A Life of Reading Words
Me: I still can’t believe my blog has 77 hits today.
Much Older You: Hits? What does that mean?
Me: It means my blog was looked at 77 times.
You: Doesn’t that worry you, having 77 people look at your stuff?
Me: Well, it could also be one person going back 77 different times.
You: Oh. Well. That’s much better. That must mean they like you.
Me: ??? Um. Errr…If you say so…
Special thanks to the Love of my life for posting…
Just couldn’t resist. Sorry for the exuberance!
Special thanks to The Man for posting while I’m away.
Funny. I wrote this on October 5th, 2006. Listen to it as October 10th 2008 and ask yourself – what, if anything, has changed?
We will rise before the sun and face the day with the thought that today will be different from the day before. Much different. We will look towards coffee as the great motivator but really, in our heart of hearts, it will be the open road. We will stop for alcohol and then when we can drive no more, stop for the sea. When we reach the ocean we will know we can go no further. We will ride the waves and smell the salt. I can’t speak for her but I will breathe. Breathe in and out. Breathe like I haven’t in days. We will spot my mother and gossip all the way up the hill. We will finally drop our bags in sighing relief and a great sense of freedom. We will call our husbands while drinking wine and staring out over the ocean. Distracted. What we won’t do is talk about work because we promised. We will (try to) keep that promise. For love and sanity, we will.
I came across this…as I was packing. How perfect is that? Nothing has changed. I could have written this yesterday. Or next year. I wouldn’t want it any other way.
October is Halloween! For anyone who knows me, Halloween starts on October 1st and runs for 31 days. This is the way it should be. I have a whole big box of Halloween stuff and every October 1st out it comes. Okay, so this year it was a little early. I bought a tiny skull completely off timeline, too! The skeltons, black cats, bats, witches, goblins, and of course, my fave – jack-o-laterns!
October is also another chance to slip away to Monhegan for a handful of days. Home Sweet Autumn Home. For music it’s Sean, of course. There are other trips, I’m sure. Just ask Joe.
For reading, here’s how it stacks up. For the Book Lust Challenge:
That’s about it. Pumpkin Fest later. Big charity walk for breast cancer on the 26th. Natalie’s birthday…
We have decided to take one last musical road trip.
MORE info: the gig is in Philmont, NY – a little over 90 minutes away. Anyone wanting to carpool with me can meet at my place at 6:45p or “the lot” at 7:15pm. Email me if the lot has you scratching your head or if you need further details.
Hopefully, we will also make these (unmusical) trips:
I decided to push September out the door a little earlier than any calendar would suggest. Yeah, yeah. I have three more days, but who’s counting? Certainly not me. It’s been a hard month.
Truth be known I am always itching for October 1st. My Halloween has 31 days. My thrill time lasts all month. Better than Christmas. Don’t ask me why. I think it started when I was a kid. Mom would make these outrageous costumes (extremely elaborate, creative, funky…but on a frayed shoestring budget – we’re talking tinfoil and spray paint). My all-time favorite was a gigantic pumpkin made out of coat hangers, a bed sheet and lots of paint. I barely fit through doors, couldn’t sit down all that well and my face itched for days on end, but man! it was a cool costume. Another time sis and I were Miss Piggy and Kermit the frog. I remember being embarrassed by the ginormous breasts and blue eye shadow. We were a sight to see! Us kids would pile into the back of a pickup truck and bounce all over the island looking for treats while the older boys played tricks. Scary all the time they were worse on Halloween. Dusk brought eerie shadows to our faces as we tried to peer into plastic bags for goodies.
Whoopie pies spilled from my mother’s kitchen as big as your fist. Apple cider simmering on the wood stove.
These days I don’t run around wearing orange and green paint pretending to be a vegetable from the patch. If I’m lucky I will get my kisa to take a walk among the trick or treaters so I can count the goblins. Every year someone on my block plays Nightmare Before Christmas on the side of his house. Candles glow from jack-o-lanterns on every stoop. Leaves crunch beneath our feet. There is some sort of magic in the air. I can’t really explain it. 
The sugar shacks start up their boils and put on breakfast feasts.
What I need to do now is find my way to the basement, locate the big box marked “Halloween”, drag it up to the living room, and unpack my spooky friends. Who cares if it’s still September? Who cares if I’m in the wrong month. It’s time to get back to the right state of mind.
When it comes to music I need advance notice. I need a schedule. I need a plan. I think that’s why last month’s trek to Worcester was so weird. It’s really rare when I catch a performance on a whim, when I don’t know the whole game plan. It’s like a perfect storm – everything needs to be aligned – conditions exact.
Why am I saying this? Where am I going with this? Sean Rowe. I caught his live radio show completely by accident. Here’s what happened:
Today was a farm day. Depressing. Everything is started to die. Damp, sour, rot. There is decay in the fields. Tomatoes and tomatillos lie dirt bound, their green leaves history. A quietness in the raspberry bushes. They no longer buzz with the frenzy of bees and butterflies. It’s getting too cold. I didn’t stay long. I stocked up on carrots, purple onions, bok choy, spinach, arugula, and kale. Carefully cut bouquets of basil, oregano, flat leaf parsley, thyme and rosemary… then sadly turned away.
At home the sadness hung off my shoulders, made me heavy and tired. Determined to get lost in sunny California I read The Nowhere City by Alison Lurie until sleep dropped my book and closed my eyes. When I woke I checked email and found Surprise and sheer luck. Sean was live in the 97.7 wnex studio and shock of all shocks, I hadn’t miss it. I had 2 minutes to spare, even. Shocker. I connected without confusion. Here’s the setlist:
It was nice to hear Sean talk about the music. Don’t get me wrong, I like hearing him sing. But, But! There is something to what he says when he sings. There is something to where he is going with his songs. I like hearing about that, too. It makes the music move in different ways, if that makes sense.
So, thank you wnex, thank you Sean for the nice surprise. Can’t wait for the new album! It will be ‘Magic’ (pun completely intended)!
New love has quirks that are considered cute and lovable. Those things that a new lover says and does that are oh so different and revealing and disregarded. Those things are even adorable for a little while. Then, reality bites. Hard. There comes that time after the dust of desire has settled and new love matures into you and me, not one without the other. A given that you and me will be together. That’s when quirky becomes quite something else. Confusing. Contradicting. Infuriating. How we deal with these things that were once so lovable is a good indication of new loves maturity into real love. For me, adding up the quirks and realizing you are still with me is how I know you still love me. Regardless.
I was on the phone with a friend so I couldn’t quite comprehend the conversation occuring without me. I heard something about shoes. Something about a wallet. You were laughing. I knew you could only be discussing my quirks. With my friends no less. Some of whom have a whole wealth of stories on their own. I brought this on myself. I know I did.
It started innocently enough. It was last week. I was cooking curry turkey burgers and had somehow put the buns together wrong. Top with a top, bottom with a bottom. Still edible in my mind – just not pretty to look at. I’ve done it a hundred times before. You came down the stairs in time to hear me swear, in time to watch me try to flip bottom bun for a top. I turned to you and hissed through gritted teeth, “I will always leave my shoes in the middle of the floor. I will always misplace my keys. And. I will ALWAYS put the wrong halves of the buns together! So. You’ll just have to deal with it!” Instead of taking the bait. Instead of picking the fight I was wanting to have, you smiled at me and said gently, “I know something else you will always do.” Forgetting to be angry I dropped the fight and stopped dead. “What?” I wanted to know. “I’ll give you a hint” you replied as you proceded to close every cabinet door in the kitchen. What can I say? I was cooking like a fiend and didn’t have time to close cabinets!
I like tallying the quirks. I like seeing the oddities add up. The longer the list, the more I know you love me. Despite it all you love me anyway.
For the record:
To the love of my life. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my lover. Thank you for making me strive to be a better person. I may have my quirks but my life is perfect with you in it. Happy anniversary!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
I never remember to write a setlist while Rebecca is singing. I never try to write a review while in the midst of her music. It is hard enough to acknowledge the friends and family around me let alone pay attention to pen and paper.
Yet. And yet trying to review after the fact is always a daunting task. The mind is a funny thing. I might remember something out of order. I may remember something that may or may not have ever happened. Who really knows?
But, here is how I think it went:
* Encore encouraged by Vance Gilbert
** Performed with Vance Gilbert
After a small confusion with the tickets we all finally got seated and situated in a darker than dark corner. We sat at a high, wobbly table on stools too high for me. I remained half standing, turned away from my party in order to enjoy the show.
Rebecca looked great. Summer has agreed with her (love the haircut – somehow it looks different from the last time we saw her). She opened at the keyboard with Breathe, the song she wrote when she was just 16 years old. I always picture something different every time I hear this song. She didn’t go back to the keyboard again, but played guitar for the rest of the set. I’m not sure of the order of the rest of the show except the last two songs.
I’m sure Nashville isn’t the name of the new song but Rebecca told a funny story about how when she moved there she missed Massachusetts…but as soon as she came home she wrote a song about coming home…to Nashville. I know exactly how she feels. I have that same pull to Colorado.
Hold Me is always going to devastate me. I can remember the day after I finished running 13.1 miles for LLS I found out someone I had been running in honor of had since passed, my friend’s cancer was back with a vengeance and Rebecca’s mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. It made me feel like everything I had been fighting for failed in some twisted, horrific way. Rebecca’s mom was at the show and I’m sure she had tears of pride in her eyes as she heard Hold Me.
I am greatful to Vance for getting Rebecca back on the stage to sing Home, the Cowboy Christmas song. It’s definitely one of my favorites from the Turks album (it ends the album). I love the fiestiness of it.
As a special treat Vance Gilbert asked Rebecca to join him for a song. No other headliner does that (least not while I’m there). They sang Raining in Georgia together. At first it was simply amazing. Then it turned funny as they tried to outdo each other (last time they did this Rebecca ended up doing a handstand on stage because she couldn’t compete with Vance’s scat abilities). Rebecca’s voice has a richness to it. It takes you places. As Vance said, Rebecca has the voice of a broken angel. So, so true.
Thanks for the tears, girl. They needed to be shed.
Notes to myself.
You must remember the coffee is terrible. You must remember the chairs are dreadful. You must remember to buy merchandise directly through the performer’s website and not at the venue. These are things you should already know about the Iron Horse. Here are some new ones: You also must remember not to order the fries. They do not resemble potatoes in the slightest; the waitstaff definitely will not remember to bring you vinegar and above all else, you will let these so-called potato things grow cold while Rebecca sings.
Here are other things you could do well to remember: For starters, do not be afraid to get up and move around in order to take better pictures of Rebecca’s performance. You really should know by now that any more than ten feet away is going to render your little elf useless.
Second of all, and this is something you definitely should know by now: remember to bring tissues. Face facts. Some of Rebecca’s music hits home and hurts to the bone. You are going to cry whether you want to or not. At some time or another it’s going to happen. It’s a sure thing if ‘Hold Me’ is on the imaginary set list so suck it up and bring tissues.
To be continued…
Could I be anymore freakin’ excited about tonight? Probably not. I can’t remember the last time I saw Rebecca perform. Wait. I think it’s coming back to me…she had just sat next to Aaron Neville on a plane and had been to the CMAs. We hung out for a little bit to hear about her jetset life in Musical Capital Nashville, TN. Okay, so even though I can remember the time I still can say it has been way too long. Waaay too long. As you all know, Rebecca Correia is one of my favorite people in the whole wide world and, and, and she just happens to have one of my favorite voices, too. Her Miss You cd is amazing, lyrically and instrumentally. I think it goes without saying she puts more heart into her music than 75% of what’s on the radio today. Seriously.
So – tonight. Tonight! Tonight we will sit in incredibly uncomfortable wooden chairs that creak, we’ll be incredibly squooshed together, we’ll be enjoying incredibly BadForYou food like pulled pork sandwiches and nachos laden with cheese. We’ll indulge in wickedly evil Wicked Wally desserts dripping with chocolate slime. We’ll laugh at each other and enjoy Rebecca’s goofy stage presence while her voice fills a void. At least, that’s what will happen for me anyway!
Rebecca Correia performs at the Iron Horse this Friday, September 12th at 7pm. Tickets are $15! See you there!
This is the time of morning I wait for. The air is still. The harbor rolls gently, causing the moored boats to nod to one another solemnly. One or two people wander by quietly. Somewhere, a truck starts up and birds mutter to themselves. There is quiet activity, a gentle buzz. The island is alive but at the same time it feels as though everything is barely stirring. Muted almost as though under water.
When I was a kid, no more than five or six, I used to sit on the top step leading up to our apartment. I would listen for the early morning coo of the mourning doves, watch the early bird birders with binoculars slung around their necks. The light was magical at that time of day. I remember waiting for something. Even now I couldn’t tell you what.
My husband can sit in front “Sunrise Earth” all day. Have you seen it? I don’t know who thought up this programming, but more importantly I’d like to meet the person he or she sold the idea to. It has got to be one patient person. I can just imagine the sales pitch: “I’ve got this great idea for a television show! Cameras record the sunrise…in real time. No soundtrack, no narration. Just the sun rising from different angles. We’ll capture bugs stirring, birds chirping…maybe the sound of water if it’s in the shot.”
Really, that’s all the show is about. Watching the sun rise. A bug may land on a twig for a few minutes. A bird might buzz a camera. A nearby brook may be gurgling away. That’s about it. For some (many?) it’s the equivalent of watching paint dry.
Me, I would like to see an episode filmed from my tippy top stair. Bring me back to the beginning – before the beginning of another busy day.
I was perusing someone’s photos the other day when I got that eerie feeling they were a bit stalkerish. You know, that ‘Wow, that is really intrusive’ feeling. My only problem was I couldn’t pinpoint why I felt that way. I was enjoying the photographs until I got to a certain one that seemed to go overboard, get too close. The next one was more of the same and so I stopped looking – turned away from the discomfort I was feeling. I don’t think I’ll go back.
My experience with the photos got me thinking about home and the levels of intrusiveness I felt there. Early in our vacation Kisa, the boys and I were hiking the island. We stopped to catch our breath at a very popular landmark, and to enjoy the view. Of course there were tourists on every side and their conversations were easily overheard. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to live out here,” one woman exclaimed. “All these people walking through their back yards.” I snickered and Kisa cast a knowing smile. For years he has been hearing my gripes about tourists taking advantage of such an unusual place. They walk across private porches, set up easels in the middle of the only road, have lunch in obvious backyards, let their dogs dump in vegetable gardens. This attititude of I can do anything while I’m on vacation has been long debated. I’m not bringing up anything new. But, it made me wonder – what makes separates fan from fanatic, tourist from terrible?
In the picture above a woman has set up her easel on the dock. Look for the hat by the door of the silver truck. This dock is where 3-5 trucks converge to pick up island supplies, luggage, etc. It’s a more that busy, hectic place. In the bigger picture another woman has set up her easel in the shadowed portion of the road. Not only that but she has chosen a dangerous corner where she isn’t all that visible. She and the woman on the dock are lucky they didn’t get sideswiped!
Mosley, Walter. Devil in a Blue Dress. New York: Pocket Books, 1990.
I have to admit I picked this book up by accident. I was vacationing and needed a quick book. Something to pick up while I waited for the pasta water came to a boil, or while the boys were still sleeping. I remembered this being part of the Challenge and decided to see if I could read it in less than 36 hours.
Devil in a Blue Dress is Walter Mosley’s first book and kicks off the Easy Rawlins series. Ezekiel “Easy” Rawlins is a black war WWII vet prone to violent flashbacks. In the beginning Devil in a Blue Dress he is fired from his defense plant job and doesn’t know how he’s going to pay the mortgage next month. By the second chapter Easy has been hired to locate a missing girlfriend, a devil in a blue dress, as they say. Throughout the next 200 pages Easy faces his share of violence, sex, racism and mystery but in the end, discovers a new found career – private investigations.
My favorite line: “He put up his hand as if he wanted me to bend down so he could whisper something but I didn’t think that anything he had to offer could improve my life” (p25). It’s that kind of sense of humor and sarcasm that carries Devil in a Blue Dress. You don’t realize that Mosley is telling you more than a story. He’s giving you a social commentary on what it meant to be a black man, riding the line of poverty in the 1940’s.
BookLust Twist: From More Book Lust in the chapter “Walter Mosley: Too Good To Miss” (p 169).
~*LunaSea*~ 