My body has poured like it never had before

Blood from sharp tips stretched too thin.

My eyes worn from the scrape of tears

I saw no more

I had no more

Lying on the ground

Bits of bone and muscle glinting in the sun

Others only pass by

A pool of life left to be lapped by the greedy

I want to coat you with the lust in me

But I don’t know who is you

Press my back with your fingertips

Bore holes to hold on tight

Don’t let me go

I won’t let go

I’m a different person than the one you used to know.

He let me go

They’ve all let me go

From the smallest push to the longest fall

They’ve all let me go

I hide well behind this callused chest

I hide well behind this sarcasm

I hide well behind this heavy tongue

You are not allowed here

But I’d like to let you in.

I need to let you in when I find you

I need to let you in

I friend of mine moved away the other day.  I will miss him.  He moved away for the love of his life.  I wish him the best and am grateful I knew him.  He always made me feel like I was someone who was worth being around.

I will keep holding myself together like I do everyday, but for now I need to shatter and purge.  I wish I could inhale sounds and visions and keep them in that spot in my gut that reverberates when I’m inspired.  I wish I could exhale it all into something incredible, bask in it for a moment, and then give it all away.

When it boils down to it, it is a simple yet selfish goal today: I want to be someone worthwhile.

By now so many of us have heard about the too many suicides that have been going on amongst gay teens over the last few weeks and beyond.  It is so heartbreaking.

I am not a gay woman, so I’ve never experienced bias and/or hatred because of my sexuality.  I’ve never had to fear losing friends of family over my sexuality.  I’ve never been hated by strangers because of my sexuality, so I can’t say I relate in that sense.  However, I grew up with my own version of social hell, ridicule, and ostracization.  I guess I did learn what a lesbian was when the neighbor bully called me a “lez.”  I was in the front yard with my shirt off and I had very short hair because my mother liked the way it brought out my eyes.  I hated it because it made me a target.

So, there’s that word used as a slur.  I used to worry that that bully would cause me physical harm.  I was so scared of him.  I dreaded going to school because I didn’t know what sort of taunts or rejections I had to face that day.  I was sad and angry and on guard and alone.  I didn’t even realize it at the time, but my parents didn’t even know what was going on with me.  No one did outside of the kids at school and my friends.  My friends were scared of being associated with me to the point that they rejected me as well.  (As a side note, one of these women is still one of my dearest friends.  Love you, Michelle.)

I think I never considered suicide only because I didn’t know it was something that could be acted upon.  But even if I knew of it or how to do it, I’m glad I am here.  I am not going to say that I am completely free of some haunting memories of feeling completely alienated, but it IS dealing with these experiences for years that has given me the strength I have today.  So, thank you to the bullies and fairweather friends of yesteryear.  If it wasn’t for you I probably wouldn’t know how to write a song or take a photo or set up a tour or love music the way I do or write or have met wonderful people all over the world or have toured the world at all or …any number of things.

Love who you want.  Love what you do.  Take in the pain of one day to know that a phoenix rises the next…  It does get better regardless of how fucked up one day, one week, one year might be.  When you make it though this…you will be better than ever.

http://www.punknews.org/article/37930

I remember the Buffalo show. I remember that girl. I’m not sure how I’d react now almost 5 years later. I know my inner (angry) Bostonian is still with me and I’m not sure if she’d come out or not.

The girl was flipping us off and yelling insults from the back of the room. I told her that I was sorry that we didn’t fit into any of her chapters from her Hot Topic book on punk. I asked her to come forward and she wanted to fight me. When I spit, it actually landed on the young man next to her. I apologized to him after the show and he told me that he was never going to wash again. (Ew.) I was glad he was understanding.

I’m not sure how I feel about my reaction that night at this point. I am generally not someone who gets into physical fights. I’ve done some boxing and played some hockey in the past. Regardless, that reaction. I don’t know.

I got a note on Facebook from someone a few weeks ago asking me to get rid of their friend request as I’d not accepted it. I’ve met him a couple of times. I don’t know him well and the second time we interacted he almost started a fight with a slightly ornery drug dealer. I don’t find that appealing. Some things are not worth starting.

Anyhow, I’ve about 200 unaccepted friend requests on Facebook. I waffle between weeding through and letting everyone in. Am I so special to say no to someone on a fricken’ social networking site? Am I so neutral as to say yes?

It’s made me think of my protective walls once again. These are the walls that get me in trouble and create stilted and awkward conversation. Maybe I should just show that awkward to everyone and get over myself. Who doesn’t have an awkward moment now and then.

Silly humans.

I know some wonderful people who work their assess off and aren’t given the chances they deserve. It’s like they’ve had their signal on for miles, but aren’t given the space to merge over. People drive close to each other to not let anyone else into the lane. They don’t really get any further, but they are still to scared or stubborn to let others in.

It’s the same as the shouting into the wind that I was writing about about a year ago. I stood at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean and knew that if I were to scream at it, the wind would blow the sound of my voice away. My foot in the water was such a small part of such a large body of water, but it felt good to feel the cool on my skin and the sand under my foot.

I need to remember that being a small part of a giant thing is a simple and beautiful thing, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed. I’ve been wandering into that zone a bit these days, so I guess it’s time to step back and let go a little bit. This does not mean I will be lazy. This will mean I will accept the small amount of control that I have and be grateful if my efforts produce results.

I think of more faces today. I think of those that I barely know and find endearing. I think of those I know very well and are struggling. I find beauty in the naive. I find beauty in pain and those who refuse to give up the fight. I hope you find the champions and mentors that you deserve.

I hope that someday, I will have something valid to say to someone.

I’ve had a screwed up back for the last several days.  I will move certain ways and my back will spasm and a grunt will come out of me.  I can’t do yoga, which is the thing that most grounds me.  I feel weak and shaky.  I can’t understand the people who don’t move from a seated position for days on end.  I feel as if my blood has slowed and pooled in my limbs.  Sometimes it’s there mere flow of blood that grounds me and sometimes I want so much more.

I see so much yearning.  I can picture face after face and tag the yearning in that person.  I can picture my own face on some nights and just wish for the relevance of arms around me in an unconditional love.  There are days when that comes from my own arms.  Perhaps someday my own arms will be all the relevance I need.  But for now, I am reassessing my walls.  My, they are tall again.

In some ways I am more open and observant than ever and in others I am less likely to open the door than ever before.  There are things I am afraid to say, so I won’t.  I am scared of what you will think of me.  I am scared I will be rejected again, so I will just keep my mouth shut.

So much more to say and someday I may say it.

So, back to business here.  So many great things have bubbled onto the radar..or bubbled back onto the radar.

I’ve been a fan of Jesse Evans since I first layed onto her band the Vanishing in San Francisco in 2003.  I bought up their albums and also bought her previous band, The Subtonix, on wax.

The Vanishing moved to Berlin several years back and are no longer a band.  As much as i really loved the Subtonix and the Vanishing, something much more amazing has risen out of the ashes.  Jesse’s solo album, Is This Fire?  I’ve been listening to the tracks that have gone up on mySpace for a while and the album finally came out earlier this year.  Admittedly, I only picked it up a couple months ago at Amoeba records as i was passing through SF.  The thick juicy vinyl really turned on my record geek…

The influences are very afrobeat and latin and branch so much further than goth, punk, electronic that she had mastered so well.

“In primitive societies traditions have always been passed down through music and dancing. Music will always represent tradition but where are the real rituals in modern times? Sometimes though we feel the connection –no way to initiate being part of anything. I felt like I was reaching for somewhere warmer, but caught between worlds. Like a mermaid stranded on some beach, the sand is hot like coals of fire, I wanted to laugh and fall back into the sea but I felt trapped in the human form, unable to return to my origin. The title of the record “Is it fire? “ really just means “desire” ‘cos what is desire, but that which is red hot like the sun and always in the distance, pulling on you, tempting you to go further, go out of control. I wanted to make a joke of it ” Is it fire?? Ha ha, well, wait till u get burned.

http://www.myspace.com/jessieevansmusic

I’m not here to talk about the Decemberists, the Shins, the Thermals, etc.  They get their press.  Today I am here to tell you about the Oblik.

The Oblik are still a baby band  (Well, that’s what they say.),  but have a solid idea musically of where they are at and where they could head.  I’m fond of the use of a third guitar where so many bands these days are likely to use a keyboard.

Influences?  I hear the Sound, Artery, or even very early Modern English.  But, what do I know.  I’m no critic.  …Just listen.  It’s worth it.

http://www.myspace.com/theoblik