At the edge of all universes.

Watching Liz Phair music videos today reminded me of the time when I was a rock star ... from about sixth to ninth grade. Heh. Yeah, well, in sixth grade I learned about 5 chords on the guitar, and with those 5 chords I wrote about 32482409 songs. I haven't thought about them in a while, mostly because I had dismissed all of them as puke-inducingly cheezy. Well, I went looking for them today, and to my surprise, they're not THAT cheezy. I mean, they are. Cheesy? Cheezy. Cheesy or cheezy? Eh, they're both. That's what happens when you're 12 and try to write about the relationships that you have never had. Well, among all the cheese, I found a few pretty nice lyrics. No one song has completely perfect lyrics ... they're just little, kind-of-sweet jewels that you can pick out, maybe one or two per song. And I like them.

Some of them are just sentences, like one from an eighth grade song that goes: "He wilted the rose and took the lead," and another, from the same song: "I saw the butterfly inside her tear." They're not incredibly insightful or genius or anything; they're just unique ... Moments where I transcended cliche and wrote something that had never been written before, something that was just me. Whether bad or good, that's all I can really expect of myself at the end of the day - then and now.

I like the opening lines from another song: "Look into my eyes / And tell me that you've never been surprised." Again, it's not brilliant or anything. I just like it. I don't know if anyone else would, especially not having heard the melody. Incidentally, my melodies were painfully restricted, and I knew it at the time. There's really only so many places you can go with 5 chords, particularly when you only know 3 well enough to play over and over again ... but the same 2 or 3 melodies I managed to make up weren't so bad. Especially when paired with not extraordinary, but nice enough lyrics like: "So give my regards to the handsome knight / who made a gift of his Incuban ring / And thank all the people who cheered for me / even though I couldn't sing."

Other lyrics ... well, this one just makes me laugh - keep in mind I was obsessed with the Beatles at the time: "You told me I'm the eggman / But you're an eggman too / Because it seems to me I was the only one / Who saw the walrus in you."

Some songs didn't really have good lyrics or a good melody, but I felt so passionate about them that they almost worked. I actually recorded a few of them onto an amateur kids' video-making device ... and although I can't find the recording of the song I'm thinking about, I can remember how I sang it, and how incredible it was to hear my voice belting out the words. I thought that if I could only ever work up the courage to perform in public, it would be the greatest feeling in the world. But I never really got there. Now, I'm not sure whether or not I regret that. It could have been great, but it also could have been disastrous and scarred me for life. Back in middle school it's pretty easy to get scarred for life ... it's hard to be ballsy. Also, I'm not even sure now whether the audience's reaction to me would have been positive or negative. It depends, I guess, whether I ruined the performance by being nervous. If I could control my nerves and sing the way I used to in my basement, the audience might appreciated such an earnest attempt from such a young performer. They might have liked me.

Back then I might have performed "Lightning Bugs," written in 2004, which was long and rambling. It has a few nice lines. The one I liked most to belt was "The Devil's not a liar." A nice couplet (is that the right word for it, or is that only used in poetry?): " ... Though I know you're a tumbleweed / You have no roots, and the wind sets you free."

Or maybe I would have performed "Dismembered" ... if only to sing one of my favorite verses, which went: "While Greenland was being found / I planted ice chips in the ground / But it wouldn't rain / and the Devil's to blame / Like Castor and Pollux, we are one and the same / Just waiting till we're purged of all our sins / We see the Pearly Gates, but we can't get in." I really liked putting Christian and Greek mythology, Beatles references, and Latin (!) into my songs. Mostly Christian stuff, anyway. Where did I get all that baggage? I was raised Quaker!

Sometimes I wish I could go back and time and meet the kid who was writing these songs ... pictured at the top, age 12 ... and see what the hell her deal was. Seriously.

Right now, though, I just wish I could find the recording I made of "The Forbidden Fruit," which I wrote in 2004. Today, it's probably my favorite of all the songs I wrote, and the one closest to being an actual, decent song. The chorus went, "I would like to have wings too / And fly away just like the others do." My choruses (if I had any) tended to be two lines, like another one that went: "I'm just bones and flesh and blood / I'd tell you if I could," and then repeats, "I'd tell you ... if I could."

Hell, why don't I just post the whole thing here for you. If you don't like it, remember that I was only fourteen when I wrote it. Also, you haven't heard it with the melody. Also ... fourteen.

***

I would like to have wings too
And fly away just like you do
And I'm sorry
This just isn't my territory
That's a whole other story
For another day, though I'd like to stay

Someday I will have wings too
And fly away just like the others do

I'll mar the sun with my silhouette
I'll play knucklebones with the stars
And when the good red fires smite me
Down, down, down
I'll thank them for the strings of my guitar

Someday I will fall in love
Steal a ride on the wings of a mourning dove
I could die today, or live forever
I bet heaven's not all it's cracked up to be
Perhaps I'll hitch a ride with Odysseus
And let the waters of the Styx consume me

Just like Icarus
His soul's dilute
Sing in me, Muse
The forbidden fruit

Above me are the branches
Below me is the sea
The water's cool, the branches laced with peaches
But both of them pull away from me

But I would like to have wings too
And fly away just like the others do

The sky is dusted full with dying embers
The moon slips back behind the hills
And when Atropus cuts my only life line
Look for me beside the windowsill.

I just discovered Liz Phair.

I think you should discover Liz Phair, too.






These songs are pretty old, but I was pretty young at the time they came out, so I have an excuse for not discovering them until now. What's yours?

Old stuff.

On the same day we went to the waterfall, we stopped at a mining/tractor/general old stuff museum. Mostly for my seven-year-old cousin, who was enchanted by the tractors. I was thrilled to be able to visit an old boarding school that had been moved there from another part of the state. Students there learned agricultural technology in the single school room and lived with their teachers in the attached home. All of the furnishings in the boarding school were originals, which is pretty incredible. There were tons of books there, pictures of the students, and a lovely kitchen. Another incredible aspect of the building: it was about 65 degrees in there (while it was 85 outside) but didn't have air conditioning. Some old buildings were just designed better, I guess. Our house gets about 90 degrees inside when it's 85!








Afterward, we stopped in the town nearby and visited some stores. My dad and I went to a used book store, where I bought a book on American photography. We ate lunch at a little cafe ... and I had this for dessert:


Delicious.

Mah New Shoes.

I got me those new shoes I was telling you guys about. I didn't end up getting them from Etsy, though. I went to Target, where they ended up costing $11. Pretty nice, right? I'm not even sure if they're my size ... I found them in the clearance section, where all the shoes are either sizes 5 or 9, but I managed to get a pair that seemed to fit. Well, they're maybe a leeeetle too big, but they work. And I don't even really have to know how to walk in them, since I'll only ever use them to walk from the car to the office, and maybe from the office to the bathroom. These are not campus shoes, folks. I remain loyal to moccasins. However, I have to admit ... these things do freaking wonderful things to my legs.





Both shirts: Banana Republic; skirt: Gap; shoes: Target.

Just playing, now.

I've run out of real outfits to show you. Here's something I threw together thinking I could be an indie rock star - if only in my dreams! It's just my old striped shirt that I cut the neck out of, along with a dress from a while ago that I pulled down to make a skirt. Oh, and my fringey boots. I don't know if I'd ever wear this anywhere, but it sure was comfortable.



Shirt: Banana Republic; dress: some local store; boots: Minnetonka Moccasin.

Waterfall.

These are actually pictures from the previous time I visited this waterfall (that is, not from yesterday's trip). I took so many that time I decided not to take any pictures the second time visiting. Both times, the water was really, really cool and the weather was really beautiful. It started to rain yesterday, but not until after we had left. The first time we went (by which I mean the first time this year, since we've been there many times before) we brought Mr. Dog and had some fun throwing him in the water and having him fetch the ball. He's so short that he has to start swimming in water that is little less than a foot deep.









We took a hike that traced the waterfall back to the stream where it began. Being there in the untouched woods made me think about what this area must have been like when there were only animals and Native Americans living here. What a mess we've made of it. In the end, we'll be the ones who will suffer the most when all the trees and waterfalls are gone. Wildlife will die out quickly enough, and we'll be the ones left sustaining ourselves by artificial means, doomed to haunt a barren earth until our last stores of energy run out. The planet will not be ruined. If we leave behind a wrecked ecosystem, the planet will still be there and what remains of life will endure and adapt, just like it has always has. When it comes to environmentalism, we have only ourselves to look out for. In the end it is not about pretty landscapes and fluffy animals; it's about steering ourselves off the course to our own self-destruction.

And on that note ... this would be a nice place to put in an endorsement for Barack Obama, yes? Kind of cheesy, but who cares. I'm not above letting his campaign buy adspace on my forehead, yet. Hell, I'll do it for free. Or maybe I'll go the easy route and change my middle name to Hussein. People have been doing it; the New York Times says so. Hussein will actually be easier for people to spell than my current middle name. Or my last name, for that matter. Hell, people have trouble with my first name. Maybe I should just change my first, middle, and last names to Vote For Obama, respectively.

But seriously, folks. Forgive the analogy, as it has been a long time (like, a month!!) since I have been required to use my brain in any meaningful way. Also, forgive me if I sound like a radical. The heat brings out the Raskolnikov in me. Except I'm hatcheting the Man, natch.

We have let ourselves be brainwashed by the cult of corporate power. Now we're all - CEOs included! - drinking their Kool-Aid! How much longer until we realize that pollution is just a form of slow mass suicide? Hmm? Ten years? A hundred years? Margo? Boxcar? Saturn?

Rocker chicks.

Today I woke up with the yearning to become a rocker chick. It happens every once in a while. The only part of my future set in stone is my firm desire to be a badass, no matter what I do. And, yes, you can be a badass no matter what job you have. You might have to work harder to achieve badass status as an accountant than you would as a rocker, but I assure you that it is possible. I have seen it done. Case in point: Martha Ballard: nineteenth century midwife, original badass.

Strangely enough, I don't really listen to a lot of rock music. I can never really tell people exactly what I like, because my iTunes playlist is so mixed. Right now I play "Freeway" by Aimee Mann about five times per day. Recently I've been obsessed with Vampire Weekend, Cake, Radiohead, the "Once" soundtrack, and, completely inexplicably, Scarlett Johansson's "Falling Down." At the end of the day, or week, or whatever, I always find myself returning to Peter Case, Richard Thompson, Freedy Johnston, Penelope Houston, R.E.M., and the Beatles.

Speaking of which ... Penelope Houston. She is a rocker chick, and one of my favorites. I like her the best circa 1977.


I probably like Penelope's music the best of all the female rock singers I admire. She has the kind of songs that you want to scream the words along with her, and her lyrics can be beautifully poetic - like in "White Out": "Let me help you off with your golden chains / we'll throw them in the river, sink down to the bottom / and the fish swimming over will think it's a piece of the glittering sky ... "

Beth Ditto is another favorite. I don't like her music as much as Penelope Houston's, but she is just too incredible a person to ignore. I like her songs, I like her voice, and I love her tendency to take all of her clothes off during her concerts and perform half-naked. Maybe I identify with her because I once had a similar distaste for being dressed. Granted, I was four then, but I can remember it pretty well.


Last favorite: Juliette Lewis. I haven't really listened to much of her band's (Juliette and the Licks) music, but the one song I have listened to ("Hot Kiss") I love. I think my affinity for her has more to do with her image and personality. She's just a nutcase. Along with Penelope Houston and Beth Ditto, she attempts looks (like Penelope's spiky short haircut and Beth's semi-nakedness) that I would never see myself trying. Equally amazing is the fact that all three pull it off flawlessly. They are rock goddesses. Even though Juliette is a Scientologist. Bleh.


Here's the music video for "Hot Kiss"; I think you'll like it, and also think Juliette is insane, which is kind of the point.

Feets fashions.

I'm in the market for a good pair of shoes. They don't have to be new. Hell, they don't even have to be younger than I am. But since my last pair of "good" shoes - ballet flats with an Asian-inspired design - are falling apart on me, I need something to wear when it's not appropriate to just fall back on my Minnetonkas. My mom insists that I CAN wear the Minnetonkas to work, but it makes me feel unprofessional. Shouldn't I at least have a nice pair of ballet flats, or better, a nice pump? Here are some of the nicer finds I found in Etsy ... not all of them are actually my size, but you can get the idea of what I'm looking for.


Vintage '80s kid leather ballet flats, bellmichou.


Vintage '80s Joyce black pumps, Black Raven Vintage.


1960s peasant shoes/pilgrim pumps, jessjamesjake.

Of course, while I was looking for nice, sophisticated vintage shoes, I stumbled across a few less professional but incredibly cute party shoes. I could see myself wearing these at school, with a neutral outfit to balance it out - since I don't really party much. Then I could see myself wearing them to something like the spring "formal" we had this year where everyone dressed like hippies and took their shoes off to dance. Yeah, that would be fun. If you don't see what's fun about wearing vintage shoes just to take them off to dance, you don't really understand what it's like to go to college. Or maybe you do, and I'm just crazy.


Vintage lavender bow pumps, jessjamesjake.


Hot pink '80s pumps, Lova Revolutionary.


Vintage '50s gold leather pumps, Black Raven Vintage.

Shorts shorts shorts.

I am off to frolick in a waterfall before it starts to rain. Then I am going to take pictures of a creepy abandoned psychiatric hospital, and, hopefully, eat food. I am wearing my new shorts, and taking my lint roller, which will be necessary because the dog will be all over me in the car. I am also wearing a new V-neck t-shirt I bought yesterday, which I convinced my mom to buy me for work, but is really useful for any day wear. I loves it. I have another prezzie coming in the mail ... shhh, don't tell my bank account. It already knows, but it doesn't need to be reminded that its demise is coming closer ... and closer. It doesn't really believe me when I tell it I got a job, so I've given up on trying to convince it.



I will be back, with pictures. Now I have to go read a few more paragraphs in "Dreams from My Father" and put on sunscreen before I go.

Working girl.

I got the job! I have to get tested for 298402 diseases, though, before I can work, and I can't have tuberculosis. I can imagine the Craigslist ad for my job ... "Scanner needed. Skills required: no tuberculosis." Preferably no black plague or scurvy either. Until I heard it from the employment director, I had no idea that people got tuberculosis anymore. I mean, I knew it existed, but I thought it was all about HPV and AIDS nowadays. Diseases whose names are expressed in acronym form are so hot right now. MRSA tops the list of hot diseases, as it is four letters instead of three. Fun fact: MRSA is sometimes pronounced "mur-sa." Here I was thinking I was so smart knowing what it stood for, and I had no idea that people were saying it like it was the name of some undersea villain in "The Mermaid," or whatever.

I hope I don't get busted by my employer or anything for blogging about all this. So far the bitchiest thing I've said about the job and my employers is that they won't let me have tuberculosis (those JERKS!). Also, I think I can safely mention that the health forms they're having me fill out are just about the funniest things ever. Like the one that begins: "Have you EVER experienced ANY of the FOLLOWING?" and proceeds to list the most excessive slew of diseases and conditions you could ever think of. Have you EVER ... had a headache or sore throat? Have you ever been to a doctor ... for anything? Have you ever breathed, existed, or been a human being?

Whatever. I am happy to be employed and at a non-sucky job, too. Accordingly, and for the last half hour or so, J. Crew has given me the temporary power to imagine being a grown-up with a job and everything. Mentally Photoshop my head onto these models and you can imagine what I will look like when I am a successful professor/psychologist/writer/non-profit environmental organization director. And yes, J. Crew also gives me the power to imagine that when I grow up I will be 5'10" and have the figure of a model, but that's just what J. Crew does, you know?




First picture: wool gabardine three-button mini-hacking jacket, $225; city-fit wol gabardine classic trouser, $130. Second picture: super 120s sleeveless dress, $180. Third picture: mini-seersucker shift dress, $135.

For the interview.

This is what I'm wearing to my interview in ... thirty three minutes. I'm not really used to being this fancy. I'd really rather wear my ratty gray skirt - but I don't know whether it would make the right impression. I don't know whether I'll be able to keep it up, though. I don't have enough nice clothes. I don't even have nice shoes to wear with this outfit.




The shirt is from the Gap, the skirt is from Banana Republic, and of course, the shoes are Minnetonka Moccasin. Wish me luck.

I like.

Top row, from left to right: giant lavender bath bar, Birk Barch Soap; birds on a wire vase, 5pm Studio; gossamer organic cotton t-shirt, Alison Tauber. Bottom row: blue bird, Middleburg; teeple R t-shirt, Made by Scarlet.

Hoodie.

Today I was thrilled to find a special present in my mailbox: a brand new navy hoodie from Basho. The print on it is called "Birds, wire, post," and it is gorge. I bought it with some birthday money - so technically, it is a present, from me to me (sometimes that is the best kind of present). It came with a neat little postcard on which was written a short and sweet thank-you message from Paul Baker, the genius behind Basho. Here's me modeling it this morning ... these pictures kind of suck because I could only go so long with the hoodie on in my overheated house. Also, if you're wondering why I never look at the camera, it's because I get vicious red-eye whenever I do that.

As for why my left leg looks so incredibly fatter than my right leg in the first picture, however - that's not something I can explain.




Anyway ... thanks Basho! I will definitely be buying again - especially now that I have a JOB! Yes, I have a job. Almost. I have to go in for an interview, but I'm pretty sure I'm the only person applying for the job, which may or may not require the use of higher brain functions (it's a scanning job in a nice air-conditioned office. I'm happy). Unlike any of the jobs I've had in the past, this one pays money. If I ever manage to get enough of this money, I may just buy one of these from Basho, and one of these, and, what the hell, why not this as well.

P.S. Thanks a bunch to those who offered their condolences for my grandfather these past few days ... I really appreciate it. If I were that kind of blogger, I might write more about him here ... but I'm really not that kind of blogger. It's not a part of me I can put on a site that any of my friends, acquaintances, and a whole lot of strangers can read. I have read and enjoyed the work of bloggers who write on a more personal level, but it's just not what I do.

RIP: My grandfather.

October 7, 1922 - June 23, 2008.

RIP Tasha Tudor.

I was fucking devastated on June 18. I learned, via Jezebel, that Tasha Tudor had died. DEVASTATED. Tasha Tudor was a fucking god, you guys. In case you didn't know, she was - in short - a woman who decided that she wanted to live in the 1830s, on a farm, with corgis. And so she did. She also illustrated almost 100 books and raised four children as a single mother.


She was born on August 28, 1915. Her original name was Starling Burgess, after her father, William Starling Burgess. I can't decide whether that is the most amazing name ever, or kind of a stripper name, or both. Her name was changed to Natasha - by the original Starling, who liked "War and Peace" - when she was still young, and she ultimately adopted her mother's maiden name, Tudor, as her and her children's own.

For decades, Tasha lived in the 1830s-style house in Vermont that her son built for her (interestingly enough, William Starling Burgess was a well-known architect), which she furnished with period antiques. According to the website maintained by her family, her favorite activities included "candle dipping, weaving, soap making, doll making, knitting ... cooking, canning, cheese-making, [and] ice cream making." You KNOW that I now have to try all of those, right?

Whether or not you can identify with her desire to live in a simpler time with farm animals and corgi puppies, the way that Tasha lived makes her a perfect idol for all of us. She created a life that fulfilled all of her dreams and brought joy to countless people. In a time when the world was not built to accomodate single, independent women, Tasha achieved all of this on her own and without the aid of modern technology! Whether you prefer to live in modern times or the 1830s, with corgis or with cats - basically, whatever you wan to with your life - we should all aspire to be Tasha Tudor when we grow up. Because - she was a badass.

My room.

As much as I love my room, I can't find myself longing for some new space to decorate. I don't really feel like redecorating this room - it's pretty much the way I want it, and I don't see the point in changing a room that I won't be living in most of the time for the next three years and then maybe not at all after that. But I've got all this stuff ... and not enough space for it. And I'd like to give the stuff the space it needs. Stuff like my new hen-and-eggs soap. Actually, that does have its own space. But many other things do not.



Plus, I want a kitchen and a living room to decorate. And a bathroom. Basically, I want my own place, but I don't see that happening within the next few years, seeing as I don't have enough money to get my own place and even if I did, I would not have the money to decorate it properly.

Oh well. As long as I can hold on to the dream of having a nice, old house with colonial furnishings and ghosts in the future, I suppose I can deal with all this for now.

New blue dress.

I got it in a local store a few weeks ago. I admit, it is a leeeetle on the short side for me ... but it's okay. So far I've worn it twice and I kept pulling it down both times - so maybe I'll wait till cooler weather and wear it with leggings underneath. It is still a v. nice color and v. comfortable.




Shoes are from Minnetonka Moccasin, of course. And the BRIGHT BLUE! bottle in the background is courtesy of Sigg. Not really "courtesy of," since I paid for it. But it's a Sigg bottle, natch.