"in your face!" spoke the lesson of the moment, bellowing and bitching in my psyche.
"do you see it? do you get it now?"
"time to figure this shit out girl," it continued on like it was trying to be my friend, knowing all along it was hurting me something awful. but i can't be mad, no, just doing her job, teaching a lesson.
sometimes the truth just ain't nice, just ain't your friend and you wish you never met her, ever.
honestly, i'm angry with her, which may seem pointless, emotional and childish. but it feels like a valid little girl anger inside who was disappointed to discover mermaids don't exist to our knowledge and that all people pass away some day or that the universe is never ending.
1. was it all fantasy? could u be real?
2. damn, EVERYTHING is temporary, every ending is a little death
3. and shit, what do i know about anything? nothing, not a damn thing.
stuck in non-communication and limbo aftermath
voicemail and memory
mirrored journey and pattern exposed in a blazing debacle of the heart
i try to stay assured in this
that i can
1. believe in fairy tales and hope one day to see a magnificent creature
2. cherish everything in my life to the fullest, knowing everything will fall away someday but that it passed through me, that is the blessing
3. find the excitement in the infinite possibilities and surprises of life
Oh hello again. I'm back sooner than I thought. I just got to get this all out.
Watched "Evan Almighty" today. A silly comedy about a Congressman that gets visited by God aka Morgan Freeman.
The best God ever, although Alanis Morrissete fulfilled my teenage angst dreams of God.
God visits dude and says he's got a make an Ark to save the town from a flood. The wife thinks he's nuts and leaves. But God visits her at a diner and encourages her to see the bigger picture of her prayers. That if you ask for patience, God doesn't just hand it to you, he gives situations that offer the opportunity to learn patience. If you ask for courage, he gives you situations to learn courage. If you want to be closer to your family, he will provide a way for YOU to make that happen. Though I battle with the idea and philosophy of God as maybe a magic entity, the great mystery, a higher version of ourself, alien king, or a figment of our imagination. I resonated strongly with this. It hit me like a shock wave and really incited deep thought about recent experiences and what I've prayed for and what I've been given. I think it's a great way to look at the struggles we face. Finding the way through them and seeing what we can gain. How obstacles can be these amazing blessings in disguise.
I feel sometimes like everything I do in life is for a song and everything that happens to me, everything I feel needs to become a song so that it can live forever, so it can be released, so it can be a journey for someone else to find release too. Sometimes it feels like just writing a song about something that hurts will make it go away or something I want will make it alive, whatever I am asking of the song to do. The song is almost like a God itself.
The song below is one I started writing 3 years ago. I was sitting inside my little tiny room in Park Slope, huddled underneath my twin loft bed, guitar in hand and a heavy heart in my chest. I wanted to write a happy song, I wanted to write a love song. But I had nothing to go off of. I called on The Beatles "All you need is love" for a chord progression and meaningful inspiration. But nothing. "Damnit! I can never write a love song!" I said. And so this is what became of that moment, that realization that I wrote for the broken hearted, the confused, the lonely that my song is Never a Love Song. I took the idea with me out into the world and began documenting the moments I saw love around me and how I longed for that feeling. All my wonderment and longing poured into this song. I hope you can find something within it that resonates with you. But stay hopeful in more than that. I know our love song will be sung and we will be heard.
Hey you. Welcome back. I know it's been a while since I have written and there is so much to catch up on. But I thought I'd go backwards in time a little, expose some real truths and nasty confessions of my sometimes insane perspective that leads to insane actions. These experiences directly influence my music. I destroy and then create. I get fucked up then I fuck it up on the mic. I take these real life moments and turn it into art. This is a story, an actual journal entry rant that I turned into a song after being up for more than 24 hours. As it is with artistry, I started to rework some of the craziness so you could understand what I'm talking about. But the guts and glory of it stayed the same. Kissing liza was written like a thousand times in my notebook. Over and over again, the image, blasting my brain, burning it like a cigarette on my thigh.
I actually did that once. I was high on mushrooms sitting on the toilet, felt like I was in an elevator going down, down, down. I wanted to see how long I could take the pain, the burn of the ash going into my flesh. It lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Left me with a little button sized scar.
Summer 2007. I was having my quarter life crisis and partying a lot. House parties at Shelter. Coney island with dope DJs like Kamala Jefferson and great dancers like Sybarite crew and my boy Ant, and artists like Concept and dear friends like Jess and Hosanna. Wasn't a very productive summer on the career front. I guess I've always battled between the life of an artist, just living art, everyday in freedom and adventure, creating but not headed towards a goal, just BEING and then there's the life of the business of art which brings the art to a larger scale but can drain the expression. Finding a balance is what I'm looking for.
So one crazy summer night I link with, hmmm well, what should I call him, Prospect, I will call hin Prospect, hah, we used that term in college. I link with Prospect on his birthday. We had been spending time together. A borderline, are we friends just kicking it or is there some real chemistry popping off here?
So I meet him for his bday, we go to a spot, which will remain nameless cus it could get me into trouble. There we meet a bunch of his friends, some of them mutual. The liquor is flowing, I've already had at least 4 and I'm on my 5th. Hoping the drunker we get, the closer we get to each other, in more ways than 1.
Which is so retarded, actually reminds me of like a sleazy guy trying to push up on a girl, get her drunk and vulnerable and take advantage of her. I do sometimes feel like a man's sex drive and mating techniques are trapped inside my psyche. Like I'm the one on the pursuit, I'm the one who makes the move. Maybe cus most of the guys are pussy footing round the pussy. HA
This is definitely a naughty blog today.
SO all seems fair in love and whiskey. Until Liza walks in the door. And their chemistry and eye contact is obvious and annoying as hell. He then becomes the sleazy guy encouraging her to drink more and more champagne. She fights him, then succumbs to his sweet face but silly accent. And soon enough they are slow dancing on the dance floor and KISSING!!!
And me being the slightly, not matured emotionally in intimate relationships since I was 12, rushes off to the bathroom in a huff and puff. Thinking back now, I wish I could've shook myself in the mirror and made me look at how beautiful and sexy and amazing I am and that it was all good and that Prospect wasn't right for me ANYWAY. HA
But the higher voice wasn't there in that moment. Only the rageful jealous maniac who had too much to drink.
I rushed out of the bathroom with intentions of just leaving the bar and not looking back. But instead the whiskey and emotion dragged my hands to both their heads and knocked them so aggressively they might've come off if I had one more shot. And THEN I walked out and proceeded to act like nothing had happened. Eventually I made peace with them both and even remained good friends with the Prospect. Below is the song I wrote after that crazy night. Enjoy and if there is any lesson learned from this. I'd say its what they told you when you were a kid,
"Keep your hands to yourself."
Kissing Liza by the dj booth Kissing Liza in the middle of the room Kissing Liza under the full moon When you you shoulda been kissing me
Kissing Liza on a Friday night Kissing Liza all up in my light Kissing Liza got me ready to fight Cus you, you shoulda been kissing me Yeah you, you shoulda been kissing me
And I’m in the bathroom crying my eyes out Broke the garbage can and a glass or two Almost broke the mirror but not with my hand But with the look of a woman that no one understands no
Kissing Liza up against the wall Kissing Liza now I’m two foot small Kissing Liza and I’m going AWOL Cus you, you should’ve been kissing me Yea you, you should’ve been kissing me
Whispering in her ear and pouring champagne down her lips Makes me sick watching you caress her fake tits Its sweet now, but 6th sense predicts You’re gonna realize that Liza ain’t shit No I’m gonna realize that you ain’t shit No I'm gonna realize this was all one of my stupid tricks
Kissing Liza now the parties begun Kissing Liza well isn’t this fun Kissing Liza if I only had a gun Then you, you woulda been kissing me Yea, you you woulda been kissing me Hitting Liza in the back of the head Don’t do nobody good But I hit Liza in the back of the head Cus you you shoulda been kissing me
I am a sketch on a napkin. The ARTIST had to get the idea down in the middle of dinner, couldn't wait to get home to the canvas, the paints, the easel. I am a spontaneous doodle, next to tears, a coffee stain and a fallen noodle. I am a beginning, and I am beginning to begin again and again. With a clever, sarcastic tongue, a soulful blues rasp and a poetic dreaming mind. I am a whisper and a scream. I am heartbroken and heart-full. Singing for my supper.
