“upstate” :: black mountain symphony @ mocha maya’s :: 2011
On my drive back from Oneonta, when I wasn’t thinking about The Thing or American Horror Story OR the Evan Peters look-alike… oh hold on. Gotta at least blog about him:
I practically lost my shit when I saw that kid - he looked like the dorky, young Evan Peters, from like “Phil of the Future” - and he was a fan of the band. If that had been the real Evan Peters, I would have been all like “J who?” Hey, it’s not cheating if they’re on the list, right?
So, yeah, when I wasn’t thinking about those things, I was thinking about when Bear said he was going to start scheduling shows in the most obscure places to see if I’d show up. (I know a challenge when I hear one. Game on, Bear. Game. Fucking. On. )
That, of course, led to me crashing with Annie and Charlie for the second time and the deep conversations I’ve had with Annie, Rollz and Orion.
While I’m not part of the true inner circle, I have begun to feel like I’m part of them on some level. It’s just an offshoot of my passion for indie music. Thankfully, in this case, my passion and devotion to them is rewarded with hugs and secrets told in dark corners. The last time I got in this deep with a band, it ended badly for me.
I get nervous about that happening again. A lot.
But that’s not going to stop me from doing what I do…
It doesn’t matter how far I drive, or how shitty I feel. The second I walk into the venue, I feel like I’m surrounded by my family.
Seriously, even the girlfriends are happy to see me.
I’m in a schmoopy place to begin with because of the letter from YouKnowWho… but god, do I love those kids.
Went to Oneonta, NY last night to see Black Mountain Symphony play.
It was a bittersweet night.
I had planned on going anyway, but I’m especially glad I did… it’s not my place to say what happened, but some upsetting news was shared. I’m happy I was there to uh, well, see the show, and be in the loop. I guess.
On a happier note, I had a long talk with one of my two favorite drunk boys. He didn’t realize the chain of events he started back on Labor Day weekend, and it was nice to touch base with him. I let him know about the letters going back and forth, and we chatted about them. I ended up thanking him… pretty exuberantly.
I ended up spending the night at Annie and Charlie’s, instead of finding a hotel like I usually do. It was nice to spend the night with friends and dissect the… thing.
There’s a hundred other things I want to talk about, but everything is overshadowed by… GAH!
Fuck this. I’m going to play on Tumblr and obsess over Evan Peters until I forget about Saturday night’s bad thing.
1) Happy first birthday, new boobies!
2) Not every story has a happy ending, nor all they all supposed to.
3) That’d be me at the Christmas party: dancing nude with just a Santa hat and bells
4) Does anyone know if Violet ever got her sandwich?!?
And I don’t care if you tell me to take a hike 10 more times, I’ll always want you in my life… ALWAYS
mom and dad :: wickham park, ct :: 1963 - 1965 ?
Remember when I was all full of The Ick?
Youknowwho’s letter was part 1. Part 2 was a brick I purchased at Wickham Park.
Wickham was an important part of my childhood, and I made a very specific point to hang out there for a while during one of my trips to CT. That’s when I found out about the brick program… I’ve had the donation form and that photo in my inbox forever. Just never ready to make my move, so to speak.
I have a hard time reconciling who I think people are with who they actually are, and that’s caused me a metric shit ton of pain my entire life. (That’s m-e-t-r-i-c newword s-h-i-t newword t-o-n. (Boy Wonder joke. I love our staff meetings!!!))
At any rate, Teh Drama between my mother and myself has been well documented in a thousand places, including here. It’s practically impossible for me to reconcile the woman my father loved with the abusive bitch I grew up with. So, when I was at WP, I kept thinking of this picture of my parents, which was taken in the Oriental Garden. I can’t say I achieved clarity or any closure while I was sitting there at the duck pond, but something happened. Maybe it was because of the squirrel that wouldn’t leave me alone. (J’s mom LOVED squirrels. It’s safe to say that damn thing might have been a sign from the universe…)
I saw the thing for the brick and I became obsessed with buying one. I even knew what I was putting on it.
Surprised the shit out of me.
I certainly wasn’t expecting the following handwritten note with the receipt:
What a lovely tribute to your parents. Our staff really enjoyed the photo you sent. So many of them have been here for decades and enjoy seeing what the grounds looked like “back then”. The Director feels the photo was taken between 1963 and 1965 based on the plantings in the Oriental Garden.
Did you ever hear someone say they thought your mom looked like the actress Mary Steenburgen? I know the photo is kind of far away from her face, but that’s the first thing I thought of when I looked at it. What a great picture; they look very happy.
Thank you for your gift to the park in their memory.
Another bit of weight off of my shoulders.
Clarity, closure, and cookies, bitches.
That’s just how I’m rollin’...