I have no words...
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Going home
Going home. Novels could be written on the topic.
My mother keeps no food in the house, the furniture is all askew in anticipation of the concert, the carpets haven’t been vacuumed, papers are stacked all over my brother’s desk, the dog bed on my mom’s bedroom floor is as large as her bed, dog fur and dust are everywhere, my brother’s whiskers litter the bathroom sink, there is an aching emptiness in the spacious Frank Lloyd Wright architecture of the living room and den.
I believe this is heaven to noone else but me.
My brother and Kylan (the dog he’s sitting) pick me up at the Paso Robles transportation center on Tuesday evening. And, we fall fluidly into a conversation and cruise by the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for a dish I have been craving: whole wheat pasta, broccoli, sun dried tomatoes and chicken. Yum.
One thing I’ve grown quite weary of is the limitations of my diet… As I told my mother, it is foul to look at a vending machine, and think “lunch.” I’m so hungry all the time! I’ve dropped about 7 pounds since I left 4 weeks ago. Amazing to think… considering the crap I’ve been putting in my body. It’s a new fad diet: greyhound bus terminal eating! Sure to induce starvation...
At home I rarely cook, and you have to twist my arm to clean, do dishes, sweep. But, here, there’s so clearly a need for it and it requires so little effort to make a difference, that I fall into like it’s old hat. And, I don’t resent it. Wipe, wipe. Rinse, rinse. Cook, cook. Analyze, analyze. Sing, sing. A busy little bee, happy to be home. To be needed. I fill an empty space here that doesn’t exist anywhere else in the world.
My thoughts turn frequently, now, to the concept of home, and to the specifics of my future. However, I find myself mostly unwilling or unable to plan - a strange state, indeed, for me the queen of over-planning. Everyone has embraced me with open arms, and there are so many possibilities for creating a new home. Places I could just stop moving, and be cared for. But, I don’t seem to want that from anyone. I would prefer to get on my greyhound, thank you very much. This trip feels like home. Watching this beautiful, empty country unfold before me. So much space. Who knew there was so much space out here?
My mom and I have always had this deal, that no matter where she was or what was going on, that if I needed it, she’d come get me.
When I made the decision to leave Berklee, and Andrea, and Boston… I thought I’d hit one of those walls. The “come get me” walls. Lost, lonely, determined, and undeniably a bit manic, I wanted to be rescued. I remember talking to my mom at work the day I burst into tears during my performance review… because I was just that unhappy despite what a good job I was doing. I called her, and told her that I was finally considering her offer to come and collapse in the mother-in-law house in her back yard. I don’t know that I’ve ever noticed her stop breathing. I guess she never expected me to actually take her up on it… Not since I was 20, anyway. And, we were both at a stand still. I didn’t yet know what was in store for me. I just knew it couldn’t go on like it was.
So, I dove down and found the willingness to do whatever it took to not give up on myself. And set off to see what I could find, and to land, finally, on my mother’s doorstep.
It’s hard to be 31 years old, and admit that I still need my mom… but, hey, what can I say? She and I have been through a lot together. And, despite our differences in experience since I left home… there is no denying, I am my mother’s daughter. In all the glory and all the shame that implies. These are my roots.
Despite the stress-induced, disheveled state of affairs when I arrived, my mother is in fact an amazing host. We all sprung into action on Wednesday afternoon, and turned the cavernous living room into a proper concert venue with chairs clustered around tiny tables with fall-themed place settings. Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning – inside and out. Then decorating, shopping, laying out the snacks and wine. It was beautiful. And, even perfect that Sophie, my mom’s dog – ate the first tray of cheese, and we had to get another one! You see, it just can’t be any other way…
I was so excited about the show after not having been able to sing for more than a week. I was pacing around the house like a mad woman, and, called Andrea to babble to while my nerves got the best of me… Andy, who was preparing to leave for an adventure of her own in Denver this weekend was happy to oblige my babble.
And, finally they came. The guests. The audience. Moving toward the kitchen, we made small talk until it was time for Paul and I to set up the camera, and then get started.
I sung my heart out for over an hour, and could have kept going had I not made a set list, and stuck to it. I made good money, sold CDs to about 1/3 of the audience. Some of whom had already bought them before, and were buying a 2nd copy for their friends/family. This, this, this, I thought… this is what I came out here to do. And, if feels SO good to do it right.
Once we closed up the night and shuffled everyone out… my mom, brother and I sat around chatting about it all, with a bottle of wine, cheese, crackers, and salami. I listened to them, waiting for the parts that rang true: how I’ve changed, what I could do better, what it means to be a professional, what a good job I’d done that night, how people had responded to me, and where I’m headed from here.
My brother told me that he remembered shows in Boston when he felt compelled to jump on stage and yell, “That’s my sister! What have you done to her?” I nearly died when he said that… it’s good to be protected. It’s good to be heard.
And my mother, proud as she could be – and so happy for me that I’ve found what I needed to find about my music, about myself, about my place in the world. Willing to support me in whatever way she can figure out to do so.
Home.
Driving through this alien planet of a landscape, today, I’m headed for Las Vegas where I will sing a show tomorrow night at my godmother’s house, before meeting up again with my brother and mother for a family vacation at the Grand Canyon… ☺
I have the undeniable feeling, amidst the exhaustion of travel, and the mal-nourishment of greyhound bus terminal food, aware of the annoyingly frizzy pile of hair on my head, and with the serious discussions of my next moves and the future still ringing in my ears… that everything is exactly, exactly, exactly how it is supposed to be. Beyond all doubt and speculation, I am going to be just fine.
Leaving home by choice, and venturing out to meet these travels of mine…
I am just fine.
My mother keeps no food in the house, the furniture is all askew in anticipation of the concert, the carpets haven’t been vacuumed, papers are stacked all over my brother’s desk, the dog bed on my mom’s bedroom floor is as large as her bed, dog fur and dust are everywhere, my brother’s whiskers litter the bathroom sink, there is an aching emptiness in the spacious Frank Lloyd Wright architecture of the living room and den.
I believe this is heaven to noone else but me.
My brother and Kylan (the dog he’s sitting) pick me up at the Paso Robles transportation center on Tuesday evening. And, we fall fluidly into a conversation and cruise by the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for a dish I have been craving: whole wheat pasta, broccoli, sun dried tomatoes and chicken. Yum.
One thing I’ve grown quite weary of is the limitations of my diet… As I told my mother, it is foul to look at a vending machine, and think “lunch.” I’m so hungry all the time! I’ve dropped about 7 pounds since I left 4 weeks ago. Amazing to think… considering the crap I’ve been putting in my body. It’s a new fad diet: greyhound bus terminal eating! Sure to induce starvation...
At home I rarely cook, and you have to twist my arm to clean, do dishes, sweep. But, here, there’s so clearly a need for it and it requires so little effort to make a difference, that I fall into like it’s old hat. And, I don’t resent it. Wipe, wipe. Rinse, rinse. Cook, cook. Analyze, analyze. Sing, sing. A busy little bee, happy to be home. To be needed. I fill an empty space here that doesn’t exist anywhere else in the world.
My thoughts turn frequently, now, to the concept of home, and to the specifics of my future. However, I find myself mostly unwilling or unable to plan - a strange state, indeed, for me the queen of over-planning. Everyone has embraced me with open arms, and there are so many possibilities for creating a new home. Places I could just stop moving, and be cared for. But, I don’t seem to want that from anyone. I would prefer to get on my greyhound, thank you very much. This trip feels like home. Watching this beautiful, empty country unfold before me. So much space. Who knew there was so much space out here?
My mom and I have always had this deal, that no matter where she was or what was going on, that if I needed it, she’d come get me.
When I made the decision to leave Berklee, and Andrea, and Boston… I thought I’d hit one of those walls. The “come get me” walls. Lost, lonely, determined, and undeniably a bit manic, I wanted to be rescued. I remember talking to my mom at work the day I burst into tears during my performance review… because I was just that unhappy despite what a good job I was doing. I called her, and told her that I was finally considering her offer to come and collapse in the mother-in-law house in her back yard. I don’t know that I’ve ever noticed her stop breathing. I guess she never expected me to actually take her up on it… Not since I was 20, anyway. And, we were both at a stand still. I didn’t yet know what was in store for me. I just knew it couldn’t go on like it was.
So, I dove down and found the willingness to do whatever it took to not give up on myself. And set off to see what I could find, and to land, finally, on my mother’s doorstep.
It’s hard to be 31 years old, and admit that I still need my mom… but, hey, what can I say? She and I have been through a lot together. And, despite our differences in experience since I left home… there is no denying, I am my mother’s daughter. In all the glory and all the shame that implies. These are my roots.
Despite the stress-induced, disheveled state of affairs when I arrived, my mother is in fact an amazing host. We all sprung into action on Wednesday afternoon, and turned the cavernous living room into a proper concert venue with chairs clustered around tiny tables with fall-themed place settings. Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning – inside and out. Then decorating, shopping, laying out the snacks and wine. It was beautiful. And, even perfect that Sophie, my mom’s dog – ate the first tray of cheese, and we had to get another one! You see, it just can’t be any other way…
I was so excited about the show after not having been able to sing for more than a week. I was pacing around the house like a mad woman, and, called Andrea to babble to while my nerves got the best of me… Andy, who was preparing to leave for an adventure of her own in Denver this weekend was happy to oblige my babble.
And, finally they came. The guests. The audience. Moving toward the kitchen, we made small talk until it was time for Paul and I to set up the camera, and then get started.
I sung my heart out for over an hour, and could have kept going had I not made a set list, and stuck to it. I made good money, sold CDs to about 1/3 of the audience. Some of whom had already bought them before, and were buying a 2nd copy for their friends/family. This, this, this, I thought… this is what I came out here to do. And, if feels SO good to do it right.
Once we closed up the night and shuffled everyone out… my mom, brother and I sat around chatting about it all, with a bottle of wine, cheese, crackers, and salami. I listened to them, waiting for the parts that rang true: how I’ve changed, what I could do better, what it means to be a professional, what a good job I’d done that night, how people had responded to me, and where I’m headed from here.
My brother told me that he remembered shows in Boston when he felt compelled to jump on stage and yell, “That’s my sister! What have you done to her?” I nearly died when he said that… it’s good to be protected. It’s good to be heard.
And my mother, proud as she could be – and so happy for me that I’ve found what I needed to find about my music, about myself, about my place in the world. Willing to support me in whatever way she can figure out to do so.
Home.
Driving through this alien planet of a landscape, today, I’m headed for Las Vegas where I will sing a show tomorrow night at my godmother’s house, before meeting up again with my brother and mother for a family vacation at the Grand Canyon… ☺
I have the undeniable feeling, amidst the exhaustion of travel, and the mal-nourishment of greyhound bus terminal food, aware of the annoyingly frizzy pile of hair on my head, and with the serious discussions of my next moves and the future still ringing in my ears… that everything is exactly, exactly, exactly how it is supposed to be. Beyond all doubt and speculation, I am going to be just fine.
Leaving home by choice, and venturing out to meet these travels of mine…
I am just fine.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Leaving Oregon
I’ve been sleeping most of the day. I wake up now and then to glimpse the incredibly beautiful scenery of southern Oregon and northern California. There won’t be much more daylight, now. And, I’m grateful for my familiarity with the keyboard, so I can look out the window as I type these words.
I’m having a love affair with my life right now. I share so much with you all. And, I love that you are out there reading and soaking this in with me. It is always makes experiences more real to me when I can share them with someone. And, yet, there are so many little things I see that I can not capture, that I can not explain, that I can not hold onto even long enough to relate back. So many little things that are just for me. Like little secrets of the sweetest variety.
Joni is singing to me as I pull into Redding, CA. “I remember the time that you told me love is touching souls. Surely you touched mine cause part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time. “
They tell me we have a half hour here, and I don’t feel like moving.
There is a huge part of my heart that beats for Portland, Oregon. I moved out there via greyhound right out of college with the intention to salsa dance with my sister… it seemed as good a plan as any. I worked and lived there for just about 2½ years until Andrea and I decided to flee the rain and relocate in the desert. That was a complicated time. And, being back in Portland on my own – I felt all the weight of what I’d left there. And, all the beauty. So many things I did for the first time. So much history…
Sigh.
Janis is jamming now… and it’s like an ode to this fair city, “I need you to come on, come on, come on and take it! Take another little piece of my heart now baby. Break it! Break another little piece of my heart. Come on now, have it! Have another little piece of my heart… you know you got it!!! Waaaahh!!!”
Despite the heartbreak of this place, my roots are still strong here.
Walking up to Jennifer’s house, I remembered my last visit to Portland, when we’d eaten dinner with our mutual friend, Amy, across the street. So, walking down the block, I looked in the window of Amy’s house, saw blond hair, and decided to knock there first. Turns out the blond hair did not belong to Jennifer at all.
But, Amy and Veejay invited me in to eat, anyway, and we called Jennifer and Zoe over, too. They quickly added three extra places to the table. And, we all sat down to homemade falafal. That’s just how things work in Portland. Or, at least, that’s how things work at Amy’s house. And, Amy’s house is only an option to visit in Portland.
The show ended up being a hang out fest with several of my favorite people ever. I did manage to squeak out 3 songs… with the little bit of voice I had. (I’m happy to report I’m finally getting better, and can almost speak normally again for the first time, today). But, mostly, we sat and talked and laughed. And, Jennifer’s brilliant daughter, Zoe, recited the Jabberwocky for us. ☺ And, later, when her dad arrived to pick her up, he shared several songs with us, too.
For the first time, I found myself disinterested in leaving. The gypsy that I am had come to roost like a hen on a familiar nest. I felt like the children’s story “Are you my mother?” But, instead, “Are you my city?”
Is this my home?
I guess I can’t really answer that, yet. There are travels and concerts ahead of me, still. And, now that I have my voice back, I’m eager to get to them. But, there is a definite grief in leaving that hasn’t been there before. But, I should know better than to hold onto things. That’s when they turn sour… just soak it up, and let it run its course…
This trip fed my mind and heart.
My host, Gina, is like family to me, and this is one of the first visits I’ve had with someone who knows me really well, who I feel completely at home around, and who can talk as much (actually, probably more) than I can. When the two of us get going, we can analyze and reminisce until the cows come home. And, wow did we… and then some.
Friendship, love, marriage, patterns, happiness, speaking your mind, no matter the consequence. What it would mean to live life doing only what you truly want to do, even when it upsets other people. Relationships that have ended sourly, new beginnings that spin sweetly, things that could have been, and things that never should have, dog people vs. cat people, dinner recipes, the importance of bath time, your ideal day and how to make it happen, being a gypsy vs. the commitment to a routine and long term goals, the joy of dancing, and of course music, music, music, music…
It has begun to occur to me that I was sorely mistaken in the first blog I wrote. The whole bit about having options, about choosing music. And, even when I wrote it, there was a chill that went down my spine and I thought, I’m not sure I really mean this…
I talked to my mom in the bus station in Chicago, and said to her, that I think I just didn’t understand that statement when I heard it originally. I don’t think it was intended to mean that real musicians are otherwise stupid people who can’t get work anywhere else. My mom said that would make it a “default,” something you fall back on because you’re not good at anything else.
Not having an option is different. It’s like you wake up and all you want to do is speak your truth, and the way it pours out of you is through music.
Not having an option means knowing that you could give up everything familiar, everything stable - in a moment’s notice, and live in substandard conditions – to be able to do the one thing that makes you feel like you have a purpose.
Not having an option means that you would do whatever it takes. It’s dizzying at first, but as I’ve opened to this new idea of not having an option… I see that I feel much more balanced now. Much more whole. Much more clear and alive. More sure. More at home with who I’m becoming…
So much is unraveling in me… I look forward to the stay with my dear friend, Kristin who has always believed in me and my music. And, then to arriving at my mom’s house where I can rally with her intellect and come up with a bit of a budget and plan for how to sustain this… feed this… let this grow.
Sitting here in Redding, CA, waiting for the bus to move again, I am drained (from having stayed up all night to salsa dance with Gina and my sister, and then going to the 24-hour hotcake house, and running on about 2 hours of sleep) and content.
Judy reminds me that this is not how the rest of my life will be. It’s easy to be happy here… running about from experience to experience. Being held by people that love me so much. I said to Andrea, it’s like “it takes a village to raise a Jessica.” And, I’ve sought out each piece of my village on this trip one by one, and been nourished by them each in their own way. The pieces of my heart that they touched at one time coming to the surface and getting some light again. I feel like I’m putting me back together again. I do have to recognize that it can’t always be like this. I can no more hold onto this trip than I can hold onto any day, any person, any thought, any emotion, and action.
To truly live, I have to let this float over me and run its course, and let it go.
Oh god. Breathe me by Sia just piped in… Be my friend. Hold me. Wrap me up, unfold me. I am small and needy. Warm me up. And, breathe me.
Gotta listen.
Love to you all.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Bozeman & Seattle
So, the bus ride from Minneapolis to Bozeman was supposed to be 20 hours, and turned into 22.5. Which to the average reader may not really seem like that big of a deal. But, it’s amazing how much of a difference those 2.5 hours of sleep can make in the middle of the night. We arrived in Billings, MT completely on schedule at 12:30AM. I was exhausted, and sitting up on a bench in the station, bent in half and fell asleep with my head on my own lap. We were only supposed to be there for a 1-hour layover, but just as I was drifting off, I heard some people talking about a delay in the route due to a late bus that was headed west and meeting up with us.
I thought they must be talking about someone else, so I just let it float through my awareness, and fell asleep anyway. I woke up just over an hour later, and had the momentary panicked thought that I’d missed my bus. But, no such luck. That 2-hour delay was meant for me, and the woman stretched out asleep on the floor under my bench seemed to be on to something…
Yes, my second middle of the night 3-hour layover in a greyhound station (recall the first just a week or so ago in Atlanta with the blaring CNN). Just when I thought I had this greyhound thing down pat! I guess there’s always more to learn.
I came to with a splitting headache, presumably caused by the position I was folded into and sleeping in for the last hour, so I tried adjusting my body and contorting around the metal arm rests to get more comfortable. But, let’s just face it, there is really no comfortable way to sleep on a metal bench in a greyhound station. Eventually, I gave in and joined the woman on the floor. But, just as I got situated, my phone rang… What the hell? It was my wife calling at… um, 5:30AM EST. I guess that’s as good a time as any.
Turns out she’d had a few drinks at her Halloween parté… and the combination of liquor and the wee hours of the morning are a perfect recipe for romance. ☺ Yes, my wife drunk dialed me. But, hey… I was actually awake, and she kept me company until I could get on the westbound bus to Bozeman.
I arrived at the (closed) greyhound terminal in Bozeman at about 6AM, and called the cab number that the hostel managers had emailed me. The town was pitch black, and so was the hostel when I arrived. The cabbie offered to have me drive around with him if I couldn’t get in! Luckily, the front door was open. I let myself in, and found the directions for late night check-in on the wall. Basically, stick a $20 bill in one of the provided envelopes, put it under the office door, and find a bed upstairs.
Ok… I can handle this.
I dragged my (44 lb) bag up the narrow staircase – and past the two private rooms. Oh, man, wish I could spring for that… but, instead found the open door to a bunk bed room, and a strange man half awake on one of the bottom bunks. Great. Home sweet home.
I unintentionally woke up my new roommate, who kept swearing, apologized for waking me up, and then thanked me for turning on a light because his eyesight was bad (I’d turned on my cell phone to text Andy and let her know I’d arrived). I felt the need to introduce myself… and promptly forgot his name. He then asked me to set an alarm – and I obliged. Although when I told him that the time he asked me to set it was only 1 hour away, he decided to just get up. He seemed like he really wanted to chat, so I let him know I was going to sleep…
Surreal.
That’s my word for that interaction… the whole time I’m thinking, is this really happening? Am I really here? Am I going to sleep in this room with a strange, swearing man? Why is he asking me to set an alarm in the middle of the night? Why is he still talking?
Regardless, there’s a kind of exhaustion that seems to attack your body and smoosh your eyes closed, and I succumbed to it without much fuss.
About 4 hours later, I woke up and puttered around, feeling half broken and starving but too discombobulated to get myself out the door and find food. Eventually, I made my way into the little downtown, and ate what turned out to be the spiciest Mexican food I’ve ever eaten in my life. I totally loved the staff- who spoke to me in gringo Spanish. And, the food really did a cleaning act on my sinuses, so I was pleased. Plus, I got respect from the Mexican woman for actually eating it all! She said she didn’t think I would be able to… ☺
The show went alright. I’m not traveling with any equipment, due to the nature of the shows, and the nature of my travel… And, it turned out that the Leaf and Bean does not have guitar cables, and they even had to search around to dig out a mic! Oops… My throat was still kinda sore from my cold, so I decided to use the mic anyway, and just play my guitar acoustically.
2 hours, and $25 later, my voice was pretty much shot…
I got back to the hostel, and set my cell phone back for daylight savings time before going to sleep. I intended to wake up and walk the mile or so to the bus station to catch the 4:05AM to Seattle. However, at 3:48, roommate man (whose name turns out to be Jimmy) wakes me up, “Hey Man, aren’t you catching a 4:00 bus?” Ugh! It turns out that my cell phone knew that it was daylight savings time and set itself back another hour – so no alarm for me!!
I scrambled down from the top bunk while Jimmy played and sang along to a Wilco tune for me (um??) and then offered to help get my stuff downstairs. I called the cab driver, and he rushed over – and called the other cab driver in town who was already at the station to tell them to hold the bus for me!
Jimmy jumped in the cab with me – I guess he figured he was already awake, so he’d just come along for the ride… And, while in the cab, asked the cab driver if he had a CD player, and could he play a CD? The cabbie was a little taken aback… “I guess so,” he says. And, what does Jimmy hand him, but my CD, of course. “Put on track 3,” he says… And, here we are zooming through the sleeping streets of Bozeman, MT at 4AM, listening to The Grey and trying to catch a bus.
Again, with the surreal.
Jimmy, if you’re reading this, I hope you take this in stride! You are quite a character, and I’m extremely grateful you were there to wake me up and weren’t a scary man sharing a room with this exhausted gypsy girl. Oh, and thank you for the cracker-stuffed mushrooms. That was all I ate that night!!
Since I’d overslept almost an hour, I wasn’t that tired once I got on the bus. And, how lucky for me. The stretch of highway from Bozeman to Butte and was the most painfully beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. Thick with fog – it seemed to me like something straight out of The Lord of the Rings. Totally mystical. I actually cried. Sometimes beauty just hurts like that.
I watched the sun come up slowly over Western Montana, then drove through the forests and mountains of Idaho and into the other-planet looking world of Eastern Washington state. I took like a million pictures before I fell asleep sometime after Spokane. So, I had to make you a slideshow…
By the time I got to Seattle, I had no voice left. I mean, I sound like I have a an electronic speaking device and have to push a button to talk. It’s gross. I guess it finally caught up with me: 2 hours of singing on a newly recovered sore throat and congested sinuses… not good. It just took the rest of the juice out of me. Bummer…
I rested all day on Monday, while my host, Chris, went to jury duty. I drank copious amounts of liquid, and even tried the nasal cleaning kit I was given by Chris’ somewhat crazy, though well-intentioned neighbor (who talked to us for ½ an hour on Sunday night about all the things I should do to get my voice back in time for the show)!
Alas, my voice did not really recover. And, when show time rolled around, I had to switch to Plan B… I sang a song, then played a track off my CD, then sang, then played a track. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was kind of a listening party to advertise my CD. But, the audience ended up being super awesome and supportive… they even said this was an especially intimate set because I was essentially whispering through my songs, and they had to strain to hear me.
And, all in all, I’d definitely count this night as a success. Seattle, I heart you. ☺
I got to spend the whole day today with the lovely and poetic, Emily McCaffrey (who some of you know as my old back-up singer, Emily Weiss) and her kind and generous partner, Aron. They made me eggs with cream cheese and lox, pumped me full of tea, juice, and vitamins. That we chased with an awesome conversation about gender-queer identity! And what better way to follow that up than with tasty cupcakes and a quick visit to the Puget Sound?
I’m on the bus tonight to Portland, and I can’t believe the whole freaking country is out there voting and watching election coverage, and I can’t watch the whole drama unfold! I’ve asked several people to send me updates on the election. I’m so nervous! I can’t wait to hear that Obama has won… ☺ Hope you all voted today!!!
This is a quick bus ride… I’ll be in Portland in about 3 hours. I have my first ever female bus driver. And, I’ve been in a lot of places! I didn’t think they existed…
Much love, big open skies, and wet, slippery things for sore throats,
Jess
I thought they must be talking about someone else, so I just let it float through my awareness, and fell asleep anyway. I woke up just over an hour later, and had the momentary panicked thought that I’d missed my bus. But, no such luck. That 2-hour delay was meant for me, and the woman stretched out asleep on the floor under my bench seemed to be on to something…
Yes, my second middle of the night 3-hour layover in a greyhound station (recall the first just a week or so ago in Atlanta with the blaring CNN). Just when I thought I had this greyhound thing down pat! I guess there’s always more to learn.
I came to with a splitting headache, presumably caused by the position I was folded into and sleeping in for the last hour, so I tried adjusting my body and contorting around the metal arm rests to get more comfortable. But, let’s just face it, there is really no comfortable way to sleep on a metal bench in a greyhound station. Eventually, I gave in and joined the woman on the floor. But, just as I got situated, my phone rang… What the hell? It was my wife calling at… um, 5:30AM EST. I guess that’s as good a time as any.
Turns out she’d had a few drinks at her Halloween parté… and the combination of liquor and the wee hours of the morning are a perfect recipe for romance. ☺ Yes, my wife drunk dialed me. But, hey… I was actually awake, and she kept me company until I could get on the westbound bus to Bozeman.
I arrived at the (closed) greyhound terminal in Bozeman at about 6AM, and called the cab number that the hostel managers had emailed me. The town was pitch black, and so was the hostel when I arrived. The cabbie offered to have me drive around with him if I couldn’t get in! Luckily, the front door was open. I let myself in, and found the directions for late night check-in on the wall. Basically, stick a $20 bill in one of the provided envelopes, put it under the office door, and find a bed upstairs.
Ok… I can handle this.
I dragged my (44 lb) bag up the narrow staircase – and past the two private rooms. Oh, man, wish I could spring for that… but, instead found the open door to a bunk bed room, and a strange man half awake on one of the bottom bunks. Great. Home sweet home.
I unintentionally woke up my new roommate, who kept swearing, apologized for waking me up, and then thanked me for turning on a light because his eyesight was bad (I’d turned on my cell phone to text Andy and let her know I’d arrived). I felt the need to introduce myself… and promptly forgot his name. He then asked me to set an alarm – and I obliged. Although when I told him that the time he asked me to set it was only 1 hour away, he decided to just get up. He seemed like he really wanted to chat, so I let him know I was going to sleep…
Surreal.
That’s my word for that interaction… the whole time I’m thinking, is this really happening? Am I really here? Am I going to sleep in this room with a strange, swearing man? Why is he asking me to set an alarm in the middle of the night? Why is he still talking?
Regardless, there’s a kind of exhaustion that seems to attack your body and smoosh your eyes closed, and I succumbed to it without much fuss.
About 4 hours later, I woke up and puttered around, feeling half broken and starving but too discombobulated to get myself out the door and find food. Eventually, I made my way into the little downtown, and ate what turned out to be the spiciest Mexican food I’ve ever eaten in my life. I totally loved the staff- who spoke to me in gringo Spanish. And, the food really did a cleaning act on my sinuses, so I was pleased. Plus, I got respect from the Mexican woman for actually eating it all! She said she didn’t think I would be able to… ☺
The show went alright. I’m not traveling with any equipment, due to the nature of the shows, and the nature of my travel… And, it turned out that the Leaf and Bean does not have guitar cables, and they even had to search around to dig out a mic! Oops… My throat was still kinda sore from my cold, so I decided to use the mic anyway, and just play my guitar acoustically.
2 hours, and $25 later, my voice was pretty much shot…
I got back to the hostel, and set my cell phone back for daylight savings time before going to sleep. I intended to wake up and walk the mile or so to the bus station to catch the 4:05AM to Seattle. However, at 3:48, roommate man (whose name turns out to be Jimmy) wakes me up, “Hey Man, aren’t you catching a 4:00 bus?” Ugh! It turns out that my cell phone knew that it was daylight savings time and set itself back another hour – so no alarm for me!!
I scrambled down from the top bunk while Jimmy played and sang along to a Wilco tune for me (um??) and then offered to help get my stuff downstairs. I called the cab driver, and he rushed over – and called the other cab driver in town who was already at the station to tell them to hold the bus for me!
Jimmy jumped in the cab with me – I guess he figured he was already awake, so he’d just come along for the ride… And, while in the cab, asked the cab driver if he had a CD player, and could he play a CD? The cabbie was a little taken aback… “I guess so,” he says. And, what does Jimmy hand him, but my CD, of course. “Put on track 3,” he says… And, here we are zooming through the sleeping streets of Bozeman, MT at 4AM, listening to The Grey and trying to catch a bus.
Again, with the surreal.
Jimmy, if you’re reading this, I hope you take this in stride! You are quite a character, and I’m extremely grateful you were there to wake me up and weren’t a scary man sharing a room with this exhausted gypsy girl. Oh, and thank you for the cracker-stuffed mushrooms. That was all I ate that night!!
Since I’d overslept almost an hour, I wasn’t that tired once I got on the bus. And, how lucky for me. The stretch of highway from Bozeman to Butte and was the most painfully beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. Thick with fog – it seemed to me like something straight out of The Lord of the Rings. Totally mystical. I actually cried. Sometimes beauty just hurts like that.
I watched the sun come up slowly over Western Montana, then drove through the forests and mountains of Idaho and into the other-planet looking world of Eastern Washington state. I took like a million pictures before I fell asleep sometime after Spokane. So, I had to make you a slideshow…
By the time I got to Seattle, I had no voice left. I mean, I sound like I have a an electronic speaking device and have to push a button to talk. It’s gross. I guess it finally caught up with me: 2 hours of singing on a newly recovered sore throat and congested sinuses… not good. It just took the rest of the juice out of me. Bummer…
I rested all day on Monday, while my host, Chris, went to jury duty. I drank copious amounts of liquid, and even tried the nasal cleaning kit I was given by Chris’ somewhat crazy, though well-intentioned neighbor (who talked to us for ½ an hour on Sunday night about all the things I should do to get my voice back in time for the show)!
Alas, my voice did not really recover. And, when show time rolled around, I had to switch to Plan B… I sang a song, then played a track off my CD, then sang, then played a track. Lather, rinse, repeat. It was kind of a listening party to advertise my CD. But, the audience ended up being super awesome and supportive… they even said this was an especially intimate set because I was essentially whispering through my songs, and they had to strain to hear me.
And, all in all, I’d definitely count this night as a success. Seattle, I heart you. ☺
I got to spend the whole day today with the lovely and poetic, Emily McCaffrey (who some of you know as my old back-up singer, Emily Weiss) and her kind and generous partner, Aron. They made me eggs with cream cheese and lox, pumped me full of tea, juice, and vitamins. That we chased with an awesome conversation about gender-queer identity! And what better way to follow that up than with tasty cupcakes and a quick visit to the Puget Sound?
 |
| Emily and Aron |
I’m on the bus tonight to Portland, and I can’t believe the whole freaking country is out there voting and watching election coverage, and I can’t watch the whole drama unfold! I’ve asked several people to send me updates on the election. I’m so nervous! I can’t wait to hear that Obama has won… ☺ Hope you all voted today!!!
This is a quick bus ride… I’ll be in Portland in about 3 hours. I have my first ever female bus driver. And, I’ve been in a lot of places! I didn’t think they existed…
Much love, big open skies, and wet, slippery things for sore throats,
Jess
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Minneapolis Mayhem
10/31/08
I’m bussing today/tonight from Minneapolis, MN to Bozeman, MT. Minneapolis was really a vacation more than a tour stop. I visited with one of my favorite people, and favorite musicians ever… Ms. Beth Varela.
I’ve wanted to see Minneapolis for many years now… it popped up on an online quiz I took to determine places I might be happy living. And, ever since I’ve been curious. ☺
I had no idea of what a treat of a visit this would be. But, I get ahead of myself. On the way from Chicago to Minneapolis, the germs that I collected in Memphis caught up to me and turned into the plague. When I arrived in Chicago, anticipating this possibility, I got myself onto a regiment of Echinacea tea, zinc, as much water as I could remember to drink, and Cold Snap, which my host, Jessie, introduced me to.
I really love Cold Snap. It has the coolest tagline: Twenty Herbs to Restore Righteous Chi. And, even though I don’t really know what that means… it just sounds cool. Plus the directions (which Jessie can pretty much quote off the top of her head) read as follows:
Basic Way: Take two capsules three times a day.
Another Way: Throw out the notion that a printed set of directions will provide the exact answer. Consider size, constitution, timing and other factors affecting each unique person. Frequent use (as often as every twenty minutes) may be required in certain circumstances. With more experience and some anticipation, you won’t need to consume a large quantity of herbs. The suggested maximum amount per day is 24 capsules.
But, this is all to say that by the time I got over the excitement of winning the open mic and the fun bus ride from Chicago and arrived in Minneapolis, I was ready for a break and some rest. So, it was really good timing – for my cold and for a vacation stop.
I did sing at the open mic on Thursday. But, every open mic is going to pale in comparison to the Chicago experience… so, there’s not much to say about it. One cool thing was a sketch artist, Tim Roark, who was drawing members of the audience and performers while they sang. Unfortunately, I was sitting behind him, so I didn’t get drawn! But, I took some pictures of his sketches to post for you. Very cool…
So, back to Beth, the queen of distraction, and my vacation stop. Beth works harder than pretty much anyone I have ever met (I’m talking two full-time jobs for the first 9 months out of school, and currently working consistently 15 hours of overtime + finishing up her MBA, writing the score for an independent film and playing in 3 bands), but she can also play twice as hard (now we’re talking pool, dancing, softball, juggling, triathlon and roller-blading marathon competitor, costume wearer, and various other shenanigans too numerous to mention). So, I wasn’t going to be dallying much in her presence!
I rested and did computer work in the morning while she worked, but then she took me all over the Twin Cities in the afternoon and evenings. We, of course, had to take a trip to the Mall of America… when in Rome, you know? I saw Lego Land, went on an indoor log ride, and visited Underwater World, the aquarium in the basement of the mall.
The guide at Underwater World was super smart and patient and kept pointing out gigantic animals we were missing – like the ginormous turtle in the shark tank. So, I asked her, “what do turtles eat anyway?” And she said “fish,” and a couple of other things I don’t remember… and then these other visitors standing nearby piped in and said, “Yeah, and rats.” And, she replied, “Um, well, they live in the ocean so I don’t know how they’d…”
Of course, I completely lost it, and dove somewhat indiscreetly behind Beth to avoid bursting out laughing in their faces. But, as it turned out, they actually have this one huge turtle-alligator combo animal that DOES get fed rodents!!! Go figure…
I also got to meet many of her friends, my favorite of which is Erin, who I now also adore. Erin is a visual artist, and is taking some pre-reqs to go into medical illustration. Though, at the ripe age of 26, she’s already working as a marketing director… Such smart, creative women – so inspiring!
We all went out to hear Beth's favorite jazz drummer at the Times Bar and then went to Pi where there was supposed to be dancing, but there was karaoke and pool. So, we played pool instead.
I guess all good things must come to an end. Or, at least chapters close so that the next can begin… So, I got on my bus this morning and am on the road to Bozeman where I’ll just be staying for one short night before moving on to Seattle, Portland, and then down the south of the west coast.
It’s turned dark outside now. But, I got a couple of snapshots of North Dakota before the sun set. I love watching the landscape change around me as I move across the country. It’s so cool. So much space here…
I’m really having a blast. Feeling so inspired musically… Beth played around with a couple of songs I’ve written that are going on the new album. She tried some new chord voicings for my piano tunes, and we threw a tune (that’s as of yet only a verse) into garage band with a dance beat and a bass line. So fun! Can’t wait for it all to be done so you can hear it! We talked briefly about her arranging this album for me. EEK! We’re gonna wait to revisit that idea in December when her thesis and film score are done, and I’m off the road.
I’m just feeling so happy to be alive, too… what with the plague scare and all.
Hope this finds you in good health and spirits.
Yours,
Jess
PS - Probably my favorite purchase in recent history is sitting on my face in this picture. I was going to be Sarah Palin for Halloween (a bus driver in GA told me I looked like her), but I couldn't spring for a power suit or hair dresser. So, I just ended up with the glasses which I wore throughout most of my Minneapolis visit. Tee Hee... Like my new look? ☺
I’m bussing today/tonight from Minneapolis, MN to Bozeman, MT. Minneapolis was really a vacation more than a tour stop. I visited with one of my favorite people, and favorite musicians ever… Ms. Beth Varela.
I’ve wanted to see Minneapolis for many years now… it popped up on an online quiz I took to determine places I might be happy living. And, ever since I’ve been curious. ☺
I had no idea of what a treat of a visit this would be. But, I get ahead of myself. On the way from Chicago to Minneapolis, the germs that I collected in Memphis caught up to me and turned into the plague. When I arrived in Chicago, anticipating this possibility, I got myself onto a regiment of Echinacea tea, zinc, as much water as I could remember to drink, and Cold Snap, which my host, Jessie, introduced me to.
I really love Cold Snap. It has the coolest tagline: Twenty Herbs to Restore Righteous Chi. And, even though I don’t really know what that means… it just sounds cool. Plus the directions (which Jessie can pretty much quote off the top of her head) read as follows:
Basic Way: Take two capsules three times a day.
Another Way: Throw out the notion that a printed set of directions will provide the exact answer. Consider size, constitution, timing and other factors affecting each unique person. Frequent use (as often as every twenty minutes) may be required in certain circumstances. With more experience and some anticipation, you won’t need to consume a large quantity of herbs. The suggested maximum amount per day is 24 capsules.
But, this is all to say that by the time I got over the excitement of winning the open mic and the fun bus ride from Chicago and arrived in Minneapolis, I was ready for a break and some rest. So, it was really good timing – for my cold and for a vacation stop.
I did sing at the open mic on Thursday. But, every open mic is going to pale in comparison to the Chicago experience… so, there’s not much to say about it. One cool thing was a sketch artist, Tim Roark, who was drawing members of the audience and performers while they sang. Unfortunately, I was sitting behind him, so I didn’t get drawn! But, I took some pictures of his sketches to post for you. Very cool…
So, back to Beth, the queen of distraction, and my vacation stop. Beth works harder than pretty much anyone I have ever met (I’m talking two full-time jobs for the first 9 months out of school, and currently working consistently 15 hours of overtime + finishing up her MBA, writing the score for an independent film and playing in 3 bands), but she can also play twice as hard (now we’re talking pool, dancing, softball, juggling, triathlon and roller-blading marathon competitor, costume wearer, and various other shenanigans too numerous to mention). So, I wasn’t going to be dallying much in her presence!
I rested and did computer work in the morning while she worked, but then she took me all over the Twin Cities in the afternoon and evenings. We, of course, had to take a trip to the Mall of America… when in Rome, you know? I saw Lego Land, went on an indoor log ride, and visited Underwater World, the aquarium in the basement of the mall.
The guide at Underwater World was super smart and patient and kept pointing out gigantic animals we were missing – like the ginormous turtle in the shark tank. So, I asked her, “what do turtles eat anyway?” And she said “fish,” and a couple of other things I don’t remember… and then these other visitors standing nearby piped in and said, “Yeah, and rats.” And, she replied, “Um, well, they live in the ocean so I don’t know how they’d…”
Of course, I completely lost it, and dove somewhat indiscreetly behind Beth to avoid bursting out laughing in their faces. But, as it turned out, they actually have this one huge turtle-alligator combo animal that DOES get fed rodents!!! Go figure…
I also got to meet many of her friends, my favorite of which is Erin, who I now also adore. Erin is a visual artist, and is taking some pre-reqs to go into medical illustration. Though, at the ripe age of 26, she’s already working as a marketing director… Such smart, creative women – so inspiring!
We all went out to hear Beth's favorite jazz drummer at the Times Bar and then went to Pi where there was supposed to be dancing, but there was karaoke and pool. So, we played pool instead.
I guess all good things must come to an end. Or, at least chapters close so that the next can begin… So, I got on my bus this morning and am on the road to Bozeman where I’ll just be staying for one short night before moving on to Seattle, Portland, and then down the south of the west coast.
It’s turned dark outside now. But, I got a couple of snapshots of North Dakota before the sun set. I love watching the landscape change around me as I move across the country. It’s so cool. So much space here…
I’m really having a blast. Feeling so inspired musically… Beth played around with a couple of songs I’ve written that are going on the new album. She tried some new chord voicings for my piano tunes, and we threw a tune (that’s as of yet only a verse) into garage band with a dance beat and a bass line. So fun! Can’t wait for it all to be done so you can hear it! We talked briefly about her arranging this album for me. EEK! We’re gonna wait to revisit that idea in December when her thesis and film score are done, and I’m off the road.
I’m just feeling so happy to be alive, too… what with the plague scare and all.
Hope this finds you in good health and spirits.
Yours,
Jess
PS - Probably my favorite purchase in recent history is sitting on my face in this picture. I was going to be Sarah Palin for Halloween (a bus driver in GA told me I looked like her), but I couldn't spring for a power suit or hair dresser. So, I just ended up with the glasses which I wore throughout most of my Minneapolis visit. Tee Hee... Like my new look? ☺
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