Carl Palmer: Rhapsody in Color, DNA in Light

"It was on the train, with its steely rhythms, its rattle-ty bang, that is so often so stimulating to a composer – I frequently hear music in the very heart of the noise... And there I suddenly heard, and even saw on paper – the complete construction of the Rhapsody, from beginning to end. (George Gershwin, "Rhapsody in Blue") [quote]

George Gershwin spoke of seeing musical notes in color, as did Franz Liszt, Rimsy-Korsakav, Duke Ellington, Stevie Wonder and Tori Amos. Artist Wassily Kandinsky said he painted what he heard. David Hockney based the background colors and lighting design for sets of Broadway musicals while listening to the actual arrangements. So it's of little surprise in catching up with Carl Palmer, the iconic drummer of Emerson, Lake & Palmer/Asia fame, that he speaks of a very similar creative process. Performers with a propensity for the canvas have become increasingly popular in recent years. The connection between music and art seems quite natural, and when done well, makes for an incredible process. But Carl Palmer does not use paint, he uses sound and light. I caught up with the legendary drummer as he was loading up his tour van with his band-mates. For his stature in rock 'n' roll, Palmer is refreshingly humble. A polite Englishman from Birmingham, he hops on every question with ease and enthusiasm. I feel as if I’m speaking with an old friend. Not entirely what one might envision watching old footage of Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s extravagant concerts with their elaborate staging; Grand pianos, Persian carpets and Palmer’s signature stainless steel drum-kit which rotated 360 degrees, boasting an old church bell from the Stepney district of London, as well as giant Chinese gongs. Palmer’s contribution to rock 'n' roll history is undeniable. Emerson, Lake & Palmer were instrumental in the creation of prog-rock, as well as stadium rock, playing consecutively sold out shows at Madison Square Garden in the 70s, touring the globe, and rivaling Led Zeppelin as the highest grossing live band by the end of 1974. Today I’m talking to Carl Palmer about his artwork, though I’d be remiss to not discuss his love of teaching drums to special needs kids or how his music has stood the test of time, a virtual anomaly nowadays. Palmer’s discovery of a new art form, however, is on the radar. Not new in it’s inception but rather in its execution. The landscapes of Palmer’s paintings remind me of what music might look like on paper or canvas. Blasts of color, shapes and spontaneous designs, made from the heat and light of drumsticks, create dream-like scenes out of the swirl of colors created by his own hands. Palmer walks me through the artistic process. As he’s describing this, I’m picturing his epic 70s drum soloing and I'm beginning to understand how his foray from drumming to art has been so fluid. Kristen: Your artwork is a slice of naturalistic, abstract technology. For instance, your piece “Eruption” looks like a supernatural dreamscape. I also loved your piece “Infinite Space”. It literally looks like how I would envision infinite space. No one piece looks at all the same. Could you talk a little bit about how you discovered this medium of modern art? How did you envision this process? Palmer: Well, what we have here is a new way of actually creating the art using light. In other words, I paint with light instead of paint itself, as it were. The patterns are created with LED lights that are actually built into the drumsticks. The drumsticks have four, self-simulated colors, a red, a yellow a blue and a green. Each one of these paintings was constructed in a similar way, where I would be in a pitch-black room with the drums and there would be one other person with me with handheld cameras slow-framing everything that I’m doing at different angles and moving around as I play. So I’d be playing different rhythms, say “Tarkus” or “Eruption” or “Stones of Years” and the camera man would film it from different angles. I could then look at what shadows and shapes were being created by the heated LED lights on the end of these sticks. Then I could construct where the cameras needed to be and where we were getting the best visuals. The lights reflect off of the chrome of the two gongs as well, creating eerie, shadowy, ghost-like figures. We were able to capture a new, hidden kind of art this way. We can play the same rhythm more than once and it will create a slightly different picture every time. The paintings end up having their own DNA. The beauty of this is that you can physically play the drums with these sticks like you would with normal sticks, unlike the 70s when I started investigating this and I was using actual light bulbs and could only mime (chuckles). These sticks are available to everyone now. It’s been in the making as an idea for years and now technology has caught up, creating a difference of explosions, the colors reacting differently due to the actual speed of the camera. It takes a bit of time, but you can get some really outstanding results, and at the end of the day, it’s a new art form. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="400"] "Eruption" by Carl Palmer[/caption] Kristen: I want to transition to music for a moment. I know you feel very strongly about keeping music in schools. You spoke in an interview about a very fascinating experience you had teaching deaf children and how they were able to visualize rhythm. I wonder if any of that may have informed the art you’re creating now? Palmer: I’ve done a lot of drum clinics and taught master classes for many years, but for the past nine years, I’ve started to develop programs with the Deaf Association of Great Britain to teach deaf children how to play. This proved to be really good because they can visually see and feel what’s happening. So that automatically went across to blind children and then the whole thing kind of generated itself to children with special needs and using rhythm as a team sport. So we have groups of ten challenging other groups of ten. I really enjoy doing it and I’m quite privileged, because every time I’ve done this, I’ve had people with me who know sign language. It doesn't necessarily have to do with the art that I do, it’s just another way of using rhythm to get the message across. It’s incredibly rewarding. With the deaf children, they can visually see the rhythm. In that same way, the paintings that I do are visual rhythm. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="400"] "Orchadia" by Carl Palmer[/caption] Kristen: Nowadays, folks can create songs in their bedrooms. How do you feel about the state of music today? Do you feel like the internet and technology has bridged a gap or created one? Do we have too much freedom or has the leveled playing field helped the industry? How do you feel about new styles of music coming out right now? Palmer: Well, I think with every positive, there comes a group of negatives and there’s no doubt that the internet has helped people tremendously. For the record, I make a point of going on Youtube, for example, at least once a month and I’ll spend a couple of hours investigating new drummers to find out what they’re playing. Technology is a big part of the educational process now. If you’re good, you’re obviously going to improve quite quickly, unlike when I was starting, you had to hope that if you saw a television show, the camera would point to the drummer or the sax player for a quick minute. But this way, it’s really good. And obviously now people can record themselves, so technology has helped them immensely in this area. You can record something quite quickly at home, get demos up and running, etc. People have even been known to get record deals from their bedrooms or wherever. So now all these things are all possible and they’re are all being done and it’s been helpful. On the other hand, when I started recording, there were things called concept albums. You had to listen to the whole album to understand it. A lot of people won’t listen to 40 minutes of straight-up music anymore. People would rather download a track or two on Spotify or iTunes, etc, so they don’t actually understand the complete concept. If you took, say, one 3-minute piece of “Tarkus” or “The Dark Side of The Moon” for instance, you wouldn't really understand what it was all about. So from one point of view, it’s been really good. From another point of view, people don’t really get into the artist as a complete entity. Things have changed. The industry has changed. People don’t buy things as much. People are used to streaming music, getting stuff for free, etc, but most musicians need the money to reinvest into what they do. On the other hand, there are many more styles of music now and many more influences. So there are lots of positives, I have to say. And there's obviously quite a few negatives as well, but overall the most important thing is that the number of fans of musicianship is a lot higher today than they were in the 70s when I first had my success. All the literature that’s available now, all the DVDs, Youtube, educational tools, etc. doesn't necessarily mean that the players are original, but it means they can get very good, very quickly. Staying in touch with pod-casts, for example, allows you to watch stuff that’s going on that might be miles away from where you live. So staying in touch and being up-to-date with what exactly is going on is very important. The thing about the particular art form that I do is that it's brand new. It hasn't been done. It’s there and it’s ready to go. So this is a new way of using technology. Kristen: What other mediums of art interest you and what are you presently working on musically? Palmer: Mostly at the moment, I’m painting, but I’m actually looking now at making short video clips using the same frame method as with the LED lights. We have a thing in England...I don’t know if you have it here...but people collect Art DVDs and they become like lithographs. They become special art films and there are collectors of these films. So I do see taking this to the next level and having a complete video section of all the pieces of art so you’re actually seeing it in real time. At the moment, half of the catalog has already been sold, which I’m very happy about. I’ve done one lithograph which I've brought out on tour and that’s called “Stones of Years” which is the first song that happens in the Tarkus album which is the very first concept album from Emerson, Lake & Palmer. I’ve made if available just for this "Twist of the Wrist" tour. We’ve sold out of 'Tank' at the moment, but we’re looking at making it a bit bigger to be hung in different galleries. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="400"] "Tank" by Carl Palmer[/caption] I’m also touring with the Carl Palmer’s Emerson Lake & Palmer Legacy. It’s a band that I’ve had for twelve years. We play a lot of classical adaptations which are driven along by a lot of original material from Emerson, Lake & Palmer. I've got Paul Bielatowicz on guitar and Simon Fitzpatrick on bass and we use a certain amount of film during the set. It’s a cinematic approach to playing so we play things like Mussorgsky's “Pictures At An Exhibition” and some black and white footage of the Russian Royal family. So there’s a connection between film and music because I’m very interested in art in general. So you know, the music is underpinned with something else and we've used quite a lot of footage throughout the whole two hours so there’s something happening on the screen that connects directly to the music.

Kristen: I was a watching an interview where you stated that the best music is created by people who want to make music for themselves. In other words, you weren't as a band necessarily concerned with going mainstream, but it was a luxury that Emerson, Lake & Palmer did. Could you talk a little more about that? Palmer: Yes. Well, it’s the same today. I mean, when Emerson, Lake & Palmer started, we really made music for ourselves and if we liked it, then that’s exactly what we wanted to do. It was accepted globally and that was very nice thing. I think that whatever you do in any art form, you’re kind of making it for yourself and if people happen to like it, then that’s great, and if you can make a living out of it, then that’s absolutely marvelous. You couldn't ask for any more really. The whole thing with Emerson, Lake & Palmer was exactly that and today I take the same approach. I mean, the band is more of a delicatessen than a supermarket. We play for a small amount of people who really enjoy this prog-rock art form, which is still really popular. Obviously, it's not as popular as it used to be, it doesn't get played on the radio at drive time. But at the end of the day, it's another art form and it’s a British art form which we brought to America similar to how Jazz was brought from America to England. I’m proud to have been part of that movement. It’s been a big part of my life. What I’m doing now is exactly the same thing, but I’m using younger musicians who are on the cutting edge and it’s worked incredibly well. We started in February of this year in Japan and we've been to Mexico, South America and all over Europe. I'm taking some pieces like “The Endless Enigma” or “Infinite Space” and I’m playing the actual rhythm which is a kind of DNA in light and getting it onto a canvas which was just another extension of what I do. I couldn't be happier to tell you the truth. [caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="300"] "Endless Enigma" by Carl Palmer[/caption] Kristen: A lot of young kids are discovering prog-rock and appropriating it to their time. How do you feel about keeping prog-rock alive? Palmer: Yes they are. You’re absolutely right. There’s a small revival of it. And I think "Cruise to the Edge" tends to kick things off. There’s a festival in August in Philadelphia called Yes Fest and you’ll have some of the big bands. You’ll have YES, UK, Steve Hackett, etc. Most of these bands are leaders in that one area or you’ll have one of the members from one of these well-known bands who are now doing different things but keeping the music alive in a newer way using younger musicians, similar to what I’m doing myself.

“The music will always be there. It will never be as popular as what it was, we all know that, but it will always be there as an art form and there will always be people who want to come and see it.” - Carl Palmer

Kristen: I watched a studio session of Emerson, Lake & Palmer practicing Karn Evil 9. As a musician, I now how painstaking getting something right is, but you guys were creating this masterpiece that had to be close to perfect. How did you maintain patience through that process? Can you talk a little bit about how band’s can achieve longevity? Is there a secret to getting along with your band-mates while achieving that level of playing? Do you have any advice for up-and-coming musicians? Palmer: Well, longevity is something that you have to work at everyday. You have to work at whatever instrument you're playing. It’s a constant focus. You need to be up-to-date, you need to be stimulated, you need to be working with good people and you need to be working with people that are at the same level as you so you keep improving. It’s a lifestyle really and it involves everything from practicing personally or rehearsing with a band or going out on tour. It doesn't matter how much you rehearsed in the rehearsal room, when you go out on tour and play, then you’ll understand what the public think and you’ll understand their reaction. If you’re experienced enough you can then start to change the show around, change the set list or even change the arrangements of music.

Music is a constant learning curve to be honest with you. There’s no one thing you could say to any one person: "This is how you do it"  because all the time, it’s changing. I do think the one way you can propel yourself musically is just to be enthusiastic about what you do and if you can retain that enthusiasm in whatever way suits you, then that will stand you in good stead. - Carl Palmer

Kristen: Is there any particular artist that intrigues you at the moment? Palmer: The last piece of art that I bought was a piece by Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan is quite a good painter. His colors aren’t what you might call accurate, but he doesn't need to be because you understand everything he’s putting on the canvas and he really delivers. I've bought quite a bit of his work recently, but I bought one particular painting of his called “Motel Pool” about two years ago. I was very impressed with that piece, very impressed with the colors. He’s in quite a few art galleries. He doesn't really talk much about his art, but there’s no doubt that Dylan has got a definitive style and he’s a natural at what he does. He’s quite artistic. Kristen: On that same note, are there any bands out there right now that you’re fascinated by? Palmer: I’m quite attracted to a band called "The News" right now. They’re a three piece band. They've got really great piano, keyboards, etc. I've seen them at a couple of concerts. Glastonbury was the last one I actually saw them at and I definitely felt like they were on the cutting edge. They could play, they could sing, they really delivered. I've been fascinated by them for a long time. [divider] Palmer collaborated on his "Twist of the Wrist" project with the SceneFour Art Collective based in Los Angeles who have worked with drummers such as Jose Pasillas II (Incubus), Rick Allen (Def Leppard), Stephen Perkins (Jane’s Addiction), Kash Waddy (James Brown) and Matt Sorum (Velvet Revolver, Guns n’Roses). The culmination of what Carl Palmer has been creating for years has come to fruition in this beautiful collection of artwork. You don't want to miss these explosive synaptic creations of sound and light.

www.carlpalmer.com http://carlpalmerart.com/

Harmony Korine doesn't want to tell you anything

A legitimately bad film is never memorable. It might last as a random remembrance, but not much more. I saw the trailer for "Spring Breakers" and chuckled to myself. Sexualized violence has been over-cooked for some time now. In fact, it's become a staple of American culture as anyone with a television can attest. Was this another banger film with a bunch of bikini-clad, tween-stars playing out a pubescent, Grand Theft Auto montage for Friday night sales event geared at sex-obsessed, frat-rappers and their girlfriends? Then I remembered this is Harmony Korine and he's been effing with our heads since "KIDS." I saw "Kids" at the Brattle Theater in Cambridge in 1995. It shook me. It was as if Suburbia and Manhattan had become one. The regret, the drugs and the unprotected sex were all the same. My friends and I sat in silence on the sidewalk for what seemed like an eternity. We were trying to process the bomb Korine had just dropped on us. Was this excited nihilism or just a bunch of kids having fun? Whatever it was, it hit a little too close to home. The opening sequences of "Spring Breakers" starts with a bevy of dirty-footed, bleach-blonde "Britneys" in a college dorm dreaming about spring break in between bong hits and coke bumps. Flashes of of a History professor pontificating about the evils of war and racism crash into a scene of giggling college-girls slapping each other's asses. Double-back to a Swaggart-like tent revival scene with a frosted-hair minister trying WAY to hard to make religion cool: "Are you jacked up on Jesus?" blurs into a lost highway with Gomez's Disney profile puffing anxiously on a cigarette. As viewers, we're also waiting to be delivered from this hell of mundanity. A slideshow of uncomfortably quiet shots of an empty college campus that resembles prison pits itself against a Spring Break montage that would give Joe Francis a run for his money complete with piss-yellow beer, sun-glazed eyes, naked tits and enough neon bikinis and sardine-packed college kids to elicit a guffaw. Then comes a retreating sigh as the beautiful, crimson-dripped sunsets cascade before our eyes. But aren't these the girls I couldn't stand at college? Dumb-headed miscreants who thought doing a keg stand was some kind of rite of passage, walking around campus with cuddly backpacks searching out coke and frat dudes? Or are they just Britney-clones teetering on obscurity, force-fed pop music and Ritalin and anything they wanted by reticent, overworked parents? Better yet, are they rebels without a cause trying to escape a meager existence like the rest of us? I feel confused. At times, I'm not sure if I should applaud them or hate them. They're on a spiritual pilgrimage to Mecca. Spring break is a neon final destination. The mantra "this is the furthest anyone has been from home" saddens and excites you. Sheltered existence storms madly to the promised land cloaked in self-actualization: "I feel like we've found ourselves here...it's like its never gonna end." You also feel like it's never going to end. The obsession of going on Spring Break starts to permeate your brain in the form of narrative, girl mantra so repetitive, you start to question if you can take much more of it yourself. Maybe you need a fucking trip to Florida. Dub-step on acid isn't sounding so bad, especially if the bubble-gum mantras don't stop. You're confused, and Korine isn't about to give you an answer. So you allow your piqued curiosity to badger you into hanging in in there. Every new scene commencing with a gunshot and a bong-hit, your senses are overloaded. Just a bunch of sexy, college girls with squirt guns obsessed with having fun right? Is this the American joke that's on us?   "Just fucking pretend like it's a video game. Act like you're in a movie or sumthin'. You can't be scared of shit. You have to be hard." During a Nikki Minaj-soundtracked sequence, a stolen, run-down El Camino is our viewfinder and our film dolly. We see innocent people getting robbed, but only as outsiders. It's just a video game.  It's only a movie. Enter James Franco as "Alien," detestable right down to his last, shitty tattoo. Franco's Spring Break rap scene is the conglomerate of every bad mixtape ever dropped. The crowd is covered in beer as they mouth his lyrics. "I'm a hustlah. I'm also a rapper. You can check it out on youtube." "I'm blowin' up," Alien tells the girls upon bailing them out. Suddenly, he is their self-appointed, ghetto-messiah. He is also every lousy, twenty-year old rapper wanna-be on twitter aka "Riff Raff", who Franco researched for his part. Alien promises and delivers an alternate universe that's comedic and horrific all at once. We think he has the controller, but does he really? Video games can change on a dime. Games end. "Spring Break forever!" Alien screeches. It's the same mind-numbing mantra as the girls. Franco commands the role of Alien with extraordinary precision. The wolf discards his sheep's clothes. Endearingly, Alien plays Britney spears at the piano for the machine-gun strapped girls in bubble-gum pink. The scene is not much unlike the tap shoe scene in "Gummo." It makes sense in the context that it is experienced. It's endearing and absurd. It's Vladimir and Estragon in "Waiting for Godot." Two tragically comical parties have glued themselves to one another. We revel in the union, while ingesting its absurdity. Its dysphoric euphoria is right up in your face. Flashes of Alien's grill laughing pour over his narrative about his "G" status, bragging about his ghetto-empire, his kool-aid and his Calvin Klein "Escape". "I got Scarface on repeat...constant y'all." "Best movie," the girls respond." Soon, Alien learns that life imitates the movies more than he realizes as the girls flip the script. It's player two's turn. Pass the controller. Now, if the Hills had Eyes, dueling banjos AND grills, it would be Alien's twin homies, straight off a Gummo test reel. Incidentally, Korine cast these real-life twins, who, much like their characters, ATL twins sleep in the same bad, have sex with the same girls and profess to share the same thoughts. When asked about the ATL twins, Korine said:

They’re incredible, they’re pure scumbags of the highest magnitude. Real generate bastards who just revel in filth and they’re amazing because of it. There’s just no filter, they’re turned up all the time double penetrating anything that breathes. They’re rare because they are like the American id, they are the pathological subconscious, they are the dregs, they came out fully formed and it’s very rare that you meet characters as pure and extreme as them. [Quote]

Several times I had to remind myself that this was Korine. He does this. He is the Beckett of my generation. There is something larger at play here, Everything, right down to the neon colors of the girls bikinis was over-the-top. Pink ski-masks, Franco's wack grill, his bad poetry, his ghetto empire, his eternal self-aggrandizement and laughable Camaro with neon-orange dollar sign rims. Peering through a weed cloud and ammo smoke, all one sees are caricatures. You know it won't last long. You just hope you can hang in there long enough for the game to end. Yet these personas did not arise out of nowhere. These kids were created by a reticent generation of apologetic hippies. Pressured into religion from early childhood, these girls are the hyperbolic poster-children for what the hippie generation never wanted to happen to their kids. Kids old enough to watch this film and come out scratching their heads are who this movie is about. Twenty-somethings who's parents prayed for religious, yuppie kids but instead got rebelling, adderall-spun spoiled brats fueled by Britney Spears, video games, reality television and bad rap, who get chauffeured back and forth to therapy sessions. The minute they get a taste of freedom and don't know what to do with themselves. In the end, "Spring Breakers" represents everything American parents never wanted: guns, drugs, sex, and unchecked freedom, all commercially endorsed by the producers of MTV reality shows and the popular energy drink of the week. Yet in reality, Alien's just a orphan who's real name is "Al". The girls just wanna have fun, but when one gets nicked by a bullet, she falls apart and runs home crying. Drugs eventually wear off and even video games get redundant after a while. People get scared, especially when the odds are stacked against them. Thugs easily turn to into babies. Rappers rap about lives they don't live. Bikini girls wanna-be "hard" but they can't stop crying. Korine is an expert at not drawing lines. Absurd realism and duality are his weapons of choice and he wields them like an expert swordsman. Americans, however, love squeaky-clean lines, resolved plots, redemption and Hollywood endings. But in between phoning grandma or having sex with a random stranger, life is very grey. After Korine swings the pendulum back in forth in front of your face, you're forced to reckon with the uncomfortable grey where you have to find your own answers. After the movie, I visited the ladies room. Two college girls (one toting a book) were at the sink nervously chuckling. "Did you see that girl in the background? She was sooo fat!" Girl 2) "Haha. Did you know James Franco doesn't even look like that in real life?" Girl 1) "I don't know why Selena was even in this movie...wtf?" When asked about the possible confusion of "Spring Breakers" being a "guns n girls" shoot 'em movie or a social commentary, Korine said:

"It’s good because I wanted to make a movie that worked on two levels simultaneously. So like, if you wanted to watch it and only get that broad surface appeal then that’s fine, and then if you were more open to experiencing it in a deeper way then that’s also OK." [Quote]

And that, my friends, is the only thing Harmony Korine wants to tell you.

Risk

It was in May of 1999-the summer my nephew Myles was born. The previous two years had been a whirlwind of trying to finish my degree through a teaching practicum, becoming a teacher’s aide and then rapidly filling in as a Science and English teacher, because the regular teacher was on maternity leave. It was the hardest job I’ve ever had. I was working with kids with a host of problems that played themselves out emotionally and behaviorally. Most mornings, I would come into school at 7am for a faculty meeting and I’d be walking into a war zone (insert your “Dangerous Minds” jokes here) there would already be fights, conflicts, insults being hurled at staff and if I happened to be in the way I would also get “fuck you, you fucking bitch”. There were knives, guns, suicides, gangs, etc.

I took my job very seriously. It was hard to know what behaviors to confront and what behaviors to “let slide”. Many of the staff had different approaches to that. Some were more lax, while others were very disciplined. It was often confusing to know how to approach each situation and for the most part I felt like I was learning as I went. For instance, we know kids were going to smoke, so we designated an area for them to do so. The amount of damage control and energy to forbid smoking was not worth it. I guess in those scenarios, you better know how to pick your battles. I didn’t always know how to do that.

I had one student in particular that I seemed to connect with on a very deep level. He would often disassociate in class or fall asleep on his desk. As a teacher’s aide, I would bring him out of class and we would walk around the school yard, several times and would try and help him “get grounded”. Sometimes we would talk, but mostly we would just walk and I taught him diaphragmatic breathing.

I remember how his behaviors were vexing and annoying to many. It was truthfully hard to know what was going through his head. He would do things impulsively or stare off into space or pull the fire alarm seemingly unknowing of what he was doing, but there was no mistaking how smart this kid was and how big is heart was. I tutored him after school in Geography. Did I have an experience teaching Geography? NO. But this kid was so into “earthquakes, compression, wind, erosion, etc” and I figured that was the hook. Maybe he was hoping some natural disaster would come and take all the pain away and save him. I don’t know. All I know it was during that time that I began to realize how deeply rooted his trauma was and how courageous and resilient this child was. I also started to have nightmares about the abuse he had endured. It’s sort of hard to write this because the care-taker in me starts to wonder where he is right now and if he’s okay. I’m guessing that he is. I’m guessing he’d be about, well, 24 years old now or around there.

Ironically, this journal assignment is about a risk I took that required a lot of courage and I intended to write about my cross-country trip, but all these events had lead up to that, so I had to preface what I was experiencing prior to this. I was a young teacher. Too young, I believe. Looking back, I had loans to pay and what else does one do with a B.A. in English, except I wasn’t living on Avenue Q, I was living with my grandmother and there was a whole bunch of family stuff going on that I don’t need to get into.

A friend of the person I was dating at the time (I’m leaving out names for the sake of anonymity here), was rebuilding a T1 1967 Volkswagen Bus. That was the last year they made them with the split windshields referred to as the “Microbus” or the “Splittie”. I called it the “Winged Warrior”.

I knew nothing about VW buses at the time. All I heard was “we’ll be camping every night”. Camping…what…the? ME? A sense of terror came over me. I’d never, in all my years, camped. EVER. I grew up in a very suburban area, but my parents were city folk. We used to go places, but two things we never did was ski or camp. I attempted skiing one time on a hill in our back yard with some old-fashioned skis and let’s just say it ended up in an involuntary split and a fit of frustration. Would I survive the wild, blue yonder? Would I find gold? I have to admit there’s always was and always will be something majestic and spirited about “Going West” like the Liz Phair song off Whip-Smart.

But would a polar bear kill me? Would I be attacked my wild wolves in the night? I remember hesitation, but I also remember the time to say “yay” or “nay’ was running out. There was a 5 person limit, it wouldn’t cost much because “camping is cheap”, but I would need to pitch in for gas and obviously pay for food.


I have to preface this by saying, I kind of am and always will be, a “comfort junkie.” I mean, it was worse then than it is now. I’ve been through some very uncomfortable things, but I mean, physically, the thought of braving the elements, bugs, strange towns, etc. Just get me to the nearest Best Western with room service please, if you know what I mean. The prospect of sleeping in a tent on the ground for over a month, scared the shit out of me. But call it what you will, unrelenting curiosity, stubbornness, my Taurus nature, I was damn well going on that trip. The deal was sealed when I saw the map route my mechanic-wizard friend had laid out. I mean, when in my life was I ever going to get to traverse 33 states in 30 days on roughly $700 bucks? “Never,“ I thought. This must be done. I also remember I had an exit strategy if I got too anxious and had to come home. I remember my Mom saying something like “you can fly home if you don’t like it”. I guess that option never occurred to me. I suppose I should thank my Mom and anyone else who said that to me, because if I hadn’t realized there was an option to come home, I might have never left.

My brother’s second son Myles was born on June 13, 1999. I remember battling with our principal/boss over leaving school a few days earlier than the term was ending. I had absences in my reserve. Looking back, he was just a lost man on a sinking ship, looking but I remember thinking “okay, well, just fire me then.”

I had made up my mind. And one thing I know about me, good or bad, is that when I make up my mind to do something, I’m going to do it even if it kills me and though I may fall down and cry or bitch and moan for a little bit, I eventually get back up. Eventually. But always.

So off we went. I didn’t know what a compression sac was, but I was told to buy one and stuff my sleeping back in it as tightly as possible because we had to store 5 peoples belongings in one cabinet seat. So I packed light, got a water canteen, traveler’s checks (which ended up being kind of unnecessary, but I read it was a good idea in case you lose your ATM), waterproof matches, flashlight, camera, etc.

I even bought a tent and I had no idea what to do with it. I practiced in my yard with a cheap A-frame from Building 19. Then I bought the Coleman, 3-sleeper. This was getting serious.

I don’t think I slept the night before. In fact, I‘m almost certain I didn‘t, because the first leg of the trip I was wanting so badly to go home and I was extremely overtired in New York and Ohio. But I remember this feeling of complete and utter freedom pulling out of my friend’s dirt driveway in New Hampshire. “How brazen is this”? I thought” as we all looked at each other in unsure excitement. Who does this? Who ups and leaves for over a month to go explore the country. How irresponsible? How AWESOME!? I had read Kerouac and I knew Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic, so I could do this, right? I wasn’t alone. These friends would help me through, right? But would I fall apart? Would I make it? As we drove down that dirt road at dusk on that early New Hampshire morning, I felt something electric and scary and beautiful pulsate through me.

The next month was a journey of trial and error and trial and error and beauty that unsurpassed anything I have ever seen in all my life. Each day was a new landscape. We were usually on the road by 5am or so. My poor friend always had to wake me up (not much of a morning person. Still not), but as soon as we’d get going, I felt it again, staring out the windows of the bus as we whirred through miles of cornfields, listening to Joni Mitchell or Jim Croce, journaling, taking pictures---I felt it. The coyotes and buffalos of Yellowstone, the stratum of rock in the Badlands, muskrats in Utah, the little boy I met at the farmer’s market in Iowa who hugged me and brought me to tears, running into the pacific ocean for the first time in my life, a real Ghost-town in Montana, impromptu jam sessions in Ten Sleeps, WY, outside an old saloon--tumbleweed blowing across the main road, raccoons stealing our ice in Indiana as we laughed hysterically to the sound of them chomping on it, swimming naked in a man-made reservoir in Kansas, the magnificent Redwoods, the sound of my heart beating out of my chest in North Fork, California when I could hear and see wild animals right outside our tent and the long journey of a large animal dragging a metal object from what seemed like miles, as its shadow cast its shadow on my tent.



Those were tough times. Arriving at a new campsite and reading the announcements with pictures of recently-spotted bears, so many, that we had to lock anything with a scent, even cosmetics, in a large metal vault. Those were the nights I had to face my own fears, often not sleeping, but up and off for another 10 hours of driving the next day. To be fair, my mechanic friend did all of the driving and a lot of the other totally necessary things I would come to appreciate, but not at first. If it weren’t for the support and tough-love of him and my friends, I wouldn’t have made it. I finished several books and filled a journal. I took 9 or 10 rolls of film. One of my books was “She’s Come Undone” by Wally Lamb. I finished it in a bathroom in Montana and bawled my eyes out. I passed it around. We were passing everything around, food, books, music. Somehow everyone had a turn some Marquis de Sade and we joked for several days about “buggering”.

The most memorable day was on the last leg before we turned around and came home. The pristine Glaciers in Glacier Park and the sound of the VW’s bus as it inched up the mountain like an old dog made my heart swell. I felt my Pepere’s presence for the first time in over ten years as I wept tears of joy and how magnificent this natural place, was untouched by anything or anyone, I wished he could have been there to see it, but he was there. It was undeniable. I wished also, that my students could have seen something so breath-taking. Some of those kids had never even been to the ocean. I felt incredibly blessed…..

(to be continued)

35 year old aspiring actress?

For the record, I am NOT 35 years old. YET. And many times people think I'm much younger than I am so I'm eating it up while I can. It's way too many people to be a mass conspiracy...I think.

So yea, for the most part of my adult life, I've had all the talent, but little passion for many career paths that lead me no where. "Special Needs" teacher at a 766 school where I was greeted on the daily with "you're a fucking bitch", had chairs and desks thrown at me, hyperventilated, etc. Fun stuff.

Then I got into IT during the boom. I'm not sure what it is now, but I'm still in it, but not in the way I was before. Backend, baby. The Indians and Romanians took the Front, plus CMS.

Anyhoot, back to acting. I'm 30ish. That's all you're getting for now. I JUST FOUND out I really love acting. Especially, acting with singing involved. I've always been involved with music,studies jazz,punk/indie/soul bands but my affinity for films/plays and borders on annoying (any of my friends would testify to that).

For the record, I was the sardonic English major who laughed at all the theater students at in the I.C. dining hall singing show tunes. Well, guess what? I'm ONE OF THEM NOW.

And I'm a stubborn person by nature. I mean, I'm also can be incredibly stubborn at procrastination, as well. But not with the acting; I did some in high school and last January, I just sort of picked up where I left off.

Well, I make it sound easy. It hasn't been easy. I've had to shove past every inner/outer demon there is. It's a tough industry, no matter how you slice it. There is always someone who can sing 5 octaves above you, has more experience, the "right look", knows the right person, etc. but I really don't care. I just show up. It's ...like that quote.."showing up is half the battle"? Okay, I'm overtired and mixing Woody Allen quotes with G.I. Joe, but you catch my drift.

So still looking young has it advantages and disadvantages, as Lisa Morris warned me. It's harder to get roles like "Mrs. Potts" or "Mrs. Lovett". Not to mention, Boston is over saturated with the most insane, classically-trained talent who "just do theater for fun". But again, it does not matter. I went on two auditions in one week. I didn't even have my 16 bars down when I got to the first one, but I pulled it together and I got cast. Not even a call back. "You're in the show" type deal.

So it's exciting and amazing and hard and requires a ton of discipline and I love it. Most of my cast mates studied performance and are now music teachers, and my organ lessons must have paid off b/c my sight reading is pretty damn good and getting better. Props to my big bro for help with that.

I guess the point is that I'm doing it. In spite of myself. In spite of the business center being out of printer ink when I went to print out resumes. It's still happening. I was also an extra in a feature film this summer. And I was involved with MCCTC Summer theater program.

I have no idea where this road will lead me and I often have surreal moments when I see old college friends on their 3rd or 4th kid, but for now, it's not my path and the fact that I know that, without a doubt, is probably why I feel so at ease with it.

So here I go into a passion for something I thought had very little talent for, but I'm hearing otherwise and seeing otherwise in MYSELF, which is a beautiful thing.

Have a great weekend.

Cape Cod's Revenge

I recently took a vacation to the lovely, overpriced and often under-estimated tip of Massachusetts that is Cape Cod. Or as us regional types like to call it "The Cape." I have some vague memories of visiting the Cape as a little girl, (my dad in his yellow,70's swimming trunks that she still has!) As an adult, however, this was my fourth time down there. And was it ever!

If this were seven years ago, I would be recanting the tale of me, my friends Larry and Heather, holding fort in the tiniest hotel room in the world in Wellfleet, when I foolishly misinterpreted "two, twin beds" over the phone to be "two, large beds." They were not LARGE. They were little, kid beds and I ended up on the floor, which was fine, for a little while. I bitched about it seven years ago, but it actually was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Those and the NYC trips, even with all the little glitches: TIME OF MY LIFE. Anyway, here are some photos from that time:





p.s. Jimmy James really is one of the only real reasons to ever see drag, especially in P-town. Check him out.


Nextly, I went to Falmouth in 2008 for business, not for pleasure, but I did slip away to Martha's Vineyard for the first time ever on a quest to figure out what all the squawking was about. My friend Annie and I found an utterly fantastic restaurant/jazz bar in Falmouth called the Nimrod.

The food was divine and I found myself in a fugue state trying to get out the door because this man launched into Ella's "Black Coffee", then Tom Waites' "Time, then Ann Ronnell's "Willow Weep for Me". What?? Got to chatting with this wife, turned out he was a big jazz guy in Boston. Really neat. And there is an actual Cannonball hole in there from the War of 1812. This kind of stuff gets my knickers all in a super-twist. Here are some photos from THAT trip (and yes, there are SHEEP on Martha's Vineyard!):








So now we come to my latest trip: "The Mom and Daughter Bonder". Curse you, Hollywood. Curse you to hell. It's so funny how much I am after my Mom's own heart, but yet how much different we are in almost all respects. I know, it's kind of hard to understand unless you're a daughter. We had a great time, but the hotel situation, early August with all the local travelers was very dicey. The first night we had an almost picture-perfect room right on the beach, dude! We toasted our mini-vaca with some low-cal, lime beer. Heaven. But the owner didn't say (and I neglected to ask) what floor the room was on. Well, it was up about two and a half flights and I have a senior dog. Not a good combo. By the end of the night, I had a fierce crick in my neck from helping her up and down stairs. But we knew that they had promised us a room in the main house-lower floor the next night, right? NOPE. Because of the glitch, the lovely woman at the place dialed like crazy to find us a pet-friendly room. Not much luck, peak season. So that morning was spent driving around in 90 degree heat feverishly trying to find an ocean-front, bottom floor dwelling, preferably without pee smell or bed bugs or serial rapists in Dennis, MA. Wasn't happening. We started bickering the way Mother's and Daughters do. You know, like you're about an foot away from ripping off some shoulder pads with your Lee Press-on nails. Okay well, not THAT bad, but bad enough to feel like I was reverting to adolescence a little. We ended up at a wonderful Best Western in Yarmouth that catered to dogs. No joke. They had dog books, doggie beds, doggie cd's, dvds, elevated bowls and best of all, A/C. A real pooch heaven, except we weren't near the beach. Actually, this place was on a Golf Course. But hey, give and take. I went for a beautiful swim, took photos, wrote and my Mom went on her quest for Steamers and a beach. I was perfectly content being alone. My mom's not as much of a loner-type as me, but she managed, came back with a stomach ache from a hot dog (she couldn't find the steamer place).

So later on that night, feeling fully refreshed, I pretended I had to go to the store, game back with 22 oz. of the best fat, full bellies this side of the Atlantic I ended up eating most of 'em, thinking, damn, when I was a kid these things grossed the hell out of me. Like ick, look at 'em. They're like slimy, sea-sects, just a neck and a belly, all green and rubbery. Just goes to show, butter makes everything taste good. That Paula cook-lady is onto something.

So some things do change, some do stay the same, but if it's ALL the same, I'll stick to a Mom and Daughter Clam DINNER bonder next time....;)

Dolls

They creep me out and I don't know why. Well, I guess I have an inkling.

I think it's because I watched that movie "Dolls" in 1987.

I was still kinda little.

You know what that movie did to my doll collection?

Made it a living hell.

The only doll I have ever liked/loved was my Raggedy Ann from 1978.

She was a birthday present. She's still around today, but some of her fluff came out when she sprung a leak in the crotch while moving from college. Me, not her. Okay "Us". Jesus.

So my grandmother sewed her up.

I can't make this shit up.

She did.

And we will sometimes joke that it now looks like Raggedy Anne is..well, a real woman now.


Hey, what can I say? I wasn't allowed to hand-pick my DNA.

And you have to admit, that IS kinda funny.

But back to creepy dolls.

Apparently, there is a Doll Hospital in Texas.

Dolls and Texas paired together is super-creeepy.

Texas has the highest rate of execution in the country.
As of last year, more than 60 percent of all American executions took place in Texas.

But it seems the Houston area (enough said) holds claim to this now famous Doll Hospital where the Doll Doctor performs "complete Doll Repair".

And they don't want photos of your Doll's ailments. They want to examine your doll upclose and in person, by their DOCTOR. Doctor Mary Ann.

In order for us to be able to identify your doll's specific problems, it is important that Dr. Mary Ann be able to examine him or her thoroughly.

Either bring your doll in, or ship him or her to us via Postal Services or UPS.

Upon your doll's arrival we will do a complete examination and discuss with you, either in person or by phone, what type of care your doll will require.

An estimate of cost will be given at that time.

Please send your doll complete with clothing and accessories if available.

I guess some people's dolls are like family to them. Sort of like Norman Bates' taxidermied birds were to him.

There was also that infamous movie "Valley of the Dolls" with Sharon Tate which I still cannot watch. I don't even think there are any actual dolls in that film, but you get the point.

I guess it's just fair to say anything associated with Dolls is an automatic rule-out for me. Clowns too, ever since that one dropped out of the ceiling with a fake knife at the Haunted Mansion. The three of us just all fell on the floor...trying to comfort each other.

Thanks guy.

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