the dream life

Friday fire

How I spent my fall vacation: day five

I neglected to mention yesterday that in addition to experiencing the ethereal floaty sensation and rearranging the house, I made these. They were quite good. You're thinking that my vacation has been a little food-heavy and you're right. This will most likely continue. It continued this morning when I ate two of those cookies for breakfast. It's not my fault that chocolate goes so well with coffee.

This vacation is a regret-free zone, so I didn't feel guilty about those cookies at all and I didn't beat myself up for not making it to the Carnegie Center yesterday to contribute to the world's largest short story, even though I had intended to.

Simbiosi

Shamanic drums

I wouldn't mind finding a big open hearted sacred drumming circle (with zero attitude) to get with now and then. Until that happens, this is the shamanic playlist currently sending me:

Tonight's salt bath

brought to me by...

Brenda MacIntyre Starlight

Jonathan Goldman Sacred Union

Deuter Sound of Invisible Waters

Dead Sea Bath Salts

Himalayan Salt Lamp

Sage Incense

This is what school can be like

The PS22 Chorus.

We're having much more fun

If I read the local paper more, I probably would have known earlier that X was playing at the Dame last night. Luckily, my theory that people will tell you the really important news was proven when, at our family dinner, my brother mentioned it to me.

Aquarius

A redemption song

What next big sky?

I don’t think there’s anything more important than creative expression. Not even food. Not even shelter. Those things are equally important, but not more so. Speaking our stories through art is fundamental to our human existence. It is how we survive.

Art is freedom, which is also why it sometimes crosses over into the political, which is why it often finds itself a target. Think of how many times have you heard someone fire off the bullet, “That’s not art!” in attempt to discredit or silence.

In the groove

Now, the making of a good compilation tape is a very subtle art. Many do's and don'ts. First of all you're using someone else's poetry to express how you feel. This is a delicate thing.--Rob

Yesterday, I watched the movie High Fidelity. This is not a post, however, about John Cusack or how I have decided that he is my generation's actor or how one day I plan to write a screenplay for a film in which he will star, which will lead to us meeting at least once for coffee. (Don't worry, Tracy is fine with this, he will be off somewhere having coffee with Chrissie Hynde.) This is not, I promise, a post about how when I'm tired and it's rainy and all of my plans fall through and I don't feel like doing anything I just go get my stack of John Cusack DVDs, which are kept together in their own special section, and decide if it's a Say Anything or Being John Malkcovich or Grosse Pointe Blank or High Fidelity sort of day.

Just because I love her

Remembering Odetta

Journey on.

Early days of the band

 

The person out there in the world with the e-mail address that is one letter off from Tracy’s must wonder why I sent him/her a haiku and the guitar tabs to Somebody’s Knockin’. This person, however, is somewhat luckier than the person whose e-mail address is similar to my friend Mandy’s. That person has received numerous long and rambling e-mails from me detailing psychic phenomena and recounting personal inside jokes and observations that, to the non-Mandy or Lori-Lyn, must seem strange, to say the least.

I have also received e-mails not meant for me. There is apparently another lorilyn with a gmail account. She got married recently. Every once in a while, I would receive a panicked message from her bridesmaids and I wished that I knew the answers to their questions about dresses and shoes, but I didn’t.

These are the times we live in.

Duets

So I had this great idea today that Tracy and I would work up a song and perform it at Thanksgiving dinner. I had some songs in mind, but Tracy had never heard of them. He suggested that we do Jackson, a favorite of Ava's and mine, but I just didn't think I could sing that. We did find some common ground with Coal Miner's Daughter and Six Days on the Road, but we haven't yet found the song that really fits us. Mostly this is because, I have to get into a special head space before I can sing. If I think about the fact that I'm trying to sing, the sound that comes out is air.

"This is your band," Tracy just pointed out to me.

I better learn how to sing (in three days.)