OMFG-there's a kid on your leg!

So I’m an auntie….it’s true. My brother, who like me, was very adamant about disliking the parasite nation of children much like myself, decided a handful of years ago to feel his mortality. I know, I know, but it’s true. So here we are, 5 years later, and I am a very proud auntie of a 5year-old-something nephew. Yes. I am Auntie M. As a very proud auntie, I support my blood by going to his functions; more specifically…his first on-stage-mortifying-force-you-to-participate-class-function sing along ‘Jingle Bells’ bullshit. He is adorable, truth. I babysit my uber smart nephew once a week...but in all reality, I think my brother does it in hopes of me disliking the parasite nation a little less…

So me, loving my nephew, must attend my beloved blood rite’s first public humiliation situation…a Christmas sing song something or other. I must admit (between you and me) that shit was fucking adorable. It slightly pulled at my uterus strings. TRUTH. Shhh, it’s a secret (since I’m really not in the mood for kids any time soon). A bunch of kindergarten and first graders singing some festive song…my nephew not really caring; just wishing the shit was over-I could totally see it in his eyes. He was me at that age. My brother has been blessed with a child, that in essence, got me as a child; poor bastard-BUT-but...the minute that kid comes up to me and latches onto my leg, I gotta admit…

I LOVE being an auntie.

(look for the translucent child that glows in the dark. That's my fam)

(best looking kid in the whole world. don't trip, you know its truth)

Theatre!

Interesting views from my lovely friend's loft of downtown LA's Tower Theatre and The Knife...peaceful melancholy kaleidoscope bliss



I adore the way 'theatre' still makes itself known through a murky swamp of rusted colors; lingering just below the surface...

Riverslime

Sometimes the disgusting desert does reward us with some beautiful blue fall days; those clear days tend to grace us after a much needed smog enema by the Santa Ana's.

Days like these, it's good to hop on my trusty 10geared steed, armed with my iPhone and some peppy Matt & Kim soundtrack music

historic cemetery

Mission Inn (Sunday brunch is a glutenous heaven)

Private cliff walkway to big ass home

(you can own this beauty for a mere $602k 7bed, 5bath)

tick tock

May I just say...Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah" is a depressing kick-you-in-the-ribs-while-you're-down-in-the-dumps-anthem...when you're sitting there mind occupied on a far off land of cold and loneliness.


Coffee would prolly help


busy time heals all wounds



*except, I can't seem to keep busy enough to fully heal

Never Be Like Yesterday

When I paint, I typically listen to melancholy moody borderline slit your wrist, music. Not because I want to fillet my dainty woman wrist but because I paint women of strong emotion. Vive Voce's "Never Be Like Yesterday", has beautiful building piano work that invokes an almost serene image...until you get to the lyrics, you don't realize how sad this song is and how you can feel the writer's frustrations over fighting with a love one. We've all been there...

This song came on this morning and tugged at me a bit. It, as well as the whole album, is highly suggested:

"So here comes the morning sun,

and I can't believe that we're not done.

My eyes are swollen - face is numb...

...am I still talking?

But it's never gonna be like yesterday

Cause we can't fight that way

Guess I'll be the bigger man

and drive my point till it's dead

Make you see where it went wrong

So we can stay up all night long

But it's never gonna be like yesterday

Cause we can't fight that way

So when it comes to push and shove

the knives come out before the gloves

and all the hits below the belt

still hurt long after they're dealt

But it's never gonna be like yesterday

Cause we can't fight that way"

Into the great big open...

Nomad-an individual who roams about

in my 31 plus years on this earth, I can say, I'm not quite sure where my wanderlust completely comes from...my balls and utter asshole persona comes from my mother and father. I've lived, at least in my head, a fulfilling life before the point I even reached 30. Two houses owned, a husband by 20, divorced by 26, a zealous love for pills at 18, first drunk at 14 and bringing food home to help feed the family before 18. People have lived far worst and people have lived far less; none of which is unimportant, its all on how you learn the lessons...

I wander. At some point around 26-27, I had this fantastically lame brained idea that buying an RV and exploring my home country working odd jobs for fuel and food cash, would be a fabulous idea. Being a nomad sounded so romantic and exciting. Bring it on back to the now; me, bored shit less working a desk job at head cellular company, writing over 600 reviews on Yelp.com and starting up to 3 blogs, all to sustain the mind numbing self consuming brain deteriorating rot that had become my life, all from my desk at $20 per hour rate. the point of all this babble? I realized my life is dull and unsatisfying. I enroll in an art school i drooled over in high school, shit hits the fan with the family and i pack up and leave Seattle for the familiar confines of California. More shit hits the fan in useless boring details that don't really matter, suffice to say...I am now...a nomad.

Long story short, I must live the simple life of poverty and do school online until I can get full funding. I am sleeping on couches and floors. Don't cry for me Argentina...er Riverside. It was rough at first but after a few months, you get in a groove. I am embracing this life of nomad, no home, go where I please(literally randomly getting off an exit to drive through a random cute town), see what I want but all for a price...and there is no longer a hurry for me to be in one place anymore.

Life from your trusty modern day steed, the car, is one of long in depth conversations with your soul. You notice more...fresh cut fields through Oregon; the way life coats the green in Washington, a wet organic smell you just want to soak through your very pores; having the ocean's scent carried through a breeze and hitting your senses; randomness on every corner of your ocular view. I've had friends say I'm lucky to have the freedom to up and go, as well as the balls to leave everything behind. This life in a car becomes a rolling motion picture on all four corners of your metal steed. 80+mph becomes the norm, 55-60+mph becomes a crawl. You for tell the best spots for cops. You learn that baby wipes and an iPod are your best friends and you wish that you had a better camera with an amazing lens to capture it all on paper and not just your mind's eye.

Heartless Bastards "Into the Open" has become my nomad theme song:

I just want to go

But I didn't wanna let go

I just want to go

But I didn't wanna let go

And I find myself

In a fleeting moment

Traveling far and wide

To the great big open

Things are coming into focus

Things are coming into focus

I've got wind in my face

And it's getting me on

I've got wind in my face

And it's getting me on

On

All of this time I was searching

Searching for my home

And I discovered

Home is where I am

And I find myself

Here in the meadow

Of a great divide

And in the moment

Things are coming into focus

Things are coming into focus

I've got wind in my face

And it's getting me on

I've got wind in my face

And it's getting me on

On

All of this time I was searching

Searching for my home

And I discovered

Home is where I am

Coulrophobia

So I've gone and done it...joined the circus, became a carnie and gave up my corporate threads to live life as a vagabond, hustling unsuspecting spectators as the incredible tattooed lady, living a peaceful life with my incredible tattooed boyfriend and tattooed dog. Never mind that I secretly draw on more tattoos than I actually have with my Prismacolor markers; just don't get me wet, kthx!

In this circus, they have offered me an opportunity to improve my lifestyle by studying art and fashion. I think they're secretly hoping I will design and produce all new costumes for the troupe. Perhaps a classier look will bring more ticket sales, but in all honestly, I'm not sure I can make the fat lady attractive; not to mention the amount of fabric they'd have to buy for her costume...lordie.

(my sister Carla, makes the best fried chicketn)

So I have started classes online, yes, the carnie's have wifi, it is 2009 after all. Classes seem to be going well, I'm not favoring one teacher in particular and I've had to turn down offers from our resident snake charmer to leave her a slithering present...

(Thurston's Ironic mustache gets all the ladies)

(Bob is popular in the gay community)

You thought I was joking...

In my previous post, I thought I was joking too...


low and behold, my little discovery under my bed...


UNICORN BITCHES!!!

North American Scum

If you’re in need of some upbeat music you can shake your booty to, while doing the tediously horrendous task of packing your living quarters…

May I suggest?
LCD Soundsystem
Sound of Silver


I have written about this group before, the brain child of James Murphy…I believe it was one of my first posts, in fact. Any who…highly recommended you see them live, all instruments played and a wee bonnie lass on the turn tables. WORD

I would also like to give a big “WHAT UP” shout out to the FREE Seattle periodical “The Stranger”. They are being highly supportive in my move by supplying me with their loving arms of FREE paper to wrap my stuff in.

So here’s to you, tranny section: for wrapping your loving crossed gendered legs around my breakables

Here’s to you, tranny section: for laying your testical-breast-living-cohesively-on-one-body, around my sentimental crap because I’m too much of a pack rat to truly just throw my shit out to the less fortunate...who, lets face it, could CLEARLY use, a porcelain unicorn on their nightstand

Here’s to you Stranger: for providing me with the too perfect asses of those trannies with the horrific boob jobs, bad make up and sometimes surprisingly big packages, for my entertainment while I handle the shitty task of once again, packing my brick a brack on the road to nomad land.

You’re supper duper

You already know, how this will end...

Music is to me, what it is to probably everyone…a place card or a folded page for a bookmark in time. We get pleasant or not so pleasant remembrances of moments past and cherished, when a marker reaches our ears again. Unfolding something we may have forgotten….or pushed down. It materializes like a mist…”oh yeah, I remember when”.

Sometimes a song can play perfectly to a moment, like your own personal soundtrack. Case in point: leaving on a rushed flight from San Francisco back to Seattle. My mind was a writhing tape worm feeding on my congested thoughts, gorging and producing yet more thoughts in its waste. The whole flight was spent staring out my window above the clouds, thinking, thinking….thinking. What’s next? I must admit, I’ve forced myself into the notion of ‘nomad’ by packing a van and leaving California. Even moving to Seattle, a city I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, I still found it difficult to get a stronghold; or roots, making it truly feel like home. I don’t believe I ever thought Washington as my final resting place. And as such, I’ve trashed about in my mind as to how long I would stay and the realization that this move, this destination, is nothing but a stepping stone to the next thing in my quest for happiness. Ultimately, it’s been a reboot for me; an adventure, a much needed break from the norm.

What does this have to do with music? As the plane descended through the clouds, Devotchka’s “How it Ends” began to play with its familiar organ notes, joined by accordion, joined by piano…building and building. I use to get excited flying into Seattle, this time I felt sadness. Having just spent a comfortable weekend in the bay area soaking up some much needed sun; I was reminded what it felt like to be on the California coastline, in a city I have always harbored a joy for…once this song came on, I just felt sadness. Yes, I do know how this ends…it ends with me moving, yet again.

Just when this song reaches a strong point with Nick Urata belting out (plane descending) “aaaand you already know…how…this…will end”, (plane descending) “YOU ALREADY KNOW...how this will end”(tires thudding) the plane touched down perfectly on that last note: “end”; violins picking up and carrying you to the finish. Perfect ending to my silent anguished thoughts; what next Mel? I’m still figuring out the fine details, but nomad is once again in my future.

No fears, just titillation for yet another adventure. I do however feel restlessness for something new to begin, things to unfold, desires to be met, dreams of happiness to come to fruition. Whereas Arcade Fire was my exit music from California…I am thinking Devotchka will be my usher out of Washington. To be precise, “the Last Beat of my Heart” seems fitting for such an emotional movement…Washington has a special spot in my heart, until that last beat

Broken Social Scene 2/5/09-Showbox Sodo

"If you always get up late, you’ll never be on time..."

(strength in numbers)

I know on this blog (aside from making up the occasional word) I like to throw around the word ‘full’ as a description for a band’s sound pretty freely like a game of “Keep the Hooker’s Peg Leg Away”. Well seeing as how I have no professional knowledge of music, let alone completely knowing how to play an instrument…it goes without saying that my vocabulary is a bit lax on the subject. So here I go armed with a dandy thesaurus…let’s count how many times I use the word ‘full’ in this entry.

After beginning my night at Neumo’s with a few cocktails and beers snuck out of the VIP room…I hastily ran off to Showbox Sodo. The show was sold out, maxed to the gills but luckily for me, a very special, spectacular young man, had put a ticket aside for me. He belongs on the cover of a Wheaties box, that one.

My companion for the evening was a bonnie lass; a pistol; a firecracker, and my tour guide of enjoyment. Where I was still a bit naive on the BSS tip(yes, I'm well aware of joys Wikipedia), she was teeming with experience of their voluminous musical library…at one point screaming “No pressure boys!!! NO PRESSURE” and me, along with a few others, judging by their looks, sitting there going “wow, she’s a bit harsh on the band” until they started playing and it became clear as an obvious shout out to the band “AHHHHHH(big animated a-HA face, by me). Then again, she could have jumped up on stage and pissed on their amp and it really wouldn’t have offended my snarky ass. Rock on girl, do your thang!!!

When the first guitar cords of KC Accidental struck, strong and loud backed by powerful drums, blasting my pleading eardrums, I was instantly blown and given chills. Both Showbox locations invoke an internal battle with me; sometimes bands sound great, sometimes like banshees screeching in a pillow fight. Not the case this night…this band was a pure spot on delight tickling my love bone. I dare say their performance has kicked up a new romance from me towards them…several of their songs cause me to shut my eyes, shake my head and absorb the full meal they are offering me…In fact I’m doing it now at my desk to “Stars and Sons”, my coworkers are laughing…because yes, I am clapping along. WHAAAA?!

BSS had about 32 members on the stage; ok, more like 10 or so, with a high kicking chorus line, a couple of dancing Orangutans and a donkey. To say their cup runneth over, might be an understatement. Alas, with all those peeps on stage, they give you a sound capable of gorging your ears with gooey goodness; horns, vocals, melodies ranging on ambient, girls, guys, guitar strategery, drum beats…It’s easy to get caught up in their bursting vibe of fun times, allowing your body to let loose and move to the music. I must admit, my shit totally spillith over, when they played Shoreline; dipping my head down, eyes closed and swayed to the music. Heaven.

(cell phone Chuck Norris attack)

Unfortunately for us, the show was cut short, as we had previous obligations back at Neumo’s for a friend’s performance. Nevertheless, I enjoyed a full hour’s date with the group and I can say with a high degree of certainty, that I will see them again, the next time they are within proximity of my old ass.

(FYI, I said “full” 9 times. Not too shabby)

Neko Case, Triple Door, KEXP concert 1/25/09

The skies are grey, my breath is visible and the snowflakes are falling...the kind of weather that perpetuates my sour mood. To quote a very talented musician from a favorite song: I might just lay down right here, in the traffic and die

So I sat and contemplated attending the KEXP VIP Neko Case concert, but in the end, it was the fact that I paid a generous donation to the radio organization for my membership, that won me over. So I braved the bitter Seattle weather wrapped in my favorite commie jacket and scarf, occasionally inhaling snowflakes up my nose(cold boogers, not cool).

I've said it before and I'll say it again...The Triple Door is an amazing place to see a show. The sound is stellar and the venue offers the intimacy of no bad seat in the place. Unfortunately for me, my date with Neko was a constant interruption of smack smack chomp chomp SNAP of the bitch next to me with her gum...She was a couple of feet away, but I shit you not, it was like she was in my left ear. I spent the majority of the show with my finger in my ear. I just couldn't shut her out otherwise:
Neko: "Hangin' round (chomp chomp[some pretty melody I have no fucking clue]SNAP CHOMP!)the time... hold on, hold on, hold on!"(pretty harmony with back up singer Kelly[SNAP!])

You know...I contemplated saying something to her, but how do you politely say "hey lady, cows are more quiet with their cud than you", without seeming bitchy or dealing with possible retribution? You never fully appreciate your own hearing and the full range of enjoyment TWO ears can give you, until you're reduced to just one.

Overall, the show was amazing. I have only a small familiarity with her music from what I am exposed to on KEXP. However, I enjoyed every song she played today and was rather bummed out when it was over a mere 30 minutes later; a decent amount of songs, but short in their entirety. Neko has a great repertory with her back up singer(I believe Kelly is her name) and they make quite the comedy duo. When a string broke on her lead guitarist instrument, she and her singer entertained the crowd with sarcasms, audience questions and overall great comic delivery. A good amount of the songs are from her upcoming album that will be released March 3rd. When she goes on tour and hits up Seattle sometime in June, I will be attending...

Set List:

Middle Cyclone

People Gotta Lotta Nerve

Don't Forget Me

I'm an Animal

Hold on, Hold on

Vengeance is Sleeping

The Next Time You Say "Forever"

That Teenage Feeling

Of the whole set "That Teenage Feeling" was my favorite:

"Now that we've met

We can only laugh at these regrets

Common as a winter cold

They're telephone poles

They follow each other

One, after another, after another

But now my heart is green as weeds

Grown to outlive their season

And nothing comforts me the same

As my brave friend who says,

"I don't care if forever never comes'

Cause I'm holding out for that teenage feeling

I'm holding out for that teenage feeling"

All the loves we had

All we ever knew

Did they fill me with so many secrets

That keep me from loving you'

Cause it's hard, hard"

A line that stuck with me (for personal reasons) throughout the show, from "Don't forget me"(which was also amazing):

"Nothing lasts forever, but I'll always love you"

Her music is great and her lyrics can cut you to the core, like they are your own personal anthem. Worth checking out

Devotchka NYE

(my dates for the evening)


Ahhh New Years…the time when you reflect on the past year’s pitfalls like broken cars, broken relationships and uphill battles. The time when you reflect on the past year’s good like your beautiful surroundings, good friends, loved ones and the promise of new hope and a chance at fulfilling love. The big night when you wish you had someone special to share it with. Alas, I found myself single again, although this time, I didn’t have the flu with a wicked fever and the added kick you while I’m down factor of being at a wedding(no offense Tim). I did however have the support of some good friends (Brian/Lizzy, Kyle/Trish and Anna), an awesome band and a cute outfit that showed off my strong shoulders and apparently sexy clavicles. Oh oh, there was even a new acquaintance to the group that hung with us that told me this:

“You don’t look like somewhat who writes the way you do; you look classy”
Me=classy?…I have fooled the world MUAHAHAHAHHAAH

There was a DJ and an opening act but what I remember of both is this:
DJ: I’m bored; I think I’ll grab a PBR. Holy fuck, for serious, you’re gonna charge me $4 for a beer that is worth a $1.50?!! Bastards. Yeah, I’m not huge on live DJ stuff…oh look it that, a dude spinning some records. YAWN
Opening band: I was so impressed that their name is embedded into my soft grey Cerebral Cortex…not so much. They weren’t bad or untalented, I was just preoccupied with the night’s earlier bummer events and I was on a crash course with booze and a determination of fun. I can say two nice things about this band: A. chick drummers rule B. the singer wore a wicked vintage blood red cowboy shirt with black accents and roses (fashion is my secret little drug). They really did have some good stuff though, but alas, sorry the name escapes me.

In all honesty, I was there for Devotchka and anything else was just filler. So as mentioned earlier…crash course with booze.
Me+booze+no eating since noon that day=obnoxious

While I was enjoying my refreshing classy grade A quality PBR, I enjoyed a chills inducing shot of Whiskey with Brian…cough, pirate squinty face, hairs standing on end, ‘oh my god what was I thinking?!’…smooth. Blarg. Let the good times roll and while I’m at it, may I introduce…asshole Mel! I was determined to have a good time, so out rolled the dirty jokes, pirate talk, insults and my wacky self; anything to entertain my friends(some would say, the need of adoration of loved ones to fulfill one’s self)
Me=NOT classy

When Devotckha took the stage, I was a little disappointed in the lack of back up strings, like at the Sodo show earlier this year. I guess they raised the bar for me early on. They’re still an energy filled rocking show, but I guess I was expecting them to pull all the punches with a full supporting band, little chicas whirling and twirling from the ceiling and some rockets or some shit; it being NYE and all. The sound wasn’t all that great this time around either. I have a love hate relationship with the Showbox Market. On the one hand they book some great acts and have an awesome venue, where you’ve got good views from all angles with its intimacy. On the other hand, their sound is hit or miss; this night, it was kind of a miss. Nonetheless, the show still rocked and they played an impressive song list. I danced a lot, so much so that I got a side cramp (I need to get back to the gym) and managed to stay vertical in my heels with minimal grabbing of friends for support.

(it's just not a post unless I have a shitty cell phone attack shot)

By the end of the show I managed to ingest 1 PBR, 1 shot of Whiskey, ¾ cup of ESB and ¾ of my vodka drink; not a great deal, but enough with no food. I forget that I can’t drink like I used to and thus was securely tipsy. While in line for my coat pick up with my buddy, I took off my heel and threatened a line cutter. Something along these lines:
“Hey fratty fat popped collar fuck face, my heel is going in your eye if you don’t get in the back of the line” yeah…
Me=embarrassment

By 2ish in the am, with several failed attempts at finding a fast food joint to fill our boozed bellies, we settled on a wiener stand in Fremont. A mere 14 hours later, my stomach was finally filled with a boar’s dog, topped with grilled onion, mustard and cream cheese (you can only love it while drunk) and I passed out snug in my bed to end my shitty day and leave my shitty struggling year behind me.

Here’s to new hopes, new adventures, finally having no car payment, a new chest piece tattoo and my new motto… “Love like you’ve never been hurt”

Bring it.

Me=ready for it all