movin on up (to a second album)
So. The downside of being in an awful emotional funk for days is that...I comfort eat/gain weight, and don't leave the house. The upside is, I organize a tracklist and come up with a name/concept for the new demo album. Mike is planning on doing cover art (like last time), and I'm very excited to record in the fall now that something has kind of materialized in my mind.
I decided to put these new set of songs under a different name, not "Jade Looking Glass," because well, they're a different set of songs conceptually, and the "Jade" idea isn't as relevant. So, here we go:
Porcelain Jigsaw
1. Puzzle Sabotage
2. Prisms & Intentions
3. Icarus
4. Disenchantment, Stirred
5. Leaves of Grass
6. Burnt Orange
7. Velveteen
8. Gravity
9. As It Descends
10. Rome (In Replay)
11. Benediction
Needless to say, I'm psyched. Hopefully, you're psyched. No songs are alike, although you'll be able to hear different influences on the tracks...everything from Dave Matthews and the Allman Brothers, to Ani DiFranco, Iron &Wine and Bob Dylan. Huzzah.
Also, this time around I'm going to have to think of a more clever way to distribute...all the blank cds I had to buy to give everyone a copy last time...its kind of burned a hole in my pocket. But at the same time it feels wrong/weird to have people pay for this. Crickey -- we'll see.
And now, back to cleaning/packing.
Oh, and this is a tres interesting site, Last.FM/Audioscrobbler, for those who base their everyday lives on the music they listen to:
Last.FM
I just made an account, and it's fun to check the site occasionally.
Anddd that's all folks.
becoming slightly anticlimactic, no?
Indeed. Another piece. Also, not sleeping for approximately 32 hours (voluntarily) makes life a little more interesting.
"As It Descends"
prisms and colors and songs, oh my
Spent the majority of the day writing no. 24 (I've reached the 2 dozen mark!)...I was relentless. Usually I give up after an hour and chuck the little red notebook out of my sight, but today I just chugged along and spent...a good six hours just churning this one out. It's like I've taken some sort of music-writing laxative...(was that too descriptive?) I guess I'm just taking advantage of the piano & schedule-less days, before I head off to the mountains and glaciers.
This one has an Ani Difranco vibe, which is a new twist for me. But I tell myself that experimentation is a good thing...and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. It's called "Prism Subtleties." The second verse has some Dylan "Like A Rolling Stone" references, and there's a little heads up to Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" (how could I not, when the whole concept of the piece is based on a prism, haar.) But I promise they're not just shallow references; they actually do tie in to the piece.
I've also decided to modify some other song titles: "Rome (In Replay)" and "Disenchantment, Stirred" just to spice things up. Not that anyone really cares. (Just humor me and pretend you're interested in my songwriting escapades. Huzzah.)
So...voila: "Prism Subtleties""Prisms & Intentions"
sugarpie honey
Just finished off the brittle that Elena brought to "Wedding Crashers" (individually wrapped, of course.) Mmmm. This fall in Greenwich, now that we'll have a kitchen, I'm salivating just thinking about the amount of brittle we'll (she'll) be making. We should just put a sign on the door that says "Keebler's"
Wedding Crashers, by the way, was fantastic to the umpteenth power.
Justine and I have decided that I am the Vince to her Owen. And that Mike is definitely Chaz.
Let's face it, I would definitely be the one making balloon bicycles to get attention/getting shot in the ass multiple times. "ERRONEOUS!"
Whoaaa I'm leaving for Alaska in a week and something. Which means recording is prob not happening this summer. But not to worry, it will happen in the fall. Maybe I'll have a few more songs/a band by then. Or not. Whatever. I was telling Justine that I learned a life lesson this summer, from doing absolutely nothing with my life. Motivated myself to get my act together. Justine consoled me by saying that was her summer last year.
Today was so gorgeous, so I decided to take advantage of the weather (i.e try to tan) and needless to say, I was cursed with un-tannable skin (I only burn). But I managed not to burn myself today, huzzah.
It's saturday night, and all I really feel like doing is taking a nice bath and popping in a movie. But I swear, I'm only 18 (but turning 19 in less than a month!) and not 43. Really.
(velveteen)
My bangs are so long.
So I've been on a roll and have written two new pieces this week. "Puzzle Sabotage," and the new one is tentatively titled "Velveteen." This one has kind of an updated "Cashmere Slippers" feel...musically it's kind of Stevie Wonder/Jack Johnson on speed...It's in the "she" voice again, going back to the "Pieces of Jade" set...but the "she" isn't just me, it's more like a synthesis of me and a friend. Anyway. So now that makes it 23 songs, and I'm getting close to the limit...meaning, I don't know how many more original compositions I can stuff into my brain without having it implode or explode or something. Baaah I need a music writing program.
So here are the lyrics: "Velveteen"
is fresca really a middle-aged drink?!
I didn't think so....but I wouldn't be surprised, since apparently, I am a living breathing 40 something year old who yearns for typewriters, giant wicker picnic baskets lined with gingham. with bad knees.
I swear, I will bring snail mail back. Once I get either a fountain pen and/or a typewriter, you will only be receiving snail mail from me. Because dont' you love getting real mail? Don't you miss it?? I know you do, and that is why I am here to save the day. Just call me The Snail.
Here's an example of when I love my parents: I get back from the concert in the park, call my dad to say hi, he asks how the concert was/what composers they played, I tell him Dvorak, one of the pieces being "New World Symphony," he starts humming the cadence from the second movement exaggeratedly, and I can hear my mom cracking up in the background. I love when they're silly.
Concert was lovely, although it was motherfucking hot/humid outside. Lovely picnic, lovely people, lovely music, not-so-lovely neighbors. Need to finish off the wine...that'll probably the rest of the night, wine and writing and reading. Can't believe I'm headed for AK so soon.
when i have fears
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.
--"Just Like A Woman" Bob Dylan
I've slowly but surely been going through my itunes library and rating as many songs as I can. I've gone through a good chunk of Bob Dylan, Jack Johnson and the Beatles. I suppose this is my way of trying to structure my life, although we both (my iTunes and I) know that I'm not really structuring anything. If you didn't know already, for the most part I'm a very non-confrontational person and like to deal with negative developments in my life in somewhat bizarre and passive, futile means. Without actually confronting the problem itself. Bad, yes, je sais.
And this may lead you to ask, have there been some negative developments in your life, Deb?
The answer, my loves, would be yes. A simple and lamentable yes.
Which leads me to the past weekend, which was, in a nutshell, me passively avoiding the problems in my life by completely immersing myself in...adolescence, I suppose: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Harry Potter, both exemplary of escapism in film and literature form. The movie was entertaining, but if I said it was "GREAT!!!" I might be lying a little bit. My skepticism probably comes from the advertisement overload; I felt like I had already seen most of the movie through the previews.
On the other hand, I can wholeheartedly say that Half-Blood Prince is a thumbs up. I won't say anything to spoil it for others. Yes I realize that reading the book in its entirety on the day it came out is stooping to a new - and what I thought was unfathomable - level of geekdom, but whatever. And to top it all off, I watched the first Harry Potter movie...little Rupert Grint is adorable. And I had totally forgotten about Oliver Wood, that hottie mchottstein.
I've been writing some more, editing my 8 page poem (what Naima calls epic, but...again, nothing compared to 17 pages). But usually, more writing is a sign that I'm not in a good place. Also, my right shoulder is now so tense that it's beginning to hurt. But I'm trying to wait until I go to AK to get a massage at my neighbor's place where she does it for free. And she's a masseuse or something. But it hurts, it's actually that tense.
I don't like it that I don't laugh as much anymore. And when I do laugh, it's usually only when I'm....removed from reality by a few degrees. I'm just afraid that I'm becoming a little too dependent on escapism these days, and right now it's in the form of Harry Potter and the likes, but it could become...I don't know, something else. I don't want it to become self-destructing.
I didn't write about this, but I did write accompaniment for "Leaves of Grass." It's simple, it has a "Melissa" (Allman Bros) vibe. Anyway, yeah.
Okay I've been depressing enough for an entry.
don't have an interesting title, shove off.
mmyeah so who's been mood-swinging like a chimp? (get it, swing, chimp? mmkay...) yeah that would be me.
I haven't been this irritable since....I really can't remember the last time I was such a pain in the ass to be around. Sometime in high school, but this hasn't happened in a while. Just everything going down the drain in a really big way, you know? Or maybe you don't. Whatever. It's okay, I'm not going to rant.
You should thank Naima, because if I hadn't had a light-hearted pseudo pity party with her on the phone, I would be ranting here.
Anyway, yesterday was the Philharmonic concert in the park, which was fantastic even though we got there "late" and didn't have good "seats". But before I met up with James (my friend Levent wanted to come to the concert but couldn't) I saw Fierman. Hadn't seen her in about a month or something like that, since I've been such a recluse. She had a dinner thing, I had the concert thing, so we smoked to chill out a little. She gave me a rough copy of a 17-page epic poem she wrote. More on that later.
So I met up with James, realized I forgot my wine opener at home so thought getting wine would be a bad idea. (WRONG, EVERY OTHER PERSON SITTING BY US HAD AN OPENER) But it was fine because we found ridiculously cheap Yuengling and so got that. And food. We got to the park an hour before the concert.....and it was PACKED. So we sat off to the side, which was fine. We heard most of the music, whatever. But next Tuesday is going to be hardcore. I'm going to get there sometime in the afternoon and just chill and drink before the concert, because actually sitting near the orchestra would be kickass. (You guys can just trickle in whenever you get out of work and whatnot because remember? I'm the unemployed one, I don't have anything better to do except park my ass on the grass and wait for you guys. Oh and people have this thing down to a science; since the Great Lawn is massive, people bring bunches of bright helium balloons and prop them up where they're sitting so that their party can spot them easily. Brilliant!!)
So yeah it was laid back and nice, I'm definitely looking forward to Tuesday which probably isn't going to be as laid back since there will be more people, but it'll be the real deal. Picnic, wine, good patch of grass to call our own.
Crashed at Third North, but watched Office Space first. Awesome. All the Milton scenes really upset me though, every time.
So then on the way back home today I started reading Julia's poem, and I probably looked like a fool because I was crying as I read it. Actually crying. I was wearing sunglasses, but it probably wasn't that great at disguising the wreck I was. Her way with words is just piercing, and it kind of painted in all the gaps and changes that she went through in college that I wasn't really there to witness (even though she was just uptown). It's beautiful. I told her I wanted to take excerpts of it and write some music to it, it was that inspiring. Anyway I'm going to stop, since most of you don't even know who Julia. She's a dear pal who means the world to me.
So. Battled the blues (or the mean reds) today by holing myself up in my room and just writing all day. It really was therapeutic, I got a hearty 8 page poem out of me. I wasn't even writing about what was really bothering me, but it doesn't really matter. I just hate feeling like this, constantly being on the verge of tears. It feels gross.
Seeing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for free tomorrow with Naima. Deb = so effing excited. Oh and yes I preordered my Harry Potter book and it should be arriving Saturday, FYI. And I'm re-reading the fifth book. geek? never said I wasn't!
concerts in the park!
this wednesday, the 13th! (wagner, lalo, tchaikovsky)
&
next tuesday, the 19th! (all dvorak)
8 pm!
great lawn in central park!
new york philharmonic!!!
of course, this means PICNICS (and vino)!!!! let me know if you're coming (i'll probably be at both, yes i can be a classical music nerd)
fundamentals
NEW SONG POST! (Consider that a fair warning: if you're not interested in the following self-absorbed post about a new song just written, save yourself the time, and stop reading here. I won't be offended, I promise.)
Just sketched out (lyrically) what is, I think, one of the most meaningful pieces I've ever written; it was almost a refreshing struggle to get this one on paper - almost the same feeling I had when I was writing my very first song a year and a half ago.
The only way I can put it is....the majority of my songs are of course meaningful, but a lot of the time, the meanings are veiled, and somewhat obscure...they're more Fitzgerald-esque in that they're kind of vague. This piece is very Whitman-esque, which is fitting since Whitman is the backbone of the song, along with T.S Eliot's "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." So if my songs were literary works, this would be the Whitman among Fitzgeralds. I know this isn't making any sense, but I'm still enveloped in the aftermath of the lyric-writing whirlwind that takes place late at night. So I'm babbling, but only because I'm really excited (and narcissistic).
The title of the song, "Leaves of Grass," was taken from the title of Whitman's book, which includes the poem "Song of Myself." If you've ever read that poem, or Eliot's "Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," you'll probably be able to spot the references throughout the song. Some might call this a reaction piece, which is fine....but...there's a part of my core being in this song, as cheesy as that may sound. So it means a lot to me. Naima, you're probably the only person who has read this far into this extremely narcissistic entry (and if you're not Naima and have read this far, I love you) but I want to tell you so much about this song because ahhh I'm just so excited about this one and I know you're a Whitman fan. And because your feedback means a lot to me (after all, you are my manager).
But really, any feedback from anyone is appreciated, even if it's of the "you suck" genre.
So here are the lyrics to numero 21, "Leaves of Grass"
here you come again
listening to dmb "dreamgirl" on repeat, it's brilliant. it kind of skyrocketed past a few other favorite dave pieces and is up there now. way up there. listen.
"Caught by a wave
my back to the ocean
it knocks me off my feet and
just as I find my footing
here you come again"
the shift in rhythm and movement during this part is genius, it molds perfectly to the shift in the lyrics. auuugggh. i would give up my left leg to play with the band (i need both arms and right leg for the piano. i can sacrifice the left.)
straight, no chaser
I know a boy who doesn't have any original thoughts of his own. I made this realization today and it was a sad one, because he's a dear, but such a follower. I won't say he's a tool because I reserve that word for people who fail in life. I still love the kid, but just view him in a slightly grayer light now.
Oh my god, I'm sure I've made such a fool of myself by IMing people (whom I haven't spoken to in ages) while inebriated, but it's incredibly annoying to be in the receiving end of these IMs. Ew, now THIS girl is for sure a tool. That's the thing about getting duh-runk: lots of confidence, but most of it is fake like tara reid's boobs.
I am really enjoying this picture. It's from Live8; I kind of wish I had been at the Hyde Park concert...Pink Floyd reunited?!?! NUH-UH!!! Amazing. Listening to them gives me the impression that life has twenty-three dimensions to it...or a number something like that, give or take a dimension.
I got the two most random facebook friend requests in one day...a double whammy. They weren't exactly random in the pleasant "oh i haven't seen/heard from this lovely person in ages!" kind of way. It was more like "what the fuck, are you serious?"
On a random note (what else is new), I love Missy Elliot, and that's that.
I desperately want a fountain pen. By now you probably know I have compulsive urges to run out and purchase the most random objects. The last time this feeling possessed me, I ran out and bought a polaroid camera. The next time, I wanted to get a typewriter, but Elena restrained me. She expects that I'll probably have one in tow when we move in come September (muhaha). And now, I really would like to own a fountain pen. I'd make good use of it, I promise!
Had coffee with Angel today, and we reminisced about our old piano school days. I vented to her my whole dramatic story of quitting the piano school; it was winter of freshman year at spence, I had taken on varsity swimming (bad bad judgment), was still trying to adjust to a new school, while balancing schoolwork and the pressure from piano school. The teacher had basically guaranteed me the second to last spot on the carnegie hall program for that may, with a crazy rachmaninoff piece, which was a big deal since it would have only been my second performance with the school, and being second to last on the program is pretty bitchinnn. So basically, I went berserk and told her that I couldn't humanly live my life the way I did, and manage to practice every day for hours. She basically had no empathy whatsoever, that bitch, and so I quit. Because something told me that having a nervous breakdown at the age of 14 wasn't healthy...? And anyway, it was only after I vented that whole story To Angel that I realized how traumatizing that whole experience was for me haha.
But I also realized that if I hadn't hated her that much (and by association, I began to hate classical piano altogether), I wouldn't have taken a hiatus, and then I wouldn't have started randomly missing the piano and writing music! So voila!
Anyway. That was a long story. Moving on.
I'm scrapping the Dylan cover and instead, am replacing it with two Sarah McLachlan pieces, "Building A Mystery," and one of my all time favorites, "Do What You Have To Do." Arranged both of them in a relatively short amount of time today...they're fun, I'm excited to record them.
Oh okay so I just had a random flashback to when Danielle, Billy and I stayed up basically all night cramming for a politics exam in the basement of the bobst, and at 2 am we were going crazy and took a break, ran outside and bought stoned wheat thins (no, the wheat thins aren't stoned...) and brie cheese and devoured it while listening to music and going over spatial models. And then there was that time I filled a mug with chardonnay and walked into the steinhardt building sipping from it, sat myself down in a room and wrote music for a few hours.
There's no point to these stories except that I would really adore some stoned wheat thins, brie or sharp cheddar, and wine right about now. And maybe some friends to wash it all down with.
okay, leave some lovin!!
hilary duff makes me cringe
I'd listen to the Doogie Howser, MD theme song on repeat before listening to her/watching her perform.
AINT NO RIVER WIDE ENOUGH TO KEEP ME FROM GETTING TO YOU, BABE! (that's right neil patrick harris, I'm talking to you)*
*SARCASM. although he was great in Harold and Kumar. "NPH WOULD NEVER DO THAT!"
Moving right along:
So a boy was killed for his iPod. What is this world coming to. I blame Bush, as per usual. (okay, well maybe not this time)
I feel a connection - (song)writer to writer - between myself and Fitzgerald, and it's empowering. Been taking a break from War and Peace (as of now, not very attracted to this epic and am tempted to scrap it and just reread Anna Karenina because I can't relate to war, but I sure as hell can relate to the kinetics of dysfunctional society) and have been reading Flappers and Philosophers, a collection of some of Fitz's short stories...came out around the same time as This Side of Paradise.
One of the stories is titled "Benediction"...now is that awesome, or is it really fuckin awesome? And it has the same shade of sentimentality and sadness that my piece has. The story is kind of a cross of "Glue" and "Benediction" if we were to mix it up on my song palette.
Moral of the story: good ol Fitz has done it again. Because you see, I can relate to his veil of pretentiousness and "glamour" that when lifted reveals something sadder, grey, and vulnerable.
So, change of topic. When my dad found out I had a Purevolume/Myspace/Bandspace, he was so jazzed about it. He thinks I'm completely inept with these computers - which I am, but given today's standards I am capable of filling in name, location, and email to create an account on one of these sites.
Moral of the story: sometimes it's okay to trick daddy into completely underestimating your capabilities (even to the extent where he's surprised you even know what a url is) in order to awe him with your skilllllllzzz.
Whaaaazaaam!
"love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah" what a fucking amazing song line. jeff buckley was such a brilliant lyricist.
I haven't been able to sleep very well and I frequently dream, which is a sign that I'm not sleeping very well. But the really odd thing is that my dreams are more coherent (given my standrads, at least). The other night I think part of my dream was in sepia, which is bizarre because vivid colors are vital any of my dreams.
Speaking of dreams, I'm going to segway into nightmares. Here's one reoccuring "nightmare" that I have, and you can try deciphering it if you're that bored. I sometimes have these dreams where I can't walk, but I can whiz around at these crazy speeds. My feet can only touch the ground for a second and then I'm propelled into the air again. It sounds liberating, yes? Well I would think so.
But the nightmarish part of this is that I'm usually in a low-ceilinged building/house/room (windowless, I think) where I'm careening into/off the walls and ceilings and can't stop myself. And sometimes there's something flying around and chasing me around the room. But the chase aspect isn't what bothers me the most; the worst part about it is the fact that I have no control over the bizarre flying power.
So the dream mostly consists of me kicking myself off the walls, like you would do in a pool after a turnover, and bouncing around back and forth in the room.
...And then there's also the generic nightmare of someone chasing me, and I'm running but am not moving. Haven't had that dream in ages, though. Huzzzah.
I had milk with oreos today, and it was heaven.
it's a beautiful day
...in the neighborhood!
or
....don't let it get away!
take your pick, mister rogers or U2
To my absolute delight, Naima had a survey up on her site...brought me back to middle school/early high school days. And so like any decent nostalgist,(if 'nostalgist' isn't a word...well, I just made it one) I stole it (and changed around some of the questions for shits and giggles).
TEN RANDOM, PSEUDO-SECRET THINGS ABOUT ME:
10.) In the third grade, I wrote a story about a horse named Melody (I had an obsession with horses) and was picked to go to an annual writer's conference. I guess that's what makes me think I can still write [cue audience laughter]
09.) No matter how many lessons I endured as a child, and no matter how much my parents wish I could, I CANNOT GOLF.
08.) I really want to be able to go crazy on a drumset (and sound good)
07.) I'm ridiculously germaphobic
06.) I won the school spelling bee three years in a row (4th, 5th, 6th grade)......'Spellbound' is really a biopic of my adolescence (joke)
05.) My parents are pseudo-conservative and Christian, but I'm.......pretty much the polar opposite. (It makes for some lively conversation at the dinner table).
04.) I have a weird thing where after eating a lot of sweets, I need something salty or carb-ey to balance it out.
03.) Sometimes, I can actually enjoy the outdoors, and occasionally, I even like to rock-climb (don't pass out from shock, please)
02.) I fuckin love chardonnay
01.) When I was younger, I desperately wanted to be a dolphin trainer for a few months.
NINE PLACES I'VE VISITED:
09.) I’ve sat in a car through a good chunk of the U.S of A (to name a few states…Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Ohio, Indiana, Maine, Nebraska) When moving, my dad thought it would be fun to drive from Alaska to NJ. It was two weeks of madness, but it's a good resource for memories.
08.) Canada (Edmonton, Vancouver, Toronto, Yukon)
07.) Mexico
06.) France
05.) L.A
04.) Seattle
03.) Colorado
02.) Alaska…if you consider me being from Jersey/the city
01.) Jersey/the city….if you consider me being from Alaska
EIGHT THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE:
08.) Visit the Andes and Everest with my dad
07.) Come out with a legit album
06.) The whole matrimony shindig.
05.) Travel the world a few times over
04.) Buy a $400 Hermes ashtray. Just because.
03.) LOTR extended dvd marathon (Julia, we’re doing this)
02.) Do good things for good people.
01.) Sky-dive
SEVEN WAYS TO WIN MY HEART:
07.) Not being afraid to be silly and/or awkward is a plus. Too cool for awkward school? That’s a big fat minus, my friend. Oh and I need to be able to be silly and/or awkward around you as well, without feeling like an arse.
06.) Be honest, because no one loves a filthy liar!
05.) Love the arts
04.) I need space…which leads to #3:
03.) Have a sense of self, man. Clingy behavior is suffocating.
02.) Gentleman-like behavior is a must
01.) Be my friend
SIX SONGS THAT DEFINE ME:
06.) “Simple Twist of Fate” - Bob Dylan
05.) “In A Sentimental Mood” - Duke Ellington
04.) “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” - Crosby, Stills & Nash
03.) “Galileo” - Indigo Girls
02.) “Do What You Have To Do” - Sarah McLachlan
01.) “Piano Concerto No.2” - Rachmaninoff
FIVE FAVORITE SPOTS IN THE CITY:
05.) Caffe Reggio
04.) The Strand
03.) Jack’s Coffee
02.) Washington Square Park
01.) The Met
FOUR CHARACTER FLAWS:
04.) I’m stubborn. Really, I am.
03.) I can hold grudges for longer than you think
02.) Sometimes I can get obsessive
01.) Jealousy and I go waaaay back.
THREE AWESOME MOVIE LINES:
03.) Stewart: “Hello, you”
Hepburn: “Hello”
Stewart: “You look fine”
Hepburn: “I FEEL fine!” - The Philadelphia Story
02.) “This is what happens when you FUCK a STRANGER in the ass!!.” - The Big Lebowski
01.) “The blues are because you’re getting fat or because its been raining too long. You’re just sad, that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of.” - Breakfast at Tiffany’s
TWO FUNDAMENTAL BULLETPOINTS FROM MY LIFE PHILOSOPHY:
02.) In general, I don’t trust people. There are VERY few people (if any) in my life who have gained my trust…I find that you don’t get hurt as much (or as severely) this way.
01.) Ideally, “love” only follows the word “unconditional”
ONE THING/PERSON YOU CRAVE AT THE MOMENT:
01.) PEACH BELLINI
