uncollected thoughts

Greetings from a muggy Sunday night in Atlanta. I just logged onto Blogger to see if I could remember my password, remember how to post. I feel like I've been in a creative drought lately. I'm ready to come out of it. Is that something one can do simply by intending it? Well, I'm here, and I'm trying.

I'm not here to write about anything in particular, just bits and pieces floating through my brain. Welcome to the blotter.

(1) I went to a funeral on Saturday for a young man I'd never met. Alex was the 22-year-old son of a woman I know through my contradance community. Alex's mother, Linda, is a petite Southern firecracker of a woman. Until Saturday, I don't think I had ever not seen her smiling. But the funeral was crushing. After a long struggle with addiction, Alex died of a drug overdose. I gather that his death was quite unexpected. He'd been in and out of recovery programs; I suppose he seemed to be making progress. And then he was gone. Linda sobbed and sobbed on Saturday. I didn't think I'd cry at the funeral, but I did, just because I hated to see Linda so sad. A mother should never have to bury a son.

(2) In a strange way, I feel oddly excited about the increase in the cost of gas. Yes, that sounds kind of sick. But being a good Socialist-hearted American, I find it interesting that we are finally starting to encounter some checks in our extravagant waste of fossil fuels. Wendell Berry wrote a splendid article in the May issue of Harper's that gets right to the issue, noting the psychological shifts that are accompanying the end of cheap oil:

…That human limitlessness is a fantasy means, obviously, that its life expectancy is limited. There is now a growing perception, and not just among a few experts, that we are entering a time of inescapable limits. We are not likely to be granted another world to plunder in compensation for our pillage of this one. Nor are we likely to believe much longer in our ability to outsmart, by means of science and technology, our economic stupidity. The hope that we can cure the ills of industrialism by the homeopathy of more technology seems at last to be losing status. We are, in short, coming under pressure to understand ourselves as limited creatures in a limited world.

I wonder sometimes what it would be like for American filling stations to sell gas at $10/gallon, like they already do in some parts of Europe. If we couldn't drive everywhere, would not our lives become significantly simpler, smaller and quieter? Yes, $10/gallon gas would necessitate some major life changes and some major inconveniences for most working Americans. But I think many of those shifts would be incredibly healthy for us in the long run.

(3) I've been working way too much lately. The financial freedom is nice. The disconnect I feel from my artistic life is not so great. I don't like who I become when I work too much. I become this machine, a hyper-productive, stressed, anxious, furious footsoldier. I continue to seek balance in this area. I miss taking photos a lot.

(4) I'm continuing to enjoy getting to know a couple of women neighbors in my apartment building. We went to Birdi's a couple of weeks ago and I had a "faketini" called the Christini Milkshake. $8.75 for vanilla vodka, white creme de cacao, Kahlua, and cream. I don't really care for elaborate drinks, but this thing was seriously delicious. I've been thinking about that drink for two weeks now. I'll try to steer the group back there and take photos next time.

(5) My older brother is spending the summer in Oregon and I miss him.

(6) I'm getting my hair cut on Tuesday and I can't wait. I haven't had it cut since March and I'm looking especially pitiful. I'm going back to the woman who did this to me — but this time we're going to have a Come To Jesus conversation before she picks up the scissors.

Thanks for reading this far. It's good to be back. Hopefully it won't be three months before I post here again.

it's time for music!

It's that time you've all been waiting for — time for my favorite songs of the year. Yessss!

Yeah, there's a lot of other stuff I could write about in this space, but I am working hard to put the break-in behind me and move forward. To be honest, I am finding it upsetting to think any more about the break-in than I already have. 

So I am here to share some delicious songs with you. I hope you enjoy.

(6) "Sanssouci" — Rufus Wainwright. Lord knows how I love this man. 2007 saw the release of Rufus' decadent Release the Stars, an dazzling album with the same lavish production that characterized his splendid Want One album and the cryptic Want Two. "Sanssouci" is probably my favorite song from the album, a playful little number about love and longing and boys in hotels. The song features a charming flute part, a sort of trilly, lacy little flute line that makes you feel like dancing around in a tutu. Over the summer I was rewarded with the sight of seeing a big muscular man wearing pin-striped circus pants playing that flute part at Rufus' Atlanta concert. That was a good day.

One of my favorite lines in the song is almost a throwaway, a casual line in which Rufus sings I'm tired of writing elegies to boredom. When this song came across my radar in the spring, that line felt like a strange revelation, a clue on the path. I took it as encouragement to broaden my horizons, to jump into something unexpected and scary. As silly as it sounds, I felt an implicit endorsement from Rufus when I quit my horrible soul-eating job at the Very Large Multinational Corporation a few months after discovering this song. 

(5) "Flightless Bird, American Mouth" — Iron & Wine. I've been following Sam Beam since the days of The Creek Drank the Cradle, and I was happy to welcome this album to the fold this year. "Flightless Bird" is a beautiful, hymn-like waltz that closes The Shepherd's Dog. This song captures all that I love about Iron & Wine. The images of simple purity in Beam's music suggest a transcendent beauty that always waits just beyond our awareness.

(4) "The Part Where You Let Go" — Hem. I'm growing terribly predictable by adding a Hem selection to my top songs list each winter, but I can't help it. They're one of my favorite bands and one of the groups I turn to most frequently when seeking solace. They're like comfort food, except without all the guilt and calories. This song found me in June when I was leaving the stability of that soul-eating but lucrative day job and entering unknown territory. There were a number of occasions over the summer when the chorus reduced me to a quivering pile of tears.

(3) "Miracle of Five" — Eleni Mandell. NPR's delightful Song of the Day feature brought Eleni Mandell to my attention for the first time this spring. Her entire Miracle of Five album is full of sweet, folky songs like this one, with easygoing guitars and some sleepy saxophones. This is a very pleasing album.

(2) "Either Way" — Wilco.

Maybe the sun will shine today.

The clouds will blow away.

Maybe I won't feel so afraid.

I will try to understand 

Either way.

The childlike simplicity of these lines that open Wilco's album Sky Blue Sky took my breath away when I first heard them. The clarity and courage in those lines becomes even more significant when you realize that the person who wrote them, Jeff Tweedy, suffers from major depressive disorder and panic attacks. The lines seem like the best kind of therapy, a promise to just accept each day with open hands. Perhaps it was the knowledge of Jeff Tweedy's ongoing struggles with depression that led me to somehow link these lines to my thoughts about Bob, my friend who killed himself in August. I think this song was borne from deep vulnerability, and that's what I like best about it.

(1) "Australia" — The Shins. I loved all of The Shins' Wincing the Night Away album, but this song especially. The joy and abandon of this song buoyed my spirits throughout the year. It's been years since I came across a song this singable. The entire first half of this Wincing album is about as close to genius as contemporary pop music gets.

Honorable mentions:

- "The Storm" — José Gonzalez (this was a Friday Night Lights soundtrack favorite — thanks to the producers of FNL for their fantastic taste in music)

- "What Is a Soul?" — M. Ward

- "Is There a Ghost" — Band of Horses. I bought Cease to Begin this month after seeing that the album made it into the top 10 of Paste magazine's Top Albums of 2007. The album feels like what would happen if The Ocean Blue and My Morning Jacket got together and had a big fight and then decided to be friends. Melodic, bouncy rock and some really lovely harmonies.

- "Goes Around" — Rockfour

- "The Story" — Brandi Carlisle. The way Brandi's voice cracks at the climax of this song never fails to give me shivers.

Well, that's my story. Let's hear what you've been listening to for the past twelve months.

what went right

Some hints of cynicism have been coloring the edges of the days lately. It occurs to me that I am really scared about finding my next job. I long for work that is colorful and interesting and fun, but man. Three seasons of The Office have threatened my belief that such a job even exists.

This morning I went to another class at Dance 101. The class was led by Ofelia, who basically owns the studio and calls the shots. She led one of my introductory classes a few weeks ago and I wanted to try another one of her classes, because I really liked her style.

We started with a warm-up. Ofelia's graceful style turns even basic stretches into elegant displays of art. The way she moves is just so beautiful. As we danced through the class, I found myself feeling so grateful that this woman had found dance (or that dance had found her) and that she had decided to open this studio to students. She didn't even discover dance until her late 30s — then she dropped everything, sold the insurance business she had started in her 20s and put all of her energy into Dance 101.

When you see Ofelia dance, you sense that she is doing the exact work that she was made for. It's so beautiful to know that this kind of perfect fit does happen sometimes.

Today, in an effort to push back against the brittle taste of my own negativity, I am writing a list of What Went Right. There are always far more things that go right in a particular day than go wrong, right? I wish I was not so quick to brush aside the joys of the day and agonize over the "problems." So without further ado:

- Made it to dance class and back safely.
- I got some of the dance steps down correctly, and found those very enjoyable!
- Anticipating going out for a yummy dinner with two juicy girlfriends this evening
- Andy and his wife were nowhere near their Twin Cities home when that bridge collapsed in Minneapolis. They use that bridge all the time, but they happened to be on vacation yesterday when it fell apart.
- The old discarded leather chair I spotted a few days ago down the street was still available to be photographed this morning... photos possibly forthcoming on Flickr.
- I did not have to work today with S.J., C.D., K.B., or J.B. (a host of former work people at the VLMC who were pretty much impossible to deal with).
- I found the absolute perfect card at the store down the street to give to a certain friend this weekend. I don't know why that's so satisfying, but it really is.
- No one else was using the washing machine so I put my clothes right in and now they smell terrific.
- A very kind librarian was able to find the misplaced copy of the Cormac McCarthy book while I waited so I could check it out.
- I got to spend the whole day on the couch reading said Cormac McCarthy book (an extremely rewarding way to spend a day).

Remind me to make lists like this more often.

things to try

One week into unemployment. Last week I joined my boyfriend for a trip to see his family in Virginia. It was such a pleasure to take that trip, smack dab in the middle of the week, to spend long afternoons strolling the beautiful countryside where his family lives instead of sitting through another painfully boring meeting in which a dozen topics of no interest or use were discussed ad nauseam.

Nope. I'm not missing my old job too much these days.

I know these unoccupied, unscheduled days won't last forever, so I'm trying to make good use of the time while I've got it. I've started a list titled "Things to Try" and I'm having a lot of fun adding new items to it. It's not a list of "Things to DO," mind you. At this point a long list of things I had to do would feel restrictive and slavish. No, this list contains "suggested activities." This list is a polite garçon standing at my elbow saying, "Perhaps the lady would like to email Jane now about having lunch together next week?"

It is just so satisfying to make lists. But with this list, I don't need to feel any guilt if I don't cross off one of the elements of the list. It is a list about possibilities.

Here are a few items on the list:

• Paint a wall?
• Photostroll to middle Georgia
• Go visit Sheila and Atticus
• Register for some Dance 101 classes
  
• Clean out coat closet
• Have a Flickr pin show?
• Dinner party for building?
  

I have been staying busy with the list, and already crossed several items off the list. That feels good. (My first Dance 101 class is tonight!)

Ten really good things about this week

(10) Getting my taxes paid (see also: simply having enough money to pay my taxes).
(9) Fage yogurt with honey drizzled on top.
(8) No cavities at the dentist on Thursday.
(7) Working from home on Monday. (Folding fresh laundry and listening to Spoon while writing emails. Working from home is like being on vacation.)
(6) This funny Will Farrell video.
(5) Canceling my subscription to Harper's magazine. I know they're a highbrow current events/arts magazine, and I'm pretty sure I deliberately attempted to score some intellectual snob points in the past by leaving a couple of issues casually strewn on the coffee table when friends dropped by. But god, it's so damned bleak. Every time I finished reading an article I just felt sad and bruised. Attention Harper's: I know there's a lot of bad stuff happening in the universe. You do not need to remind me each month. If that makes me a Pollyanna, fine.
(4) Getting back into boot camp. The new session I signed up for is at 6 pm, and that's working out well. This week, it's been great working outside in the park, with beautiful breezes keeping everyone cool. Running around at the park when it's spectacular outside is really fun.
(3) Buying airfare to the beach in June for a long weekend with Kathy and a group of other powerful women. The emails flying around about the trip bear the subject line "Badass Beauties on the Beach." I must say, I don't mind being identified with that group.
(2) Making a conscious decision to approach my work with a more positive attitude. Sure, the concept is in vogue, and it's fairly Oprah-ish. But it's something I need in my work. Maybe positivity is something you learn rather than something you're born with. I could use the practice. I would rather be a positive person than a walking Harper's magazine.
(1) Running into Baton Bob on the street yesterday (see photo). A 6'3" black man wearing a tutu, sparkly majorette boots, twirling a baton. Seeing this guy out there on the street doing his thing just makes me smile. After I took that photo of him, I gave him a very big tip. Please keep doing what you're doing, Baton Bob.

Lessons from the Past Three Weeks

About three weeks ago, I started doing a boot camp workout in the mornings. It's a six-week course, with four sessions a week. The workouts start at 6 am and last for an hour.

The past three weeks have involved lots of getting up early, sweating, Advil, and pain (I developed a fairly impressive case of shin splints early on – thank goodness it seems to be abating now).

I wanted to enroll because it sounded like a good way to get off my keister and do something with myself. If you work at a desk all day, like I do, there's probably a pretty big disconnect between the physical universe "out there" and all the little problems running around like drunk squirrels in your brain all day long. The disconnect was starting to make me a little crazy, and I wanted to push back against it.

Three weeks into it, I think it's one of the best things I've ever done.

I was ready for a change, and this boot camp is a change. It has forced me to make some real lifestyle adjustments – getting into bed by 10 pm, eating differently. It has also paid off in some satisfying ways, some of which I'm just now starting to witness.

Here are some of the lessons I've started to learn over the past three weeks.

• Doing physical stuff can actually be pretty fun, if for no other reason than the massive wave of good feeling you get when you're done. I love getting to my office in the morning knowing that I've already done something really good for myself.
• The drill sergeant is king. Having somebody tell me what to do when I get to the gym is invaluable. It's a vast improvement over my previous gym pattern of walking around aimlessly for a while, doing some random some sit-ups, taking a casual stroll on the treadmill, and calling it a day.
• The endorphin rush is a wonderful high. Maybe the people honking and cursing at traffic in the morning are the ones who skipped their workout!
• The food angle is probably even more important than the exercise. I have started to eat way, way less junk food now that I've begun to recognize how hard I have to work to burn all that crap off. Also, I want my body to run like a well-oiled machine. I can see now that Chips Ahoy and chocolate milk is not quality fuel.
• You are capable of a lot more than you realize. That is probably the biggest lesson I have begun to learn. I hope to explore this one some more during the second half of boot camp.

The exercise is all old-school stuff. There is no fancy equipment. We do sprints, squats, jumping jacks, push-ups, sit-ups, lunges and suicides. We also play freeze tag on Fridays, when the coach feels like cutting us a bit of a break.

For me, there have been no Rocky-style victories. It's all been hard. This morning we were challenged to do some fairly ridiculous exercises, and I felt so weak that I almost started crying in the middle of it. Then I seriously contemplated getting my keys and leaving early (behold, The Power of the Crushed Spirit!).

And I am one of the worst people in the whole boot camp. I'm usually the last to cross the finish line during sprints, and I do things badly on a regular basis.

But I still keep doing it badly, and I figure that doing it badly while trying to improve beats the heck out of not doing it at all.

Mostly I've just learned that if I want to address the disconnect from the body and from the physical universe, no one is going to do it for me. I can think about it all day and wind up more frustrated than before. I am in charge of making the changes that I want to see in my life.

I just booked a massage for the last weekend of March, when boot camp ends. It will be a small personal reward for completing the workouts. The next boot camp season begins the first week in April. I think I'm going to sign up.

Things I don't need to hear any more about

Today is Monday, and I'm feeling disillusioned with the state of the universe. I'm pretty sure this is because of the grad school no man's land I seem to have stumbled into. I had a feeling of tremendous momentum last week, and it was immediately followed by a feeling of impressive stuck-ness. So far, the stuck-ness is winning.

Therefore, I have put together a list of things I don't need to hear any more about:

1. the rising cost of health care
2. the eventual comeback of Britney Spears, Winona Ryder, Whitney Houston, etc.
3. the fact that nobody in the world is going to have enough money for retirement
4. that weird detox diet involving lemon juice and cayenne pepper
5. the fact that baby carrots make a great little midday snack. When baby carrots start to taste like Reese's peanut butter cups, then you can talk about them some more.

Conversely, I wouldn't mind hearing more on the following topics:

1. this song, which sounds like it was recorded for less than the cost of a meal at Denny's (but somehow it succeeds beautifully)
2. baby snow leopards
3. anything that the endlessly interesting Paul Ford touches

Tomorrow kicks off a six-week boot camp for me. I am tired of feeling like a slob. The boot camp will require rousing myself at the crack of dawn (5:30, to be precise) and reporting to a gym down the road. It will involve lunges, squats, and other uncomfortable words. I am finding that the "brisk walk at lunch" doesn't really do it for me. I sit at a desk all day and I'm craving more tangible reminders that I am not just a machine who knows how to apply makeup and operate a mouse. The boot camp cost $350 and requires me to keep a food diary. In a weird way, I'm looking forward to it.

My Super-Duper Top Favorite 7 Songs of the Year

Well, 2007 has been a good year for music.

This year I decided to refine my listening habits, trying to purchase whole albums instead of just fabulous singles. Yes, iTunes is a beautifully addictive technology that puts untold hours of juicy music right at my fingertips 24/7. It also lets me severely limit an artist's scope by just downloading one 3-minute pop song instead of digging deeper into their work. So I made a deliberate effort this year to choose the long view whenever I could.

Picking out these songs is always one of my favorite exercises at the end of the year. Every year, I sift through my music collection and come up with this list of songs that I didn't know twelve months ago. It just makes me realize all over again how much beautiful stuff people are doing out there in the world. (2007's forecast calls for new albums by Nora Jones, Rufus Wainwright, and Sam Phillips. People, life is good.)

(7) Ray LaMontagne — "Within You"
'Til the Sun Turns Black was Ray's much-anticipated sophomore album, and though I don't think it hit the crazily high standard set by his first album, it did offer some memorable moments. This song is one of those curious pieces that manages to be deeply mournful and uplifting at the same time. The song doesn't even have much lyrical content, but it has a soulful, soaring melody that gets me right in the gut every time I listen. The arrangement of the strings and the horns really makes this song shine.

(6) Jon Dee Graham — "Something Wonderful"
This spring, a friend at work told me about Jon Dee Graham, a Texas artist with a gravelly voice and a lot of sad stories. His voice sounds like he just got off the bus that took him to hell and back. And now he's singing you the wonderfully simple lesson he learned while he was there: "Something really wonderful is going to happen to you." I challenge you to listen to this song at an appropriately blistering volume, and just try to not feel better. Impossible.

(5) Sera Cahoone, "Couch Song"
Sera Cahoone's voice pays tribute to hillbillies and torch balladeers. I was delighted to discover this debut album on NPR's "Song of the Day" (an endless source of thoughtful musical selections). "Couch Song" showcases Sera's soulful Patsy-Cline-meets-Neko-Case voice, and her wistful lyrics. "If we don't talk, I won't mind, because that's the only way to get along sometimes," she sings, offering a perfect tribute to a faltering, complicated love.

(4) Luka Bloom, "She Sings Her Songs With Open Arms"
The little promotional sticker on the cover of Luka Bloom's Before Sleep Comes album calls it "nine songs for insomniacs." In 2003, an aggressive bout of tendinitis forced Bloom to lay down his usual instrument of choice, a steel-string electric guitar. While recovering, he picked up a gorgeous Spanish guitar with nylon strings, hoping it would be easier on his hands. This gentle mini-album was the result of his nights experimenting with that guitar. Clocking in at just 28 minutes, the album offers nine little lullabies for adults. You can almost feel the tension melting away at the first notes of this first song. This album is a particularly fitting soundtrack for a quiet cup of tea (and Bloom offers a beverage recommendation — the fifth track is titled "Camomile").

(3) Rocky Votolato, "White Daisy Passing"
Rocky Votolato may be Texas' answer to the ghost of Elliot Smith. "I'm going down to sleep in the bottom of the ocean," he sings in this haunting folk song layered with delicate harmonies. I became slightly obsessed with this song in 2006, adding it to just about every mix CD I made. I also made a point to tell as many people as possible that I did not discover Rocky Votolato after hearing this song on The O.C., where it was apparently featured. (I've got standards.) Just because Mischa Barton likes this song doesn't mean you can't like it, too.

(2) Cat Power, "Lived in Bars"
Choosing just one song off Cat Power's fantastic 2006 album was very, very hard. The Greatest reveals Cat Power finally coming into her own, and knowing how good she really is. For this album, Cat Power (Chan Marshall) recruited a handful of great Memphis soul musicians to support her in the studio. I've been following Marshall's music for a while now, feeling pangs of sympathy whenever I encountered another story of her paralyzing stage fright ("she has been known to stop playing in order to apologize for a self-perceived flaw in her performance," says Wikipedia). That's why The Greatest is a particularly satisfying release for The Little Girl from Georgia That Could. "Lived in Bars" begins in its typically simple, stripped style, a minor-key dirge on the piano. But about halfway through, the song picks its skirts up and starts dancing around in the kitchen, and you find yourself singing along. It just makes me happy every time I hear it.

(1) Kate Bush, "Sunset"
"Every sleepy light must say goodbye / To the day before it dies in a sea of honey," sings Kate in this elaborate song near the end of her masterful double-CD release, Aerial. Kate Bush is definitely an acquired taste; if you are a meat-and-potatoes music lover, you will find her tendency to experiment endlessly annoying. Aerial features bizarre sound bites of Kate's son talking, her lover whispering, birds chirping, Kate herself laughing hysterically, Kate herself reciting 150 decimal places of pi, etc. But "Sunset" feels like a slice of genius, six minutes of musical perfection. It starts with just a single piano, a voice lamenting the end of the day and describing the colors of the sky and water. It gradually builds to a joyful climax that makes me envision Kate herself dancing on the beach at dusk. Naturally, she pulls out lots of her classic tricks along the way (weird Greek chorus thing in the background, crazily ambitious tempo changes that shouldn't work but somehow do, etc.). It took Kate Bush 12 years to develop this ambitious double album, but she has said that she hopes Aerial will not be her last release. I am glad that this artist plans to continue sharing her work with us as she moves into her richest, most imaginative years.

Honorable Mentions in no particular order:
Paul Simon, "Another Galaxy"
M. Ward, "Poison Cup"
Bob Dylan, "Someday Baby"
Neko Case, "Hold On, Hold On"
Maria Taylor, "Song Beneath the Song"
Camera Obscura, "Lloyd, I'm Ready to Be Heartbroken"
Hem, "He Came to Meet Me"
Hem and Autumn Defense, "Saint Charlene"
Madeleine Peyroux, "La Javanaise"

What was your song of the year? Post a comment and tell me about the music that changed your life in the past twelve months.