Impressions Of Shawn Mullins
Category: Music

Wheeeeeeeee!

Good newses all around.  A few weeks ago the blog I wrote about Open Mic Night somehow worked its way into the hands of the owner of The Loft.  (Possibly had something to do with me printing it out and whoring it around to the bartenders?  Maybe?)  The owner was impressed and mentioned a possible teaming up of myself and another regular customer (sister-in-law of Bartender Superstar) who is an aspiring Annie Lebowitz doing text-and-picture articles for the local free monthly A&E rag here in town.

The first piece I wrote on musician Marshall Ruffin (*swoon*) is almost print ready.  I need to do a few final edits before I turn it in.  (I emailed it around a bit for feedback -- if you weren't one of the ones who got it but would like to be, mention it.  I just don't want to post it publically seeing as it is for actual publishing and seems a bit jinxy.)  Am got some GREAT pics of him Friday night when he opened for Shawn Mullins.  I think my writing and her photos together will make one hell of an article.

Speaking of Shawn Mullins -- dang!  I did enjoy his show.  She got some great shots of him too.  I have some notes here that I scribbled down whilst basking in his musical genius.  (Ironically, scribbled on the back of a draft of the Ruffin piece.)  After the show I got him to sign the notes, but I didn't tell him that they were for a future article.  In his eyes I am just another swoony fan.  (And likely, after the article, being as it is to be published in a small town free monthly paper, I will remain just another swoony fan.)  'To Katy -- Thanks for coming and for writing! *HEART* *some scribble that kind of resembles his name*'

I'm keeping this paper forever.

Anyway, since the notes -- or impressions really -- aren't coherant enough to be an actual article, I don't feel the same jinxiness posting them here, so I will.

Here goes:

A bard.  A poet.  A story teller.

Makes me homesick for places I've been in this life and maybe past lives too.

Talks as much as he sings during the course of a song.

Tells stories -- some comedic, some pensive, some downright sad.

A little hippy folkster, a little honky tonk blues.

(Looking back through notes after the show I spotted the word 'honky' and was taken aback for a minute wondering why in the hell I'd written down 'honky' until I was able to put it into context.  Context is so very, very important.)

Has a way of keeping the audience in on some grand private joke.

Sings with a wink to his voice.

Glamorizes the artistic slacker that is just too sensitive to hold it together -- makes me feel better for being such a creative loser.

Angsty.

A redneck waltz -- who doesn't love a waltz?

He reminds me of when I was someone else -- a 23 yr old, a brand new wife, brand new mother, watching someone else's baby for extra cash -- a toddler who used to grab her dolly and sit in the rocker and croon to her everytime she heard 'Lullabye'. 

(This was when that song was a HUGE hit -- when he played it during the show he announced it as 'A medley of my greatest hit')

'Bliss'

Activism without preachiness.

Sings in sepia tones flush with sunlight and smiles captured forever to revist years later on rainy afternoons by people much older -- like baby picture montages at high school graduations.

______

So there you have it.  As you might spot, coherancy declines as the notes progress.  There were shots involved.  Blue shots.  I don't do blue shots.  Why was I doing blue shots?  Egads!

Anyway, feedback.  Please.

10:00 AM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Highly Fortunate Tuesday
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

It is probably highly fortunate for me that it is Tuesday.  See, I'm in the antsy kind of mood today that usually gets me into trouble, and Tuesday, being the day all my favorite places are CLOSED means my antsiness and I will be staying home.

I hate feeling all unsettled -- like I'm sitting around waiting for something to happen.  I feel tingly when I'm like this.  I get goosebumps for no reason. 

Oh well.

I'm back on part time again, but this time it is short days every day instead of a couple of long days and a couple of days off.  I'm not sure if I am going to like the time to myself or resent the smaller check.  Shall see how it goes.

Dangit.

I want to crawl out of my skin.

10:24 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Open Mic MySpace

6:34 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Performance Anxiety and Counting Down Till Lunch
Category: Music

We went out for Mexican last night.  I left with a to-go order Child's Plate cheese enchilada verde.  I've found that a child's plate portion of any Mexican entree is just PERFECT for lunch the next day for me.  It is only 11:02 and I am finding it hard to wait till lunch.  I'm humming Carly Simon's 'Anticipation'.  And thinking about ketchup commercials all of a sudden.

(Note I said 'all of a sudden' and not 'all THE sudden' -- when people say 'all the sudden' I want to, as darling Robby, my future ex-husband, said so eloquently the other day, 'bite someone in the face'.)

*sigh*

I went sangin' on Wednesday.

I really for real did it!

Sunday at Lake Martin (ALWAYS Lake Martin on Sunday these days -- I think every single weekend in May we went) I was floating around on my big air mattress and started humming a blues riff to go with the tuneless lyrics.  A bit more humming and I realized that I had written lyrics that slide perfectly into the 'template' if you will of an 8-bar blues diddy.

I've got friends.  It helps to have friends. 

I have friends with TALENT.  It helps even more to have friends with talent.

I have friends with TALENT that gather every Wednesday for Open Mic at the Loft, and are more than willing to nurture the creative blossomings of an aspiring songwriter.  (Either that or they think I'm cute?  I hope for cute but believe in the blah blah blah about blossomings.  Artists are funky that way.)

So last Wednesday I printed out my lyrics and kept my hummy little tune in mind and showed up early for Open Mic.  I collaberated with Virgina and Dan and came up with a right cute little arrangement and PERFORMED it ON STAGE like actually IN PUBLIC and IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. 

But not people I know and/or am really friendly with, not counting staff, who I won't deny are friends but they don't come there JUST to see me, much as I'd prefer that to be the case, and not counting Eddie, who I didn't know would be there and actually didn't even know was in the audience until I got off stage and got the spotlight out of my eyes.

Next Wedsnesday I will perform it again, and this time I will invite friends since I now know I can get up on stage and sing a song I wrote without making a complete ass of myself.

If you live in the area, I expect to see you there.  If you have a video camera, bring it -- those that don't live in the area expect video.

8:03 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Lyrics That Need Music
Category: Music

When life gets complicated
I don't want to think or feel.
I play dress up and pretend
That this nonsense isn't real.
I have perky plastic boobies
And perfect plastic teeth,
Perfect petite ankles,
And petite plastic feet.

I'm a dash board hula girl
A pretty plastic thing.
I just wanna shake my hips
I don't wanna wear no ring.
Put me in a car.
Turn the music up and drive.
I'll shake my pretty hips
While you take me for a ride.

I'm quixotic and exotic
I pin-up girl for modern day.
I'll find a boy and be his toy
And together run away.
We'll drive out to Miami
Feast on cake and margaritas
Instead of dowdy gringo frump
Sexy plastic senorita.

Just a dash board hula girl.
A pretty plastic thing.
I just wanna shake my hips.
I don't wanna wear no ring.
Put me in a car,
Turn the music up and drive.
I'll shake my pretty hips
While you take me for a ride.

He'll make me up a song
And I'll want to dance along.
He will look at me and smile
While the wheels eat up the miles.
I'm the perfect plastic flirt
In my faux-grass plastic skirt.
I'm perfectly care free
Because all I want to be

Is a dash board hula girl
A pretty plastic thing.
I just wanna shake my hips --
Oh! Wait! Is that a ring?
Put me in a minivan
Turn the music up and drive.
Kiss my plastic lips
I'm forever by your side.

We ride on past the sunset.
Build a little life.
In some cutesie town in Iowa
Where I'm Mommy, maid, and wife.
I'm a perfect Betty Crocker
Till the sweetness closes in
And I get that itch to shake my hips
And run away again

To be a dash board hula girl
A pretty plastic thing.
I just wanna shake my hips
I don't wanna wear no ring.
Put me in a car.
Turn the music up and drive.
I'll shake my pretty hips
Till I hitch another ride.

10:47 PM - 6 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

I Think She Has Me Confused With Someone Else
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes

I'm sitting here with a detailed report of my psych eval from March.  I had a nice sit-down discussion with the doctor about it soon after the testing was complete, but she did not at that time give me a full written report.  I recieved that in the mail over the weekend.

I'm looking over it and wondering if maybe she has me confused with someone else because I don't think she nailed me AT ALL.  I shall repost here for your amusement an excerpt of her findings:

Ms. Frickenheiney is a 33-year old woman who notes that she and her husband "confuse" her therapist, adding that "we've learned to adapt to our quirks."  She states that she is curious about her diagnosis, given prior diagnoses of bioplar disorder (which did not show up in this round of evaluations, btw).  Ms. Frickenheiney states that she also suspects she suffers from ADD.  In terms of her genetic history, she questions whether or not her father, a gifted engineer, suffered from Asperger's Disorder.  She has two older sisters, described as "a little neurotic but OK" (yes I said that about you!).  Her genetic history is otherwise benign. 

Ms. Frickenheiney is a pleasant, candid, and quick-witted woman able to laugh at herself and some formerly difficult situations.  She maintains excellent eye contact, speaking quickly, fluently, and succinctly; yet elaborating when engaged in telling comical stories.  Although frequently maintaining a bemused expression, she was nondefensive and candid about her concerns.  She appeared well focused during the structured interview and testing.  During subtests requiring complex attention and concentration, she maintained an intent gaze, sometimes whispering to herself in order to enhance short-term memorization.  She quickly ascertained that ceilings were being established within certain subtests, at one point joking during the [insert name of blah blah blah test here -- she gave me lists of numbers and letters to memorize and repeat back, then memorize sort, and put in order then repeat back -- gack!] subtest that she would, "start babbling random numbers so you'll stop!"  She appeared to enjoy the challanges of cognitive testing, presenting as persistent and engaged.

Performance on the Tests of Variables of Attention was not in the standard range consistant with ADHD, however, when corrected for her very superior IQ, measures of inattention and, particularly, inpulsivity are both less than expectations.

(She said I have a Very Superior IQ!!!!)

A subclinical elevation of the Alcohol Problems scale indicates Ms. Frickenheiney may drink regularly and as a result may have experienced some adverse consequences.  However her score is not at the level reflecting likelyhood that alcohol has caused or is causing problems for her.   (Ha!  I KNEW it!  I'm NOT an alcoholic!  Just a garden variety lush.)

In terms of interpersonal relationships, there are indications of marked tendancies to overvalue her personal worth and to become preoccupied with her own needs at the expense of concerns about the needs of others.  (The needs of others?  Huh?  Others have needs?)  In addition to these narcissistic-like traits, she is likely to exhibit a sense of entitlement and a tendancy to externalize blame and responsibility.  (Ok, so maybe I do -- but it's all nature and nurture, and not my fault.  Pfffft!)  She gives evidence of possessing the adaptive capacity to anticipate and establish close, intimate, and mutually supportive relationships with other people.  (Now how can I do that if I am so damn narcissistic?)

Projective personality testing was completed with the Rorschach, with Ms. Frickenheiney's responses producing a valid record that should ordinarily provide reliable information about her personality functioning.  (As opposed to the time I took the Rorschach and just lied for fun.)  She appears to have sufficient psychological resources to cope adequately with the demands being imposed by internal and external events in her life.  Consequently, she can ordinarily manage the stresses in her life without becoming unduly upset by them and is likely to be relatively free from overty anxiety, tension, nervousness, and irritability.  (Relatively free from irritability?  Pffffffft!  I think my husband and kids might beg to differ there.)  Such people tend to be fairly stable individuals who possess at least an average capacity to tolerate frustration, persevere in the face of obstacles, and exert adaptive control over their behavior. 

She appears capable of attending to her experience in a reasonably open and flexible manner that constitutes a personality asset.  She shows an adaptive balance between being able to deal with situations in a detached and uninvolved manner sometimes and, at other times, in a concerned and engaged manner.  She demonstrates generally good abilities to perceive events conventionally without sacraficing her individuality, to form accurate impressions about herself, to interpret the actions and intentions of others without distortion, to adequately anticipate the consequences of her own actions, and to correctly construe what constitutes appropriate behavior in various kinds of situations.  Her good reality testing constitutes a substantial personality strength.  However (!!!!!) despite being capable of exercising good reality testing, she often opts for unconventional ways of perceiving people and events.  As a consequence, she is at times likely to act in idiosyncratic ways without much concern for the social acceptablilty of her behavior.  (!!!!! HA !!!!!!)  (That's my favorite part of the whole damn thing!)

____________________

Ok, so.  Think she nailed me? 

6:04 AM - 9 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Amandine for Mrs. Robinson

I'm having green beans with slivered almonds for lunch.  It's one of those Green Giant Simply Steam dealies -- just plain straight up green beans, no seasoning, in a steamer pouch with a separate foil packet of slivered almonds.  I keep butter -- real butter, not some I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Fabio bullshit -- here at the office and there are always packets of salt and pepper, so I was able to dress up my green beans real nice. 

(Now you may join me in my silly mental image of green beans modeling for Abercrombie and Fitch, being dressed up real nice and all -- little sweater vests, mouths all a-pout.)

So, here's the bad thing.  I put pepper on my green beans and then I sneezed like a hunnert-n-fitty times in a row.  Very annoying.  All I had to blow my nose on was a paper towel which is all scratchity and not comfy at ALL for my schnoz!

But I digress.  My quandry of the day -- do green beans count as lunch?  Does the addition of almonds help?  What if I add in some microwave popcorn? 

(I'm scrounging for lunch today as you can tell.)

(And listening to -- and singing along with -- the oldies station.  I dadgum LOVE the oldies station.)

(Since when are songs from the 80's oldies?  I grew up listening to my parents' music on the oldies station -- not MY music!  WTF?  Does this imply that *I* am old?)

(Ok, enough parantheticals.)

Bah.

Today is going well.  I think my boss may have finally figured out that I am NOT on the list of people who want to screw him, cheat him, mislead him, manipulate him, or otherwise do him wrong, tho I am not counting on this positive attitude being a permenant thing.  He is in a good mood today and likely just popping his head out long enough for a breath.  No doubt he will return to complete paranoia by tomorrow afternoon.

Regardless, today is Wednesday and that means Open Mic and Karaoke and my chance to play Mrs. Robinson when I oogle my favorite way-too-young-for-me piece of eye candy, and I have my silly joke of the week all ready. 

I dadgum LOVE Wednesdays.

10:42 AM - 7 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Random Tuesday
Category: Music

I find myself wishing my fav bar was open Tuesday.  I'm not so much a fan of Tuesday.  It can be stressful and there's not really anything to do after work to blow off steam.

Bugger.

I will just have to survive until tomorrow.

Work still toddling along.  Billing, scheduling, profit, loss, accounts-payable-ing, and loads of daydreaming.  (Moobs.  Sigh.)  El Heffe pulled his head out of his butt just long enough to take a breath, then shoved it back in.  We expect that from him tho, being a man and all.  Things still aren't as peppy as he'd like for them to be, and he's stressing out a bit and acting like most men do when stressing -- that is, like great big toddlers.

I printed out the blog about the open mic and it got passed around the bar this weekend.  I hope the owner read it.  Maybe he will post it somewhere and give me a free drink for it.  I like free drinks.

I'd like a free drink now.

At ten-something on a Tuesday morning I want a free drink.  How sad is that?

Tonight we have family therapy.  Curious to see how that is going to pan out.

Pan....seared salmon.  I want seared salmon for dinner.  I think we might have some in the freezer, but I'd have to thaw it.  Wonder how long that would take.  If we stopped by the house and I put the salmon under a dribble of running luke warm water, would it be thawed by the time we got done at the doc?  Do I have any dried dill? 

Hmmm...

Yeah...I have to work now.

I'll be checking back in.

Amuse me with comments.

7:45 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Fun With Status Messages At Steak-and-Shake
Category: Food and Restaurants

Being as it has been probably a month or more since we went grocery shopping, we are once again eating out far too much.  Earlier this week we had dinner at Steak-and-Shake.  For some reason I was inspired to write out a bazillion potential status messages on the back of a placemat.  The following are for your amusement:

Domestic as a Tootsie Frickinheiney...

...is still daydreaming about fuzzy moobs.

...would gladly sell her soul for a handful of magic beans.

...thinks more people should wear paper more paper hats more often.

...strongly disapproves of small children.

...thinks Sarge should share his chocolate malt.

...wonders if bacon and bleu cheese cancel out the dietary virtue of a grilled chicken salad.

...wonders if a grilled chicken salad cancels out the dietary non-virtue of bacon and blue cheese.

...doesn't really take issue with small children sitting under the dinner table, granted they stay quiet.

...has always viewed 'special sauce' with a degree of suspicion.

...is grateful she is past the age at which one believes one may only have one friend at a time.

...knows some adults who aren't.

...sends blessings and good karma to the inventor of wet naps.

...digs croutons.

...sometimes wants to be a teen again, but then ponders a bit more and thinks better of it.

...misundertands clip-on ties.

...still has that moob thing going through her head.

...finds that scribbling on the back of placemats heightens the creative experience.

...is unphased by small girl in short dress publically displaying Bob the Builder underpants proudly.

...has always found the word 'underpants' amusing.

...also the word 'slacks'.

...is bored with chewing, fed up with the kids, annoyed at the Sarge who did NOT share his chocolate malt, and is headed for home then OUT!

10:38 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

A Trip Down Memory Lane
Category: Parties and Nightlife

I've become a bit of a regular at my favorite downtown bar lately.  I kinda sorta practically live there.  The place seems so familiar now that I hardly remember it NOT feeling like home, but once upon a time I was a stranger.  (And I'm still stranger than most...)

Anyway, I blogged about that first time.  I'm reposting just for shits and giggles.  It is (IMO) a damn fine piece of writing.

A smoky bar is my sanctuary.

Guinness my sacred communion.

The singer my Reverand.

His band a chorous of angels.

Music my god.

The ability to create song comes from a place that is not human.  A wooden box, strung with wire; buckets covered with skins; brass tubing with a funnel on one end -- when strummed, beaten, or blown they make a noise that transcends ordinary sound. 

Rhythms, harmonies, melodies winding and entertwining and have the power to make you weep and moan or alternately make you giggle, full to your toes with glee till you lose yourself to the movement of hips, hands, arms, wrists, legs, knees, feet, shoulders.

This noise can make you sigh, nostalgic, or make you horny-hot so that you're inclined to grab the first willing thing and grind against it, whether or not you're ultimately interested in said thing long term.  (Possibly dangerous?)

Music -- my intoxicant of choice.  Be it bluegrass, funk, folk, Americana, dance, trance, swing, boogie, soulful crooning, or balls out rock and roll -- I dig it.  I am a hopeless addict.  When I experience music in my gut I feel more than alive -- I am vital, young, free, powerful, devastatingly sexy.

This elixir of life in purest form is doled out on Wednesdays by seemingly ordinary people with ordinary jobs -- pizza guy, bartender, engineer, shop owner -- Clark Kent by day and Superman of Soul at night.  All with MySpace pages.

Last week I stepped into open mic night at the Loft in downtown Columbus, GA, bored with the basketball game at an elsewhere watering hole,  hoping to find something more tolerable than some off-key emo wannabe croaking out James Blount badly.  (As if JB isn't bad enough on his own...)  Last night I returned to the Loft like a smack junkie desperately seeking my next hit.

These open mic sessions feel like a recondite gathering of local musical elite -- far more for the benefit of the performers than the audience.  I feel priviledged to be allowed in to a meeting of the secret club of musicians.

When I first walked in a week ago and the first wave of melodic, lyrical nirvana washed over me, I fell into shock.  My jaw literally dropped.  This can't be a Wednesday!  This can't be open mic!  The sub-par cover bands I dress up and shell out a perfectly good five-dollar bill to see at the pub across the street on weekends got NOTHIN' on these guys.  And here, tonight, I stroll in for free with my baggy pants and flip flops.  Dubya-tee-eff?

An old man with a wild grey jew-fro and a sloppy button down shirt croons to my heart with a voice like the love child of Warren Zevon and Tom Waites.  With a beer in one hand and a smoke in the other, this gravel-voiced minstrel invites me into his beatnik world of smoky intimacy and trippy philosophy.

An unassuming bunch of farmer-looking dudes take me back to my Appalachain roots with acoustic aplomb, tickling my fancy with each strum of the mandolin -- high on the high harmonies.

Feel good funk with Stax vibe transports me to childhood, grooving to Booker T and the MGs in my father's study while he jams along on his '67 Fender P-Bass, size 12 Hushpuppies tapping out the time.

Some guy with a wah-wah pedal lifts me with Bono flair.  Heavy drum and bass lines vibrate the pleather booth seating and tickle my secret girly parts.

I dip.

I dive.

I sink.

I float.

I twirl.

I spin.

I bounce.

I leave more spiritually refreshed than I ever did from prayer meeting as a child.  I skip to the car. 

Open mic night is as much my new religion as my new vice.

Blessed be.

11:26 AM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment