where you invest your love,

you invest your life... Mumford and Sons, "Awake My Soul."

there's no more powerful evidence to suggest that emotions are completely free from logic than being shaken by the death of someone you've never met.

Clarence Clemons of the E Street Band passed away from a stroke that he was expected to recover from.  i've never met him, and only recently have undergone and obsessive Springsteen phase.  i'm not best friends with Bruce Springsteen or anyone in the E Street Band.  i don't know Clarence Clemon's family.  i can't quote his entire discography, or tell you what he majored in at college, or his favorite meal (this seems creepy, but i know Derek Jeter's is chicken parmigiana from an interview I read once).

i can tell you that the opening note to his sax solo in jungleland induces chills; not the kind that flash and disappear before you blink, but the kind that stick around for unnatural and inexplicable lengths of time. it's the kind of solo that you can hum along to.  it gives the song a needed reprieve from itself, smoothing out a built up arrangement, and injecting it with soul. i can tell you he's so influential that my cousin, just on the heels of high school, is still influenced by his skills that were in his "prime" before she was born, though it's easy to argue he was never out of his prime.

i remember waking up to the sound of my grandfather practicing saxophone when we'd stay at their house, usually followed by duck hunt and super mario video games as we never had an N64 at home.  i wish i knew then that i was more spoiled by my grandfather practicing saxophone than by the forbidden fruit of video games we never had, mainly because my dad can write computer games and my mom found the sound effects on these games annoying (and rightfully so).  retired now and in his 80s, my grandpa still plays in four bands.

i don't think i appreciated the saxophone truly until about two years ago when i saw Billy Joel's saxophone player, Richie Cannata, play at the Bitter End during his Monday night open jam session.  a Billy Joel fan, i appreciated the outstanding sax moments at the hands of this particular legend, but it wasn't until i saw him live that i truly connected to it's role in Billy Joel's music. 

i've since met Cannata (one of the world's nicest men), and had the opportunity to ask him when it was that he first met Billy Joel.  Cannata met Billy Joel's drummer, Liberty DeVitto, recording a bit for Sesame Street.  an instant fan of Cannata's, DeVitto asked him if he'd be interested in playing with Joel, who at that time was "that piano man guy,"  a song that true Billy Joel fans generally roll their eyes at.  after Joel saw Cannata play in an all horns band, he invited him to collaborate.  the first song they ever worked on together was the infamous New York State of Mind.  in my completely non-professional but not totally off base opinion, if there is a saxophone solo that melodically turns in your head with the fluidity of melted butter, you've probably created something genius.  not a bad first attempt by Cannata and Joel.

on a separate occasion at the same open jam, Mark Pender, the trumpet player of the E Street Band, joined the group for the evening.  here, Cannata shared that Billy Joel wanted to be Bruce Springsteen.  i'm always fascinated when legends want to be other legends.  it's a nice reminder that we're all just human beings.

last Tuesday at 11:02 a.m. i received a tweet from Lelia Broussard announcing that my friend and I won tickets to Bonnaroo, a music and pot festival in Manchester, TN.  after a series of logistical obstacles (ex: how do we get to Machester, TN, are we seriously going to Machester, TN, where the hell do we find a tent in Manhattan, etc.) we began our journey at 1:30 a.m. that night/the next morning.  though mapquest said that we should arrive 14 hours after we depart.  a blown out tire and Bonnaroo traffic had us their 27 later.  our return home involved two hotels, a stolen purse, an amtrak train ride, and at least 48 hours after our ride down never responded to us for our return.  the time inbetween was of course, magic, exceeding the magic we dreamed of before we won the tickets and this idea was only an unaffordable dream.  i never thought it'd be a dream of mind to stand in an open field on a 95 degree day with 90,000 people who hadn't showered for four days.  my dreams when i was younger were to be a veterinarian or travel in outer space or something.  dreams mold i suppose.

after lunch in much needed shade that Saturday afternoon, Mumford and Sons took the stage.  i'd be lying if i said music hadn't knocked me on my emotional ass before, but this particular performance landed hard.  they played "Awake My Soul" and "The Cave" back to back, and i began to cry as i could feel my soul untangling from life presenting itself kind of harshly lately and unemployment and uncertainty and being 24.  i think Mumford and Sons was just really great.  they were really great in that way that i can't describe to you; that inexplicable way that i always try to explain.  it's sort of one of those you get it or you don't things.  neither way is right or wrong, but it does seem to be who i am.

and now Clarence Clemons is gone.  why is it that i'm choked up at the work of someone i don't know when people i've met fall out of my life and i'm unshaken?  i suppose when you connect to something, it doesn't matter if you know them or for how long or who they even are.  you feel like you've accessed something brilliant and don't want to let go; that someone or something understands you despite the fact that it's oblivious to who you are; that you are linked to something by way of fate or luck or something in between and that the importance of this exists in a vacuum. this link is strong enough to override the technicalities of actually having encountered who/what you're soul feels tied to.  "knowing" someone or something formally means nothing when it already feels so familiar.

i'll never take my grandfather's saxophone solos forgranted again.
-k.

RIP The Big Man

now let me at the truth which will refresh my broken mind

when i was 14 i didn't get confirmed in the Catholic church.  i don't know if it was harsh combination of life tests and adolescence, or if all of my years of Catholic schooling didn't drill enough guilt into my bones for not going to mass every Sunday or going to confession when something didn't sit right rather than on a schedule.

i don't hate religion.  it's just not for me, or at least who i am right now.  i believe in pulling pieces of many religions that make sense to me, and living life by those.  it's personal, and it's my own.  religion works well as the a guide for people on various levels of devotion .  the religion i've clicked with most is Bokonism, which is fictional penned by Kurt Vonnegut.  it's accessible foundation doesn't make fate and religion mutually exclusive, which is probably why it resonates with me so strongly.  too bad devout Bokonists are fictional. maybe it's for the best; nobody else can misinterpret these face value ideas if they don't exist.  Vonnegut would also yell at me for that use of a semicolon (look it up).

music is the closest thing i've had to religion.  lately, "The Cave" by Mumford & Sons has been my Vatican 2.  as i departed from Port Authority today (which is Hell if we are continuing with religious themes), i walked East and up towards my apartment.  i accidentally stumbled upon Saint Patrick's cathedral, and intentionally walked in.  the rollercoaster of unemployment has looped my emotions from the height of these Cathedral ceilings to the depths of the subways below.  to my left was an old woman with cold shoulder and a formal prayer, probably saving my soul from hell since in irreverently entered the tourist attraction church with my iPod on.   hooking a sharp right led me to Saint Anthony, the Saint you pray to when you lose those earrings your mom gave you or your credit card or your sense of self.  finding the Saint of lost things so easily was an ironic blessing.  being in a Church big enough to pray with my headphones another blessing.  the sincerest way i know how to pray is through music.

station by station, breath by breath, i could feel my panic easing.  i loosened control of my clenched grip on my own life, and oozed surrender to God/the Universe/insert-your-name-for-what-you-believe-in-here.  inhaling the inspiration around me with rising crescendos and exhaling stress with the rhythm of my heart and this song was possibly my epitome of a religious experience, and i understand if it isn't yours.  the rise and fall of my chest with each breath to the beat of an outside voice doesn't seem that far off from a burning bush or an angel telling a virgin she's preggo.  somewhere in between an uninterested field trip of hip high fourth-graders and hunched over devout man in silence and an oversized cardigan, i was overcome by something greater than i was.  a colorful fleet in prayer brought a moment of peace to an otherwise unconnected, unlikely family.

there were people praying in despair.  there were people praying out of routine.  there were people praying out of gratitude.  there was a homeless man sleeping in a pew and employees gently enforcing rules and a student of a photography project. not everyone their identified with the Catholic religion.  not everyone their was exploring religion.  not everyone there was exploring themselves. not everyone there needed a prayer. but everyone there was under the wing of something great.

at least that's what it sounded like to me.
-k.

The Cave by Mumford & Sons


The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you've left behind

The harvest left no food for you to eat
You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

Cause I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I'll take mine
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind

So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down
You can understand dependence
When you know the maker's hand

So make your siren's call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be

And I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck

And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again 

gratitude things.

if you haven't read "Lindsay Says Yes" you totally should. there's a link to it in my "stuff i like, too" column. she's a great friend of mine, and she's the most thankful person for everything in the world. sometimes i have to remind her it's okay to feel feelings that aren't strictly gratitude. she wrote a list of things she was thankful for in 2010. as i venture into the terribly lame world of unemployment, i find myself both wanting and needing to be thankful for the little things. here's my top ten list of things i'm super thankful for recently (in no particular order):

1) my family: as i'm writing this blog, my sister is laying next to me and we are watching Craig Ferguson. we act really weird, but we think we're really funny and that's all that i really care about. it's as if we're on the drug known on the street as "Charlie Sheen." she's a pretty awesome sister for a bunch of reasons. she's extremely supportive of me and herself is a pretty amazing example of a heroperson. my parents are pretty great too. they help me navigate my 20s but leave the sea open to my own exploration. also my mom is really good at knowing when you need those little things like Valentine's Day cookies or to cry for no reason and my dad is good at dealing with my mom and sister's overexcitement at the Oscars and helping hang stuff up in my room. my family has been through a lot but now we're a big happy Taylor Swift song. even my extended family is superawesome. they are a much needed added flavor to life. both of my parents are one of seven, and my extended family extends love, light, and support really far with beaming cousins who radiate fresh energy and life and mindful, sincere aunts and uncles who respectfully interject their insights. friends; you're my family with a twist. it all applies, you're along for the ride in a different way.

2) manicures/pedicures/new shoes/wedding shows: i put these together because they all make me feel like a princess and i only have to spend about $20 or less on them. getting my nailz did usually involves a massaging chair and nail polish colors that look like the color scheme of a nine-year-old girl's room, unless that nine-year-old girl is me because my walls were covered in posters of the Bernie Williams and Paul O'Neill. also, my aforementioned awesome parents understand that being supportive means buying me some stuff when jobs don't work out (in addition to the manicure/pedicure). hello divine pink suede peep-toed shoes with a three inch that let's me stomp. it. out. sometimes, these things are just necessary. like the black pair sitting in the top of my dresser that i have yet to wear because there's been no occasion. this means i'll probably go over dressed to a comedy show or wear them around the apartment when i'm cleaning unnecessarily. after all the shit talking i did to Carrie Bradshaw in my previous post, i have to hand this one to her. i promise i won't be wearing a see thru shirt with a bright colored bra or a weird feather thing in my hair next time i'm out on the town desperately looking for men. i won't be doing either of those things ever actually. and wedding shows! what an amazing distraction. why yes, i do want to watch a bride with a subpar wedding pick out giant dresses shaped like pastries and a new cake and bridesmaids dresses and see the reception venue of a wedding i'm not going to. how am i so touched by the vows of people i don't know? oh wedding shows. thank you.

3) ZocDoc.com: oh my goodness i can make doctor's appointments and not call anyone?! thank you God and technology and doctors that are on this magical wonderinternetporthole. i have had more relationships with dermatologists than boyfriends in my life time, and the best one i've ever found in the whole wide world came from this site. i didn't even have to call anyone on the phone. they even remind you when your appointment is. it's like having a personal assistant for your appointments without all of that obnoxious human interaction (a deeply valued and underrated part of society but not in the context of doctor's appointment making). it's great because i'll never be important enough to have a personal assistant.

4) nature in nyc: i love outdoorsy things in New York City. it's like these misplaced pieces of nature that make total sense somehow. i went to Central Park, Prospect Park, and South Street Seaport spontaneously in the past 72 hours because not being in chaos sounded like a healthy thing to be doing and it so was. it's hard to feel like you aren't wasting time in New York City if you're not on your way to "be doing something" while also texting on your phone with one hand and carrying a Chai Tea Latte in the other. taking a naturebreather is the biggest not waste of time ever.

5) music: duh. this city is full of amazing music that not a lot of people know about. check out Hank and Cupcakes if you want to dance your ass off or Bryan Fenkart if you want to feel feelings. Bryan Fenkart was a writing God to me turned friend and WWE pay-per-view provider. i'm now on his management team. March 7-8 i get to stop by the recording booth and his second album/a bunch of my dreams unfold. megarad. other music i'm addicted to at the moment: frightened rabbit (my backwards walk is UHMAYZING), mumford & sons (duh), adele, the weakerthans, wakey wakey,virginia coalition, the weepies, eric hutchinson, anna nalick again), ari hest (always), band of horses, LCD Soundsystem, city and colour, fleet foxes, los campesinos, lisa jaeggi, matisyahu (coming the BK bowl), thriving ivory, brandi carlile, and the walkmen. to name some.

6) c.c. sabathia: my only pitching hope for the New York Yankees this year. 'nuff said.

7)reading and writing: writing is my favorite ever. i write about a lot of stuff like life and relationships and addiction and music and stuff, but i don't really write about writing. ca-thar-sis. boom. writing is super therapeutic. i try to write everyday--song lyrics, a blog, poetry--even just a sharply intentional sentence that might be used some day. writing rushes the emotional floodgates providing an unmatched release and unparalleled sensation. you can even write through emotions, driving your way through unknown forests of the mind and heart, arriving at destinations with conclusions you never would have sought otherwise. hey writing, thanks for being an art.

reading, i wish we had been friends longer. my parents always read to me when i was little, and i read as an adult, but i can't help but feel i'm still catching up on those in-between years where i viewed it as a chore when i was younger. i have a cousin who reads and reads (and reads and reads) and always has and will never stop. she's way cooler than i am in this regard, and can probably give you (and will give you) better recommendations than i ever could, but here is my top five within my top ten (my shirt before the shirt for you Jersey Shore fans).

1) anything by Kurt Vonnegut, particularly Cat's Cradle, Slaughterhouse V, or anything that has his name on the cover. show me a reader who doesn't like Vonnegut and i'll show you someone whose opinion is wrong. you probably didn't know opinions can be wrong, but come on. he's TOO good.

2) Sex, Drugs, and Cocoapuffs and/or IV: a decade of curious people and dangerous ideas. both have been nothing short of awesome. anything Klosterman seems to write is a solid choice but these two are my favorites. plus he talks about how he hates Rick Helling in "IV" and so do i.

3) This Is Your Brain on Music: this book is about the neuroscience behind music and it's amazing. i'm awful at science and hate it, but this book is awesome. read it. it's by Daniel J. Levitin and he's really smart.

4) Craig Ferguson: American on Purpose: this is so much more than a biography. it's the only account of anything that explains addiction to someone that isn't an addict or in the close circle of one. you're doing yourself a disservice not to read this book.

5) the curious incident of the dog in the night time: an awesome book by Mark Haddon written from the perspective of an autistic child. Haddon combines the struggles of every day life and the story line through this lens. it's pretty rad.

8) egyptian art: it's the most amazing, powerful art. i didn't appreciate how strong it was until i took an art course in college. go look at some at the Met and REALLY look at it. it's so different from any other time period with sharp lines and square edges and power stances. it's like they carved pharaohs doing power yoga or something. besides if you're board you can go play in the giant tomb at the Met or check out how they invented the wheel or something. while i'm discussing art, check out Alex Grey (www.alexgrey.com). free subscription to this blog if you aren't amazed/immediately want to get his work tatooed on your body somewhere.

9) horoscopes: okay i don't know if i believe they true. but i don't believe they 100% aren't so it's fun to look at them every day. i'm not going to live my life by them, but if they fit the life i live, then it's just fun to think about. it's like a fortune cookie without the $20 worth of Chinese food arriving way too fast. i can get mine tweeted to me every day, so why not? besides, i'm a Taurus and totally stubborn, so don't try to tell me they aren't true and that it's a waste of time.

10) dogs: i don't mean those little rats on a leash that dress better than i do and are being toted around in someone's Louis Vitton. i mean like a real dog! like a golden retriever or a bull dog or a huskey or those english sheepdogs that can't see. basset hounds are the only small dogs i really like because they have so much personality, but for the most part, give me a big dog. one that the E*TRADE baby would try to ride.

there's my top ten things i appreciate in life always, but am really feelin' right now. you've been gratituded.

-k.

change in the face of fear or the fear of change?

i've reached a blogging milestone! 100 posts! if i wrote one post a year that would be a century of posts! if you paid me a penny per post, well sir/ma'am, i'd have a dollar. thanks for reading guys.

i wanted to be suzyn waldman.

that's not true. i wanted to replace suzyn waldman. i still want to replace her, just not necessarily with me anymore.

i've loved baseball for as long as i can remember. with the Mets opening their AA facility in my hometown in 1992, i quickly took a liking to the Yankees. but i took an even greater liking to clearing the dinner table ten minutes before a game and making it there by first pitch on my dad's arm. when other girls in sixth grade cliques were drooling over Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic and practicing the "Bye, Bye, Bye" dance in the Saint James Middle School parking lot during recess, i was content as an awkward outsider with less popular friends, plastering my binders with photos of diving stops by Tino Martinez and salivating over David Cone's ability to make Major League hitters look like they were swinging at wiffleballs instead of cowhide.

i remember my responsible parents sending me to bed when the Yankees would play on the West coast. games typically had a 10:05 p.m. first pitch and were often on school nights at the beginning and end of the the 162 game (plus if you are lucky) journey. my arguments were quickly dismissed in summer, too, because apparently it's unreasonable for a 10-year-old girl to stay up past 1 a.m. for a regular season baseball game. it's where my mom and dad practiced their parental inflection in the phrase "asked and answered, Kate Elizabeth." you're welcome for the opportunity, parents. so i'd wait until i heard the pitter patter of my parents footsteps fleeting down our creaky stairs. i'd then turn the dial of my radio alarm clock (before we had cell phones with alarms, or cell phones at all) to "The Team: 1430 AM." my heart would race with anticipation of whether we would face Hudson, Mulder, or Zito, the "big three" of the Oakland A's rotation, or which Seattle Mariner Graeme Llyod would unnecessarily run in from the bullpen to fight.(yes, by the way, i use the collective "we" when referring to "my" sports teams...my dad has asked me on multiple occasions when i signed a contract). my jitters were quickly soothed by Michael Kay's description of the Yankees "midnight blue caps" or the melodic lull of John Sterling's voice, no matter how bombastic his phrasing.

it was then i decided i wanted to be a sports announcer. i craved the radio waves that buzzed with intimacy. and i really liked drowning out Buck and McCarver's t.v. announcing with the radio broadcast, too. that's still true.

but Michael Kay and John Sterling were there for me even when my middle school friends were cruel, or when the guy i had a crush on liked someone else, or when it wasn't cool for my sister to hang out with me anymore, or when those mindbogglingly painful and complicated life events hit you and you need an escape. that's still true, too.

i crafted Michael Kay a letter of admiration, telling him i want to be in the booth someday, too. i didn't expect a response; my sentiments were not unique. thousands of wide-eyed baseball enthusiasts would vie for Michael Kay's spot. but he responded with a letter three times as long and exponentially more meaningful to a preteen dreamer. i even quoted him in my Grandfather's eulogy, a much more weighted experience than any baseball game i could ever call.

this was all i ever wanted. and it all changed.
i went to college and i fell in love. with music. i've always loved music, but for the first time i delved far beyond the hits of the radio. i discovered Ari Hest and Bryan Fenkart and Anna Nalick and Charlotte Martin and even rediscovered radio artists for their worth rather than their hits, like John Mayer far beyond "Your Body is a Wonderland" and Ben Folds light years past "Brick." for the first time, i cheated on baseball, though i had my musical theater flirtations in the past. suddenly everything i had wanted wasn't what i wanted anymore. at 18 i entered a charming Seton Hall campus wanting to announce baseball. at 21, i left my South Orange apartment hoping to satisfy my hunger for Public Relations better than the Seton Hall cafeteria had fed me years before. as John Sterling always says (and says and says) "you can't predict baseball." also you can't predict life, or even ourselves. and we're us!

i remember when i decided to make the jump from "everything i once wanted" to "what i want now." my internal friction as a girl on the fringe of her twenty-somethings was upsettingly cliche. i was abandoning my most genuine desire for an unknown variable, which is kind how us twenty-somethings define our lives. i have many sources that can tell you i was never good at finding "x," and they'd be right. how do you resolve that what you've always wanted isn't what you want anymore? i thought maybe i was just running away from what i want because it was on the edge of becoming very real. i didn't know if my change was driven by this fear, or if i feared the change itself. everyone had said announcing was a remarkable fit for me. the jump to PR was by no means a giant leap, but it seems like a far stride when you weren't planning any steps in the first place. then it occurred to me that what i always wanted remains, it just has a different face than i intended. i didn't know that i wanted this, but it's DNA was floating around with a different form.

determining whether i was changing what i want because i was scared of how real it was becoming or whether i was taking a risk to go after what i never knew i wanted was a mountainous task because both peaks are familiar. both routes are very human. if we outgrow the verbatim interpretation of what we laid out, it is easy to pack up shop and say you were never the shop-type entrepreneur in the first place. we replace it with something that "feels kind of good" and leaves us "content," or at least half full. usually when we refer to something as half full, we view that as optimistic. but when we are pouring out a glass that was once bubbling and overflowing, we are probably running away from this delicious beverage, and quite possibly contemplating this exact same scenario hiding behind a beer glass. this all seems to be an overly developed definition of settling out fear. i've always had a hard time letting my head hit the pillow when i thought i was settling. i'm more than okay with that.

when we dive into the unknown to try and swim to the depths of a greater happiness, we are taking a risk. we are usually driven by guts. instinct. motivation. the pit in our stomach that grows undeniable. that "i just know" feeling. often times you sound like a lunatic to everyone else in your life because you just can't explain it. but also, you don't sound that crazy, because everyone has been borderline intuition. it's not necessarily that calling that priests and nuns lecture about, but you are convinced it is built into your bones. i'm usually a proponent of the go for it! methodology because i'd rather fail then wonder.

my sister said that the force behind one of her biggest life decisions was "the meeting point between desperation and clarity." though this may appear dramatic or appear like it fits in limited contexts, it has an underlying applicable common thread that i think is universal. if we want it bad enough, or on some level are desperate, we can't always see clearly because we are so overwhelmed by this desire. when we have all the clarity we need, we can lose our passion in the throws of clearheaded logic. it is the meeting point between these to where we take the plunge.

change ain't just a campaign slogan.
-k.



----------------
Now playing: City And Colour - Waiting
via FoxyTunes

fresh is the new stale.

ever attempt to start fresh so many times it becomes routine?

i am thankful. in the noted ugliess of bedbugs, some wonderful things have emerged. i now live with my sister on the uppereast side of Manhattan. the subway ride to my job is 14 minutes instead of 45. i have a job that i love. my apartment was newly renovated and free of all bugs. the kitchen is enormous enough to host Top Chef--or atleast enormous for Manhattan. i have a cell phone that wasn't made in 1991 anymore. the yankees are world champions.

yada yada yada, a world of awesome is at my finger tips.

i'm not bragging about how awesome my 'new' life is, which it is. but when you have made as many fresh starts as i have, and my family has, you duck. you know the other shoe is going to drop and you don't want to plunked when it does. you also learn that fresh starts are purely a mindset thing regardless of how many trips you take to furniture geniuses at IKEA and the moderately trendy and always affordable Kohl's. i started my job two days after moving in, so maybe i just haven't had a chance to catch my breath. but 'another fresh start' feels like 'another period of time until something throws me off track.' making so many attempts at the fresh start that changes everything makes the process rather stale.

this can stem from two places, and i am feeling the pinch of both. first, there is the multiple and simultaneous fresh start syndrome. second, there is "new begginings" thatall come back to the same issue. let's dive in.

new job. new apartment. new stage of life overall. and it gets kind of old.
ripping your life up by the roots can change your perspective on everything. or on nothing at all. sometimes, you feel exactly the same and the circumstances are changing. you still feel stuck, just in a different context. pieces of your life may change--home can be in a different direction, your every day life can take on an entirely new color, and aspects of your personality may change. but there is still that naggging feeling that won't dissipate. and the only thing you can do is coach yourself into trying to feel as great as everyone perceives you feel. except maybe of course for the people who see straight through you, and even they can be fooled. if you are trying to fool yourself for your own betterment, you probably throw them off too. you can only try and convince yourself that this fresh start stays permanently fresh and that the clouds overhead will pass as long as you don't step outside. and you are probably going to stay inside and eat whole pizzas and listening to John Mayer's "Something's Missing." and that is most certainly the same old same old.

our other scenario probably sucks more. it's when you attempt to start over with the same issue or person over and over and over again. and over again. being held back by an issue is no walk in the park, and it usually requires time and hard work. it can hold you back for the smallest incriments of time or forever and ever. grasping how to 'get out' is hard because most of these issues are external, but you have to invest in yourself to come to terms with things. chances are, if an issue has crawled under your skin (bed bugs are now showing up in my writing) then chances are the issue is irresolvable and the only thing you can change is how you cope. when you are pulled down and drowing in the waves of emotion, you are blind to this concept. which is why therapists make so much money. and also probably why you are listening to City and Colour's "Constant Knot."

when it's a person you are trying to start over with, the pain is equally as vivid, but the brightness is sustained because you now have a "past" a questionable and somewhat temporary present, and a future that is directionless, and your compass will have you pointing every which way. whether it's a romantic connection that you have, think you have, or think you should have, or just a delicate friendship that feelings like its breaking, or even already broken in the balance, the pain of interpersonal turmoil it a "different animal," because it's alive. hoping like the "different animal," but chances are if you are attempting to start anew with another you may be beating a very dead horse. or maybe not--maybe one crack of the whip will change everything. maybe a new start with the old will bring the kind of clarity you cannot pay for. but that is not in our control, and attempts to continue doing so don't leave your fresh starts stale, but in regression. it's never fun when you feel more pathetic for the experience. and it's probably why you are listening to Boys Like Girls "Love Drunk." but you SHOULD be listening to Ari Hest's "I Forgive You" or Charlotte Martin's "The Dance." and you know you shouldn't be listening to Love Drunk ever but it's secretly hiding on your IPod with Gwen Steffani's "Hollback Girl" and Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You" on a guilty pleasure playlist.

just seek therapy when you get to Miley Cyrus--she ain't far off.

-k.

"ari hest is kind of like midas, but everything he touches turns to awesome."

----------------
Now playing: Ari Hest - Anne Marie
via FoxyTunes

rain and flip flops are not the best combination. i mean sure it keeps you from having soaked sneakers, but as i exited the PATH train at 14th and 6th, i almost fell. like eight times.

i went to see singer/songwriter Ari Hest at Highline ballroom and at various points in my venture i thought i was just never going to make it. as previously noted, i'm new to this whole new jersey driving thing. however, i am also not an idiot. i left plenty of time for rush hour(s) traffic, assuming i would find myself sandwiched between corporate suited commuters and beach goers, who are more affectionately referred to as 'benny's,' trying to jump start their vacation a day early.

as usual, all of my driving instincts were wrong. but that could be a whole blog and metaphor in itself. i headed in the right direction this time, but with major accidents clogging my sacred mapquested route, improvising a different route was a risk i was willing to take. sadly, even though for ONCE i knew exactly where i was going, new jersey standstill traffic landed me in hoboken an hour and 20 minutes after my departure. lame.

half a gas tank and unnecessary amounts of toll money later, i found myself in hoboken, extrapolating the pattern of one way streets that lay before me as i tried to maneuver the nightmare that *is* hoboken parking. amazingly the scenario did NOT end with me stewing, muttering "oh great, i'm on 18th and totallyscrewed." i found an available, legal spot, just a swift walk away from the train station. i parked, relieved that i was bookended between a parked motorcycle and a truck rather than bumper-to-bumper 280 traffic. if i'm going to be stationary, i would like to be able to put the car in park and keep my gas.

i was finally on the PATH when an obnoxious, drunk twenty something year old who tried to cleverly disguise his staring at my chest as "just having a stare on" decided to announce to all of the passengers that he was in fact, going to NYC bar of mediocrity "Off The Wagon." half of the people had their Ipods on and couldn't hear. the other half blatantly did not care. either way, i can always appreciate a good collective eye roll--especially when it's directed at someone who is oblivious to their own absurdity.

but at least i was on the train, just three stops away from one of my favorite singer/song writers. and probably some bang up, indie opening acts. three minutes before our scheduled departure, Mr. Drunkey McFratFace thinks that it would be sooooooo hilarious to report the one arabic guy on the train as having a "suspicious package." to me, it looked suspiciously like an average breifcase, which it was. so it turns out Mr. Drunkey McFratFace's middle name is 'ignorant.' confirmation name? ass. why? because his actions, and i, are in fact confirming that he's an ass. you heard it here first.

myself and several other harmless passengers of all ethnic backgrounds broke for the stairway, a necessary opening from the suffocating underground, illuminated by streetlights with a complimentary soundtrack of New York city traffic, which was somehow soothingly disruptive.

so, i, with a busted ankle and poor sense of direction made my way toward Highline ballroom, misguided by the guy at the flowerstand on the corner. i am officially not recommending him to those of you in the meatpacking district. in passing, i discovered a hotel in the shape of a boat, which when combined with the pouring rain called for copious amounts of Lonely Island and Noah's Ark references.

finally, standing outside wisely in a baseball cap looking far trendier and less soaked than i, was my friend who was providing my ticket to entertainment. the promiseland. we entered the venue with optimism that Ari Hest's opening act would be as particular with his lyrics and arrangements as Ari himself. by the end of the first set my beer was gone, and my glass of optimism half empty. i don't know how else to say "dude, he sucked" but his lyrics were as empty and vapid as his hair was trendy. and he had some REALLY trendy hair. i don't know if there is a correlation between how trendy one's hair is and how stale said musician's music and lyrics are, but it's a subject to be studied. also, his only accompaniment was a guy who played two of his four strings on the upright bass. lame.

thank goodness ari is so amazing. finally we were back to substantive writing (see a fond farewell as cited early in this blog, or ANY of his lyrics...ever) and bone chilling arrangements in songs like "broken voices" and "anne marie." this is what made the night worth all the previously scripted trouble, and naturally it's the part of the night i don't really have words for. but i had tears for it, matched by a dropped jaw, racing heart, at chills. but i guess those are all the words i need. his music was so powerful it triggered emotions that were converted into physical reactions.

it was pretty amazing to see one artist, so manufactured yet thinking he's really sincere, and another, so genuine and authentic, with a natural and appropriate level of showmanship. and the friend that i went with knows the latter one, so we got to hang out for a bit, which was pure awesome.

on my way back i got stopped by a cop for pushing my luck at an orange/red light scenario literally four doors down from my apartment complex. after coping with exhaustion and temporary blindness from his stupid cop light, i only got a warning.

it was not my day for transportation. but it was definitely my day.
-k.

read about Ari's 52 song project
http://www.arihest.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=blogsection&id=8&Itemid=98