Anywhere But Here: Amoeba Music

I think I've got a case of the Mondays...

Today I would rather be in Hollywood's Amoeba Music hunting down new (to me) music for overall life motivation. Yeah, I know I just said the cold weather helps me get stuff done, but with only one full week into the new year, I'm already falling behind! And sadly, all that makes me want to do is retreat to a warm nest of blankets and DVDs. Seems to me I need some new tunes to wake me up and help me get caught up.

I'm old school and like to physically browse CDs, and this place has a humoungus selection! Look, they even have tapes! Oh Amoeba, take me away...

Anywhere But Here: The Fat Tuesday Edition

Three places I'd rather be this Fat Tuesday:

Carnaval, Rio de Janiero

Carnivale, Venice

Mardi Gras, New Orleans

Hometown Hosts Historic Half

Fredericksburg, VA is not technically my hometown. By casual definition, hometown indicates where you were born and raised. Well, I was born on a military base in Okinawa, Japan, and grew up in small towns scattered across the US. But when asked where I am from, I usually respond with the simple answer, "Fredericksburg, VA." I spent five years there in elementary and middle school, and then another three after I finished college. Plus, my parents live there.

Fredericksburg is known to most for it's Civil War history. But come this May, it will be known as the home of the Marine Corps Historic Half Marathon, sister race to the Marine Corps Marathon. I am super excited that Fredericksburg will now be on the running map!

Interested in running it? Registration opens on Nov. 1 and is expected to sell out quickly, so sign up quick! And let me know... maybe my parent's will put you up! ;)

Yeah, Fred-vegas (Kyle term), yeah!

Where the hell am I?

Sometimes I feel like I'm going to explode from the mundaneness of my life.

I realize I'm no Harold Crick, but when I come across guys like Matt Harding, I get a tightness in my chest on the verge of detonation that I recognize as a desperate, immediate desire to put my current life on an indefinite hold to crawl slowly in a winding, indirect path around this world.

To never experience the rest of the world is to me, a great tragedy that I am currently living. It astounds, and depresses me that there is an enormous planet full of varying vegetation, landscapes, people, languages, food, sounds, animals, music, clothing, rituals, lifestyles, that I have not been able to see, hear, touch, smell or taste.

What good are our senses if they are only exposed to the same experiences day after day? How can we expect to have true compassion for mankind if we've only ever had encounters with one culture? Do we truly understand what it means to care for our planet, if we've never seen vegetation outside of our own? How can I sit at this desk every morning, pretending to write music, expecting to contribute to a society I've never met?

This is not Matt's advocation. In regards to any message he might be stating through his happy feet he states: "Up to you. I'm just dancing."

Check him out, and see if you don't feel inspired to do the same:

For more on Matt's adventures, visit Where The Hell Is Matt?

Giant Steps

Actually, the trail is called the Giant Staircase, and for any hiker's out there, I highly recommend this nearby hike. Amanda and I met at the W. 178 bus depot, hopped a bus over the GW Bridge and up the into the Palisades, where we disembarked at the NJ/NY state line. The whole trip took maybe 4 hours, the hike was shady and challenging, offering beautiful views of the Hudson and a much needed break from the city.

Here are a view pics to tempt you...

Philly Marathon

It's official! I am now registered for the Philadelphia Marathon to be ran on November 18, 2007.

I'll only be there a few days, no long trip this time, but I would like to do 1 or 2 touristy (or non-touristy) things.

Suggestions?

It's the Bloody Moon

The Blood Moon showed it hunter face to parts of the world this past Tuesday. For those of us on the east coast, as well as Europe and Africa, we pretty much missed it. Those in Eastern Australia had the best view, as the eclipse occurred at 8 PM in clear skies.

Here are some amazing pictures of the moon from around the world, courtesy of new.com.au. For more info on this amazing phenomenon, go here or here.

Road Trippin'

My friends make fun of me.

I LOVE mix tapes, or as it is these days, mix CDs.

Yes, I am one of those people that feels a well crafted mix tape makes the perfect gift! From the early days of “Lawnmower Tapes I-IV” (made for the 2 years back in the Hubert, NC days when it was my chore to cut the grass of our 3 acre rental farmhouse with the very cool riding lawnmower), to the annual Christmas compilations (this year will make the 7th), to my favorite driving mixes, currently up to “Driving VII: To the MHR,” I love my mixes, especially the driving mixes. There is something magical to about creating the perfectly transitioning flow of music to match the mood of the intended drive.

I could easily go off on a tangent about the correct way to make a mix tape/CD, but everyone’s seen High Fidelity by now and should already know that the first 3 songs are like the thesis statement, allowing the listener to have a basic idea of what’s to come, you should never have the same artist twice in a row unless you are trying to prove a point of some sort, or it is part of a format to be followed for the entire mix, mixing genres is risky but can be extremely rewarding, and the transition from one song to the next is of utmost importance, otherwise you may as well be listening to the radio!

Sorry, tangent unsuccessfully avoided.

Driving mixes are my favorites because I love the escape a road trip offers, especially when accompanied by the perfect music. As road trips are seldom random, they almost always have instigation. Therein lies the beauty of the mix tape/CD (Okay lets be honest; no one makes mix tapes anymore. While having 2 sides can provide a poignant tool for the compiling, it’s just plain impractical to spend so much time recording in real time, or even slightly sped up dubbing. In fact, I really shouldn’t even be making mix CDs. If I were truly up with technology, I would be making Driving Playlists for my iPod and iPod car adapter. Nonetheless, I have no iPod so back to the dated CDs). The mix CD offers the accompaniment for the purpose of the drive.

Let’s take, for instance, the aforementioned “Driving VII: To the MHR.”

This mix was created for my short drive from Fayetteville, NC to Wilmington, NC, driven just a few weeks ago. I was leaving the marching band camp where it was my job to run saxophone sectionals for the annoying can’t get out of your head “West Side Story,” to attend the Manor House Reunion. The MHR is an annual meeting of spiritually connected sisters, no-pants parties, and otherwise general debauchery. I would go into further detail, but want to keep this at least PG in the case of possible younger readers. The gist is that every year Heidi, Amy, Redding, and I, former college roommates occupying the cutest little house on Manor Dr., meet yearly to emote, drink, and overall, be completely and utterly comfortable (a luxury not always available in this judgmental society of ours).

Giddy with anticipation for our trad margarita first night, I compiled a mix of laid back Motown, Pop, and Funk tunes, skillfully (I may add) weaving between artists of yesteryear and today, all designed to get me in the MHR mind frame. The first three songs are as followed:

“Put Your Records On” by Corrine Bailey Rae
“Lovely Day” by Billy Withers
“Tell Me What We’re Gonna Do Now” by Joss Stone

My drive from Fayetteville to Wilmington that Friday, watching the sun set, windows open through the country on route 87 (no interstates for me if I can help it!), iced coffee in hand, tunes blaring uninterrupted due to lack of cell signal (I meant it when I said country) gave me the first (in a really long time) real hour and half of deep, unrelenting, intense, desperately needed, peace. Or did I mean happiness? They were one and the same to me that evening.

That, to me, is the magic of road trips and driving mixes.

…

Of course there is the very significant added bonus of listening to the mix again. In fact, we girls listened to “Driving VII: To the MHR” a couple times over the course of our reunion as we traveled to the beach, celebrated Redding’s belated 30th, and primped ourselves for our annual night(s) out. And now, as I listen to it while typing, a bit of the country breeze and paling sky lightens within my soul.

There is magic in road trips.

My August road trip was not glamorous and only counted 2 new driving mixes, 2 states, and 4 towns (I also visited Jeanne and her backyard fawn down in J-ville) -pretty much only covered the I-95 corridor of NC and VA (with the slight spin off to the coast). But it certainly repaired my soul. (That and the week following in Fred-Vegas, mooching lovingly off my parents.) I aspire to an Elizabethtown worthy road trip one day, but this little bi-state trip satiated my need so that I was even able to Amtrak it back to NY happily.

My friend Heather knew of my trip and offered an excerpt to accompany the contemplative thought processes that are an inevitable side effect of long hours alone in a car. It’s from a book called “Through Painted Deserts” by Donald Miller, which now resides on my bookshelf, bumped up to next in line, after finishing Kerouac’s classic “On The Road” which I finally started after a brief digression to “The Nanny Diaries” (sometimes I just really love chick-lit).

I’ll conclude this epic ode to the mix tape (CD) and its integral coupling with the every so often desperately needed time honored traditional road trip with Heather’s very thoughtful and perfectly appropriate excerpt:

It's a living book, this life; it folds out in a million settings, cast with a billion beautiful characters, and it is almost over for you. It doesn't matter how old you are; it is coming to a close quickly, and soon the credits will roll and all your friends will fold out of your funeral and drive back to their homes in cold and still and silence. And they will make a fire and pour some wine and think about how you once were...and feel a kind of sickness at the idea that you never again will be.

So soon you will be in that part of the book where you are holding the bulk of the pages in your left hand, and only a thin wisp of the story in your right. You will know by the page count, not by the narrative, that the Author is wrapping things up. You begin to mourn its ending, and want to pace yourself toward its closure, knowing the last lines will speak of something beautiful, of the end of something long and earned, and you hope the thing closes out like last breaths, like whispers about how much and who the characters have come to love, and how authentic the sentiments feel when they have earned a hundred pages of qualification.

And so my prayer is that your story will have involved some leaving and some coming home, some summer and some winter, some roses blooming out like children in a play. My hope is your story will be about changing, about getting something beautiful born inside of you, about learning to love a woman or a man, about learning to love a child, about moving yourself around water, around mountains, around friends, about learning to love others more than we love ourselves, about learning oneness as a way of understanding God. We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it?

It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out.

I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

The Accordian Universe

This picture graced the cover of today's Washington Post. I admit to instant intrigue.

Apparantley, Alexandria, VA, is the host of this year's 60th Annual Coupe Mondiale, the "world cup of accordian competitions for younger players:"

Imagine a universe exactly like ours in every way but for a lone
exception: There is only one type of music. Accordion music.
This week, such parallel universes have collided.

...

"The soundtrack of life is full of accordions," says Faithe
Deffner, the U.S. delegate to, and vice president of, the Confederation of International Accordionists, which stages the Coupe Mondiale every year. "People don't see accordions very much, but they're always in commercials, television, movies."

More than 1,000 accordionists have descended upon Alexandria to join with their musical kin at the week-long festival. There's an international competition in which 70 musicians under age
32 compete in six categories (winners will perform at 6 tonight at the Kennedy Center) and a domestic competition of 300 players.

...

In popular culture, the accordion is often maligned. Frank
Busso, 64, of New York, has played the instrument since age 7. He earned a master's degree in business but found playing and teaching the accordion lucrative enough that he never used the degree.

"The good appearances of the accordion are in the background," Busso laments. Nobody notices the accordion player in "Scent of a Woman" as Al Pacino, intoxicated by Gabrielle Anwar's perfume, sweeps her off her feet to tango. Nobody notices when the super-spies of "True Lies," Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie Lee Curtis, are dancing to accordion music. They do remember Urkel.

"Steve Urkel," Busso says with a groan. "He didn't do much
for the accordion." Busso's referring to the uber-nerd from the '90s TV show "Family Matters," with his oversize glasses, suspenders hiking his pants well over his bellybutton, and his incompetent accordion playing. Sadly, the accordion got lumped in with the rest of it.

...

And so it is at the Coupe Mondiale. The accordion as uniter of
families, as breadwinner, as instrument of seduction, as the varsity letter's superior.

The article goes on to highlight several competitors, one who claims: "Without the accordion, I'd just be another drummer or something."

Read the full article here.

Philadelphia Marathon

I'm thinking of entering the Philadelphia Marathon this November.

(who needs the NY Marathon anyway! Not me! grumble, grumble)

Anybody out there run it before? What about Philadelphia? I've never been.

Thoughts on the city?

Thoughts on anything...?

...

Please... distract me from the writing!!

Who wants to come?

I'll bring the vino, you bring the pain & fromage

Dreaming of Americana

I mentioned dreams earlier... I was shocked when I read that diary entry from 1999. I had forgotten how I dreamt of being a good classical saxophonist (!!!) and my heart jumped when I read that I wanted to be not a decent, nor good, but great as I had underlined, dancer. That’s the lost dream I most lament. Funny how there was no mention of writing. Of course in ’99 I had not yet taken that fateful jazz arranging class with Steve Haines that put me on my current path.

Recently, I have developed a new dream. This one inspired by the reading of Asne Seierstad’s A Hundred And One Days. I now dream of refining my writing skill and becoming a musical journalist, reporting from places around the world. Typically this day dream involves places outside the US of A. After all, I have my shiny new passport and I want to bulk up the stampage!

However, I have been once again inspired by another artist.

I know almost nothing about photographer Stephen Shore. Only the little bit mentioned in the NY Times article promoting his latest exhibit and some follow-up wikipedia research. The slide show accompanying the NYT article featured shots of 1970’s Americana.

Those eight pictures remind me of the hidden intrigue America’s interstates can offer. I know they are there, I’ve experienced them myself.

Growing up military, I have lived in three of the four corners of our country. I have driven across the US at least 4 times. I loved these monstrous car trips. The hotels, the rest stops, the diners, the occasional tourist attraction. I yearn to experience them again. They call to me to be found, and reported on.

Asne writes the books, Stephen took the pictures, I want to write the music.

“Biographical Landscape: The Photography of Stephen Shore, 1969-1979” runs through September 9 at the International Center of Photography, 1133 Avenue of the Americas, at 43rd Street; (212) 857-0000 or icp.org.

Feminism in Venice

Who knew Venice was so chauvinistic? The New York Times reported this morning on Alexandra Hai, Venice’s newest gondolier. Except she’s not. Women aren’t allowed to be gondoliers, but one hotel, the Locanda Art Deco has hired the German Hai to navigate the canals for the hotel privately.

Apparently women aren’t allowed to wait on customers the Piazza San Marco either.

Read more here.

And I still want to go there.

If London is a beautiful china cup of tea…

…then New York is a disposable paper cup of coffee, with a wad of napkins instead of a coffee sleeve.

London completely charmed me. I’ve posted pictures ACN-style to prove it. It’s streets were clean (despite never being able to find a trashcan for my gum), the buildings beautiful and old, the MTA workers nice and helpful! The Tube had cushioned seats and was devoid of beggars. I was as captivated by the lineage of Kings and Queens as I was mesmerized by the variations of British and French accents.

One of my first observations in the NYC vs. London game was that London was not as diverse as NYC. But then I opened my ears and heard many different, some unidentifiable languages and realized that London was diverse, just with other Europeans who couldn’t help their light skin.

As Julie, Jason and I sat over our first cream tea in a little café outside of Covent Garden, we all agreed that we loved London, but debated whether or not we personally could live there. Those who know me know that I loathe when people say “I love New York, but I could never live there” as if they are this independent self-thinker who goes against the popular grain of aspiring to live in NY. Don’t they know everyone says that?! Well, Julie and I both agreed that we would love to live in London while Jason declined based on the financial logical that is clearly absent from both mine and Julie’s decision making skills. Julie asked if I would rather live in London than NY and without hesitation I responded “no!”

Why? What is it about NY that has its barbed claws in us, keeping us from leaving?

When we arrived to JFK after our glorious week abroad, the Homeland Security person in customs was tightlipped, coarse and rude. No cute smiles there, unlike the customs guy in Heathrow. Welcome to America, I thought, the cynicism already creeping back in. As I rode the airbus out to connect to the E train, the scenery of a dirty, low-income, barren Queens contrasted with my recent tube ride into London which showcased the quintessential quaint, English landscape. Welcome to NY, my mind bittered away. What must people think of America as they experience this for the first time? Later, I as disembarked the 1 train and had to carry my heavy luggage down the non-working escalator then up 6 flights to my apartment, I was exhausted, starving, and turning dark. But damn, it felt good to be back in New York. I immediately called Nad to get some V&T Pizza. It had been too long!

New York is like coffee. It’s bitter, dark, and each experience can vary between shitty and weak to strong and bold. Why do we love NY? Why do we love coffee? I mean, lets be honest; coffee (especially NY coffee) is not the best tasting thing in the world. If it were about pleasing the taste buds, I’d drink a chocolate milkshake over a cup of black coffee in a second! But coffee is not about the taste buds, and neither is NY. NY does not set out to charm, to be beautiful, to have clean streets. NY is about bitter reality. It encompasses all ends of the economic, cultural, artistic, ethnic, culinary, crime, education, etc, etc. spectrums. It can be very, very dark. But then, running through Riverside Park on Saturday, the gardens and trees in full bloom, the Hudson reflecting the blue skies, families playing and couples sunning in the grass, old folks chatting on the benches, it, like London, can be just as charming and beautiful. This past weekend I heard 4 sets of very different but all wonderful music, within 3 nights. I had croissants and knitting with 2 good friends at the HPS. And I’m enjoying an incredibly satisfying cup of coffee as I write this.

New York is like coffee: it’s addictive, satisfying and can be to you many things at any given time. London is like a delicious cup of tea: light, invigorating, charming, and consoling.

I loved London, and could totally pull a Madonna and move there in the future, career permitting. I’d love to delve into it’s many layers knowing that so far I have only scratched the shiny touristy top coat. But like Carrie, I think my heart will always have its place in NY.

My new plan: to find a tall Englishman (possibly of half Indian descent?) to marry so that I can live half in NY, and half in London. …I’ll keep you posted.

St. George's Day

Today is St. George's Day... a day likened to St. Patrick's Day, but not a bank holiday here in England. It is also known to me as my 5th day in London!

As I'm currently paying £1 a half hour to use this internet (that's 2 American Dollars!), I'm attempting to make this quick...

A few highlights include: The huge English Breakfast included free every morning, complete with croissants (not as good as the Hungarian Pastry Shop!), hash browns, eggs, tomatoes, baked beans (!), fruit, yogurt, cheese, and more; The Rothko Room at the Tate Modern; sitting in Trafalgar Square; Friday morning's easy 2 mile run through St. James Park; Reading My Heart is My Own, by John Guy, the new book on the life of Mary Queen of Scots I picked up at the Westminster Abbey Bookstore; the 30 minute sports massage I received this morning; and the beautiful flowers I found in my room Friday night from Jenn & Jess (thanks guys- that was the best most wonderful surprise!!!!!!).

Other events include: the marathon expo, exploring Westminster Abbey, window shopping in Covent Garden & Portobello Road, touring the National Gallery & the Tate Modern, riding the London Eye and the Number 15 bus through Oxford & Piccadilly Circuses, marvelling in the architecture of Big Ben & the Houses of Parliament, and yes... the marathon. My marathon was a success in that I finished, and I finished without injury. However, the race itself was not all the training was cracked up to be. Hot temperatures (record highs for the race) and a super crowded field made this race difficult. My watch time was 5:33:13. Official results can be found here.

I have one more day left in which we plan to hit a few more tourist spots (Julie has us on a tight schedule!). I'm sure I will be posting a few more thoughts as I return to America on Thursday and have time to digest this wonderful experience. So far though, I can easily say that I find London to be a charming, hospitable town that I could easily live in and enjoy!

London Calling

In a week, I get to use my new passport. I haven't used a passport since I was 5 weeks old, leaving Okinawa, Japan for the States.

On Wednesday, April 18, I'll meet up with Julie and Jason in JFK, and fly over to London, England!!!!!! We'll be there for a week, with the highlight being the Flora London Marathon on Sunday, April 22. I am also looking forward to high tea in Harrods and visiting Hyde Park. But I don't know much about London and have no idea what else to do.

Any ideas???

Daydreaming

You can find me here.