Springtime = 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 Bramble Hill 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 Table, which talks about local and sustainable food in and around Nashville.

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.

So the traveling musicians flee once again, only hoping to return with some tales.

a lot to say, a little late

I 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!

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 website and new EP. 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?

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.

I'm reading One City 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.
In other words, there are so many people in a city like New York that it kind of reminds me of the dragon puppets 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?
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.

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.

Thoughts on my old backyard

It'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.

Our neighbor's laundry

Skyline at dusk


View from rooftop

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.

the years end

2008 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...), my grandmother, 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.

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.
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.

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.

With all this, I do believe 2009 will be a good year.

Got 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?"
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.

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.

Here's what he looks like two days ago:

Notice the lack of smoke coming out of his nose or mouth.

And here too. You will see there is a clear lens, untarnished by smoky fumes.

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.

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.
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.

Becoming a Nashvillian

We 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.
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.

But we must go! More Nashville tales to come.

Whiskey and Wine is a great way to say goodbye

My 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 the Lucky Cat, 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.

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?
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?
Yes. Good. Deep breath and try to enjoy the scenery while I'm here. This city girl is going country again.