trippy

Hey what's going on? I've been traveling again, but other than my geographical location, I did pretty much what I always do--saw some bands, ate and drank and stayed up late and slept in and even got to hang out nonstop with my man. Not a bad couple of days. Now I'm preparing--trepidatiously--to hit the road again.
More on last week and next week soon.
In the meantime, check out my pal Kelly's blog and keep an ear out for her around town. Her album comes out early 2013. (Also check out her bracelet, handmade by my very own Hammy Smackbooty.)
And peep the legendary Allen Toussaint, who played and charmed in Port Chester last weekend in a red and gold suit.

settle

Settle, I tell myself, when I feel the freak-out coming on. This--anxiety, anger, frustration, rage--belongs somewhere else, not here, not to right now.
Settled, I was once anyway, and it felt good for awhile until it felt suffocating and dead. (I just typed dad instead of dead which seems tres freudian no?)
Settle, I've done that a bunch too. Not asking for what I truly want. Letting fear get the best of me. Relaxing into the rut and avoiding the open road.
*
Anyway, other people write and I am in awe:
My funny and super smartypants pal Molly at TheIncidentsAbroad.
Funny sad and also so smart Hyperbole and a Half (am I the last person on earth to know about this?).
xTx as always.

bubs

I dig this picture, taken at an ID bubble tea place a few weeks ago with Ms Smackbooty. Partly because I'm hanging out with one of my fave people in the world (obvi!) but also due to the angles, colors and reflections in the photo; it's nearly a collage.
Ms. S taught me a new high-five this weekend. Checked out the elliptical machine at a friend's condo building (I've always wanted to, says the ten-year-old.) Went up to the rooftop deck and gravely surveyed the city. When prodded: "talk to the booty 'cause the hand's off duty."

weekend haps

My friends have been so busy creating. (I have been too but the publishing gears grind slowly so I can't say much more just yet.)
cesario continues his art installation under the University bridge, fasting and meditating and selling pieces. The Stranger took notice. I don't have the benjamins to help him past the next financial hurdle but I've gone by a few times for hugs and conversation. You should stop by, while you can.
Last nite super chill MC Tulsi lit it up at the Nectar (when did we start calling it "the Nectar," btw?). It was a relaxed night of west coast hip hop featuring Graves33, Gnu Deal (I've wanted to check out those cats for a minute) and a screening of a cool mini-movie.
And there's more: DJ Limerence's new mix, not to mention the smashing Kelly Castle Scott's upcoming debut in early 2013. The beats don't get much fresher than they are right now in Seattle.

maryguerite

So my gramma turned 91 last week. She's busy with her rental houses and oil-company dealings and news of various feuds being perpetuated around town. When I was visiting a few weeks ago she took a look at the ink on my left inner arm ("Dusty"). What about the other arm, she said, with the twinkly smile that I know means mischief.
I played dumb. What do you mean?
Marguerite, she said. I think it'd fit.
It was the first time she'd acknowledged the tattoo that reminds me every day of my grampa. And to tell the truth I'd thought about my other arm a few times, about gramma, about Marguerite.
I've been thinking about my mom, too: Mary.
Mary
Marguerite
Mary
Marge
It seems like somehow the two should be together, mom and daughter, and close to me, that somehow this should be possible. So much in my life seems impossible, knottier than Mideast peace and harder to sort than the plotline of a Chesterton novel, it's nice to think that this may be solvable.

K-Pop

Watch Psy in action and smile. The Atlantic does the thinking for you.

restless

I'm getting restless, keep finding myself daydreaming about getting in a car and hitting the road for awhile.
A friend mentioned that she and her husband wanted to take six months and volunteer their way around the country and it made me happy and sad all at once, thinking I want that too.
There are big changes brewing and I keep weighing pros and cons. I feel scared, uncertain, anxious, curious.
Change keeps my mind fresh, I ride that adrenaline high and forgo eating and live on bourbon and bubble gum. Am I running away? Taking a blind leap?
Or maybe there is no big picture, certainly my story is small and unimportant, and what I decide has little to do with anything but geography and libido and the kind sideways glance of fate.