Strange dreams last night. Friends that wouldn’t speak to me, people who got up and left the table, muttering when I sat down. Lead by my highschool nemesis… he’d probably laugh pretty hard if he knew how he lingered in my consciousness. So much sunshine. I woke up startled and sad.
I’m pretty un-confidant about my voice right up until I’m playing. Then I enjoy pushing it, growling, gritting my teeth and hissing. Maybe I spent too much time painting Tyrannid models, imagining what THEIR songs would sound like… of course, that’s just silly. Tyrannids are telepathic.
I worry about being sloppy as a player – that also evaporates on stage. For the last two weeks I’ve been keeping an almost tour-like steadiness in my play schedule – an open mic every other night, gigs, etc. It feels really good, like I’ve slipped into my stride or something. Of course, I guess I could have that feeling ALL the time if I practiced more, but I must admit, the resolution required to sit and run through my songs and scales doesn’t often come around. The moment I have a free minute I usually realize I haven’t written in the Journal recently or something.
Let’s see, in the last two weeks I’ve played: Teavolve (great show, Mieka Pauley opened for us, Lovely audience, scary woman!), Everyday Gourmet (people on vacation, had a great time with the people that were there, but had the dubious distinction of being the first time we DIDN’T have a full list), Brewer’s Alley (also sparse, first night with that “hitting my stride” feeling for a while, everything felt fluid – right up until we trainwrecked in the middle of “Old Love”), Parallel Wine Gallery (winged an Alice in Chains song and flirted with two Michael Jackson tunes), Dogfish Head (bad-assery was perpetrated, check debacle), the Teavolve open mic (made lots of friends and dragged them to…), my Trax on Wax open mic (inverse to Everday, this was the first night we had a FULL list!) and then last night I met up with my friend Bruce and we played the Sean Bolan open mic up in Bel Air. Another dubious distinction. First time I got caught up in someone being “bounced” from the bar. Guy took a swing at me. I had the presence of mind to step back and let the bouncer knock him cold. I then got to step over the guy’s dazed form as I exited the building. Sigh… all the good stuff happens when Heather’s NOT around!
Of course, apparently SHE ended up competing in a drag queen talent show and winning a cash prize, so I guess she had her share of excitement too.
Last night I was invited out to an open mic at an Irish bar in Bel Air, MD by my latest favourite non-ilyAIMY musical jam partner, Bruce Lebovitz. He’s an amazing violinist and I’m really flattered that he seems to enjoy playing with me as much as I enjoy having him. He’s got an open invite to join us on any stage he finds us on, so hopefully I’ll get to share him soon. You know, while keeping him to myself. At a table full of his friends, I did my best to be social, and mostly succeeded, but I’ve got to admit I filled two teeny pages with my teeny black writing whilst thinking private thoughts to myself. I’m just not good at talking too much to other people in a crowded, loud bar. Good times were perpetrated, dancing was inspired, random extra drummers where jammed with, cards were passed out, and Bel Air was rocked. The only thing that sucks is I tend to get wrapped up in Bruce’s playing and lose my lyrics a bit – but since he doesn’t know the song and most of the people that DID know the songs were also pretty distracted by the fiddling, I think I got away with it.
Tomorrow is the Avalon Folk Festival. Naked people. The next day’s a house concert. Busy, busy, busy and no complaints. (Listening to Mark Sylvester’s “American Gypsy” album)
I slipped with the banjo while pulling it apart and smacked my laptop. The right third of the screen is now… as above. Sigh. Still, I think my Toshiba has been my longest-surviving computer ever!
