:: anne in the attic ::

Create Your Own Countdown

:: Saturday, December 31, 2005 ::

Well, shit. Another year, huh? Am I going out to celebrate? Not me. Resolutions? Fuck, why not? I suppose I could...

1. Drink more fucking water.
2. Eat less fucking chocolate.
3. Get up 10 minutes earlier so as not to be late for work.
4. Show my fellow human beings a little more compassion.

But really, I think not, because...

1. I will drink as little water as I damn well please-- the less I drink, the more room there is for COFFEE!
2. Oh, yer fuckin' crazy if you think I'd eat less chocolate-- if anything, I need MORE just to stay sane and squeeze every little droplet of pleasure out of my menial, crappy existence!
3. Look, don't bug me about my sleep, okay? I don't get enough as it is-- in fact, by the end of the week, the deficit I've accumulated usually adds up to AN ENTIRE NIGHT'S SLEEP, so spare me the 10 fucking minutes in the morning, all right?
4. You've gots ta be fuckin'' kiddin' me! People are all just a bunch of lazy, self-righteous, egocentric assholes with an obesely inflated sense of entitlement-- FUCK 'EM!

Okay, just kidding, but I'd like to thank Lewis Black for the inspiration. Happy New Year, everyone, if you can stomach it.

:: Anne 9:25 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

...And it's over, just like that. Christmas is becoming less significant for me with each passing year. What it really means is just a day where family and friends gather, exchange gifts, show their appreciation for one another, eat a big meal, and wax nostalgic. In my book, a person could arrange that any day of the year-- and should, I think. Why wait? Time is passing.

:: Anne 3:40 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

10 FLAWLESS ALBUMS

These are the albums that you can just put on, knowing full-well you don't have to skip tracks or pick up the stylus. Just put them on, and you feel comfortable, safe....

1. Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon
2. The Beatles - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
3. Violent Femmes - Violent Femmes
4. Radiohead - OK Computer
5. Talking Heads - Remain in Light
6. The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Give It Back
7. R.E.M. - Green
8. Sarah McLachlan - The Freedom Sessions
9. Indigo Girls - Rites of Passage
10. Supertramp - Even in the Quietest Moments

What are yours?

:: Anne 5:28 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

There's this surreal random slogan generator that will sloganize a word. I've been doing names and laughing my ass off. If you're on the list, sorry I couldn't resist. The parenthetical remarks are my own.

SLOGANS from the generator:

All the Anne that's fit to print.
For that deep down body Grant. (Ew.)
What would you do for a Kimberly?
Welcome to Dave country.
Just one Nolan - give it to me!
Tastes great, less Kelly.
Susan-Lickin' good.
I scream, you scream, we all scream for Karm. (I swear, this is what came up!)
Mel. It's what's for dinner. (Oh, man.)
Just do James.

You get the idea. Way too much time-wastin' fun.

:: Anne 4:48 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

I am falling in space. Surrounded by everything I love, all of it reduced to its mass, fallible through its matter. And I am told, "Get used to it." One of the Taoist teachings is that all sorrow is bound up in our attachments and that letting go relieves sorrow. I love the freedom of that thought, but somehow can't bear the loneliness of it. Solitude, fine-- alone, yes-- but not loneliness. And without attachment, that's how I am. I just am. We wouldn't do this to music, would we? -- Remove all the unharmonious until we're left with a simple melody? And simple is fine, except that repeated by itself, it seems more like a prayer, a heartbeat. Pure and empty thoughts are lovely and peaceful, but give me some passion, something to yearn for-- some dissonance to resolve and flood me with gratitude. Show me the flaws in the branches of the tree and I will show you the most beautiful parts of the tree. And if it whispers my name and I call out, then we have music. And then I am flooded with gratitude. And I am falling in space.

:: Anne 9:23 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Suddenly, the "holiday season" is upon us. No sooner have all the pumpkins been smashed in the streets, then out come the Christmas decorations and commercials on television. It's really sick. I mean, seriously: without the red and green decor and the constantly jingling bells, Walmart is still Walmart, okay? The cheap plastic crap is still cheap plastic crap, no matter how nicely you adorn the box and place it under the overpriced tree. I'd like to postpone all of the consumerism or least until after Thanksgiving.

Oh, and the weather has arrived. The whole week has been rainy, dreary and somewhat windy, but today was downright blustery at times. I swear, without that spa, I'd be toast trying to do my job. By the end of the day both yesterday and today, my clothes were soaked through and I was pretty chilly and stiff. I decided this evening that it's time to step up the garlic consumption and break the seal on the new bottle of multivitamins. I know, I know, things just don't get any more interesting than this. It comes with age, I think: you become progressively more aware of your bodily functions and malfunctions. The real bummer of the day was that all of the work I did last evening on the yard is quite gone, since the wind has recovered the lawn with leaves.

This weekend, the brother's band is playing two shows here in town-- looking forward to that. But after the past couple of weeks of not getting a whole lot done, I realized tonight in class that it's time to intensify my focus on the film project. I've got a lot of logging and transcribing to do. Then we'll have another meeting and do some paper editing before I'll pump out my final project for class. Of course, it'll be only a tenth of its projected final length (5 minutes versus 50), but it's still going to be a push. I guess it's good the weather has finally turned; it'll keep me indoors, and hopefully in the studio editing and polishing.

:: Anne 10:52 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Read it again; it says exactly what you think it says. Cheers!

:: Anne 12:47 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

When I first learned the name "Sutro Baths," it was because I was researching the shooting sets and locations of my numero uno fave film, "Harold & Maude." I was trying to solidify or categorize the uncategorizable: a certain feeling, an unmistakable mis-en-scene present in what I now think of as a kind of modern ruins or decay. There is so much about that film that evokes my childhood on the coasts of California, but it's not just that. The nostalgia nods to something on a grander scale-- perhaps beneath the surface it is of the fallen, of the Hollywood "Golden Era" left to ruins, abandoned to fall apart like the Sutro Baths. Though the baths are in San Francisco, hundreds of miles North of the film industry, it seems that much of the California coastline has been touched by excess followed by decay common to sudden wealth and its just as sudden loss. Developers were ruthless in the beginning of the 20th century; if a structure tied to a business endeavor didn't turn over the income expected, it was quickly razed (a lot of fires seemed to "happen" back then) like a child's Lego set.

Similar anomalies and evidences of this trend are the castles of California, found most often in Wine Country hills and the coasts. The Rose Court Mansion of San Mateo, set as the Chasen residence in "H & M," embodies the feeling I mean in its heavy Mission-style furniture, dark and woody rooms with high ceilings, wrought-iron light fixtures, and expansive Far-Eastern rugs. The film "The Way We Were" also shows a few interiors like that in Kristofferson's California mansion. Films and photos from the seventies, when all expenses were spared and industry people seemed to use cheaper media that aged much quicker, in turn showed their age and can now be dated visually. Even "Planet of the Apes," which gave me the creeps back then (it was supposed to), has that quintessential final scene where Charleton Heston discovers a mostly-buried statue of liberty at the beach in the sand. Note the architecture and design of the living quarters-- Spanish Colonial meets Frank Lloyd Wright, common elements in California architecture during the boom years, which of course, began with the gold rush. Things went up in a hurry, and were often left standing and empty just as abruptly. Grand plans tossed aside-- loved intensely for a short time, now forlorn as the physical evidence of its being slowly breaks down.

Ruins are like that, but the thing about California that sets it apart is the rapidity of the cycle. All over the world, other fallen civilizations are hundreds and thousands of years in the making; how long did it take the denizens of the new coast to create ghost towns and ruins? --Ruins that exist alongside not-so-distant descendants of the people who built it, caught up in the waves of development in a fickle society that sometimes places its current trends above all else in true Hollywood style. Perhaps this is another element that sticks with me, with an awareness that this is a part of the country unlike any other, where the beautiful and significant occurring within such a culture are often so fast and fleeting, like the many artists and musicians who have passed through there and changed everything forever, but did not stay long.

The most potent embodiment of what I am trying to convey here is best expressed visually, in the photographs of the Sutro Baths. The large pools (and initially an overhead structure) were built right into the cliffs, up against the beach and the sea. Now half-filled with brackish standing water and covered in bright green coastal grasses and moss, the baths are breaking down over time-- the constant tromping of visitors over the walls and surfaces, the ocean's constant pummelling-- they bespeak a once-grand vision. I find it inestimably beautiful, but then I have always loved the green cliffs along Highway 101 in that part of the country, especially Petaluma and Sonoma County. There's something about an early foggy morning on the central California coast that simultaneously feeds my soul and wraps a chilling hand around my heart. And that's as close as I can get to the feeling I'm trying to describe.

:: Anne 2:37 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

These little "What Kind of ____ Are You?" quizlets seem to be all the rage. I took the "Which Religion Are You?" quiz, with the following results (I'm not surprised, but look at the runner up-- whoa!):

You scored as Buddhism. Your beliefs most closely resemble those of Buddhism. Do more research on Buddhism and possibly consider becoming Buddhist, if you are not already. In Buddhism, there are Four Noble Truths: (1) Life is suffering. (2) All suffering is caused by ignorance of the nature of reality and the craving, attachment, and grasping that result from such ignorance. (3) Suffering can be ended by overcoming ignorance and attachment. (4) The path to the suppression of suffering is the Noble Eightfold Path, which consists of right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right-mindedness, and right contemplation. These eight are usually divided into three categories that base the Buddhist faith: morality, wisdom, and samadhi, or concentration. In Buddhism, there is no hierarchy, nor caste system; the Buddha taught that one's spiritual worth is not based on birth. Buddhism 88% Satanism 83% Paganism 75% atheism 71% agnosticism 63% Islam 46% Hinduism 46% Judaism 38% Christianity 17% href="'http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id="10907'">Which religion is the right one for you? (new version) created with QuizFarm.com

:: Anne 11:21 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Well, this is a first. Today I broke a string on my Fender acoustic. I never play hard enough to do that. To boot, the strings are only a couple of weeks old. Major milestone in the profile of a musician? Maybe, but more like what a dumbass thing to do. I was all miked up and working on a new song ("Pixie Sticks" - yes, I know it's actually "Stix," but I changed it to avoid issues with the company. People will still know what I'm talking about; and besides, there's more to it than that). I think it might be the first full-on upbeat alternative rock song I've done. Anyway, it's been a fairly prolific month and I've neglected the blog again. Apologies to anyone who still comes looking for updates. I try to get over here at the very least once a month, if just to let long-distance-incommunicado-save-the-net friends know I'm still kickin' a little.

Though I can't say much about it yet, the film project has begun. It looks to be a couple of years in the making and though I purchased a decent tri-pod, the only other expense I believe it will require is constant media. I've got hundreds of blank dvd's on hand, and I should be able to figure out lighting on a case-by-case basis.

The beautiful Fall days make work easier to take (i.e., having to go at all), though I suspect the weather will complete its change-up within the month and Winter will have its way with me again. The avian flu scare doesn't really concern me as much as the regular flu or any of those other culprits that move in when your defenses are down. I've been pretty tired lately-- gotta watch that.

Vacation number four is coming up in two weeks, and I'm looking forward to a short trip to Seattle. Vacation number five is in December, when I'll probably go up to Portland again, as my brother's band is playing on his birthday. After that, I imagine a few months' stretch before I take time off again. Feels like it's going to be a cold and expensive Winter-- thanks a lot, George Fucking Bush. Maybe I'm crazy, but I'm considering going back on the overtime-desired list for a month or two after the new year, just to make a few extra thousand to cover the rising cost of living that bad government and natural disasters have set upon us.

:: Anne 3:30 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Well, it's October now, and I resisted as long as I could, but today I finally had to turn on some heat. Around here, once you do that, it doesn't go off for the next six months.

No updates lately because of all of the projects in the works: the choir has begun its new season; I'm doing several audio format conversions for friends; started a documentary film-making class this term (at the beginning of what looks to be a three-year video project ahead); still doing work on the video project from last Spring; learning a few new songs for possible future performances; some photography projects; discovering a lot of new unsigned artists and friends on MySpace; and there's always my personal recordings-- I've written and recorded studies of four new songs in the past couple of weeks. On top of all of that, there's the usual daily crap necessary to keep my life up and running. Wish I didn't have to work, clean, do laundry, grocery-shop, and worry about all of the things that aren't getting done.

Today I'm finishing up the mass-production of an audio CD of a group performance, which is due in two days. I'm looking toward a vacation the third week in October, most of which will be spent in Seattle. I have another vacation slated for December, and then probably a long push until the next one. Also, the injuries from my August fall seem to have healed up quite nicely, no complications. For that I'm thankful.

Since the rain seems to have set in and the weather's cooling off, I'll have to start taking extra care not to let myself get too run down, lest I have another Winter like last year-- a little too unhealthy for my liking. I'm still turning over the idea of renting out the back room, but I'm not wild about it. I'm having a hard time letting go of all of the freedoms I've enjoyed the past two years of living alone.

Bought that Raveonettes album mentioned in the last entry-- it's good. I also splurged on the first Girlyman album, the latest David Gray, and some Sloan Wainwright. I would have gone for some Unbunny and Stevenson Ranch Davidians, but alas! the music store doesn't carry them. I'll have to purchase online-- more and more the case, lately, as the democratization of both recording and advertising allows people to distribute their own music in a way not possible pre-internet.

:: Anne 2:50 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Just for fun, go check out the video for "Love in a Trashcan" by The Raveonettes. It's pretty cool; high-speed connection highly recommended. Added another song to the "anne in the attic" MySpace page this week. The lyrics are posted there as well.

:: Anne 11:46 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Which Radiohead song are you? No Surprises You look so tired-unhappy. Bring down the government, they don't speak for us.

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

:: Anne 6:30 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

I've been on a serious ride of new music discovery for the last week or two. And it's feeding my soul like nothing else can. I'm hearing and learning new things, and beginning the long road of construction and scaffolding that will one day birth my life's work. Hope I don't run out of time before I finish it.

...Except that right in the middle of all of that, I almost did. Well, not really, because I'm still here, only a little worse for wear. I managed to take a fall yesterday that landed me in a field of broken old glass hidden beneath blackberry brambles. It sliced open my right wrist, palm and forearm in a pretty scary way. A cell phone call and a short ride later, I was triaged through the ER right into a room where I was shot with needles, cleansed, and stitched. For a few moments, though, as I waited for help to arrive and noticed the rate at which my blood was soaking my clothes and the bag I was carrying, I felt a brief wash of urgency and thought, "Okay, please hurry."

Today, I'm just sore. And a bit grateful. No severed tendons or broken bones, just several stitches in two places and some wonderful bruising. The stitches should come out in 10-14 days, and I'm on light duty at work until then. And no guitar (specifically, "no gripping or lifting"). That'll be hard, with all of these ideas flying through my head.

I go back and forth between wondering whether the universe has a hand and a purpose in the things that occur, and going over how I could have prevented it myself. I think it's a mistake to think about it either way, really, but I can't fathom another way to catalogue it right now. Anyway, I have faith in my body to heal, probably faster than expected. And in no time I'll have back the thing that matters most: the ability to make music. Until then, perhaps a more in-depth study of others' music is in order.

:: Anne 7:54 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

As a forty-year-old woman I've been reincarnated as a fifteen-year-old boy in my studio (fuckin-A) with my electric toys, distortion notwithstanding. Sure feels like that, anyway. I've always known this was what I wanted to do, where I wanted to be. So how come it took me so damn long to get here?

:: Anne 11:37 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Okay, I went ahead and signed up for a "MySpace" site. They'll let me post as many as four songs in streaming audio without charging me a dime. Pretty cool. The internet has definitely levelled the playing field for schmoes like me who want to make music in their own homes and produce it themselves. Anyway, I went ahead and posted the song I wrote and recorded yesterday evening, "Lover Go Home." It's full of mistakes and I need to redo the ending lyrics, but can be heard here for now: http://www.myspace.com/anneintheattic .

And because I tend not to sing out, here are the lyrics:

Lover Go Home

Lover go home now
(go home) to the other life
Lover I know now
(I know) we’re only here by night

‘Cause I’m more me in the daylight
than you could ever know
And you’re more you in the morning blue
than I could ever see

Lover go home now
(go home) before it’s too late
If my heart wakes before my mind
Might ask you to stay

When I awake before the sun
Where you were is cold
And I’m sick of all the things
You’ve got to hide
To be with me

Lover it’s cold now
(So cold) without your touch
Lover I knew I’d miss you now
But not this much


There seem to be quite a few musicians listed on the site, most with either streaming audio or free downloads. Found one of my favorites there-- Gillian Welch. I learned her song "Time The Revelator" last year (as well as "Everything Is Free" and "Dear Someone"), but still need someone to sing harmony. Anyone?

:: Anne 8:17 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

So of course, after seeing the film "Ray," I spent the morning in the studio fuhtzing around with some gospel style on the piano. Stride pianists make it look deceptively easy-- the juice is in the baseline, but the color is in the ornament. I wrote and recorded another song after work yesterday. Again, it's only in rough form, but I managed to capture the idea I was having at the moment. (Seems like everything I have is in study form, not polished, needs to be redone.) It's called "Lover Go Home" and came out sounding kind of like a Cowboy Junkies ballad. It's nice to have the bass in working order again. I tried to compress it enough to stick it up on the atticproductions website, but their stinkin' free server won't accept anything larger than around 300MB. I'm definitely going to have to upgrade for the sake of both file size and bandwidth allowances (for downloading), but I'm not sure if this is the company with whom I want to do that. It was good experience to begin learning HTML, and to get an idea of what kind of structure I'd want, but it's THEIR structure that seems to trip me up. You can code all you want, but one accidental "SiteBuilder" button push and it dumps all of your original work and reverts back to their trite and ugly little templates. (Pastels and "cutesy" designs-- ugh!) I did score some free slick templates that are pretty flashy (some even use Flash), but I kind of like being able to make changes on a miniscule level and even just building from the simple things I know.

I'm falling behind in other projects, though. I know that I could do this kind of work 24/7 and be quite content if it paid me a living wage. It seems I need nice, long blocks of time to really get involved in a zone, and it feels like I'm always having to cut it short to do things like go to work, prepare things in order to go to work, and oh yeah-- sleep so that I'm rested for work. But then I know that if this was my "work," I might feel differently about it, given the pressure to produce an income. I might settle for selling my songs to others who can perform and record them better than I. Or I might just keep on producing this crap in the privacy of my own life until I die (or am unable to do it any more), and let its value be decided posthumously.

:: Anne 11:47 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

For anyone who's interested, I've started building a website centered around my home studio recording interests. It's very basic so far, as it's on a free host with not a hell of a lot of memory space for files. I'm also just learning HTML. Like the cartographers of old, upon reaching the edges of the map and wishing to designate the unknowns associated with the "edges" of the flat earth, I advise of my inexperience: There be dragons.

Sounds like a lot of disclaimers, but it's more like a warning not to expect anything too slick or professional. It's experimental. I make no promises as to the consistency of content, nor its longevity. It could all disappear tomorrow. But for now, it's here.

:: Anne 9:30 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

There is a constant longing to experience that has been growing. Its most recognizable feature is a sense that others' realities are somehow "better" than mine-- or maybe, worthier is more accurate. I look around and see myself growing smaller in my world, less significant. I wonder if that's how it is as we age and come into the reality that our dreams will probably not happen, that nothing we can touch is as strong as the things we imagine. And the music videos we run in our heads alongside the lives we live seem further away and less from us, less applicable than we wish they were. Just to get a little grounding.

When I began this writing here, some two years ago, I thought of it as a place in my life where I could be honest with people and myself. I've always tried to be honest in a non-petty way, in a bigger sense, if you will. That's not to say that I do not incorporate that into my living; but on some level, this journal has relieved me of the responsibility to admit every little thing that I need to express to those around me. Here, it is specific, but can remain general enough not to stand in anyone's way. And now, I have not written much lately, though that's not because I have nothing to say, but more because it doesn't really seem to matter what I say, or if I say anything at all.

And if I am to continue in all honesty, I must admit that I have somewhat receded from society, and must remain so until I have rebuilt what I've managed to tear down in this last part of my life: my will and my sense of self. Without those things, a person cannot interact, cannot truly be. When you're lost inside, sometimes the outer motions of discipline and structure are all you have left. So I guess I am seeing what's to be done about that, and it seems I've got a lot of hard work to do now.

:: Anne 3:30 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

The wide expanse of space diffused with amber light; the large, heavy wooden walls of high wainscoting and painted Japanese friezes; a linear functionality at once warm with color and cool in the mind, empty and yet full of echoes against hard surfaces: these are the trappings of a certain architecture that has threaded itself into my way of living. It came upon me that I am drawn to the Craftsman style for reasons of comfort and familiarity, having grown up in various pockets in California where these homes abound. Even more, though-- a curiosity about my past has woven the familiar thing of it into a kind of query.

I look at photos now and remember things I'd forgotten were familiar. In the sleeping porches of the famous Gamble House do I know those same sensations of lying contently in the temperate night air of Berkeley, Mendocino, Escondido, San Jose, Pasadena. During the hot days of California, the bright sun streamed through hand-hewn and stained-glass windows into the homes of my mother's friends, our extended family. How many times I remember the scenes that occurred after bedtime, as I would almost always sneak a look. After hours on a summer night, it was often still dusk, and I remember poolside strings of colored paper lanterns, bottles of wine, stereo speakers faced outdoors onto patios or into gardens, and a contentedness that this was what was to be, that this is how things were supposed to be at their best.

I lack the words to pin down this particular feeling of nostalgia. But I remember the first gatherings in my parents' first home in Redding before Kirk died. They weren't quite as free or relaxed, but they were the precursors to the ones I would grow into and eventually be allowed to experience. When I began writing this, I wanted to make a connection between those feelings and my current musings on the Craftsman style-- I had wanted to relate a small epiphany that revealed something about the obsession I seem to have with what I have often called "mortuary homes," as their features are similar to what I know and I was looking for that to teach me something about everything I've been missing about my past. But now it seems banal.

Still, I look to those Craftsman interiors for a kind of forlorn emptiness. But the thing that occurs to me now is that the character of that emptiness is not completely given by the likeness to funeral homes; rather, it is that now, in the current day, I am missing the gatherings in those surroundings. I have never been able to replicate such scenes as I remember my mother partaking of during my childhood. I have missed the temperate open air and contented leisure of those long summer nights, the spot-lit festivites and sophisticated company of evenings spent without the pressure of days. A part of me suspects much of that is captured in the places, and I yearn for California.

But I know that's wrong. Because though I can place myself in those settings as a child, I know that they were created mostly from the heart-- the hearts of the people there at the time, along with my mother. And sadly, though I dream of creating that kind of community among friends, of living with so much love in my life that I can hardly stand it, I honestly don't know that I have the heart.

:: Anne 9:02 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Okay, I think my new favorite television series (in the wake of the HBO series Six Feet Under's impending last season) is PBS's Rough Science. Now I want to build a telescope and sit up on my roof with it. The scientists on the show had what looked like only an 8-10" mirror and they got a pretty big enlargement of the craters on the moon (Plato and Archimedes, specifically). I wonder if I could build one small enough to be safely mounted on the small roof just above my deck during the summer months. The materials seem rather inexpensive, probably the lens being the most dear; the rest is mirror, wood, swivel, base. Like I need another project.

Welcome to Vacation 2005, Version 3.o. All I've really got planned is a short trip to Corvallis and a weekend at the coast. The rest is just about enjoying the season. I'm trying to get all of my chores done so that I can do that, but today was lost to the forces of creation, feeble as they might be. Funny how lately I can spend literally days on end alone and not seem to notice that most of my pursuits are entirely without other people. Hmm.

:: Anne 5:28 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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"I believe we are born with our minds open to wonderful experiences, and only slowly learn to limit ourselves to narrow tastes."
- Roger Ebert

I received an email query today from my old boarding school in Southern Cal asking for address updates and news for the "Class Notes" section of the quarterly alumni publication. Funny, I couldn't think of a damn thing I wanted to tell those people, not one thing I thought they might care about. I came from such a different place as most of them, and have ended up so far away in so many ways. My best friend and I still keep in touch, of course-- funny, we both discovered we were gay years after being at Bishop's. And while I was perusing the school's site updates, I came across the above quotation.

Another week of vacation over, and I spent much of it in isolation, despite my obligations. The weather wasn't too conducive to outdoor pursuits, so I ended up with a lot of time for music. I can't say I did everything I wanted to do this week (or even everything I needed to do... heh), but there was a bit of a trade-off. I lost myself in some work and ended up learning something I thought I might not be able to learn at first. Think I gained a skill, a technique-- it's rough, but I'm happy to have tried, to have wrapped my mind, my hands, and my voice around it, and pretty much succeeded. All in all, I've managed to learn quite a few new songs recently, of varying styles-- one even just yesterday, and another today.

Of course, I should be cracking down on memorizing and fine-tuning my choir music for our annual performance next weekend.... But what better time to be intensely creative than when you have other stuff hanging over your head that you should be doing instead?

:: Anne 11:56 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Having a bad day? Try THIS. Click on the picture when you get there. It requires Flash player. Sound helps too, but isn't necessary.

:: Anne 3:47 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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"Kitty Piercy is not MY mayor," read the bumper sticker I saw earlier today. Noting the shiny red high-rise truck flying the confederate flag, with airplane-sized tires, gas tanks the size of swimming pools, MPG as low as George Bush's emotional intelligence quota (hint: single digits, folks), and what looked like a gun rack inside the king cab, I thought, "I can see that." Hopefully, he was headed back to Springfield anyway.

:: Anne 11:11 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Lately I've noticed a trend of several people in my usual circles of travel and acquaintanceship who operate on a rather unsavory criterion: If you don't worship me and what I do/have done, then I have no use for you. (An alternate and less severe maxim, albeit perhaps a not entirely conscious one: If you don't have something I want, then I don't have time for you.) These are the ones I have had to give up on, really, the ones with the Narcissistic bent (and at least one textbook Narcissist), because it's way too draining. A friendship should be reciprocal, and I've come into contact with way too many people in the past five years who just want whatever I can give them, be it material goods, or more often, emotional support, without much regard in turn for my being human as well. It's discouraging when someone only contacts you when they want something from you. I'm sure I have played a role in that and am not entirely without fault, but I was raised to share and to support my friends and family when they needed it. I am willing to help all manner of folks in all manner of situations-- that's not what I mean, and that's fine. I have also received help when needed, to be fair. I'm just feeling an imbalance in my life these days of superficial people who would probably not otherwise give me the time of day. I hate to say that, but it's been brewing for a while, and I need to admit it to myself that these people are not a positive influence and move past it, draw some boundaries, and begin new endeavors.

Unfortunately, my faith in humankind as a whole is not strengthened by these recent experiences. I've tried to be as unbiased as possible, but it really bums me out to see people do that to each other. Some of the people in my experience also act this way with other people, and tend to glom on to others who help them-- with work, with money, or with one-sided emotional support. (That's not to say that there aren't still some solid people in my life who are not this way, mostly the ones who have always been there. There are a few newer ones, but not many, who have shown themselves to be genuine.)

It could mean my expectations are too high, and they are pretty high; but they're not unreasonable, and I expect that I, too will abide by them. I expect people to live by the golden rule, pretty much, and not have double standards. I expect honesty, tempered by a healthy respect for each other's privacy (e.g. If I tell you I can't make a prospective activity because I have other plans, I think it's quite rude for you to retort, "What other plans?" If I had felt it necessary to say or wished you to know the details, I would have volunteered them in the first place). I don't expect that we will spend every meeting discussing your problems or your successes exclusively; on the other hand, a good give-and-take conversation is as good as a high. I don't expect you to think you have automatic designs on my time and resources just because you call yourself my friend. God, this is starting to sound like a fucking friendship manifesto, and I don't mean it to be... but it helps me to delineate these things, perhaps to see where lines need to be drawn. If having a healthy, balanced lifestyle means that I have to free myself from some imbalances, then here's hoping I am strong enough to do that.

:: Anne 11:05 AM [smartass remarks] ::
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I just heard something on NPR about a woman who runs an "elephant orphanage." I've seen and read about how highly intelligent they are, especially socially and emotionally, and what a compelling sense of community they have. I've seen footage of several of them working together (each of them taking on different roles) to free a young elephant from being stuck in a muddy ravine. They also exhibit complex mourning behaviours when one of their community dies. Anyway, the show's guest mentioned the recent tsunami in Japan, and how the elephants knew the moment the earthquake happened, and began heading to high ground, some of them grabbing human beings as they went and putting them on their backs. Wow.

:: Anne 7:18 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Sixteen days! It's been sixteen days since I caught this illness-- and though it has pretty much left my body, what remains has left me voiceless and with an infection in my larynx/lower throat during what is probably the most crucial time of year for me to need my voice. The choir with whom I sing has its big Spring performance in less than a month, and right now is when everything solidifies as far as learning the music goes. What's worse, I'm also supposed to be part of this smaller group that is singing together, and I haven't been able to participate enough for them even to know how they sound with me. I am truly frustrated and am tired of just waiting around.

It makes me feel like an outsider, more so than usual. I mean, people are definitely sympathetic, but because I have to sit on the sidelines, it makes me feel guilty that I'm not pulling my weight, not upholding my responsibilities. What can I do?

I've been to the doctor twice, and was excused from work the better part of last week (going back tomorrow), and it doesn't seem to have helped. The doc says "refrain from talking, even whispering." Funny-- I didn't realize how much I do communicate during the day until now. So of course, I have not been completely successful at being mute. I'm sure that has slowed the healing process, especially the show I taped for my brother Saturday night, trying to yell over the noise and the bands.

Oh yeah, the show. Grant's band is improving-- but I think they could use a new guitarist. Fact is, DD just seems lazy, and I see Nolan and Grant up there working at keeping things together despite DD's inattention and tendency to overrun solos, play them in no particular key (which sometimes works and sometimes does not), and miss endings. I always thought Grant sold himself short as a drummer. Anyway, this is the second show they've had in this town (guess they've had a couple in Portland, too), with another coming up on the 30th. Favorite (or just plain tolerable) songs? "George Bush Is A Nazi," and "Alien Hunters." They're hitting the studio next weekend, I hear. Good luck, guys.

:: Anne 9:37 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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When I have fourteen songs that are polished and ready, I'll throw them together on a CD and release it. Who knows how long that will take and even if I will be able to reach that goal. But that is my life's work as I see it, and when I feel it's done, then I will rest. And I won't rest until it is done.

:: Anne 9:47 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Morning dawns again, a new April, and the clocks have sprung forward in anticipation, but I haven't really noticed, as I've been laid out with an evil flu since Saturday morning. I went in to work just to case up my route (took me less than two hours, working from within a fever) so that someone else could carry it, then went right home. And before I realized it, Monday had come and gone, here it is Tuesday already, and I am smack in the middle of wasting my vacation being sick. Well, fuck that. I called various people last night to cancel various obligations involving music and other such impossibilities in my condition. Later this morning, though, I'm attempting a drive up to see my brother, who was greatly disappointed at my inability to come up Saturday night as we'd planned and spend a couple of days in Portland with him. It's not like I'll be a hell of a ball; I'll only be good for some hangin' out and video games, maybe, which was all we really wanted to do anyway.

As I lay sweating, though, the fruits of my eBay labours have begun to roll in, and the analog end of my studio is shaping up. There were some fun things in there just for me, too, like some Ten Years After and the Emitt Rhodes I wanted in reel-to-reel format. I understand the term "stacking" to be when you splice several 3.75-ips albums together on one reel for hours of listening without having to bother with reel changing. And one of my decks has the coveted auto-reverse feature (the Sony that's going into the main stereo system; the Teac in the studio is strictly a one-way 4-tracker)-- a little sensing foil at the other end, and you can get a good 4 hours straight. High-tech in its day; of course, now we have CD decks with huge capacities by comparison, but I love learning about all of this stuff. The hands-on of it all gives me something I can't express, nurtures my soul, preserves a kind of history.

I will miss the fellowship of the choir tonight, but we have an all-day practice at the end of the week, and I don't wish to pass on any pestilence before that. And though I am looking forward to that, I must admit that sometimes it's nice just to miss people, if that makes any sense to anyone else but me.

:: Anne 10:20 AM [smartass remarks] ::
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"I hold it that a little rebellion now and then is a good thing...

It is a medicine necessary for the sound health of government...

God forbid that we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion...."

-- Thomas Jefferson (1780)

Doing the analog recording thing lately, investing in that. Also, I've been tired to the bone, run down in ways that simply shouldn't be, considering my schedule has let up tremendously since the new year.

I've also discovered some excellent power pop-- new to me, anyway, but dated early 70's: Emitt Rhodes. Clips of his totally unavailable (in the U.S.) music can be heard here.

I'm working at getting my hands on some of it.

Things seem to be going by at quite a pace, like I'm on the bullet train sometimes. Well, I'll be stepping out of the rat race the first week in April for my first week of annual leave for 2005. I'm really looking forward to it. They upped my leave to four weeks this year, a nice surprise. No, Dad, no California this time, but perhaps not so far in the future, since it seemed closer than ever last time. Something there is pulling me, but I'm not sure what. More roots stuff, probably. Maybe next time I want to go further south, to my old stomping grounds, deep into the heart of my counterculture past....

:: Anne 7:02 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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I happened upon an imported copy of Portland's "Mercury" today, and it set off a nice little ride of discoveries in the creative world. I love it when that happens. Makes me feel like a pioneer. Left to my own devices, I often manage to scrape up/stumble over/step in some of the defining moments of my appreciation. Makes me feel self-sufficient to think that I can introduce myself to some of the best stuff out there. Of course, I do that mostly by reading and listening. The raw version of this kind of discovery would, I suppose, be going to live shows and picking books off of shelves NOT based on reviews I'd read or references from other musicians or artists.

Today I'm intrigued by Advancement Theory. Chuck Klosterman wrote a quick intro to it here:
http://www.thesongcorporation.com/klosterman-advancement2.htm
I'm a sucker for classification, even if it is clothed in seemingly anti-categorical rules like "overtness," where the very irony inherent in the term's definition is exclusionary. I have a fondness for a good brain twisting. It's like a good game.

Discovery number two is something that I didn't expect to grow on me, an album called "Morning Kills the Dark" by Biirdie (yes, two i's there). Their latest can be heard (excellent streaming quality for the high speed connection) in its entirety at
http://www.flyawaybiirdie.com/

With the advent of home recording, even the most foolish can preserve their inklings for all time. That's par for the course. The accesibility it provides is somewhere along the line of Virginia Woolf's "A Room of One's Own," where "women writers" is replaced by "budding musicians" and "room to write" by "home studio." I call on blogs for evidence as well. Yes, there will most certainly be a lot more crap produced. But is it worth that to have perhaps a few great musicians who might otherwise never have found a way to their calling? I say yes, yes, and yes again.

:: Anne 11:12 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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There was an amazing fire-in-the-sky sunset this evening. I even called people to tell them to look. It's natural phenomena like this that knocks me off my feet and reminds me that my little life dramas are just that-- things that won't much matter in a week or two, or perhaps even a day later.

I've been feeling like an outcast again, and though I try to stay away from the whole whiny blog scene, sometimes it helps just to say it out loud, see the words there. So instead of harboring this unnamed feeling inside, I can label it and thus categorize and deal accordingly. I live so much in my head that sometimes it's hard to know exactly how much I perpetuate the "outcast" persona and project it into a kind of aura that keeps people at bay. Or maybe sometimes it's hard for some people to accept the degree of independence (for lack of a better word) I need to exercise most of the time; I've been told it makes people think I don't need them, or can't be bothered with them. And I suppose they're a bit put off by that.

Don't know how to address that precisely, but I should say that's it's only true of the general population, not the people in my community, friends, family.

That said, I am still absolutely convinced of my insignificance. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself in the moment, just means there are also moments of this that wash over me and remind me. Approaching forty has certainly changed the way I look at the world and my place in it.

:: Anne 8:02 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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On this beautiful, rainy Sunday morning, I am on kind of a harsh reality ride. Okay, coming to terms with things that aren't easy to swallow takes turning it over and either accepting and making peace or letting go. Though I'm speaking of things "convoluted and not very interesting," I have composed the following list of resolutions in my head.

1. Rob Brezny (channeling Lillian Hellman) is right: "People change and forget to tell each other." Several relationships, past and present, are approaching irrelevance. Hurts, but it happens in the evolutions of anyone's life.

2. Don't expect people to be happy over your success (or minor successes). Most people will be secretly envious and like you a little bit less, especially if they can take no credit for it. This is not usually manifested openly, but rather in increasingly passive aggressive behaviour.

3. Along the same lines, if you consider yourself an "artist" of any kind (hang with me on the quotes-- denotes mainly someone who creates), save yourself the trouble and don't share your work with your friends, even if you're already aware it's shit or otherwise. Not everyone, but most of them will: (a) behave as though now they think they know your innermost being, and patronize you accordingly, (b) if they do think it's good, will harbor resentment toward you, or (c) if they're into the same areas, cop elements of your work -- consciously or not -- and pass it off as their own. Best to work steadily and quietly on your designated life's projects and let all be decided posthumously. If you really love the work and the process, that's all that really matters. Has any decent artist ever changed his or her work due to "feedback?" I doubt it.

:: Anne 11:41 AM [smartass remarks] ::
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Ah, the little blogger has a little time on her hands once again. Not enough, of course-- never enough, but she'll take it wherever she can get it.

On a recent KCRW broadcast, a member of the band Mercury Rev (interesting, the concept of a music "collective") was talking about how the people around you now may end up being the people around you for the rest of your life. How often do I find myself waiting to meet a certain type of person and ignoring the people already in my life?

Also recently, I had the opportunity to rewatch the High Art DVD. Favorite quote? Definitely Lucy's thoughtful utterance: "I haven't been deconstructed in a long time."

A close second, Greta's observance: "That girl's here again... the chick with the leak."

I'm envious of Lisa Cholodenko's skill and insight as an indie film director. Still, in the accompanying director's DVD commentary, there are questions unanswered. Something to be said for a little mystery, I suppose.

Been doing a lot of research in the interim-- the time between work, obligations, and my music projects, mostly. I seem to have hit a wall with the music projects. To put it simply, I am somewhat stuck in translation between the concept and the final product. I need a full-time sound assistant. Ha.

:: Anne 5:15 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Y'know it's funny-- most of the time, I feel like an imposter, like everything I do musically, I'm just faking it and it's not really worth shit. Every once in a while, I get on a high about something, but I'm not even sure I know what I'm doing most of the time; I'm mostly relying on my senses to guide me. And sometimes I crash 'n' burn.

This recording studio has really tested my mettle. It has forced me to put my money where my mouth is and back up all of those years of "Well, I have these ideas, but really no way to translate them effectively, blah blah blah...." There is no excuse now, and I'm just beginning to see what hard work, what incredible detailing there is between a mediocre recording of an idea and a polished work that might withstand time's testing and outlast me as something worth remembering. It feels so elementary, but I still need to RTFM for the software I'm using.

Now if only there were one for the kind of work I'm trying to do.

:: Anne 4:44 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Count January GONE. Sometimes the acceleration of time as it coincides with the aging process just floors me.

For the past month, I have been enjoying my new status at work, the one that guarantees me two days off a week. Today happens to be one of them. And I have spent it running errands and getting things done: vet for both cats, car wash, haircut, mortgage shopping, and acquiring various other things I've been meaning to get for a while now (another guitar stand, second kitty carrier, parking pass). And my house is still a bit disheveled. But how can a person be expected to stay inside and fold laundry on such a gorgeous day as today?

Yesterday was also such a day. Mom drove down from Corvallis and we spent the morning having me sign some legal papers, then pruning the lilac and another tree next to the driveway. She brought all of her most useful pruning tools. We worked hard, cleaned up, had lunch, did a little shopping (I took her to Pet Mart, as she is adopting a cat soon-- her cat of 20 years died last winter). By evening, though, my arms hurt so badly from the work we did that I was popping ibuprofen and wrapping a heating pad around them. I had a tentative guitar play date that had to be canceled because my arms just went lame.

Other than the scattered pieces of my mind recollecting themselves into a cohesive working brain, I've also had ample time to start being creative in the studio. I've laid down a few rough studies of songs and have been building on those this month. Mostly, though, I've been enjoying the new Martin I bought a few months ago-- good investment. While I was in the guitar store today, I did look at mandolins (for texture), but didn't buy. After talking with a mortgage lender at the credit union, I know I need to hunker down and really start stashing for a decent downpayment on this house before rates get too high. I think if I'm really strict with myself, I can do it within a year. Getting a housemate will help with that, I'm sure, but I hate the process of screening strangers, so have put it off these past couple of years.

Nothing really earth-shattering is happening these days and I'm happy with that. Some semblance of normalcy is a long time coming. Knock on wood.

:: Anne 3:58 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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Funny how you crest a particularly sharp learning curve and suddenly an entire host of techniques and patterns become available to your repertoire. I've had just such an experience the past couple of days. The thing I learned was something that has probably been simmering in the back (I like to think that I spent some dream time working on it) for a couple of months. I finally dared to tackle it, and it just came, not nearly as daunting a task as it seemed weeks ago, and a catalyst for other things I'd been wanting to do as well. And now, there's a little less fear in me, perhaps a tad more confidence about that area of my life. And that's something I've been sorely lacking of late.

:: Anne 11:49 PM [smartass remarks] ::
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