Ya know what just really pisses me off?
Band boys with red hair. What the fuck. And knowing the truth. Knowing certain truths about someone is such a downer when clearly all you are trying to do is get a superficial boost from their cute little head. Too bad you are so privileged to know it's actually cute little dickhead.
And another thing-
If you're going to have a problem with me, it might as well be for a reason. I mean come on...there's tons of kinda off things about me just pick one! Otherwise let's just be friends, I'm totally into sharing my peanut butter sandwich if you're interested.
Knowing too much sucks sometimes. My mom would be totally proud and jealous of me for the amount of dirt that I shovel in since she was in fact the one who passed super nosiness down to me. Everytime I hear a new piece of hush hush I picture Roxy Jo sitting there on the front porch overhearing the neighbors and stopping walkers for the down the road gossip. My aunts too, love the hushed word. Yet I've found that at times knowledge can be a curse. You have to know how to manage it or you get cranky, very very cranky.
Ya know what just really spoils a perfectly cranky dispostion?
Digi delay. What the hell. And knowing what song he's playing. Knowing certain chord progressions put that smile right back in your cheeks when clearly, you weren't that upset to begin with. Good thing your friends know you all too well.
"Any requests?"
"hmm something that will make me giggle."
Oh Dakota!
Damn those band boys with red hair.
...Ricky Garden.
A 72 Telecaster Reissue in Digi Delay.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I am watching your chest rise and fall...
There's a band boy in the background of my cellular phone.
All around me people seem to be going through other people. And I don't get it. And I can't keep up with it. I think perhaps I am the odd factor, always wanting to keep and never wanting to lose. I have yet to learn the beauty of losing. Have you heard me say, "I'm gonna keep you?"
"we are our own scene"
"what am i?"
"you float in our scene time and again. youre a tribal peaceman. you float from scene to scene making peace between tribes"
...ricky.
"Both Hands" by: Ani DiFranco
All around me people seem to be going through other people. And I don't get it. And I can't keep up with it. I think perhaps I am the odd factor, always wanting to keep and never wanting to lose. I have yet to learn the beauty of losing. Have you heard me say, "I'm gonna keep you?"
"we are our own scene"
"what am i?"
"you float in our scene time and again. youre a tribal peaceman. you float from scene to scene making peace between tribes"
...ricky.
"Both Hands" by: Ani DiFranco
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
i'm in love with you , are you in love with me too?
It's incredible to me how songs take on the shape of memories. Right where you were, exactly how he looked, the smirk you made when you realized this was probably a mistake and that you were probably going to get to remember this for the rest of your life.
Someone wrote of playlists that never end, a phrase that stopped my beating little heart like wiffle ball to the diaphragm, and not long after reading it a song cames on that wham! slammed me right back into a moment. I smirked the way I had back then.
I heard these two songs today that I think I can safely catorgize as my songs, my favorite songs. They are the ones that come on every mixtape and the ones I turn to Melana and say, "Shit! I LOVE this song!!" She just laughs because shes heard it 3 times already today and still, appreciates my awed revelation.
What's your song and moment?
...Ricky.
"Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional
Someone wrote of playlists that never end, a phrase that stopped my beating little heart like wiffle ball to the diaphragm, and not long after reading it a song cames on that wham! slammed me right back into a moment. I smirked the way I had back then.
I heard these two songs today that I think I can safely catorgize as my songs, my favorite songs. They are the ones that come on every mixtape and the ones I turn to Melana and say, "Shit! I LOVE this song!!" She just laughs because shes heard it 3 times already today and still, appreciates my awed revelation.
What's your song and moment?
...Ricky.
"Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional
Monday, March 9, 2009
And these are the lives you love to lead
Silent grin. It's show week.
Waking up this week isn't entirely different from other weeks; our alarms go off and we begin to assess the state of our bodies before even opening an eye. What's this bruising? Hm, that's a little stiff. Crack crack crack. We mentally begin to think ahead as to what kind of warm ups we need to pack for today, which pair of pink tights will be the comfiest. Most of us roll out all too gracefully from under the covers and stretch, wishing today would hold a little more phrasing and a little less technical tendu. Show week, though, we get our wishes.
On show week class is extra important. It's a pre-warm up warm up. Yeah, dancers warm up before warming up. Freaks. What do you have today; how far off your leg are you, hows the placement for the pirouettes later, how's that nagging injury inflamed after 10 hours days in the theatre all weekend? During show week we know exactly what we're getting our bodies up and ready for. And there's sparks in our eyes while we do it. Tired sparks, but sparks.
I have notes from backstage that perhaps I'll think on later. I have to get to the studio early to warm up for the warm up that we have to warm us up for our warm up later on.
...Ricky.
"Everything I Ask For" by: The Maine
Waking up this week isn't entirely different from other weeks; our alarms go off and we begin to assess the state of our bodies before even opening an eye. What's this bruising? Hm, that's a little stiff. Crack crack crack. We mentally begin to think ahead as to what kind of warm ups we need to pack for today, which pair of pink tights will be the comfiest. Most of us roll out all too gracefully from under the covers and stretch, wishing today would hold a little more phrasing and a little less technical tendu. Show week, though, we get our wishes.
On show week class is extra important. It's a pre-warm up warm up. Yeah, dancers warm up before warming up. Freaks. What do you have today; how far off your leg are you, hows the placement for the pirouettes later, how's that nagging injury inflamed after 10 hours days in the theatre all weekend? During show week we know exactly what we're getting our bodies up and ready for. And there's sparks in our eyes while we do it. Tired sparks, but sparks.
I have notes from backstage that perhaps I'll think on later. I have to get to the studio early to warm up for the warm up that we have to warm us up for our warm up later on.
...Ricky.
"Everything I Ask For" by: The Maine
Friday, March 6, 2009
Your mind's in Delirium! It's like the darkness is light.
It could be the stark theatre air that's getting to my head. Dim and brillant, I will spend the next week in the rich scent of burning gels. It makes you loopy, man. Delirious. Last night around 9pm we finally came to a breaking point. I had only consumed coffee all day and my heartbeat was freaking out. Rea was rolling all over in hysterical tears performing her version of Rent's Mimi. KButts was hiding snacks in her hoodie and Jenna had her shirt wrapped around her face in effort to survive the plague infested stage left. The spacious theatre quickly became intimate as we freely and very audibly discussed bowel movements and first times. I got a pencil thrown at me! But, apparently the light board was at fault, or so the LD's apology assured me. Cell phones were hidden everywhere; in bras, in pockets, in tights. Not anywhere on Sisco though, since she so openly found herself at need to go commando. For those of you who don't know how Q2Q's work, the cast stands from position to position while the tedious techies make us look pretty with lights. Q2Q stands for "cue to cue." We as dancers have one job at Q2Q; stand still in your spot. Hmm. Well we didn't do that but we did attempt to sing the Rugrat's rap. When at 10:30ish it was finally time to run the piece, we were shuffled behind the scrim and told to shhhhh. In those few exciting moments we made character choices to wear frazzled ponytails on the tip tops of our head -very muppetesque. We seriously debated going out in just bras but ultimately, Laura Jane our SM called our entrance before we executed.
I'm so hyper. But with little cooperation from Jem and Scout (the hernias), I can't so much work that out. So I'm sweating, in a cute little outfit that I have on purposefully to inhibit my physical activity, because I have 62 hundred new songs on 47 new playlists and I can't not shuffle around! A shimmy shimmy pow pow POW! Right, Mishka?? And suddenly I know what's been missing from me all this time. It could be the stark theatre air that's getting to my heart.
...Ricky Tiki Tavi.
"Where Were You" by: Every Avenue
I'm so hyper. But with little cooperation from Jem and Scout (the hernias), I can't so much work that out. So I'm sweating, in a cute little outfit that I have on purposefully to inhibit my physical activity, because I have 62 hundred new songs on 47 new playlists and I can't not shuffle around! A shimmy shimmy pow pow POW! Right, Mishka?? And suddenly I know what's been missing from me all this time. It could be the stark theatre air that's getting to my heart.
...Ricky Tiki Tavi.
"Where Were You" by: Every Avenue
Thursday, March 5, 2009
...do what they can.
I realize in blog world I should've posted my weekend adventures zero to 2 days after they happened, but I didn't think to until Meesh came into ballet today commenting that she was sorely disappointed when she checked for a Streetlight update and didn't find one. My apologies. It won't happen again.
Saturday...
...was the day I didn't know how the hours would play out. My attitude was teetering the edge of lowsy but fortunately, a good man by the name of Palmer got me off the tightrope and to Temple Beth'am. I wrote before this show, after it, and even during it. I was busy scribbling on my hands and arms while Kevin Stereo was busy seeming important. We were both half successful. Without my usual tC family there, I found I actually had the time to notice more. So chances are, if you were at this show and I know you, I probably wrote about you. That's for the creepy book though, not the communal blog. Here's what I can say:
Always at a show and always one of the only girls in their circle. Tonight, definitely the only girl comfortable in their circle. I look into the eyes of the girls with heavy arms slung around their necks and see that this isn't exactly what they had had in mind. I'd like to try to transmit via vision that I've been there, and I've done the time they're doing now. Don't worry I'd say, it's worth it.
There are constants at these shows which, I think are the real reasons I keep coming back. Because constants feel familiar and familiar feels like home. There are the clusters of brave girls in the front row who are obnoxious and yet, I don't hate them because I know they are just trying to get noticed. Most of us are. There are the friends of the band on the side. These include other musicians plus whoever came with them. I am one of these tonight. This role in the hierarchy is funny to me, because everybody has to stand, arms folded, and merely bop their heads supportively. The lack of movement represents the coolness of their status. lol. There is the ever alluring merch row, which I try to avoid; again as part of the hierarchy. It occurs to me that I've been in this particular ruling system way too long yet, it's about who you know not what you think of the rules, so I shake the thought and go to talk to Andre Palmer and Tom in Color.
There are the mistakes of my past walking around on girls' t-shirts. Damn the invention of the band tee. Nothing like merch to remind you of your ex-band boys. As I glance around the room I find another way to be reminded of the past; to have it staring right back at you.
Has only a year come and gone since I stood and stared at this same boy from across a room? I smirk, remembering exactly what I was wondering about him. Was it this same 1/2 shitty band playing in front of us? We are both older now, and surely it shows. It shows in the matured scene styles (we were just punk ass kids back then), in the bodies (not as scrawny or unsure as they once were), and in the eyes (now darker with the depth of the past year's rollercoasters). I know it's past our time and that we will never get back to the spontaneous junkie afternoons we once shared - god were we all addicted to each other! Yet it has not been so long that I cannot still see the crisp playground air in his cheeks. A few of us still wish that day had lasted forever.
Mostly tonight he has been sarcastic with me, our presences not going unnoticed by one another, just publically unacknowledged. Until now. He laughs at my scene girl smile - the kind that so obviously is a direct result of the singing amplifiers. The kind that he knows I can't begin to try to suppress. He shakes his head at my excited toes and looks away when I meet his smile. A moment later, in an effort to regain the standoffish scene star sex appeal, he winks at me. Then he looks into my eyes and laughs at his own reflection, realizing that I can see right through him.
Enough for one post.
Andre must already be livid.
...EBby.
"Surgery in Canada" by: Life Between Sleep
Saturday...
...was the day I didn't know how the hours would play out. My attitude was teetering the edge of lowsy but fortunately, a good man by the name of Palmer got me off the tightrope and to Temple Beth'am. I wrote before this show, after it, and even during it. I was busy scribbling on my hands and arms while Kevin Stereo was busy seeming important. We were both half successful. Without my usual tC family there, I found I actually had the time to notice more. So chances are, if you were at this show and I know you, I probably wrote about you. That's for the creepy book though, not the communal blog. Here's what I can say:
Always at a show and always one of the only girls in their circle. Tonight, definitely the only girl comfortable in their circle. I look into the eyes of the girls with heavy arms slung around their necks and see that this isn't exactly what they had had in mind. I'd like to try to transmit via vision that I've been there, and I've done the time they're doing now. Don't worry I'd say, it's worth it.
There are constants at these shows which, I think are the real reasons I keep coming back. Because constants feel familiar and familiar feels like home. There are the clusters of brave girls in the front row who are obnoxious and yet, I don't hate them because I know they are just trying to get noticed. Most of us are. There are the friends of the band on the side. These include other musicians plus whoever came with them. I am one of these tonight. This role in the hierarchy is funny to me, because everybody has to stand, arms folded, and merely bop their heads supportively. The lack of movement represents the coolness of their status. lol. There is the ever alluring merch row, which I try to avoid; again as part of the hierarchy. It occurs to me that I've been in this particular ruling system way too long yet, it's about who you know not what you think of the rules, so I shake the thought and go to talk to Andre Palmer and Tom in Color.
There are the mistakes of my past walking around on girls' t-shirts. Damn the invention of the band tee. Nothing like merch to remind you of your ex-band boys. As I glance around the room I find another way to be reminded of the past; to have it staring right back at you.
Has only a year come and gone since I stood and stared at this same boy from across a room? I smirk, remembering exactly what I was wondering about him. Was it this same 1/2 shitty band playing in front of us? We are both older now, and surely it shows. It shows in the matured scene styles (we were just punk ass kids back then), in the bodies (not as scrawny or unsure as they once were), and in the eyes (now darker with the depth of the past year's rollercoasters). I know it's past our time and that we will never get back to the spontaneous junkie afternoons we once shared - god were we all addicted to each other! Yet it has not been so long that I cannot still see the crisp playground air in his cheeks. A few of us still wish that day had lasted forever.
Mostly tonight he has been sarcastic with me, our presences not going unnoticed by one another, just publically unacknowledged. Until now. He laughs at my scene girl smile - the kind that so obviously is a direct result of the singing amplifiers. The kind that he knows I can't begin to try to suppress. He shakes his head at my excited toes and looks away when I meet his smile. A moment later, in an effort to regain the standoffish scene star sex appeal, he winks at me. Then he looks into my eyes and laughs at his own reflection, realizing that I can see right through him.
Enough for one post.
Andre must already be livid.
...EBby.
"Surgery in Canada" by: Life Between Sleep
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Michelle and Erica's Craig's List Ad (draft)
Blonde pretty Italian and a blonde, red, and brunette all mixed into one scene girl looking for a tall stocky Italian and a skinny tight pants boy.
Preferably brothers and or friends: Sports are a must for the stocky one.
Musical talent for the tight pants one.
Must not be players.
Must be gentlemen.
Treat us with respect
Do not make weird slurping noises as if to scare off our housemates and roomates
Send a pic with your reply and we will send one of us looking forward to hearing from you.
...Meesh.
Preferably brothers and or friends: Sports are a must for the stocky one.
Musical talent for the tight pants one.
Must not be players.
Must be gentlemen.
Treat us with respect
Do not make weird slurping noises as if to scare off our housemates and roomates
Send a pic with your reply and we will send one of us looking forward to hearing from you.
...Meesh.
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