So, a gig just fell in my lap. Gotta love that!
Yeah, so if you're within driving distance (or el distance) (or walking distance), come on out and see me play at Phyllis' Musical Inn Thursday night at 8:30, along with River! There's no cover, and this show will be filmed for Flabby Hoffman, a cable access TV show here in Chicago. Dude!
Of course, it's not like TV is new to me. Back in 2000, I did a segment segue for CNN's "World Beat" music program, live and in costume from the Georgia Renaissance Festival. Here's the transcript...scroll down about 3/4 of the page to just before the Blackmore's Night segment, right after the Gloria Estefan interview...."unidentified female" - that was me! The "hey" was actually an "oyez" - their script, not mine. I *never* said oyez. "Hear ye," sure. "Oyez" NEVER. Well, just the once, for the TV show.
I can't believe I found a transcript for that.
This is my 200th entry...well, actually my 719th, if you count the 519th in my old, locked diary. But we don't. So, yeah, happy Bicent-entry-al to me!! Woo hoo!
I contemplated writing up a list of 200 startling revelations, but remembered that I am too busy experiencing startling revelations to make a list of them. Which sucks because I greatly enjoy lists. Anyway, so no list of 200 startling revelations. Instead, I present you a list of some other stuff (patently NOT 200 items long):
1. I caught part of a TV show last week wherein Kelly Osbourne played the role of the fat chick. Only in fucked-up TV "reality" would Kelly Osbourne be the fat chick. Whoops! I mean "full bodied" per the PC term the guy with the hots for her used on the show.
2. I recently found Dolly Parton's version of "Stairway to Heaven." It fucking rocks. Two words: banjo solo.
3. You wanna know what sucks? Now that the roomie is gone (leaving behind, for some freakish reason, some highly trashy porno and assloads of trash and even some dirty clothes - wtf?!), I'm realizing that first off, I don't really like living alone - it leads to too much talking to myself and not keeping up with the housekeeping; and second, I'm probably going to have to move away from my fabulous heaven-on-earth I-love-it-so-much apartment into a one bedroom once my lease is up....I'm tired of dealing with shitty roommates. Ugh.
4. All the time I spent at home over the past couple weeks really reminded me how little room there is for me in that world. It's home, but it's not *really* home. I think differently, my priorities are different, I speak a different language half the time. When I was a kid, I always knew I wanted out, that my edges went beyond the places I knew....but I didn't realize how painful it would be. It's not like you can really ever let go of those ties...but you never truly hold them, either, so you're sort of caught in this weird limbo where the shadow of who you used to be stands over your shoulder whispering sugar-coated memories at you, while who you are now stands there trying not to burst into flames. Okay, so I'm not sure how much sense that makes, but there it is. Stream of consciousness.
5. From the Mayer:
"Ya know, this is a weird thing about life is that, people aren't ever really single. Like, people are always kinda still hanging on to this little tendril of that relationship or hangin' on, off this little tete, and like, just one...down to like...just like, just like, just every little once in awhile, 'I'm still touching you, I'm still touching you... but I'm gonna go out and see other girls. No, no, but I'm still touching you.' And, and, it's a weird thing you never meet people who are single anymore. You meet people who still have these, these remaining ties with people. (female voice) 'But eh, you don't understand. I don't want to be with him. I am kinda single.' And it's like, that is all messed up. So, I...my stuff is packed, all clean and folded, ready to go whenever I meet someone I like. I am as single as you can possibly be and there's no phone calls I have to make before I jump in the car with you." Me too, John. Me, too.
6. I wish sometimes that I was one of those people who could get up in the morning, eat a bowl of cornflakes, go to work, work all day without fucking around on the internet and typing up song lyrics in empty e-mails and chit-chatting with friends all day via e-mail and AIM....come home, sweep the kitchen, drink tea and watch Survivor, go to bed, and do it all again the next day. Sometimes.
7. More from the Mayer:
"Music is a mirror that is unlike any other mirror in your house. It shows you looking at yourself the way you want to be seen. It has the image of yourself as you would really want to be: emotionally and stylistically. It is the image of yourself that you wish you were and might actually be."This stings a little, but it's totally fucking true. I think this is why my songs tend to be sort of self-fulfilling prophecies, I think. I mean, I wrote several bitter break-up songs before I ever had a real bitter break-up....and lo and behold, months down the line, I did have a bitter break-up that fit the lyrics a little too close for comfort. Now, of course, I'm writing happy songs that involve me getting laid often.
8. My heroes are Dennis Miller, for using the word "fuck" with such panache; da Vinci for being all Renaissance Man, but also just crazy enough to write everything backwards in his journal; Einstein for being brilliant, but still silly enough to have his most famous picture taken with his tongue out; and the Mayer for being a 6'3" guitarist with brains and a heart and a way with words that blows me away constantly....he gives me hope that there might actually be the Perfect Dude For Me out there somewhere.
9. I'm on an "I fucking love John Mayer" kick. Sorry.
10. My head is full of songs right now, but none of them seem to want to come out and play. BLARGH!!!! Being a tortured artist is fucking lame!!
And have a nice day!
Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.