Archive for the ‘misc’ Category

Of bikes, blinkers and crossing guards

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010

Wow.  School started.   It’s one thing to extol bike commuting when your first obligation is at 10:30 a.m. and you get to head home at 4:00. It’s a bit more challenging to leave at 6:45 and come home at 8:30, finding space to schlep along changes of clothing, school gear, and two meals. This has been my excuse.

Then last week my truck decided to add a little clinking noise to its growing lexicon of small, disturbing, but not necessarily life threatening problems. (For instance: the blinkers have been increasingly unreliable, but every good Atlantean knows that blinkers are for pussies.)  So, rather than waiting till the clinking wheel decided to strike off on its own, I finally took her in and relinquished her to the guys at Quantum Mechanics.  Downside: inconvenient and expensive.  Upside – forced me onto my bike.

7 a.m. is not my choice time to ride.  It’s not actually my choice time to do anything, actually, besides sleep. (Or graciously receive breakfast in bed.  I could probably handle that, too. . .) But two things made it kind of awesome.
1.) Kids on the path! I was riding through town just in time for all the kids to be going to school.  I got a brief, gap toothed grin from a small girl furiously pedaling her hot-pink bike to stay ahead of her older brother.  He gave me sort of a dubious smile, probably wondering why this random stranger was so delighted to see him.  Probably it wouldn’t have made sense to him anyway; he’s grown up safe and in Decatur, so he doesn’t have to understand why it’s so awesome that kids in the community are using healthy modes of transportation and feel safe enough to do so.

2.) Crossing guards. Dude.  I love them.  Every bad-ass-grandma glares-right-through-your-windshield one of them.

Why CDs are like pancakes, and other goodies

Saturday, October 3rd, 2009

I am contemplating Halloween costume ideas.  Why? Because we just went to Ross, where we encountered a plethora of obnoxious orange plastic things, glitter, and fake dead leaves attached to ceramic figurines of various pastoral scenes.  Plus, you can always look forward to seeing some pretty awesome outfits at Ross.  It’s not as good as Wal-Mart, but it’s no Publix, either. It’s very inspiring.  AND we got invited to a Halloween party today, which is conveniently not on Halloween and close enough to home that we don’t have to drive.  This is exciting because I prefer to be home on Halloween so I can hand out candy and see adorable children dressed like tv characters.  Also, I love parties that make responsible drinking nice and easy. (i.e. I can walk home)  So hooray for Halloween!

Also, If I’m contemplating Halloween costume ideas I don’t have to contemplate this Professional Responsibility paper I’m supposed to be thinking about.  Frankly, I prefer to think about responsible drinking.  And costumes.  And Reese’s peanut butter cups.  (that’s what I hand out, kids.  No toothbrushes or apples from me.)

In other, somewhat more relevant-to-this-blog-news, I sent EP in to Tunecore today, so hopefully it will be available for download to all our rabid fans on itunes, amazon and all that jazz in about a month.  Two recordings that can be heard nowhere else plus an old favorite!  Get one today. . .er, in a month!  Actually, if you want one today, we’re still selling them hot off the griddle here, so just send me an email or something. Yeah, I said hot off the griddle.  Because cds are kind of like pancakes. . .round, time consuming, you can burn them, throw them at people who are mocking your metaphors. . .

Re-reading past lives

Wednesday, July 8th, 2009

I am reading through old blogs.  Initially because Scott and I were arguing about when I started trying to play bass – I maintained it had only been about two years, he said four.  I was quite insistent, and finally opted to go to the old myspace blog and see.  (it was important for me to be right, since after four years, a person ought to be better at an instrument. . .) I was wrong.  He was right. Again.  It’s an aggravating habit of his.

Anyway, I got kind of sucked into reading the blog.  Primarily  because it’s crazy how much my life has changed in the last four years.  Also, the stories about Rox’s crazy puppy days are pretty funny.  She’s terribly staid and well behaved these days. . .so am I, I guess.

Other things that have changed (some more radically than others)
1.)Wow.  A lot of very major shit happened in 2006.  And 2007.  And 2008.  Wars, deaths of people too young to die, career changes, whistle blowing, life changes, three thousand mile moves across the country. . . No wonder I feel like I’m boring now.  I’ve been wondering if something is wrong with me – if I’ve let go of something that used to make me interesting, gotten old. . .but no.  The last three years were just . . .bonkers.  Yes, I used the word bonkers.  Because it applies.

2.) Marriages and divorces and drug related deaths on myspace have given way to pictures of adorable babies and small children on facebook.

3.) My truck – used to be sorta new and cluttered with tools, sawdust and other life necessities as my second home. It was also sort of a fugitive, always scrounging for cheap parking downtown, hiding until after hours when it could park for free. . . Now clean (even vacuumed), with a cell phone charger and nothing else, and additional hundred thousand miles, and it’s very own driveway.

3.) My relationship with plants.  People used to give them to me when I left various jobs (which I did frequently for a while).  This was always sort of sad; not because of the leavetaking, but because I would inevitably kill the plant.  Now. . .actually, never mind.

4.) Laundry apparently used to be a major indicator of stress level and motivation for me.  I always felt the need to mention when I’d done it, and apparently it was always a major undertaking.   That or I’d wait to write a blog until I was avoiding doing laundry.  I’m not sure.  Amazing what having a wash machine in house that doens’t require quarters does for that problem.

5.) I finally gave in and went Veggie.  And. . .it’s basically permanent. But at least that ends the teriyaki chicken cycle.

6.) Air conditioning.  I have it. (insert jubilant chord by angelic choir here)

7.) I get to choose whether or not I want to be part of a down town event now – rather than waking up with one surrounding me and screwing up my commute.  On the down side, I don’t see nearly as many llamas as once did.

8.) Early mornings.  They are no longer the bane of my existence – in fact I almost never sleep in.  And between myself and Scott, the person who wants to get moving and be productive has completely flip flopped.  It’s me. What happened?

9.) Growing up – a comment from my mother (who is wonderful for my self confidence, but might be just a bit of an enabler) on an old blog absolved me of some financial irresponsibility by pointing out that studies show 26 to be the new 21 – indicating, I think, that I didn’t really have to be a responsible adult yet.  The following year, I turned 26 . . .and went back to school.  Ironic.

10.) Georgia and Me.  Our relationship has grown and deepened.  For example: I no longer barf on the way up the mountain to the cabin.  I can go jogging in 90 degrees with 40% humidity. (again, sans barf.)  I can kill palmetto bug without batting an eye (ok, maybe my eyes twitch a little, but I no longer run from the room screaming).

Things that haven’t changed much:
1) My friends.  I have some really amazing friends. . .who have been there for a long time.

2) Girl scout cookies.  I always get them.  Every year, and I always mention it in my blog.

3.) Rox still sits next to me and makes weird noises while I blog.

Open Mics

Wednesday, July 1st, 2009

The first blog I made for this band was titled “The Life at the Open Mic - buying your own beer to play” or something like that;  in ancient times when Myspace was king and I had to spend half of my time on there weeding prostitutes and missionaries off of our friends list. (I don’t know why they love us so.   Must be the music. . . )  A more innocent time, when you didn’t have to upload a student I.D. with a horrific photo in order to put your music on line, but could feel free to plagiarize with impunity.  (is that redundant?   I just wanted to use the word “impunity”. )  Anyway.  Now days we play shows where we actually get a tab at the bar, and sometimes we even get paid. (subliminal message: Java Monkey this Friday!!)  But we still hit open mics  on occasion to try out new things and meet new people and be reminded of how much talent there is in the area.

So last night we played at Eddie’s Attic, which holds an open mic that has managed to become acclaimed across the country.  Serious – five years ago when I googled “open mic”  having never been to Decatur, and knowing Scott and Pogo only as dim  figures in the mist and mud of the dog park, the first ten or so hits were about Eddie’s Attic.  It’s so popular you usually have to sign up months in advance, and call in and confirm that you’re coming that day.  It’s still open – anybody can play, as long as they can do long term planning – but it always winds up being stacked with good musicians.  It’s also a competition, which I don’t love (probably because we never win, if I’m honest), but that seems to contribute to the level of talent that shows up there.  Plus there’s Eddie himself, who is extremely charismatic. . . anyway.  You can read all the fabulous things about the Attic on their webpage – this blog is actually meant to be about a comment a friend made last night.  He pointed out that Open Mics are really basically group therapy for musicians.

I will never attend another open mic without this concept filtering everything I see and hear, because he’s dead right.  The highlight for me yesterday was a song called “Rockstars Don’t Fall in Love”, a song that’s been waiting to be written for decades, I think, by a chick named Marina.  It was hard to hear the names of artists over the applause, but there was another guy channeling Bob Dylan – not so awesome voice, very passionate, good guitar player, really good harmonica, who stayed with you long after he stepped down, because he wrote and extremely disturbing song about shooting a president. There was the usual over abundance of “I love you, you left me, why oh why?” songs.  Therapy or not, I’ve become quite jaded about those. Usually there’s a reason, Sport.   It’s at the point now where now I try to figure it out.  I sit up in the audience and make up scenarios for what kind of a jackass that guy could be.  And yes, it’s always guys – not because I’m sexist (though I am, a little bit), but because the girls that sing that theme always know why, and they’re usually quite clear about it in the song.  It’s usually the guys who can’t possibly imagine that there could be a flaw in their character that would send their beloved away.  Analyze that, it you like.

Anyway.  Last night was great fun, and I thank Jeff for the insight.  Onward to Friday, July 3rd, at Java Monkey!

A Top Ten List

Sunday, June 28th, 2009

Sometimes I get sucked into reading craigslist purely for entertainment.  There are all these people posting things that they want to the world, hopeful and helpless and ripe for mockery. . .It’s not very fair of me.  I mean, I’ve posted things plenty of times; once I even tried to get work as a singer that way (largely unsuccessfully – it’s a great way to meet weird people though). I’m sure that someone read my little blurb and got a good chuckle out of my desperation and naivete.  Because there’s a HUGE demand for chubby white sopranos in the world; everyone’s looking for one on Craiglslist.  Lets not forget the average rock musician’s reaction to hearing the phrase “classically trained”.  (if you don’t know, ask Scott.)

Anyways.  I’ve never done a list on this particular blog.  Here’s my first.

Top Ten Favorite Things to Make Fun Of on the Musicians Community Section of Craigslist. (pshew. long title. . .)

1. Drummers seeking churches to play at.  There are tons.  In fact, it seems that the vast majority of drummers in Atlanta are not interested in playing outside the Lord’s house.  Why does Jesus get all the drummers? Does he pay better?

2. Flagrantly discriminatory job advertising.  Example: “seeking saved guitar playing dude in his early twenties for up and coming band”. If they had a hope in hell of making any money*, they’d be liable for discriminating based on age, sex and religion.

3. I also enjoy the posts that are very clear about whether or not they’re cool with particular levels of drug use.

4. Posts in all caps. I know that grammatical proficiency is not synonymous with musical ability, but. . .six or seven sentences (and I use the word “sentences” loosely) in all caps sort of indicate a lack of nuance to me.  And. . .I feel that music requires nuance.  Maybe I’m a snob.  It’s that classical problem again.

5. The uber condescending guy who write the post about how he’s tired of the noise, and where are the real musicians in this city, why aren’t they stepping up and playing with him (yes, I’m assuming he’s a male. sue me.) etc. etc.  There’s one in every hundred posts.  Just inspires me to run to the phone and try to prove to him that there ARE real musicians left, and I’m one of them, and could I PLEASE work for him. . . If I thought he really wanted an answer to his questions, I might point out that they’re probably working.  For people who aren’t waving a big online flag that says “I’m a self-righteous jackass”.

6. Speaking of condescending. . .”Seriuos Musicians Only.”  Not spellers.  Just musicians.  Yes, I’m being judgmental, but if you want me to take you seriously, use your damn spell checker. It’s not like we’re back in the dark ages when you actually had to look things up in a dictionary.

7. The question “How is the Christian Metal scene in Atlanta“?

8.  So many kinds of rocks! Progressive, psychedelic, roots, classic, black, emo, punk, indie, christian, surf, stoner, alternative, blues. . .are these all official genre names?  I have this image of a bunch of rocks with little faces on them.  The psychedelic one has a mushroom painted on it.  The “roots” one has a little tree and maybe blond dreads.  I don’t even know what Progressive Rock means, so I have no joke for that one. Alternative just means they don’t know what the hell they’re playing, I guess. . .Indie used to mean you weren’t making any real money.  I think now it means you’re a slim, pale person or three with at least one guitar, some dyed hair, “vintage” outfits, and depressing, saracastic music. (which I love, btw.)

9. “Stoner Rock”.  Haha!  That’s redundant! Aha!

9. The classical musicians evidently have another way of networking. (Except the voice teachers)  Craigslist in Atlanta appears to be primarily trafficked by rhythm and vocalists.

10. *The phrase “up and coming band”.  This is CL code for “we have no gigs, and we practice in my mom’s basement”.  Which is awesome – no band would exist without tolerant parents.

A little dog moment. . .

Monday, June 22nd, 2009

Happy little image from this morning:  You may or may not be aware that on top of our regular rocking off of your socks, Jane and Scott are dedicated food snobs, vegetarians, and devoted parents of three four legged furballs.  I dabble in vegan baking, although I’m too much of a pussy to go totally vegan (I tried, and failed.), and one of my favorites is the banana bread recipe from Laurel’s Kitchen.  I use bananas a lot – to the point where Pogo arrives in the kitchen as soon as I start to peel one, and spends the next five minutes, before I lose patience and yell at him, determinedly insinuating himself between me and the counter that I’m trying to work over.  Then he sits about three feet away and stares very intently at the dough.  Very intently.  Seriously.  You can wave your hands in front of his face and he doesn’t blink.

Maggie, on the other hand, is sneaky.  I really couldn’t tell you when she comes in.  I only know that at some point between having bullied Pogo out of the immediate vicinity and becoming totally engrossed in what I’m doing, she has arrived, and stretched comfortably out behind me – approximately one inch from the backs of my heels.  I usually find this out when I try to turn around and can’t find the floor.  Then she looks trustingly up at me through her lashes, oblivious to the fact that she’s narrowly avoided being squashed, and waits for me to drop the spoon.

Pogo goes for Jedi mind tricks, and Maggie is more of a sabateur.

Rox can’t be bothered.  I’m pretty sure she remembers a time when I used eggs and butter, and bananas simply don’t have the same allure.

In the end, Maggie and Pogo both get something to lick clean, and the moment that inspired this little blog this morning was Maggie’s face, looking up at me happily from the mixing bowl, batter in her whiskers, on her nose, and adorning the tip of each foxy ear.

I forgot the rules. . .

Thursday, May 28th, 2009

Am I allowed to talk about the Path with a capital P on here? (Nerd alert! Not the Orson Scott Card Planet – The Great Atlantean Bike Path!) Because I just tootled my way all the way down town on it and it was awesome! Beautiful, green. . .cute shops, lovely scenery, minimal institutional cement, small adorable animals (I did almost squish a chipmunk. But I didn’t.) Fantastic. I had no idea.

No Burly, in case anyone was curious. But I did think of trying to herd my relatives onto it when they visit the ATL. And I saw turtles, which was really exciting for me.

And in honor of this little hooray for Atlanta moment, (because that’s what this is. right now. this moment.) Here is a picture of us singing at the Little Five Points Corner Tavern. I believe it was our first show there.

lil-five-show

and a heads up – we’re working up two new songs, and hope to release them into the wild at Eddie’s attic in a week or two.

love and kisses,
jane