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Saturday, July 31, 2004 What a wonderful night.  Granted, it started off rather uncertainly--I had to drive the 45 minutes to my parents' house in order to get my keyboard and was on my way back to Ann Arbor when my car decided to overheat; I had to wait for it to cool down before I could add "water" to the appropriate area, so I was late for the show at Espresso Royale. But the concert was great fun.
For the last week--ever since the Exchange (see photos)--it seems like the only people I've spent time with are dancers, and the trend continued tonight as half the members of my audience were lindy hoppers, none of whom had heard me play before. Next time I'm going to have to play something for them to dance to, so I guess I'll have to learn an appropriate song or write one (that in addition to the fiddle tune I promised my newly-formed band, which I'm not sure yet how to write). And on a random note, Carolyn discovered that Herman can stand perfectly well on his head.  It felt like it'd been a while since I played by myself; I've gotten used to Anna's violin adding to the sound, and, over the last couple of weeks, Dan on string bass. But I did have Alex sing a handful of songs with me, which mixed things up a bit. I think I've gotten spoiled--I hadn't played my keyboard in at least two months, preferring to drive to the Music School and use the grand pianos in the classrooms there instead, and I definitely missed the resonance of a real piano tonight.
After the concert, Part II of the night commenced with a mostly-blues dance at the rehearsal space of the Ann Arbor Civic Theatre. We'd been itching to dance since the Exchange--Wednesday nights at the Union, where we don't get to choose the songs, are always a letdown after dancing for an entire weekend to fantastic music--and when the last of us left at 2:30am, we were happy. Ian Stines: "Dancing takes over your life." ^ Top | 1:45 AM | | | 
Friday, July 23, 2004 The Ann Arbor Lindy Exchange It's time for some lindy hop sweetness in town, right in the middle of Art Fair: welcome to the EatME in Ann Arbor (a.k.a. Everyone's at the Michigan Exchange in Ann Arbor), with around 200 swing dancers gathering from all over the country to dance and dance and dance some more. (I'm not kidding about the dance part: Friday and Saturday events commence at 8:00pm and end at 5:30am.) If you don't know what an exchange is, read this, or click here if you want to get in on the action, watch some incredible dancing, or listen to fantastic live music provided by regional artists (I'd especially recommend listening to Ramona Collins on Saturday; we booked her because a few of us went to hear her sing at the Toledo Art Musuem and were blown away). As one of the organizers of this insanity, my bio and "title" appear in the info packet we're giving everyone who registered; I thought you might get a kick out of it, and I'll throw in a couple more for good measure: Dawn  Undercover Secret Service Agent
Known under a multiplicity of names, Dawn (Xiana Moon? Low?) is a (ahem) singer-songwriter posing as a lindy hopper for the weekend in order to track down a Jamie Sleazy Owner of the EatME Diner If you need anything this weekend—absolutely anything—go find Jamie… and he’ll point you to Janna (see below). As owner of the EatMe Diner, Jamie has been bribing health inspectors for years (enjoy the free grub this weekend!). Jamie’s biggest achievement thus far in life is overcoming his stunning lack of rhythm and landing a woman far hotter than he deserves. If you need to find him, look down, about butt level, for some fluorescent green pants... well, maybe orange or bright red. Janna Hostess with the Mostess True organizer and boss-over-all-of-the-exchange (read: delusions of grandeur). Yes indeed, Janna is that enormous ball of stress you passed at the registration table on Friday. When Janna is not organizing exchanges, she’s organizing weddings, or at least one in particular: hers. (Sure, two big events three weeks apart, no big deal, right?) When she’s not running around like a maniac trying to fulfill your every exchange wish, you’ll find Janna busy debating the pros and cons of brightly colo(u)red Modrobes, trying to blot out useless lyrics (Duke’s Place?), and keeping Jamie in line, her true full-time job. ^ Top | 7:26 AM | | |
Tuesday, July 20, 2004 Time for a dose of creative writing. From the story I've been working on: An Excerpt An hour later, after containing all the irrational urges to fling shoes at his door, smash her computer, down a bottle of Tylenol (could one commit suicide with Tylenol?), and punch the wall until her fists bled, she realized that the small pile of over-processed cupcakes and brownies that Marie had bought her a month ago were still in her room. She’d stepped on them accidentally a number of times--the Cosmic Brownies were in a variety of distorted shapes, the Fudge Rounds looked more like pancakes, and she thought Little Debbie snacks were disgusting anyway, though they'd been a nice gesture; in lieu of baseballs or rocks, they would be a non-destructive indulgence for her volatile emotions. But she felt some trepidation. What if he heard her throwing them against her door? Would he think she’d gone crazy? Would he even hear, since his fan was whirling at its highest speed? Eventually she pushed aside her inhibitions and grabbed the sealed packages. They were the perfect size, nestling comfortably in her palm. Thwack. It felt freeing. Thwack. He was a jerk. Thwack. What kind of a friend would leave another crying? With all her strength. Thwack. Her phone was ringing. Cole. “I’m bored. Do you have a few minutes to talk?” “I guess,” she said, voice wavering. Sudden concern. “Alexa, are you ok?” “Kind of.” “What? Talk.” Her lips were trembling again. “Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Silence. “Come on, you’ve helped me through so much, the least I can do is listen to you. Talk.” She tried to explain, fumbling over the words. Inarticulate, but at least he understood the gist of what she was saying. “I’m sorry Alexa, I wish—too bad I’m not around. But I guess I’m not the best person to talk to either since we’re not that close right now. Do you want me to call Kate and have her talk to you? She’s still up—I was on the phone with her just five minutes ago. I can call her right now.” “It’s ok,” she said, drawing circles on the wood floor with her finger. A lone tear. "I’ll be ok.” “I know you’re extroverted. Maybe it’ll help.” “What I really want right now is a piano. But there isn’t one here.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her forehead in her left arm. “Well, at least I’ll be praying for you. And you know you can call me whenever, right? Seriously, even at 3:00am if you need to.” “Thanks Cole.” She meant it. “Thanks.” ^ Top | 5:45 AM | | |
Saturday, July 17, 2004 The Ideal Day Prompted by posts on Relevant Magazine's forums, my ideal day: I'd wake up at my leisure with my future husband (it's funny how many of us included this tidbit) in a comfy room in Paris during late fall, where we have been and will be awhile, and have a breakfast of omelettes, brioches au chocolats (from a place across from Jardin de Luxembourg--I don't remember its name), and fruit in our room.  After a professional massage, we'd head out to the Louvre and spend a few hours wandering around; later we'd snack on crepes from the man a bunch of us dubbed the Crepe Nazi (see photo) last year and spend the afternoon in a cafe reading and/or writing.
In the evening we'd have dinner at a nice restaurant, play a joint concert (he'd be a singer and guitarist and we'd have our acoustic band with us) with Over the Rhine at an intimate venue, then have dessert with them and any friends who came out to see the show at the cafe in Montparnasse that serves chocolate charlottes for dessert (best. dessert. ever.). Afterward, we'd go back to our place, make a fire, and blues dance for a while. We'd cuddle in front of the fireplace with some hot chocolate and talk until we got tired, then fall asleep in each others' arms. Man, I miss Paris.... ^ Top | 8:33 AM | | |
Monday, July 12, 2004 Oh, the Places You'll Go! I'm finally moved into my new house, where I'll be living for the next year or so, and am ecstatic to have an internet connection again! It's amazing how behind on emails I can get after not checking my accounts for just two days. Funny moment of the day: the realization that my music is addictive, at least to a few people. About two weeks ago, I gave Alex Hollingsworth a preview copy of the EP (yes, it should finally be out next week) and according to Audioscrobbler, he's already listened to it 76 times. Hilarious. I gave another preview copy of that CD to Erik Beehler--he and his brother Tim are going to be recording my full-length--and apparently he played it for Don Keith, who runs J2 Entertainment. Don's heard me live as well, and between the performances and recording he was excited enough about my music to ask me to sign with him. Later this week we're going to discuss more details, but it looks like I'm going to have management! He was incredibly enthusastic about what I do: "I feel like a five-year-old kid in a candy store!" I'll keep you all updated--it'll be nice to have someone else doing most of my booking so I have more time to concentrate on the artistic end. Speaking of booking, keep a close watch on Gigs in the next couple of days. I have some last-minute shows coming up this weekend that I'm just waiting to have confirmed. ^ Top | 6:39 PM | | |
Thursday, July 01, 2004 Snapshots of Melancholy One of the first scenes that greeted me this morning was a roommate in tears, mascara smudging as she wiped away the drops, voice cracking as she described how everything in her life seemed to be crashing all at once. We talked for a while, and she was laughing intermittently by the end--not that all is well, but at least having an ear is comforting. I don't want to wake up anymore--every time I get up in the morning something bad happens. The heat nears opressive levels and after a day in the sun--a signficant portion of it helping Tracy with her flat and teaching her how to change a tire--I feel exhausted without reason. I've barely had a moment to myself today, but I still feel lonely. Peculiar. Especially since I don't want company right now. Finding a piano seems like too much effort, but writing may prove productive. Perhaps I'll lose myself in a good book until I get out of being, as Emily put it, "in a funk." Last summer seems a world away. Most of the major players are gone, as are the conversations on melancholy as we watched the rain pour in heavy splashes, shielded by the overhang on what passed for a back porch in a decrepit student ghetto, the long drives through quiet farmland or unfortunately populated waterfronts that at night provoked musings on the nature of beauty, the excitement of Paris and touching architecture I'd only glimsped in textbooks for years, the laughter and mock fights in the room next to mine that turned into tickle torture for the one who would most squirm. It seems a dream. ^ Top | 7:03 PM | | |
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