Andria America

When I type my name in my cell to text message in iTAP, andria comes up

'america'.

Austin trip

Jaime and I met in Austin. I love how she and I meet all over the country so many years after I've moved away from SF. We expected to see some great indie music. I was secretly hoping to catch some kind of secret American Analog Set reunion show that no one but me and 5 other people knew about. These things did not happen. However, other things did! We had a very casual trip that included hanging out with people we know, as though it had been planned. It all worked out. We saw her friends Dan and Carrie, from her Iowa days. We got to play music with Dan and his friend Bill, old fashioned jamming. We went to several (smokey!) bars with either poor or no music. We also saw my friend who I knew for like 5 minutes while she still lived in NYC but we had an instant bond as writers, Cassie, and she moved to Austin just last month, drove cross country, loves it.

The Austin motel was great (had a pool!). I slept the best have in months despite the AC unit sounding like the boiler room for a large factory. I slept through that without ear plugs yet at home I need ear plugs for every little shit sound. I can't say I had an awesome meal in Austin, but I did have the best juice at this crazy juice bar with so many fucking juice options! Also had some great coffee. Bought a nice new sun dress in a boutique. Saw some worthwhile art at the exhibit at MoMA (very small museum, single exhibit kind of place, very nice, I liked the size of it). Saw a piece inspired by Willie Nelson's hair. The artist paid for the genetic DNA breakdown of his hair, this inspired by an Annie Leibowitz photo of the man in 2001.

Went to Barton Springs pool...lake...pool. Hard to explain. And get this, our hotel was right next door to the Texas School for the Deaf. Beautiful campus! I was there for like 5 whole minutes to buy a t-shirt for Jon, and in that 5 minutes, despite the size of the campus and having not contacted him at all, I ran into Theron, a friend of ours, his wife and little son. So crazy how the cosmic energy works out sometimes!

Austin Plus: people. so. fucking. friendly. helpful.
another plus: a bus day pass is 1 dollar. wtf?
Austin minus: allergies. holy shit. weather plus smokey places and smoking friends plus afternoon jamming at Dan's house with a cat equals genuinely fucked. Had to purchase an inhaler. Went to two stores with no luck on saturday. Suffered through saturday night. Broke down on sunday after just a few hours sleep. It's hard to sleep when an elephant is standing on your lungs.
another minus: not a great city for the carless.

I would go back to Austin. it was just great to have a vacation with jaime and hang out with locals new and old.

A shout out to Monkey Wrench Books! Thank you for being the first bookstore to purchase my zines outright and not on consignment! I walked away with 4 bucks! The store is the southwest version of Bluestockings, almost seems modeled after it.

Homeshow this weekend May 17

I'm so excited to be a part of this designer market happening at Karin's house. I will be selling along with these folks:

Joanne Tracy Designs
the Hand of Fatima
Chelleline
Better Than Jam
Fadingflowers Paper Goods & Designs
Karen's Monsters
Kreated by Karina
Fubabee
DripStick
Charlie and Sarah
LAA Designs
and of course, KimmChi !

Call to make a reservation and get a goodie bag! Saturday 10am-5pm.

directions? not super close to the train. directions

link:homeshow

the Hearts and Crafts Affair

This is one of my favorite designer markets to sell at. I see great products and displays every time, this will be my third. one day only:

Sunday May 04, noon to six pm. Cafe Grumpy, on the G train.
heartsandcraftsaffair

These weeks' pleasures

things to talk about -

Zine. I have to toot my own horn, I'm pleased with the zine. It looks great. two things I would have done better would be to photoshop up the green in the grass of the cover photo, it looks like dried summer grass instead of late spring in Scotland where the shit is pretty green. additionally, I would have formatted all the text in word better and spell / grammar checked it there instead of in InDesign. I've been mailing it out all week, stuffing manila envelopes and shlepping to the the PO. I realize that I cannot possibly make a profit on this and at best will cover some of my costs, once you factor in the ones you give away for free, send out for review, sell in stores that take 40% (fair, not complaining) and mail paying for postage etc...it's funny to me now that AI consider it, spending 1.50 to mail $6 worth of zine that if both sold would give me 3.60. oh well. it's still cool.

EMusic. In an effort to get more new music, I took the emusic offer of 'rejoin us now for 75 free downloads' and got busy. I had to download some shit that i didn't' want just because they don't carry quite a bit of what I would have liked. The Talking Heads, Radiohead, The Breeders, Death Cab for Cutie (only worth a free download, you dont' see me running to iTunes to buy it, let's be clear). What they had that I enjoyed getting: Black Before Red, another Versus album, another My Teenage Stride, Beach House (free download), another Pedro the Lion, another Dirty Projectors, Cocteau Twins, the Magnetic Fields but not the new album I wanted, they didn't offer that. What I got that sucked: All Natural Lemon and Lime Flavors. I tried this out for the sake of sentimentality - I played in a band called the Lemon Lime Lights in Oakland. Also purchased the Crystal Stilts, still undecided on them.

what's absent: camera. I haven't taken photos in forever. hmm, this weekend then when I go to Amanda's party/show, this other party, Moses&Georgia's BBQ, Graham's rooftop party. Popular for a weekend.

Ballet: My friend Mona is in the Rebecca Kelly Ballet. I saw her performance on thursday night. Holy shit was it good! I never knew ballet could be so deep, communicative, real. And Mona was fucking awesome! tomorrow is last performance of the run, but I guess just take note. rebeccakellyballet

Jon: Things are good. Working on the extra employment thing. Spending a lot of time together, very comfortable and happy with it. He got a bike. He's so fucking cute in his yellow Extra Small t-shirt and jeans on his bike.

Bluestockings: I am volunteering there now. today I organized the zine library. i get to make myself a free latte every shift. it's cool.

That's it I guess. Um, I'm not prone to info plugs that tell you what to do, but this is almost me reminding myself via stream of consciousness that I meant to contact Mercy Corps to send in an extra donation. I'm having fun in NYC but the world sucks out there right now. Donating to charity is pathetic and embarrassing in the big picture, but we have to do it anyhow. these guys are head quartered in Portland so you know they are on the up and up. mercycorps

OW!

Last night I fell 6 feet out of my loft bed in the pitch black darkness
of 4:30am. A few times this week I felt too casual about searching for
the ladder with my feet or padding down it too quickly, slipping, and I
wondered when it would happen. It was just like those Bugs Bunny
cartoons with the road runner and coyote where the anvil is suspended in
the air for a heavy second and you realize its going to fall. I reached
with my feet but it was too late and I gulped a weak 'oh no', fell and
landed on my back. I was more shocked than hurt but once the shock
wore off I found a few places the hurt had been waiting behind the door like
a surprise birthday party. "Surprise!"

No, it wasn't that bad really. All those months of yoga had me prepped
for slow thoughtful breathing and to drink plenty of water. It was nice
that Jon was there and awake and after taking some Tylenol and getting
an ice pack I climbed the ladder and went back to bed. I've had the
black fantasies before about what would happen if I were seriously hurt
and Jon were asleep out of reach of throwing something at him. Luckily
this was not the case.

I suppose had I fallen the wrong way I could have cracked my head on the
low wooden box with sharp corners that was inches from where I landed.

Or I could have fallen just so in that impossibly freaky way that could
have paralyzed me allowing people to say for the rest of my life how
fucked up that was, that freaky occurrence.

After a good sleep and a cinnamon flax oil bath I'm on my way to yoga
now. I'm only a little sore, glad to have something to finally write
about, and lucky to be alive. In that order :)

2 Shows Coming Up

Readings from new writers for WNHP at Bluestockings on May 29, 7-8pm.
address 172 Allen on the lower east side. bus 15 or V/V to 2nd ave

WNHP Variety Show and Zine Release Party.
We're doing it again. Evening of indie cabaret celebrating the spoken word.
Music! Comedy! Readings! Raffle! Fun!
"We'll Never Have Paris" will be for sale.
June 1, Sunday, 4-6pm at Bowery Poetry
Club, 308 Bowery @ Bleecker, F train to Second Ave
Cost: $8 for entry.

white house solar panels

Just watched the documentary "Who killed the electric car?" and learned that under the Carter administration the White House had solar panels. Regan had them removed.

This combined with learning that the first cars were electric cars, they existed already, so they were killed off twice.

This combined with learning from my father that during World War II recycling programs were all around the country. Everything was recycled and people did it for the country, for the war. And they killed that just to let me feel in the late 80s like this was some new fucking solution.

This, with the memory of watching "Sicko" just a few months back.

All this just sealing the deal for me. Fuck you, America.


In a kind of No-Doze limbo
instead of the hope for the many
every chance, every engine
synapses missing missing missing

this week's treasures

Can't guarantee I will be beholden to do this weekly like a chore, but it just happens I have a list for this week (and last maybe):

this week's treasure: good old phone. Finally talked to my friend Ann who had a baby 5 weeks ago. talked for over an hour while I had breakfast at 3pm on a school day. talked to Kim, talked to Candace for over an hour. Didn't really go out and see anyone this week, but the phone was a nice lifeline.

this week's mail: a postcard from Gabe, another article from Chris.

this week's extra-generational experience: zine reading by 20-year olds at Bluestockings. Not that there's anything wrong with that! I heard some good stuff and realized that perhaps I could do a reading there, for WNHP.

while we are at it: Looking forward to Jeff Stark's "Where have you been?" also at Bluestockings, next week. Also plan to volunteer there.

This week's cupcake: Sugar Sweet Sunshine on Rivington. Only a 1.50! More homemade and less bakery like in my opinion. I had the Sassy Red Velvet. Jon had white on white. Boring.

this week's pat on the back: Learning InDesign with a tutor. See it did happen after all, thanks Rob for not being a flake. He's great.

finally, this week's unfinished task: taxes. and researching recording studios.

clean the butter off my stove update

I don't know, I thought this was funny, and now I'm humbled by the number of people who want work and replied. No sex replies. Three replies in under 30 minutes, ready to come clean; another 2 replies by 34 minutes. Wow. I'm now deleting the post.

Chocolate Chip Pancakes: wait, this is funny

This is what happens when your boyfriend goes away for the weekend*. It's 4:30pm and this is my first meal of the day. I've been a little cuckoo for cocoa puffs with the stream of consciousness on the computer. Busy! Ideas!

I put out the makings for pancakes about 2 hours ago in my usual fit of multitasking, I figured the butter and syrup could warm up while I continued to dick around. I put the syrup and butter on the stove. While on the phone with Jaime, I go into the kitchen to make pancakes while cradling the cell in my shoulder to discover the butter not softened but completely melted, an entire brand new stick, two burners submerged in 1/8 pounds each. I laughed and told Jaime about it, to which she replied, "Why don't you post an ad on craigslist saying come clean the butter off my stove I'll give you fifty bucks" to which I cried, "yes!", laughing with tears in my eyes while taking the photo, picturing the sex replied I am going to get with someone making a longshot innuendo.

I made the pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, am I 12 years old? In fact, I made kitchen sink super fat pancakes. One I made with blueberry syrup, ricotta cheese and poppy seeds, the other with melted chocolate and raw coconut butter and cinnamon flax oil! Both fried in butter of course. Think I'm oiled up enough, smile? Then get your ass over here and "clean the butter off my stove", wink. wink.


*This is what happens with I don't stick to my routine or Sunday yoga. Stand back! Capable of anything! Jon went to AC for the weekend so he can see more of his slacker pot head friends and pretend he's going to win big. I'm pissed he's gone but glad for the uninterrupted time.

Mercy Street

recently when at yoga, when I take a position, an osana, I have a flashback, a memory, random, who knows how my brain selects a file, the slideshow in my mind, I can't
even believe the memories that come, full ken Burns effect, zooming in, zooming out, gone.

the other day waiting for a train underground on the platform, the peter gabriel song "this is the picture (excellent birds)" pops into my mind. I cannot imagine why, what triggered this, but I wanted to hear it.

tonight, alone at home, I am downloading music on itunes, new bands, and I remember that I want to buy "this is the picture", on the album So. I never go back to music that I liked long ago, I'm too flooded with embarrassment, with the other lifetime, with the other self, with the pain and mystery and longing and numbness of the lifetimes I have already been through, memories that are mine but not entirely, and there it is, the album So, suddenly I trip over two words at the bottom, the song title "Mercy Street". Without a nano second instantly, instantly, Hinkley Lake. Summer, maybe 1991, Hinkley Lake, my hometown, upstate NY, with my boyfriend then, with Wayne, we are alone on a part of the beach no one knows about. We have rented a canoe, the sand is thick and wet where we are, we are sleepy and nap alone, nearly naked, and this song. this song, this memory, it is 1992 or 1993, and that is 16 years ago, 16 years ago, that man became my husband, and then there was megan, and then it all went down, and then the person I was, the ken burns effect, later driving 12 hours to a new life 12 hours away, by car, the person she was, suddenly all the music she thought she liked was wrong, naive. I was naive. The music that made me cry now made me mad, but not right away, but slowly, the old fading out, slowly, painfully, not fast enough, and now here they are, coming, unsurpressed, at odd moments, to me now that I cannot relate to the me that was 15 years ago, when I had a different name, literally.