0" /></a><br />So there's New Orleans for you. But just a tiny piece of it.<br /><br />Last night we were in Austin, and we had an amazing show at Monkey Wrench Books with our friend <a href="http://www.myspace.com/jordanmoser">Jordan Moser</a>, and <a href="http://www.thatdamnedband.com">That Damned Band</a>, who are AMAZING people and musicians. You MUST listen to their music. They have humbled me until I die and I have the deepest respect for them. The second rain on our tour came in Austin, and started right as the show began with a gigantic black cloud that filled the sky until the rain poured and didn't recede until the show ended. It was very fitting especially because That Damned Band had a song about hurricane Katrina.<br />We all went to the damn band's house and played music all night until the wee hours and when Dave and I went back to our friend Jordan's house, we both passed out happily and drunk on their couch. I wish I had a picture to show us in such a state, but sadly I do not.<br /><br />Okay friends, I will have more to tell soon. So far, this trip is so good, I might just have to think twice about going back to work when I return.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-85956728032120192192009-05-25T15:06:00.000-07:002009-05-25T15:40:48.419-07:00Springtime = Sneezetime and more...May has been a crazy time for me. Aside from the sneezy springtime blues, life has been full of some promising moments and new direction. Dave and I have started to work on a farm about once a week as a part of a working share for a local CSA. It's our friends Stephanie and Brett's farm called <a href="http://bramblehillfarm.blogspot.com/">Bramble Hill</a> Farm. They're wonderful people and are so devoted to what they do on their land. If you visit them, prepare to be inspired by their hard work, beautiful land, and tasty vegetables. You can read about all their recent accomplishments as young farmers in the magazine <a href="http://www.localtable.net/articles/featured090406.php">Table</a>, which talks about local and sustainable food in and around Nashville. <br /><br />It's slowly been getting hotter and hotter during the day, but luckily has been cooling down at night somewhat, which won't be the case later this summer. Especially not when we'll be in places in the heat of the summer such as Alabama, Texas, and Arizona. Fun hot times. We're only here in Nashville for a week more before we hit the road, and that leaves very little time to get ready, pack and move. I always forget how much I detest moving out of an apartment, and then I remember as soon as I have to empty shelves and drawers, clean scuffed walls, and take down art. This time around, it's also been an omen, telling me to appreciate our last days before we have no home of our own for at least a month. <br /><br />So the traveling musicians flee once again, only hoping to return with some tales.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-9858505598631270872009-04-05T10:32:00.000-07:002009-04-05T11:58:30.627-07:00a lot to say, a little lateI have to say...I haven't felt the creative spark to write a blog entry lately...ok not just lately but for a long time. But here I am, trying to be prolific again!<br /><br />Things with the band are going really well. We've been booking our summer tour for June and it's been going pretty smoothly so far. We're driving through the southwest to sunny California and then driving north to less sunny California and back through Colorado and then back home. And we have our first Nashville show on Tuesday at the Basement as a part of what they call "New Faces Night." And of course, we have an up an running <a href="http://chickenlittlemusic.com/index/home.html">website and new EP</a>. It seems like with all this work we've been doing, we haven't been able to even play our music that much in our spare time. But I guess that's what tour is mainly for, right?<br /><br />So that's the boring news. Or at least some shameless plugs. In other news? I've been feeling farther and farther apart from the land of Manhattan lately. Which is probably a bittersweet feeling. It's that time in a break-up where you don't actually miss your ex anymore but you want to miss them because you know how you used to feel about them and all of the sudden, you're in love with the love you had but it's distant and blurry.<br /><br />I'm reading <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fE8hvD54Lk"><span style="font-style: italic;">One City</span></a> by Ethan Nichtern, who leads the Interdependence project and weekly meditation groups in Manhattan, some of which I've attended and highly recommend. But I digress. In the book, he talks about how a city functions like a giant organism. In New York, it's easy to see this. I sometimes picture the subway system as a giant cardiovascular system pumping people up and down, going back and forth to keep the heartbeat of the city pumping. Though there are often blocked arteries along the way, especially during weekends.<br />In other words, there are so many people in a city like New York that it kind of reminds me of the dragon <a href="http://www.scottyblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/dragon-dance.jpg">puppets</a> they use for the Chinese New Year. One mass of people creates a whole new monster. But in places like Nashville, or even smaller towns, it's a little more difficult to see this kind of unity. Especially when everyone is isolated and sequestered off in their own houses, cars, etc. How do you form the dragon when we're all so out of contact with each other?<br />I've noticed that southerners are very polite on the outside and do not hesitate to nod their head and say good morning to you as you pass them on the sidewalk, but what happens if we actually need each other here in a moment of crisis? We all head for the hills and go back to our hobbit holes. The opposite seems to occur in NYC. Although people go about their day without even acknowledging others around them in such a hectic environment, the moment something happens that disturbs the waters, weather it's a blackout, a storm, or something invigorating like an election victory, the whole city suddenly comes alive and connects like electric wiring.<br /><br />So to wrap this up, do I think I could live in Nashville for the rest of my life? Maybe not, but I'm also convinced this is where I need to be right now. And not to harp on the dragon motif, but I like to think I'm part of a very small but beautiful luck dragon dancing in the streets weaving in between honking SUVs. Sometimes we get hit, but dragon's are pretty good at refueling. And if you think I'm being poetic or metaphorical, ask Dave about his morning yesterday. To all you current or former New Yorkers out there reading this, I miss your shiny scales.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-90775598080325889432009-02-01T10:43:00.001-08:002009-02-01T11:14:20.652-08:00Thoughts on my old backyardIt's funny how the places we used to live in become immediately romanticized in our heads and we create nostalgia over the big picture of it all. We never remember the menial things...for instance, I refuse to remember how it felt to have bed bugs and to wake up on plastic sheets only to retrieve my clothes from plastic bags. No, I put those memories in the pile labeled "shitty things" so I can remember only the pure, the beautiful, the earth-shaking moments of being in New York. And don't get me wrong...I don't think they could have existed without the bad.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NUGIudfZ6XMuORXhTyhoSYCRAC1Fc5t9v18YY1mu6XRDnOCuGiAvPWblenURokFHoqC3vUSLlKr6rzTtYmgWWF97Q3WeAw-jfKsuTtoPfJqRdrXhpnw87-QvvWgOcKl6pWXL63NG7yKw/s1600-h/bushwick+laundry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 421px; height: 279px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NUGIudfZ6XMuORXhTyhoSYCRAC1Fc5t9v18YY1mu6XRDnOCuGiAvPWblenURokFHoqC3vUSLlKr6rzTtYmgWWF97Q3WeAw-jfKsuTtoPfJqRdrXhpnw87-QvvWgOcKl6pWXL63NG7yKw/s400/bushwick+laundry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297908290690702354" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Our neighbor's laundry<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oOWLqZv9xCjDFjGoR5Jr6Keh-oKK0fBhfOgwE4PYFh5TwrqCNoLv21DQ_Xs-NqbukcXWnAdrufZ9GtmK4xXOjfXSSmqWmqgZr_rVG2tZbHO2gJJ3p7mK-7v4f_oNksFjakX7FI4smjSP/s1600-h/vertical+skysline2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 427px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oOWLqZv9xCjDFjGoR5Jr6Keh-oKK0fBhfOgwE4PYFh5TwrqCNoLv21DQ_Xs-NqbukcXWnAdrufZ9GtmK4xXOjfXSSmqWmqgZr_rVG2tZbHO2gJJ3p7mK-7v4f_oNksFjakX7FI4smjSP/s400/vertical+skysline2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297908289264218930" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Skyline at dusk<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNe7WvxZd5X2DkCNPsCbhHxux58VBdAQg9z1nEKsAV4JKYO22Z8_BFS6ENjRre5AfVlpns0HYQxnCFt8780kSiW7vPjivqBOnNSlAUVxYARejmA9HZ8RUVVzq9FAXHQcRDYgymGO3GQ_1O/s1600-h/rooftop+manhattan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 421px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNe7WvxZd5X2DkCNPsCbhHxux58VBdAQg9z1nEKsAV4JKYO22Z8_BFS6ENjRre5AfVlpns0HYQxnCFt8780kSiW7vPjivqBOnNSlAUVxYARejmA9HZ8RUVVzq9FAXHQcRDYgymGO3GQ_1O/s400/rooftop+manhattan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297908295489267234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">View from rooftop<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I don't have much to say about this. I just thought I'd share these images and hope that would help relieve my feelings of homesickness and "other"ness in my new residence. But despite all this, I am happy to be here. I really am. Maybe I just need to take some pictures of Nashville with a wistful eye, and then I'll feel at home. </span><br /></div></div>Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-9343681755739244972009-01-04T11:43:00.000-08:002009-01-04T12:36:10.142-08:00the years end2008 was monumental for a lot of us. After some major ups and downs (ie: meeting dave, having bedbugs, electing the first black president into office, moving from a city we loved, having some near death experiences in the car, quitting smoking...), <a href="http://obituaries.citizen-times.com/obituaries/obit.php?id=59510">my grandmother</a>, who was 91 years old, chose to pass from this life to the next, on new year's eve, 5 days ago, the last day of 2008. She was in the presence of my mother, who had just returned from a trip to England and France, and had brought back a wool blanket for her mom. When she received the call that my grandmother was losing oxygen and that when asked, she said she wanted to stay home and not go to the hospital, my mother immediately came to sit by her side, and with hands held, she just waited for the final moment. My grandma felt the wool blanket that was given to her and felt the soft material and its warmth over her body, and within 20 minutes, she stopped breathing. <br /><br />After having just left Asheville from the holidays, where we actually did get to see my grandmother for the last time just a few days earlier, the three of us (being my sister, brother and I) head back. It was an exhausting but healing trip, and I was grateful to have spent it with my mom and my family. The night before the memorial, I decided to write a eulogy, but I had trouble starting. Dave helped me with the process by talking with me about Grandma. He had heard stories all day and seen old pictures of her. And when I continue to feel that I had writer's block, he insisted I just write. Just free write and see what happens. So I did, and it worked. He helped me figure out what I should do to pair it down, to make it fluid. And finally, I had something that I liked. <br />The next day, I read with heart pounding. But as soon as I started, I felt almost at ease. Like I was supposed to read for my grandma, or to her. And then my mom read her own that I found to be heart wrenching, funny, full of love. <br /><br />The whole funeral experience was somewhat new to me. I mean burying someone. To actually get up and toss three shovel-fulls of dirt into a deep whole where someone I grew up with lay. It's easy to take for granted all the people who have raised you, dressed you, cared for you in some way, just because you grew up and hadn't noticed it in a while. It's also strange to see the generation that dies being replaced with the next. <br /><br />With all this, I do believe 2009 will be a good year.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-890994599288539512008-12-16T19:49:00.000-08:002008-12-16T20:28:10.908-08:00Got a smoke? Red or White?I think the hardest part about moving, is not so much getting used to the new town, but getting used to NOT being in the old one. More of a "but I just saw the empire state building out of my window the other day...what happened?"<br />But believe me, getting used to living here is no strain. Like it's really hard to get used to the fact that I'm paying half in rent, I have my OWN washer and dryer, and I find the people in this community overwhelmingly friendly and generous.<br /><br />Dave has quit smoking and is on his 5th day of no tobacco ever. Let me just say something about quitting. If we're able to get through this period of time, we can get through any fucking hurdle. I think we've both realized in the past few days how much tobacco was an active sidekick in Dave's life before now. And quitting is like Batman firing Robin. It feels wrong, yet somehow it makes sense. <br /><br />Here's what he looks like two days ago:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgUG7xBlpvxJCoICi692vsY6pA4yC9c7TuvWNBxpO2LzTowfdP0SV9m5RQesVcOq-IB_PqZ_AQjk0jNcUInx0DueOOz_E9GAdoAjJRgl8-To0zzfMNKfBMxDgPdJvJjd_Ni3mymfLONyE/s1600-h/Brooklyn+to+Nashville+148.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgUG7xBlpvxJCoICi692vsY6pA4yC9c7TuvWNBxpO2LzTowfdP0SV9m5RQesVcOq-IB_PqZ_AQjk0jNcUInx0DueOOz_E9GAdoAjJRgl8-To0zzfMNKfBMxDgPdJvJjd_Ni3mymfLONyE/s320/Brooklyn+to+Nashville+148.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280601933096651970" border="0" /></a>Notice the lack of smoke coming out of his nose or mouth.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINUSf1o57z2Ghap_1inJk4Ms_djlrXBKBVkKccNKmASab-QbHwNFI7GutbcIviioKrKSE7izUEi367r3HyB-u4BSc4SZU6IRkMTjSGtfG4lNwwtv3YJOvKTatVqF60pbwsy1Xxj7HQAXD/s1600-h/Brooklyn+to+Nashville+149.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjINUSf1o57z2Ghap_1inJk4Ms_djlrXBKBVkKccNKmASab-QbHwNFI7GutbcIviioKrKSE7izUEi367r3HyB-u4BSc4SZU6IRkMTjSGtfG4lNwwtv3YJOvKTatVqF60pbwsy1Xxj7HQAXD/s320/Brooklyn+to+Nashville+149.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280604910926954594" border="0" /></a>And here too. You will see there is a clear lens, untarnished by smoky fumes.<br /><br /></div>Also, the famous Rebel Roger the beagle mutt is pretty excited to be here too. Though he tends to bark at every little thing in our apartment since we are on the first floor facing the street. He has this impulse to bay at everything he sees, hears, or smells...so he's a very vocal dog these days. But he's peaceful when he's dreaming about rabbits.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zD7m67l0ONF78gYFIn-hONBJyW-lwfXG4EpAODhKixPt3yRhBBqtUag8QhAYiasoUzGpV6HnHNMvcbWvtHxJ92nFqO1VBe8ER8OSYFQXyLgJzn4YhlujuKCaUIdkYcL13UUw8YKSgGHZ/s1600-h/Brooklyn+to+Nashville+137.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4zD7m67l0ONF78gYFIn-hONBJyW-lwfXG4EpAODhKixPt3yRhBBqtUag8QhAYiasoUzGpV6HnHNMvcbWvtHxJ92nFqO1VBe8ER8OSYFQXyLgJzn4YhlujuKCaUIdkYcL13UUw8YKSgGHZ/s320/Brooklyn+to+Nashville+137.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5280606747996454498" border="0" /></a>Dave and I are working on a demo album right now, and will hopefully be done with that before this weekend is out. We're also still in the job hunt, but I'm not terrified yet. In fact, I might have a lead on a job working in a wine shop. Yes that's right. I'm going to be that snobby wine girl. But don't get me wrong people. I still drink cheap beer and Crown whiskey straight from the bottle. Just cause I know my shit don't mean I'm not a cheap ass too.<br />Well, that's enough of me talking about kind of lack luster topics. But hey, I'm just getting started. Let's see where this place takes me.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-5375803745626886812008-12-04T16:22:00.000-08:002008-12-06T11:38:50.943-08:00Becoming a NashvillianWe made it. We made our landing in Nashville, and after three days of settling in a little a bit, I'm wondering how I fit in here, in a place that is so drastically different from New York. There are so many things about a city that I'm realizing plays a huge role in why it's "home". Not just the people, although that's a huge part of it, but it's the shape of the city. New York had its own personality and you could feel it breathing when you were walking around its streets. And then there is the architecture...I love the architecture of new york. Even the run-down buildings have a strange charm to them. Although if anyone knows how to over romanticize about a place it's me. I was living in a bug-ridden, cold, angry building and felt no warm feelings towards it at the time. <br />So that brings me to here. Nashville. Although I was not overly "wow'd" by the skyline or the miles and miles of bland white right-angled buildings at first, the city is starting to grow on me along with the east that comes with it. The past couple of days we've really started to settle in our apartment like we never even had the opportunity to do in our last place. And most amazingly, from one good friend grew a few more new friends and from them, probably more, all of whom are giving us the warmth and hospitality that we need. Today, we're going to a house art show that we helped prepare for last night by cooking, organizing materials and making block art prints to sell. So we're heading back out there today with our instruments after having been told we should bring them to entertain. Already, it's clear that people appreciate music here and are always wanting musicians to collaborate and contribute to the pot. <br /><br />But we must go! More Nashville tales to come.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-17516625251193153372008-11-11T11:41:00.000-08:002008-11-11T12:12:41.478-08:00Whiskey and Wine is a great way to say goodbyeMy last two nights in New York was kind of like a Cliffs Notes of all the reasons why leaving is hard. I made at least three people cry...not my favorite way of pleasing people, but at least they weren't cheering for joy. And we played our music for the last time ever at <a href="http://www.theluckycat.com">the Lucky Cat</a>, not only because we ourselves are leaving, but because the bar has been bought by new owners and will be refurbished, redone, and re-peopled to make it a better fitting establishment for the new Manhattanized Williamsburg that we've grown so sweetly bought out by due to high rising rents and dirty landlords. <br />In short, it was a very bitter-sweet night for all of us. No more late night shots of Jameson from the bar just because...why not? To life! And no more Tuesday night open mikes even though I always had to work anyway and often missed it. No more cheap drinks because they know me, no more free pizza because the guy I'm in love with makes them for me, no more being the only one on the dance floor like a maniac because there are no hipsters to watch me. <br />And on top of this, I managed to see almost all the people that made an impact in my life during my time in new york. Most are staying for good, or at least I get that feeling. <br />The last hours there were just a few good friends, liquored up by their alcohol of preference (mine was whiskey followed by a slow and lingering "I'm not ready to go yet" red wine), talking about New York, rent, relationships, relationships in New York, working in restaurants for too long, and just the general survival skills needed to live somewhere so demanding. <br />I think the next step in my life is to really see what kind of survivalist I am. What kind of city do I belong in, will I ever want to move back to "the city"? Maybe not. But then again, maybe every other city I live in from now on will only be, "not like New York." But even with those thoughts flowing, I still don't think that's incentive enough for me to move back. <br /><br />So here I am at Dave's parents' house in Connecticut with our dog. The fridge is stocked, and the shower is something I want to be naked in...for a long time. Something that didn't EVER occur at our old shit hole of an apartment in Brooklyn. And, I can breathe when I go outside. Did you know that air in other places smells good? <br />We're here to collect ourselves and look for a place to live once we reach Nashville. We'll see how a little socialite like me will do without friends or even strangers for that matter to talk to over a glass of wine. I might have a million small breakdowns along the way. This solitude could be good for me. Writing anyone? <br />Yes. Good. Deep breath and try to enjoy the scenery while I'm here. This city girl is going country again.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-82125580561740353532008-10-23T11:50:00.000-07:002008-10-23T12:20:30.650-07:00Heading SouthThe first half of this month, I was able to travel with the Khorikos choir on tour in the Czech Republic and Germany for 9 days. It was amazing. We performed every night in a different church. Before going on the trip, I really had my reservations about things. After the trip, I had gotten to know each amazing person in the group a little more and really came to love everything about the group, and still do. I told the director I was going to take the next season off to have more personal time and work on my own music. But what I didn't realize was that I would be moving in such a short amount of time and would not be singing with them for a while, or maybe ever? As you may know, it's been hard living in New York. But of course it is because it's New York, right? But coming home from such a glamorous trip (not always glamorous...I'm pretty sure I got bed bug bites one night at hostel) made me even more depressed about the situation at home. So when I got home, dave and I started to take action. First we managed to get in touch with our new building manager. After much phone tag and voice messages due to a lengthy Jewish holiday season, where nothing was accounted for, not even a missing lock on the door, or the still present bed bugs looming in our floors, the manager agreed to terminate our lease and give us back every penny we had in deposits. <br />Good news for us!<br />Back story a week earlier: Dave had casually asked me if I wanted to move to Nashville come next August. It was a city I really enjoyed on our visit during our tour this summer. I told him yes! But then, maybe!, and then again, Yes! why not? We have a couple of friends there and it's close to my family and it would be a great town to play music in. <br />So a week went by and we realized we have to get out of our apartment by November 1st. So as all the apartment stuff was happening, Dave found out that the Lucky Cat, where he's worked for the past couple of years has been bought by the people who own Cake Shop in the city and everyone working there would lose their job November 7th. Hmmm, no apartment, no job for dave...<br />While sitting with Dave's parents at lunch one day, we were talking about all this, and the idea of moving right away came up. "Why don't we move now?" (me) "What? Are you serious?" <br /><br />Pause<br /><br />Silence<br /><br />Maybe not such a bad idea. <br /><br />We liked Nashville, and we would probably fit in there very well. But what about New York? What will it do without us? What will we do without it? What about my job? And my friends? And my choir that's maybe taking off?? <br />Such are the questions I've been facing for the past couple of days...even though only a week ago, I was only happy to take my things and go. <br />I am excited for a new adventure, and I am ready for more time and space on my hands. But it's funny how I've never really noticed what I love about this place until I decide to leave it. I think that's only natural though. And new york will never leave if I ever decide to come back. Most people except for my dad and my therapist (yes I have one) think it's a great idea for us. While the exceptions only question what I am leaving behind. In other words, they are all my fears in spoken word for me to hear crystal clear. But I'm 23 and I have a lot of places I want to see and live in. So I'm just putting my inner thoughts out there on the screen for people (or just me) to see to make it clearer to me what I want. But I know that no decision is the wrong one, and each decision is hard. <br />So we're leaving for nashville tennessee in two weeks...November 9th. Well, we're going to stay with dave's family in CT for two weeks after that, and then head down. So I'm gonna be a southerner again! <br />I imagine there's friends, jobs and people to sing with there too. They'll just be different. But please, don't let me join a Jesus choir. I know I'll be down south, but I am not going to sing for Jesus. Ever.<br /><br />It sure is cold here for not having heat...Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-74234378063563266082008-09-10T12:42:00.000-07:002008-09-10T13:17:10.605-07:00Bhudda and Bed BugsUnfortunately, I have a broken digital camera right now, and won't be able to post any photos for a while. And any film that could be developed and then scanned to show you is somewhere in a plastic bag (via bed bug lifestyle), so that might take some time as well. But, I've still got some things that are important to me. My dog, who is the most adorable wonderful animal in the whole universe, a roof over my head, which as you know, does not come so easy in the big apple, the music, and the people I love. Sounds cheesy, but it's true. Things have been tough lately and it's really hard to count your blessings, but there are a lot of things I have to be grateful for as well. I've been going to a meditation group every monday called the I.D. (Inter-Dependence) Project that dave's been a part of for a while now. And this week's discussion was particularly impressive on my life. The theme was Cynicism and Skepticism. Obviously I am prone to both, but lately, especially the former. I have a gift for seeing all negativity in a situation and then feeling almost wise for knowing the worst. We discussed how skepticism was an inherent part of Buddhism and how without asking questions, there can be nothing learned at the end of the day, and you will not have gotten further in your journey of knowledge. But we also discussed the danger of having only cynicism and no faith, no ability to believe in change and growth. That actually, skepticism, or as they call it, "the great doubt," is just the other side of the coin to faith. This really resonated with me. Because after many years of being brought up under the Jewish belief that G-d is the unyielding "rock" of your existence...the shoulders that hold the world together, I realize now that if I were to have faith in something, it would be faith in the yielding, the natural cycles of change that occur constantly. If you trust that things are fluid rather than stagnant, you won't be disappointed quite so much. <br /><br />So. How can I apply this to my life? I'm living out of bags, and I can barely find a pair of socks to put on my feet each morning. I'm still tossing an turning every night on a plastic-covered mattress with nothing to rest my head on. I'm living in an apartment building where my downstairs neighbor can't even afford to do all of his laundry so the exterminator can come spray his place for bed bugs too. Jerry, the old, slightly mentally impaired man below us who has lived here for 40 years, who is living off welfare cannot even afford to have his 20 year old TV repaired and wants to have Dave help him carry it down stairs to take to the repair men, but not until his check has arrived. I'm living in a building full of want and lack. This is the Cynic in me. Where the voice inside of me says, this is the world, and it has nowhere to go. <br />But if I were to really listen to the the other side of myself; the one of faith, I would know to trust that things are in flux as I speak. Everything is shifting and rearranging, and soon another batch of uncomfortable untimely things will probably happen, but I might be sleeping on a very plush bed with pillows, bug free. And Jerry will have gotten his TV fixed. <br /><br />So this is my challenge for the next few weeks. Look at the big picture, and the small things will start to get smaller.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-57691851527492064192008-09-05T07:55:00.000-07:002008-09-05T08:39:47.263-07:00bed bug-a-thonI haven't been writing the past few days because I couldn't decide whether to lie about how hard things have been or to actually sit down and tell it how it is. But then I realized like an idiot, that it's my blog, my story, not anyone else's. So why would I hesitate to write what's true? It's a funny inclination I have to avoid problems. Therefore, if I don't display the problems on an internet journal, then the problem exists a little less in my life, right?<br /><br />Fuck it. <br /><br />Bed bugs have taken over our life. When we came back from tour, Dave noticed he was getting bites again. (I say again, because we thought we had had them a couple months ago but got rid of them). So we called the landlord, and we eventually scheduled the exterminator to come. What I didn't realize before this started is how draining the bed bug war is. Not only do you have to wash every item of clothing or cloth thing that you own, but you have to bag everything you own for a while and live out of trash bags until the problem has vanished. The night we were preparing for all this, we both had several break downs after having lifted the heaviest laundry loads up and down stairs, vacuuming books, emptying drawers of important photos and papers, and clearing our pantry. We might as well have moved in one day, we were exhausted. <br />Then at 3:30 in the morning, as dave was coming back from a walk with Roger, he noticed his bike was missing, and the only evidence left was his now cut chain. Imagine our chagrin when he walks inside and shows me the broken chain. That's just too much for one day. There should be a limit on shitty things that occur to a person on a given day or week. <br />But they always seem to collide into one shit chasm, don't they? <br /><br />But things are looking up, I hope. We got the bike back, miraculously. Or not, because the idiot who stole it rode around on it every night two blocks away, so about 4 of our neighbors noticed and told us about it. Finally, our friend Ashely saw him riding around and at that moment called dave while he was at an interview, and the cops drove him over to the scene, and he politely and carefully took his bike back and rode off into the Bushwick sunset. <br /><br />The bugs: the guy came and exterminated, supposedly. He sprayed the hell out of our apartment with this liquid chemical that Roger, and even we, were not allowed to walk barefood on for two whole days. We left the house to eat at Fiore, the place I work. (If you ever want really great, affordable Italian food while in NY, go there! Fiore restaurant on grand st. in Williamsburg, BK)<br /><br />So we are living out of bags, sleeping on a plastic bed with no pillows or blankets, and the apartment seems bare. But, no bites for the past two nights! We've had some consolation through the indulgence of television via netflix and internet. ie: Weeds season 3, Daily Show, and DNC and RNC speeches. <br />We haven't been able to practice our music all that much, but we're getting back to it slowly. There's no way a bed bug could ever defeat the duo Chicken Little! No way no how.<br /><br />Pictures from tour still on hold since I had to put the film canisters in a bag somewhere. Thanks for being my virtual shrink today everyone. May you live a bug-free life.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-82353163940110052092008-08-29T13:55:00.000-07:002008-08-29T14:24:56.577-07:00Underground PolicemanSo last night, after being let off early from a very slow night at work, dave and I decided to play in the subways for a couple of hours. So we headed to the Bedford stop subway in Williamsburg, where the money is a flowing, and played some songs for the people. It went over very well, and we even accumulated a good sized crowd all standing about 10 feet back from us as they waited for their train. A wave of clapping ended each song, and people even sang along once in a while. One little kid was dancing around his mother in excited circles to "Greensburg." I was relieved to know we could make people smile. Even when using words like "fuck" or singing about how life doesn't always pan out the way you might like. It helps that we look like we are actually enjoying ourselves in the process.<br /><br />Well, after about an hour or so of playing for different waves of transit riders, a police officer came up behind us, and in between articulated bubblegum pops, said to us in a subdued voice, "Ok, wrap it up," and then swiftly closed our guitar case-modeled-as-tip jar with his foot. Before he could get away, we asked him what we are doing wrong, and how exactly were we breaking the law? He obviously had not had a lot of experience with subway musicians and started trying to quote some transit codes about soliciting and misusing the transit system and such. Then Dave, who has had numerous experiences quoting subway musician laws to cops in the past, politely, but firmly explained that actually officer, it is perfectly legal to play and receive "donations" as long as you are 25 feet from a token booth and not obstructing traffic as stated in a transit code. The officer seemed shocked at first, but kept his cool, popped his gum and walked away. We left anyway. But on our way out he seemed slightly apologetic and told us we may be right, but he was still skeptical about us accepting donations told us we were still misusing transit property. We replied that wasn't true and we were within our first and 14th amendment rights of free speech.<br />No one was upset, and we left politely. Maybe he'll be nicer to the next musician he comes across.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-56872460631069116252008-08-27T21:45:00.000-07:002008-08-27T22:43:02.338-07:00Some new thingsI've been away. I apologize. I know! No excuses, but I'm a sporadic person with a poor sense of commitment.<br /><br />Some news: Dave and I just got back from our very first tour as Chicken Little! It was awesome. And the second big news is that on our trip, we brought with us our new ridiculously cute beagle mutt Roger! Roger is the best dog ever, and we tell him that every day. We rescued him from this amazing woman who started her own rescue foster care called Sugar Mutts Rescue. www.sugarmutts.com. If you know anyone, or if you want to adopt a really sweet, maybe larger dog, this is the place. Roger had already gotten all his shots and everything, so all we had to do was pay her the adoption fee and he was ours. By the way, we took him to a punk show that we played right before tour when we had only had him for 3 days, and here are some pictures of him having a great time. (he's good with the ladies)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN69PUhQ4SgVDC4rL8zRK4_7myDMSBAE-lH2cPSNf9eBIIAkdJrBQBh_77SRCLxXTSIj7Abdv7E4UJUiYWddTkDQsciHOZCII9myKF4fVW3rq3kVaLm8w69xDn8ZkIEogDLuMzoTxiEP3J/s1600-h/DSC_4758.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN69PUhQ4SgVDC4rL8zRK4_7myDMSBAE-lH2cPSNf9eBIIAkdJrBQBh_77SRCLxXTSIj7Abdv7E4UJUiYWddTkDQsciHOZCII9myKF4fVW3rq3kVaLm8w69xDn8ZkIEogDLuMzoTxiEP3J/s320/DSC_4758.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239433748945383234" border="0" /></a>And some others:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-3y3jjDPCeXyBb36zd3nBPVGiiZQLJqcmTtJiVEc6I6uCACcIGcW7bDsg3fvY5owTp1Ml7UtI9SvuHEgh47RTjY3J1w7PHC0aiGUtNGY8ohfoxY8pr4S-SNO6rrUP1xbdJJjFhF_bK5-/s1600-h/DSC_4755.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-3y3jjDPCeXyBb36zd3nBPVGiiZQLJqcmTtJiVEc6I6uCACcIGcW7bDsg3fvY5owTp1Ml7UtI9SvuHEgh47RTjY3J1w7PHC0aiGUtNGY8ohfoxY8pr4S-SNO6rrUP1xbdJJjFhF_bK5-/s320/DSC_4755.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239434186922005730" border="0" /></a><br />And here is his beloved monkey.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fCFbX2NfcXwX4ji-MhtJ28UOyy6P0z1NYh1zeMxRA84mrucy0sVL__TaDiXg3CzDmhov90kVfROtKf_YxoExxEBXRFI8FqbnIukkeaSmHKXpFqoIUpKLt5NI_Nkw1q7TAi6STDOOwbhw/s1600-h/DSC_4763.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5fCFbX2NfcXwX4ji-MhtJ28UOyy6P0z1NYh1zeMxRA84mrucy0sVL__TaDiXg3CzDmhov90kVfROtKf_YxoExxEBXRFI8FqbnIukkeaSmHKXpFqoIUpKLt5NI_Nkw1q7TAi6STDOOwbhw/s320/DSC_4763.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239437786482040306" border="0" /></a><br />So Roger actually tagged along with us the entire tour down south, which was both challenging and rewarding. He learned to really trust us, but he also learned he's not so crazy about changing towns every other night. But the tour was great, and we played in various southern towns, including: Philly (played an open mike after our show flaked on us), Asheville, NC (Woot, hometown +amazing show at Firestorm cafe. Visit www.firestormcafe.com), Athens, GA at the Flicker Theater (my brother's town now), Nashville, TN (awesome awesome place. I think I might belong here), Bloomington, IN (horrible lazy, pothead, college burn-out town), Lakewood, Oh (woo hoo! Fuckin' awesome time. Sold lots of cds and made some nice friends, great experience). And Now we're back in the apple. I have to say...it's good to be back. Playing at open mikes, back in a work environment I know and like, and giving Roger a home he loves and wants to stay in. I have to say though, being on tour definitely spoils you. I wish I were performing every other night. But now is the time to really hone our skills. Tighten our songs and get better. But tour taught me so much about being a musician and what I want to be doing. I'll be writing about my trip to Prague with my choir Khorikos as well in October when the time comes.<br />But until then, hope this wasn't so boring.<br />I'm a loser and don't have any pictures from tour yet, but here are a few from the Ever Reviled Records show:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDd7ge6B3dSQ-yO-oq0xx5TLFl70e6lPWJYFMu_bir2p9OJcDrfQbo_QViNzOCj_LVjPar72K29Yawm8A5bXTYd-b-EdNpDZJkVGDkI3usdwFLNr4zpf30xSnOKWp4OnlMMiJXOZNwHrQ/s1600-h/DSC_4778.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDd7ge6B3dSQ-yO-oq0xx5TLFl70e6lPWJYFMu_bir2p9OJcDrfQbo_QViNzOCj_LVjPar72K29Yawm8A5bXTYd-b-EdNpDZJkVGDkI3usdwFLNr4zpf30xSnOKWp4OnlMMiJXOZNwHrQ/s320/DSC_4778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239436720876173202" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVrPPcFCTraRi2s3baB3k8xm2agUBIz8IuG42WHo2HhXpyj3EyFZyfFmnGTMOKfLLmYSg_2itRFn1Kz1YJVjbC7ZvQDlxSAJ6TpmRXA-uwWk0TgNrcWUmIPSvKIFIn3F6oHQFlFvLTcSM/s1600-h/DSC_4779.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKVrPPcFCTraRi2s3baB3k8xm2agUBIz8IuG42WHo2HhXpyj3EyFZyfFmnGTMOKfLLmYSg_2itRFn1Kz1YJVjbC7ZvQDlxSAJ6TpmRXA-uwWk0TgNrcWUmIPSvKIFIn3F6oHQFlFvLTcSM/s320/DSC_4779.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239437048582468114" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqew6LQ_aEhCkmornWWKXg6MtFzzeZP6jNXZKdWyLjN_tT58EEI_0DuX-eoDoWnWREtgelAtE0NPkFDhCEMHtGLKBJaLxjylgXLVkgEon5kLo1N5mhZ72Alr8RmIqzfyykR-K25HOFQNS/s1600-h/DSC_4782.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqew6LQ_aEhCkmornWWKXg6MtFzzeZP6jNXZKdWyLjN_tT58EEI_0DuX-eoDoWnWREtgelAtE0NPkFDhCEMHtGLKBJaLxjylgXLVkgEon5kLo1N5mhZ72Alr8RmIqzfyykR-K25HOFQNS/s320/DSC_4782.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239437051099756370" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So, I will be more committed to this blog thing now. I promise. I'll get those pictures developed from tour, and I will complain about New York no matter how much I love it.<br />But here's just one last one:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4L25FRIoHnb22RIb3hyphenhyphenjXHM11mc8rU0-LPN6BKx77GpnpmTwXU5U9GeXARtQUvdStvPVK1Ob8ZUae0qNj2bZJ7agA6DwmA4ZTsPhduALAVglM1-KXQF-uucogzMiWOvCLwcyP3QVcLe7/s1600-h/DSC_4803.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4L25FRIoHnb22RIb3hyphenhyphenjXHM11mc8rU0-LPN6BKx77GpnpmTwXU5U9GeXARtQUvdStvPVK1Ob8ZUae0qNj2bZJ7agA6DwmA4ZTsPhduALAVglM1-KXQF-uucogzMiWOvCLwcyP3QVcLe7/s320/DSC_4803.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239438443084767394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NtYp08xIVVIuWK_UHkQ1zcE7Vlxx49UqjZjgJ-W6i16bN04QCJm0yeGwi_or_1a8m3MpTBejKs0CzaaH4UipCdQ8JmfdwHCr0ja1HgQJXKqILkA1DEZCsrb3VSC0Nvczv2yrlxH-mYCb/s1600-h/DSC_4645.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2NtYp08xIVVIuWK_UHkQ1zcE7Vlxx49UqjZjgJ-W6i16bN04QCJm0yeGwi_or_1a8m3MpTBejKs0CzaaH4UipCdQ8JmfdwHCr0ja1HgQJXKqILkA1DEZCsrb3VSC0Nvczv2yrlxH-mYCb/s320/DSC_4645.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239439822346945378" border="0" /></a><br />Cute huh?Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-55828867918762388182008-05-20T08:52:00.000-07:002008-05-20T09:04:02.890-07:00Spring is in the airI know it's been more than a month now since I've posted...I'm guilty. It's been a pretty intense and busy month, and I finally feel like things are dying down a little (in a good way). <div>It was a combination of things like working almost everyday, having rehearsals and two shows in one weekend, and then also coming down with one of the worst flu-like bug I've ever had. But I am back to the emma that I know, and it feels good. </div><div><br /></div><div>So dave and I officially have a band name now. We are Chicken Little and we go by Chicken Shit Emma and Cuomo Little Shit. Classy I know. but the kids love it. We played at an open mike last night with these names for the first time and played two songs. I think people enjoyed it. Now my goal is to be incorporating my accordion into all the songs. The problem is, I'm not exactly proficient yet, and she (the accordion) is just so heavy and loud. Almost over-bearing to the rest of the sound we produce. But I love her. So I will make it work. I'm also thinking though of buying a smaller accordion that will be better suited for the acoustic shows we do in houses and bars. </div><div><br /></div><div>New York seems to have missed the point of spring this year. Sure the parks are in bloom, but the streets are just full of pointless pollen, and it rains almost everyday. Not to mention Wind has become a regular host for the weather's forecast. One day, I'll be back in a place that has the smell of spring and the colors to prove it. Until then though, Spring is a muddle of soggy rooftops and fogged skylines. </div>Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-39649640534368002152008-04-12T15:42:00.000-07:002008-04-12T16:01:25.311-07:00freedom of expression is hardI just started writing lessons under the miraculous tutelage of dearest dave, and I feel like I'm an infant learning how to speak again, because all that comes out of me right now seems like babble. I've just started to do 20 minute "free writes" which is very hard on my wrist and brain, but by the end of it, I seem surprisingly happy to have done it. The first one actually brought up some really powerful thoughts for me that have been brewing in my mind for a while now, but until I gave up my need to over-think, I finally came upon something worth while for me. <br />I might start to post some of these ideas now and again, but not right this moment. It is not time. But there's something incredible about having to keep the hand and mind moving, even if it's tired, or out of "ideas." Because that's the beauty of it, is that there is no pre-emptive thinking or planning. It's just associative thinking and almost a physical excercise. For me, it was very much like meditating, where you're thoughts are going in and out of your breath, to a new thought that pops up, then back again to the breath, to the awareness that you are actively involved in that moment.<br /><br />In other news, the apartment's slowly coming together. We're no longer eating from pots and pans since dave bought two REAL bowls and some silverware. Woo hoo! And having an east-west facing apartment is amazing. Sunrise, sunset...Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-81474454704778344442008-03-15T15:24:00.000-07:002008-03-15T15:37:41.814-07:00Life can move in a strange wayFor those of you who don't know yet, I am moving to a new apartment in April to live with my also relatively new boyfriend. Crazy? Yes. Fast? Yes. But if you knew him and you knew me, it would all make sense. And we'll have an amazing view of the manhattan skyline, so what could really go wrong I ask you??<br /><br />I know we're taking a risk, but isn't that what life is for? And it seemed like the Universe was shouting at us to make this next move. Having that said, we still won't be seeing that much of each other because of our opposite work schedules.<br /><br />We plan on having "rent-raisers" and fun gatherings on wood floors so we can maybe one day have a couch. And maybe a desk and some chairs? But goddam, we have a place, and I can't wait to live cat-free. Not to mention the freedom to do whatever the hell I want in my own space. I'll post some pictures of the place as soon as I get a chance. We're meeting with the landlord tomorrow to go over all the application materials and such. I feel strangely like an adult or something... What happened?<br /><br />I'll be in touch. I know this was a leap from my last post. A lot has occurred. Ciao!Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-72817914273507146392008-02-07T16:30:00.000-08:002008-02-13T20:34:11.473-08:00All I want is a room somewhere...I've been apartment hunting, and while I've only seen two places so far, it is a very stressful undertaking. One wrong decision can make a huge difference in the long run. And sometimes I have to just go with my gut even if something seems really good on the outside. Like maybe I just want a shitty hole, but a shitty hole that I can call my own.<br /><br />Aside from the stress, it's been fun exploring the city in ways I normally don't have time for. I get to ride trains I never ride, see the people I never would have passed, and smell the smells from the local roti shops I've never eaten from. And as I crossed over the Williamsburg Bridge on the J train, I was thankful for the first time for a slow-moving train. Going across right at dusk, everything shimmered on the water and off of old factory buildings, and cars below looked like toys, crawling like ants on the highways. A landscape of high rises and dingy train tracks suddenly morphed into a peaceful landscape. Not to sound too much like a Futurist or someone who has faith in society and technology, but I thought how wonderful it is to return to that beauty that lies in almost everything, no matter how much we fuck it up<span style="text-decoration: underline;">.</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa9RWNvAVZMcu9l0lp18ZUQKMmY1KJedfJjcLe-K-HSAqdj1a0AtSTIn2rCQ1O_81spEGQoVgX6RV6cj9qZvm__7Xv6VZ3dJ4J-eqSwWbBAOHCDfZv4kO4t1tmgMVB4ndpJcdp8GHi2M-/s1600-h/SheetMusic.jpg"><br /></a>Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-73812655760677541192008-01-29T11:24:00.000-08:002008-01-29T11:47:54.425-08:00sleep, breathThese two things that are the driving forces of our existence have been my new tyrants. The past few weeks have been pregnant with new challenges...and new beginnings. One challenge. Standing up for myself. Result: getting a little more of what I want out of life. <br />Challenge 2: SLEEP and BREATH. I have not been sleeping. And when I do, it certainly does not leave the impression that what I have just thought about for 2 hours was only dream. Thus, dream and life are blending more and more, and I have some suspicions that the movie "Waking Life" is actually a true story. This I will overcome I am confidant. It is a temporary challenge along the way.<br /><br />The breath comes in like this. I am short of breath with allergies. I biked from Brooklyn to work on the upper west side the other day and the breath was taken swiftly from my body.<br /><br />New beginnings: Something is making its way in, like a breath of fresh air, and I can't say much except that its keywords are adventure, wind, trust, and heart. And skipping.<br /><br />I leave with this thought...that it will leave me when I lay down tonight, and I won't be able to recall the dark until I wake up again.Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-72529701876067295712008-01-20T14:26:00.000-08:002008-01-20T14:32:46.289-08:00First weekend in weeksBecause of Martin Luther King Jr. day, I have today (Sunday), and tomorrow off. I have to leave in about 5 minutes for choir rehearsal, but I have a purring kitty on my lap watching what words are being created on the screen as I type, (he's fascinated by my typing), and I seem to have grown immensely sleepy from working out, eating, then sitting... I really just want to curl up. And I seem to have just eaten something tasting a little on the funky side, rotten eggy tasting, and I'm not happy about this situation. <br />I was supposed to make myself sing and warm up before practice today, but I failed to do so. <br /><br />Anyway, I'll write more later. But I needed to just get something out before I headed out into the world of subways and shuttle buses (my train is never working on the weekends now.) <br />And, oh yeah, it's COLD. Remember that time I was complaining about the weather being fucked up and too warm for my well-being? Well, let's just say I have a tendency to yearn for the greener grass. And so, my dears, whoever is reading or to the spirits that may be guiding me tonight, I wish you farewell. <br /><br />To warm sweaters, drafty windows, and loving kittens. And a rotten taste in your mouth...Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9112153612546896591.post-29460658870727459782008-01-12T23:27:00.000-08:002008-01-13T11:01:12.180-08:00Ode to my 3rd grade love<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span>what is it that makes you fall for that first crush? It can't based on something that actually occurs in real life...like, you really connected when you first discovered you both have a collection of old bottles. I think it's an image, and you're suddenly inclined to love that image because it's so familiar and strange at the same time. But you've never looked him in the eyes, and you'll never know why the obsession has taken hold of you except for one reason, which is this thing called magnetism. And suddenly, you discover what attraction is. That it's an energy that exists like a bubble between two forces, pushing and pulling, and you can stop it as much as a speeding train can come to a deafening halt.</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><br /><br />1st Love Poem<br /></span><br />When I sit in my rib-caged desk,<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I stare<br />at chipped away signatures, and puttied hearts.<br /><br />I scratch some lines with my number 2 pencil,<br />hoping you'll catch me under your vise<br />and see that I'm different from the rest.<br /><br />I know that we're meant to be with each other because<br />your hair and eyes are shiny brown.<br />They glow and I've never wanted to hold something so secret before.<br />Chalk makes cloud and blurs my attention and<br />I drink your face into my memory<br />and savor your name.<br /><br />One day,<br />after school, I walked to my father's office<br />dreading the boredom of typing and silence and office carpet smells<br />that match the office chair and magazine smells.<br />Before walking through the jingle-belled door,<br />you were there, with your skateboard, practicing in MY father's business yard.<br /><br />Hello.<br />Hello.<br /><br />Quick. Rush and beating heart, I pass body and go inside,<br />escaping the whirlwind of desire to another room of desks and chairs.<br /><br />I think of the doorway and I think of entering it, exiting the outside world of possibility.<br />There's no wind inside, and<br />I dream of the Brown again and again.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /></div>Ber-to-the-Keyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01687580497300878597noreply@blogger.com0