The End of An Era

I've been avoiding thinking about something that's made me very uncomfortable. But, I've learned avoiding things is a surefire way for them to manifest in unhealthy ways when you least expect it. So, I guess I need to get this out. Hopefully by doing so I can release a little of the tension I feel, as I navigate through this strange new world of grieving and how I should actually handle it.

My home for basically my entire life. My home that my grandfather had built in the 1960s, that my mother grew up in, she even pushed the detonator to start the construction for the in-ground gunite swimming pool when she was a child. My home that was centered around basically every memory since I was born - was sold last Friday. To some weird, strange, new people. Those people are going to be living in MY house now. I'll never be there again. They will never know the history, the memories that were made there. The struggles, the fights, the holidays, the happy times. The horrible times. The last tie to my dad, to my "old life" - gone. I'm here in a strange, uncomfortable new life trying to deal with all these realizations.

I always knew I could go home. No matter what, my home and my dad would always be there to welcome me from ANY situation I would come across. No questions asked. Now, they are both gone, and any sense of security I once had seems to be gone with them. Two staples in my life, taken away. I'm not taking it well, apparently. Talking about it sends me into a panic. Even writing about it is making me very uneasy.  And yet, I realize that I should consider myself lucky that I had this security, this sanctuary for so much of my life.Some people have never experienced that. Some people never had a dad that would do anything for you and drop everything to make sure you were OK. Or a home that has always been in the same place - comfortable, familiar, welcoming, soothing. But losing both of them around the same time is not easy to sort through.

Yes, I did have the opportunity to buy the house - but truthfully, I did not want to live there. I just liked the idea of it always being there. It had also been giving me bad vibes for the past few years, which is a whole different story. But, living there was not the option for me. Renting it would be too annoying in the long run. It only made sense to sell it. I didn't even want to go visit the house the past few months, as the last time we were there it was making some strange noises and generally being creepy. I had my last real walk-through of the house the day of my dad's funeral. With my sister, her kids, my brother, and my cousin Jack. We were all very nostalgic, and it is a nice final memory to have, all of us together, walking through such an important piece of our lives. Remembering parties by the pool, how we all loved climbing on the giant rock in the backyard as kids, how every important photo was taken in front of the fire place. It's hard to know you can never go back to that again. That life is permanently changed. That all you have left now is your memories, and photographs. But, how lucky I am that I have those memories and photographs to remember all the good times?  Very lucky. And getting over this, and dealing with the emotions it stirs up is just another step on my journey to working through this grieving process.

What Grieving Is (For Me)

For over two weeks now, I've been struggling hard with severe anxiety and panic attacks. I've been trying to rationalize why, trying to push through it, force myself to feel better. Waiting impatiently to wake up and feel "normal." I feel lost, overwhelmed, hopeless, joyless.  I've started seeing a therapist, I've talked to my doctor. I'm so uncomfortable in my own skin right now I'd do anything to make this feeling stop. I don't want to go anywhere, let alone the hour long ridiculous 13 mile commute to and from Boston to work- which is where my anxiety and panic happens the worst. I've just been trying so hard to get back to normal as soon as possible.

I foolishly thought I handled my Dad's death and previous 2 year long battle with what ultimately turned out to be ALS like a "strong" person. I remember going for my physical and all but bragging to my doctor how I hadn't felt any anxiety or panic and never needed a xanax in the two years dealing with  my father's illness. I didn't show too much emotion in front of him, but I was there for him every single day to the end.  And in the very last 10 days I was there 24/7. I was a champ at his wake. Not so much at his funeral, but I still felt good enough to go right back to work. I cried a bit when I felt sad in the weeks following. I constantly replay his last moments or certain moments throughout that wretched journey. I feel regret for how I so stoically handled his illness and wonder if I I should have shown him emotion, though I don't think I could of even if I wanted to at the time. I think about things I could have done better, and how awful and scary it must have been for him,  especially not being able to speak in the last 10 or so months. I feel ashamed that I sometimes would get frustrated when he would throw yelling/crying tantrums because I couldn't understand what he wanted. I live in those thoughts. I even thought I would feel a bit of relief to know he wasn't suffering anymore. I thought that was all I had to do to grieve properly.

I was very close to my dad. We spent every Sunday for years together no matter what. We would find fun and interesting things to do, whether it was a cruise to the islands around Boston Harbor, or a trip to Rockport, a walk around Salem or a drive up to Ogunquit, Maine. We checked out all sorts of restaurants, and lots of days he would often cook me incredible meals being the expert Sicilian cook that he was. We always watched football together, whether I had him over to my house or I went to his. We would travel together. We went to Holland, Belgium and France in 2012. We had been to Italy and Sicily, Mexico, and many other places in between.

So, I've been listening to a piece called "unlocking acceptance" on the insight timer app, and as I took a short walk around the neighborhood this morning I realized something: Although I am aware that my dad's passing is an integral part of how I am feeling, and that I initially stuffed all my emotions down and they are coming out now...I didn't exactly realize that this anxiety and depression IS  the actual grieving. That what I'm going through is what I'm supposed to in order to come to the acceptance.

It's so uncomfortable, and I'm trying so hard to make it stop, but, this is a vital part of healing...just perhaps delayed. Or maybe even not delayed. Maybe it just had to happen now. I still can't make the acceptance come any faster, and I don't know how much longer I'll feel this way, but I have to feel it. I really have no choice, so I might as well stop fighting it.  And it is actually what most people feel when they grieve. I've been thinking I'd be a failure if I have to take some time off of work...but I went back to work the next work day after the funeral, and 3 or 4 days off immediately after a death does not fit everyone's grieving timeline, when grieving hits at different points in everyone's life.

I think I need to remind myself when I'm feeling hopeless that it's a natural part of greiving, and it's OK to feel so uncomfortable with feeling uncomfortable. I still want it to pass as quickly as possible, but I can't force anything. Just feel what I'm feeling. If I need to take some meds to get me over this hump, I may just have to do it. But this panic and anxiety is grief. It's unfortunate to have to experience it, but it's real grief. It may last for weeks more, it may not. I hate it, I hate every single moment of it. but it's part of loss and ultimately, acceptance, and hopefully and finally..some real peace.

Currently Listening To

Steven Wilson- Hand.Cannot.Erase
Frank Zappa- The Torture Never Stops, live in NY
Phish- Island Tour, Twist
Joni Mitchell- Hissing of Summer Lawns, Ladies of the Canyon, Hejira
Pink Floyd- Meddle, Animals
Miles Davis- misc.
Charlie Parker- misc.
The Who - Who by Numbers
Neil Young- After the Gold rush
Vary Lumar- Breaker

A Very "Girly" Blog Post

I like to think I'm not too materialistic. While I have an appreciation for nice things, I don't *really* get crazy hung up on luxury items, or tech gadgets, or designer clothes, etc. But right now I really feel the need to gush over my wedding dress, and how I found it. I really do feel funny being so excited over a dress, but I have to say, the experience was kinda magical.

A couple of weeks ago I received an email from "The Knot" about a sale happening at a local bridal boutique. I said "what the hell" and made an appointment. I had to jump into this wedding dress search sometime...so why not now? Because it was a big sale they had weird rules: you only have an hour, you can only grab so many dresses to try on at a time, and you can only bring ONE person with you! Obviously I chose my best friend/maid of honor. I really wasn't expecting to choose my dress that day anyway, so just getting ideas with my MOH was good enough.

On the way to the boutique I remember saying to my friend, "I'm not looking forward to this!" I really didn't think I was ready to try on dresses, and was nervous about the whole experience. I definitely was not intending to buy a dress that day.

Once we got there, though, and saw row after row of sparkling white gleaming wedding dresses, I began to get in the mood to try things on. I showed both my best friend and my "wedding dress consultant" (I guess that's what you'd call her?) what styles I was looking for and we dove into the vast white sea of dresses.

I tried on dress after beautiful dress, in styles I liked and styles I didn't like. Nothing stood out. I now understood and had sympathy for those girls on "Say Yes to the Dress" that I thought were so annoying and ridiculous. This was hard! I must have tried on 15 dresses to no avail. What had I become?!

Just when I figured it was time to go, the consultant showed me the room with the "non sale" full price gowns. I'm pretty sure  that's how they getcha! Naturally, this room had more of what I was looking for. We pulled 3 more dresses. The first one was great. The second one I didn't care for, but the last one.....The last one....

As I stepped out of the dressing room- a  random woman in the store shopping with her daughter gasped, my best friend practically screamed and I looked in the mirror and immediately knew. I said, "This is it. This is the one." It was everything I had envisioned. It was gorgeous. Shit got real. The wedding seemed more real somehow. I got teary eyed. My friend got teary eyed, customers in the store were coming up and admiring me and the dress...it was this bizarre fairy tale moment that I didn't think really happened outside of Kleinfeld's. Let alone to me. But it did. And I fucking love my perfect fucking wedding dress.Who knew? 

Currently Listening to...

Well, I got a preview of the new Steven Wilson album from his Facebook page - and I can't wait to be listening to that! However, in the mean time, here is a short but sweet list of what I have been listening to of late:

Prince : Art Official Age
Joni Mitchell: Hejira
Umphrey's McGee: various live recordings
Alan Evans' PlayonBrother - Live show in Burlington, Vermont
Phish: various live recordings

O'Captain, My Captain

8/11/2014
This will be a grammatical nightmare, and I won't even finish it before I post or if I even post it, but I'll worry about that later. I had been trying to track down Missy- the most amazing makeup artist I've ever seen- for my upcoming wedding...since almost literally the day that I got engaged.  She was not on Facebook. My old cosmetic coworkers hadn't heard from her and/or were looking for her too. She freelanced for MAC, but was never there when I stopped by. I left my number for her with the girl at the MAC counter. Nothing. I tried to contact her on her website I found online...though it looked like she may not have used it anymore. Months I tried in vain to get in touch with her. Finally my old counter manager at Clinique got her number for me. I spoke with her tonight. Just in time, too, as she was already booked up for a few dates in Oct 2015. But none of that was about to matter as much.
As I opened facebook to message a friend who had also been looking for Missy..I saw it. Robin Williams dead. Another hoax? I never blindly believe the crap I see on facebook so I searched online for credible sources. And it was true. It was true!

A flood of high school memories came back to me. I have never really been like most other girls. Ever. Especially in high school.  There was never one instance of me ever wanting, even a little tiny bit, to be a cheerleader, or prom queen, or the most popular, or wanting to listen to those shitty boy bands. While most girls were in love with Leonardo DiCaprio in the late 90s, I was obsessed with Robin Williams. I read his biographies, I bought as many vhs tapes of his movies as I could, I was gifted an old stand up vhs; "An Evening With Robin Williams" that I cherished, I taped things off tv, I scrapbooked articles, I learned most lines from his movies by heart...I wore a Mork pin that said Nanu Nanu with his face on it for crying out loud. I was obsessed. He was so talented in so many ways. He was able to convey so many different spectrums of emotion through so many diverse characters...he was simply gifted. Gradually, over the uerars I became less obsessed, but still held such high regard for this amazing, talented, compassionate man. Robin Williams was still one of my favorite actors.
So tonight's news really hit me hard. It stunned me. It's so sad that our most gifted and talented artists are also usually the most tortured souls.  

Marathon Monday & Current Playlist

I wrote this on Monday, and apparently did not publish it..until today. But I digress...

It may be cliché, and overused and worn out by this point, but I don't care. I'm still gonna say it. BOSTON STRONG! It is Marathon Monday, and I'm still proud, and protective, and emotional about my city and what it went through last Marathon Monday, and every day there after.

I was in Boston last year - at the Red Sox game with my Dad. The day was absolutely gorgeous, Yawkey Way bustled with activity and excitement. The Sox were all wearing the number "42" on their jersey, paying homage to Jackie Robinson. It was an exciting game that ended with an exciting walk off RBI double by Mike Napoli. The day was perfect. My dad and I left Fenway Park and shuffled along with the masses of people swarming around by the marathon route. I took a picture of a sign that said "1 mile to go" and turned to my dad - "want to head over to the finish line?" We both decided that the crowds were a little much for the both of us, and headed for the train station. I remember seeing runners that had already finished the race on the train, wrapped like baked potatoes in their space blankets, heading home from what I'm sure was an amazing, though exhausting day.

It wasn't until we were in the car, with the radio on, that I overheard talk of an explosion at the finish line. I turned the radio up - there was a lot of confusion, nobody knew exactly what had happened or if there were any casualties as of yet. All I could keep thinking was how grateful I was that we left when we did. The rest of that day, I will not go into. You know how it ended. Surreal and frightening.

April 18-19 I stayed up over 24 hours listening to the police scanners through an app on my phone the night they found the bombers. I remember that I was on PT (a Phish message board, of all places) when one of the users started a thread about a disturbance outside of where he lived, by MIT. At that point nobody knew there was a connection between this incident and the bombers, and it was a wild roller coaster of a ride following this story as it slowly unraveled. It really didn't seem like real life. To say it was a relief when they finally captured the remaining bomber (I  don't even like to type his name) would be a huge understatement.

Which brings me to today. Marathon Monday 2014. Not a chance I would be near the crowds by the marathon, but as I walked through the North End on another perfect day, seeing just about everyone decked out in their Boston Strong attire, I smiled, though I had conflicting emotions. It was so infuriating and heartbreaking how those innocent lives were taken that day. But... in that horrific aftermath, how  Boston and its community came together is just so amazing and humbling. This horrid thing that happened to our city truly brought us together and made us stronger...a tiny sliver of a silver lining.
I don't think I'll ever get tired of the slogan Boston Strong. That's what we all are. What we should be. Cliché be damned.

Listening playlist as of late:

Vary Lumar - various songs from their yet unreleased album
Joni Mitchell - Blue
Sting - The Last Ship
Jeff Beck - Live at Ronnie Scott's
Beth MacGray - (Amazing local talent, that blew me away at open mic night)
Steven Wilson - all albums, as usual. In particular: "London" a demo song.
Trey Anastasio Band - Live
Storm Corrosion - Storm Corrosion, especially Ljudet Innan, over and over again.

Just a Little Green...

Like the nights when the Northern Lights perform...

Well, I have been back from Iceland for a little less than a week now. What a trip! It was chaotic at times, but the chaos always seemed to work out in our favor- for example; free transfer from the hotel, free passes to the AMAZING Blue Lagoon, and free transfer to the airport.  But I digress...that is a different story for a different time. I saw the Aurora Borealis. And that, my friends, is what this post is about. The above photo is from that magical night, as all the photos I post will be.

Where to begin? OK, Our trip started on February 28th. We would be searching for the Northern Lights on March 1. On February 25th the sun unleashed the biggest solar flare of the year and one of the strongest in recent years. Thank you solar max! Sunspot AR1990 spat out a massive X4.9 class solar flare which in turn caused a Coronal Mass Ejection blast. X class flares are pretty much the most powerful flares there are, and had this flare been aimed directly at Earth, it could have caused some disturbances among satellites and such. Luckily for Earth, that wasn't the case.

It takes a bit of time for a CME to reach Earth...and it first start to hit on February 27, and there were reports and photos of the Aurora being seen as far down as Scotland and even northern Maine! Needless to say, the Aurora Borealis was spectacular for all who were fortunate to see them. I had been following the space weather for weeks now, so I was well aware of this solar flare, and knew my chances of seeing the Dancing Lights were very good- weather permitting. If you had read my first Iceland post, you knew I chose this time very specifically, right down to the new moon, and just had to hope luck would be on my side. Boy, was it ever.

I had been obsessively checking the weather and cloud cover for March 1st, and it changed daily. Snow/rain, cloudy, partly cloudy, mostly cloudy, clear...literally every option. Imagine my relief when the day of the tour CLEAR skies were forecast. Not only that, but unseasonably warm! I knew I was super fortunate. After an adventure packed day touring the country side of Iceland, and hiking on a glacier (actually pretty treacherous at times! But SO amazing) our tour group had dinner and then set out to hunt for those magical Northern Lights. It was about 9pm. No sooner did the tour guide tell us that our chances would be good, then I saw a hazy, milky green glow out my window. The tour guide saw this at exactly the same time, and excitedly pointed it out to us. A moment later he had pulled into Seljalandsfoss waterfall, and we all spilled out of the tour van to witness this beautiful spectacle of nature.

It was a hazy green strip across the sky. It moved very, very slowly...you almost couldn't tell until you looked away and looked back. I knew that it wasn't that strong, but I was so grateful just to catch even a faint glimpse of this phenomenon. We watched it for at least an hour, then we started heading back towards Reykjavic. The whole 2 hour ride back I could see the lights from my window. Sometimes a little stronger than others, sometimes just a glowing green fog. Then, about 25 minutes outside of Reykjavic, the van started to make a strange noise. It almost sounded like a flat tire. The van had broke down and pulled to the side of the road. It was about midnight by now, and we were told we had to wait for the tour van behind us to take their people home to their respective hotels, and come back to get us. About 10 minutes later, as I stare out the window up at the sky, I see the most amazing vertical, 3 dimensional green beam of light reaching down from the heavens straight towards my face it seemed. I screamed in excitement for my friend to come over to the window- and the sky just exploded in auroral activity. We all piled back out of the tour van and marveled at the display that was happening 360 degrees around us. It moved and danced and swayed, it changed color, if ever so slightly,  it took on amazing forms and shapes that had us all cheering and gasping in awe. It was everything I dreamed it would be and more. I could have watched it forever. But, as luck would have it, it started to die down right around the time the tour bus came back to get us. Such a magical, special moment of my life. I will never forget it.

One potential downfall I had, however, was that my manual setting on my camera did not want to cooperate with me. It refused to let me override my ISO setting. Nobody could fix it. I feared I would have no pictures of my Northern Lights to reminisce about. Thankfully, two wonderful ladies in my group offered to email the pics they had taken (the ones posted here) and I am so thankful for the kindness of acquaintances! The following pic is somewhat similar to what I saw coming down out of the sky, reaching to me, photo courtesy of my wonderful tour friend Tina:

Later that week, as I flew home from an adventure of a lifetime, I picked a Joni Mitchell song to listen to: Little Green. That song could not have been more fitting. I couldn't believe it. I had forgot about the lyrics, and I teared up as I listened (not that that's unusual, I tear up to Joni A LOT) but when she got to this part ; "Just a little green, like the nights when the Northern Lights perform" it was perfect. Just Perfect. I couldn't have picked a better song to see me home.

My heart and soul had ached to see the Aurora Borealis, and it is not lost on me that I was extremely, extremely fortunate to witness it. Some little part of my soul was filled that night. Filled with the magic, wonder and awe that only seeing something so mystical as that can fill.

The Northern Lights had been waving to me... and I got to wave back.

Currently Listening to

The Flaming Lips - Dark Side of the Moon (live at the Hangout Fest)
Sigur Ros - Takk
The Mars Volta - De-Loused in the Comatorium
Michael Hedges - Aerial Boundaries
Leo Kottke and Mike Gordon live
Bjork - Vespertine
Tori Amos - Wrapped Around Your Finger (Police cover)
Steven Wilson - Insugentes, Grace For Drowning, Raven That Refused To Sing
Porcupine Tree - Various albums

Step Into The Freezer...

"It's gonna be COLD, COLD, COLD, COLD, COLD!"

That was my hook for the Patriots/Broncos game Lenny and I attended a few weeks ago - and, well, it was correct. I looked at it as Iceland preparation, in actuality; it could have been Mount. Everest preparation. I don't think I will ever expose myself to anything that cold for such a lengthy period of time ever again, not willingly anyway. I thought we were so well prepared. I definitely could not have had any more layers on. We had toe warmers, hand warmers, body warmers, wool socks, thermals, base layers, ear muffs, hats, hoods, face masks, blankets - you name it. It didn't stand a chance up there in the 300s section of Gillette Stadium. The wind at ground level was bad enough - but get to the top of the stadium and...forget about it! It was the second coldest game in Patriots history. To add insult to injury, the Pats were HORRENDOUS in that first half. I mean...worst they have ever played. I kept shouting out "This is the worst game I have ever seen!" in disbelief as I watched three consecutive Pats possessions end  with fumbles and horrible passes/plays. I did not take any photos, as I did not want to remove my hands from my hand warmers. I did not want hot chocolate, I didn't want anything. I just sat there trying to stay warm. People who bought beers found they had frozen before they got a chance to sip them! Luckily, the game turned out to be AMAZING and was the biggest comeback in Pats history, if I recall correctly. By the time Lenny and I left, I legit could not feel my hips. In fact, they were so cold they burned. I was convinced I had frost bite on them. They did not respond to heat. They remained ice cold until the next morning - I shit you not. It was insane.

I don't actually have a wonky eye in real life. That is just a glare. (Yeah, sure, whatever, Jeanine ;)

So, with my Iceland trip rapidly approaching, I have a couple tweaks to make to my cold weather attire. First and foremost being SKI PANTS! I need to keep those hips/thighs warm! The North Face has some great pants for that, and I don't want to accept imitations when it comes to keeping warm! I honestly don't think it could be that much colder than the Pats game, though. So, I should be alright. (Knock on Wood)

In other Iceland news, it does seem as if we are entering into another Solar Max - as I had posted months ago. This is extremely good news for me where the Aurora Borealis is concerned! Now, if the weather will just cooperate, I'll be in for a real treat!

Iceland

I did it. I went ahead and booked a trip to Iceland for March 2014. The deal was too incredible to pass up. Glacier walks? Golden Circle tour? Geysers? Geothermal natural steam baths and warm sand beaches in winter? Hunting for the elusuve and magical Aurora Borealis after a traditional Icelandic dinner? All that included with air and hotel? Yes. Sign me the hell up.

I chose to go to Iceland in winter because if I am going to be in the arctic circle where auroral activity happens, I'm going to try like hell to see it. I researched relentlessly about the best times to see the Northern Lights and settled on the new moon in March.

Sept/October & February/March were the months that seemed to have the best chances for potential viewing, however I am extremely aware that there is a VERY good chance I will not see the spectacle at all. There could be rain/snow, there could be cloud cover, there could be no or very low solar activity, I could just have bad luck. I have prepared myself for that disappointment, and figure it will give me a reason to return to the arctic circle again if I don't catch a glimpse this trip. Iceland looks absolutely AMAZING otherwise, so seeing the dancing lights will just be icing on the cake if it happens.

I do have to say though, if there was a time where the chances of seeing the Aurora Borealis were the best, 2013/2014 would be it. The peak of solar activity for this solar cycle has been approaching for the last year or so. Actually, there was seemingly one peak already, but experts are predicting another peak at the end of the year and into 2014. The peak is considered to be when the sun's magnetic field reverses polarity- the north pole already has changed polarity, signaling the first peak, which means that very soon (4 or 5 months from now) the south pole will catch up and flip polarity, beginning a second peak of activity; as solar storms become much more active with the changing of the poles.

These solar cycles last 11 years approximately, and right now is the mid point of the cycle and the highest point for solar activity, solar flares...meaning the most chances to see the Northern Lights. Here's hoping!

Current Playlist

I used to be a metal chick. When I was in high school (not middle school where I was labeled a "headbanger" for listening to the likes of Alice in Chains and Nirvana, etc.) I was big, big into metal. I even had my own metal band. I always compared that band to Ministry, in that it initially consisted of only two people: My friend Meaghan, growling out meaningful, dark and twisted lyrics...and myself, growling out dark, distorted guitar riffs in between strategically placed palm mutes- laced with our own unique brand of teenage angst. We called ourselves Stigmata, until we realized that name had already been taken. I loved that band. But I digress. These days, though I do enjoy a good metal song or two, I really have to be in the mood. So I have been apprehensive about listening to Opeth.

Last week someone had suggested that I listen to an album by them called Damnation. Here it is, a week later, and I decided to give it a spin. I've already listened to it all the way through twice. Ready to go for a third. I'm in.

On another note, I saw The Aristocrats  live this past Tuesday at Berklee and had my face melted. I went by myself (which I enjoy doing) and was just blown away the whole night by the level of musicianship this power trio had. Talent on top of talent. Besides Guthrie Govan's incredible shredding and Bryan Beller's ridiculous bass, the highlight for me had to be  when Marco Minnemann did a 6 minute long drum solo that was simply mesmerizing and unbelievable. So glad to have witnessed that show.

Playlist:
Opeth - Damnation
Phish - Live streaming of summer tour 2013
Steven Wilson - Too much to list on this blog
Ministry - Incase You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up
At the Drive In - Various albums
King Crimson - In the Court of the Crimson King
The Aristocrats - Culture Clash

Storm Corrosion

I can't stop listening to the Storm Corrosion song "Ljudet Innan" over and over and over again. It is simply stunning. And sexy. And sad. And ethereal. And mellow.

The song opens up with Michael Åkerfeldt's drop dead gorgeous voice, his voice is so angelic, so otherworldly...so refreshingly different. And very jazz-like, actually now that I think of it. After Michael's brief but beautiful part is over, there comes this wonderful, atmospheric and billowing sonic landscape. Through that starts a pulse..this little ping that serves as the heartbeat of the song, or some subconscious ticking of time...perhaps the endless ticking of time waiting for someone who will never come back to you... The mood this part of the song sets is achingly, sadly, heartbreakingly divine. Add in the exquisite phrasing that is done on guitar by Akerfeldt..and you feel this longing, the sorrow...this melancholy, and it's wonderful. Then, Steven Wilson comes in. His voice soft, pleading, alluring, vulnerable...mesmerizing. This is the most sensual I think I have ever heard him sing...and I am in love with his voice and those words. So much so that I made a little slide show of pics that I captioned with his lyrics. I usually feel like too  many self pics are narcissistic and self indulgent...but please believe me, that is NOT my intention nor my deal...at all. With that being said, here are the pics. Ehhh, I just went and upped all these pics and typed the captions and I definitely felt it looked rather juvenile and tumblr-ish....but I'm doing it anyway!



                                            I purge you now, cause I got hope inside me....

                                                Come back to me now, it's after hours...

 

Cause I'm nowhere now, without you here. Cold wind will come. I purge you.

Current Playlist and Other Thoughts

Steven Wilson - The Raven That Refused to Sing
Frank Zappa - Hot Rats
Kate Bush - Hounds of Love
Tori Amos -  Boys For Pele
Joni Mitchell - Blue
Phish - 12/30/2009 (Miami)
Steely Dan - Aja (particular focus on Home At Last)
Bela Fleck & The Flecktones - Jingle All The Way (yes, I realize it's May)
Jeff Beck - Live at Ronnie Scott's (Tal Wilkenfeld...ridiculous!!!)

I like to make up my own harmonies to songs I sing along with. Lately I have been harmonizing with the Porcupine Tree song "I Drive the Hearse" from beginning to end. I especially enjoy singing harmonies with the parts that don't have harmonies already in them. There is something so intimate about harmonizing, when you make that beautiful vocal pairing and that magic synchronization of voices happen...you feel so connected to the artist you are singing with. Like you are sharing something personal with them. I have found myself playing that song over and over again so I can experience that intimacy...not to mention I just really like the harmonies I made up with the song. ;)

                                     I Drive the Hearse. Beautiful song

I don't harmonize to this song, I just sing along...this a very favorite version of a very favorite song - Father Lucifer.
Sound quality on this isn't the most ideal,but it isn't terrible...

My favorite song off Hot Rats (along with Peaches En Regalia, of course) - Willie The Pimp. What a jam!

Jeff Beck - no words necessary - though I must admit..I had a very hard time deciding which video to post. All so amazing.

Bela Fleck & The Flecktones...love this cover!!

Steven Wilson Live at Berklee 4/27/13

It's been a week and a day. A week and a day since I saw one of the best live shows with some of the best musicians alive in the world today. That show was Steven Wilson (and band) and I am still in awe a week and a day later.

Really, it feels like I am going through withdrawals. The moment the show was over I remember saying: "I want to do that all over again." The ecstasy experienced from being witness to such amazing music played by such amazing people was as good as any drug, I'm quite sure. And I'm needing another fix.

Adding to the awesomeness of the show was the fact that I was front row. Being front row center was an amazing experience, and the sound/acoustics at Berklee were perfection. Every nuance could be heard. Being so close also afforded me the luxury of picking up on the little details - interactions between band members, funny little things they do to amuse each other: at one point I looked over at Marco Minnemann to find him using a shaker in one hand and a roll of toilet paper in the other! When the blue screen/curtain went up it was right at our feet, and when it came down we prretty much had to swim out of it. Also I reveled in the unobstructed view of everything, not having to shift to see around someone's head, etc. And the crowd was extremely respectful as far as paying attention and not chatting during the performance, which is a huge pet peeve of mine. There was one douche that had to yell out during a quiet part in Raider II, after Steven Wilson specifically asked to the crowd to please keep silent. Thankfully, that was it for the rest of the night.

Despite the one douche, the crowd was awesome, and SW must have picked up on that because he seemed extremely chatty - he went on a bit of a rant about how it's not a bad thing to make music that others consider pretentious, and encouraged everyone to in fact, be pretentious. He exclaimed that he thought Nirvana was one of the worst things to happen to modern music and made his point very clear: be pretentious!

Moving on to the important stuff - the music. From the moment they opened up with Luminol I was blasted off into.....Nirvana (see what I did there?) I literally could not wipe the smile off my face. Steven Wilson's band is one of the tightest, best sounding bands I have ever heard. They work so well with one another, and they are having fun - two key ingredients in great live performances. Guthrie Govan continually melted my face off and proved that he is hands down one of the best guitarists living today. When he took his solo on Drive Home I was transported off into another dimension...it was euphoric, really the only way I can describe it..the only way I can describe the whole show. I was mesmerized watching Guthrie switch so effortlessly between playing techniques and styles - I really feel privileged to have seen him perform.

Adam Holzman was amazing to watch. The piano solos he took were absolutely gorgeous. He is such an accomplished player that I'm ashamed I had never heard of him (and Guthrie for that matter) before Steven Wilson brought them on.

And then of course, Nick Beggs was incredibly entertaining to watch and his vocals are angelic.  His bass tone was so powerful I felt it pumping right through me. He really adds a great dynamic to the band. Marco Minnemann was a beast, He has so much energy and is so ridiculously good I can confidently say he is just as talented as Gavin Harrison and/or Neil Peart  and/or Danny Carey and/or Carter Beauford (though Marco has a very unique style all his own). Theo Travis was a pleasure to listen to as well...I was continually floored by the amount of talent gathered on one stage.

Last but not least was Steven Wilson. Flawless. Everything he does is flawless. I was enraptured by his every move, his every breath. Watching him pace around to the music, with all his quirky little hand gestures, rip a solo on the guitar, sit and play piano - all of it, it was all sublime and perfect. At one point he said he didn't consider himself a musician. I have heard him say that before and I think it's ridiculous. He can shred on guitar, he can play piano beautifully, and he writes the most amazing music my ears have ever heard. And for that night, in those hours, as I sang along softly to every song, or rocked out as hard as I could to every beat, or gazed appreciatively around the stage at every member -  I was perfectly, deeply, immensely happy. I had to take a deep breath at the end of every song, because each performance had taken me on an emotional journey. By the time "The Raven That Refused To Sing" started I didn't know what I was going to do...I started to sing with him (quietly, as I did with every song) but by the time I got to "Sing to me raven, I miss her so much" my voice cracked and I got a lump in my throat, and I had to try hard not burst out sobbing. So I took it all in through a veil of teary eyes, and once again reached euphoria.

         I waited until the end of the show to take a couple of quick pictures

When the opening notes to one of my very favorite songs "Remainder the Black Dog" started during the encore, I remember yelling out "oh!" in delighted surprise - I was even more surprised when during what I always refer to as the "Zappa part" of the song, Steven Wilson walked right up to the edge of the stage where I stood, and looked down and smiled at me. It happened. I had a Zappa shirt on...was that why? Did he too notice the "Zappa part" of the song and come over to acknowledge that with me? I'll never know. But that's the explanation I will always believe.

One last thing that was fun and unusual during the encore was a quick version of Luminol that was played in "The Shaggs style." Steven asked if the crowd had ever heard of The Shaggs, then went on to explain that they were an all girl band from New Hampshire  that formed in the late 60's. They had a very...let's say...unique playing style. When I researched the band and listened to some of their songs, they are very strange indeed. Weird time and rhythm, and very weird singing. Apparently Frank Zappa sang their praises, even going so far as to say they were better than the Beatles. Haha! So, Steven Wilson and band did a rather interesting couple of minutes of Luminol - bizarre but delightful and funny. 

When the band left the stage I refused to believe that the show was over. I remained by the stage, watching the room slowly empty until I had to face the facts. Still high from the performance, I left Berklee. The feeling the next day was similar to the day after Christmas as a child...all that anticipation and excitement leading up to a spectacular day...and then it's over. Hopefully, like Christmas, it won't be long before I get to experience the genius of Steven Wilson and his talented band again.

    Yes, I got to meet Steven Wilson the day of the show. Yes, it was amazing.

My Current Playlist

I'm copying Steven Wilson a bit. I'll probably only update my list as often as he does (which isn't often), but I figured I would do it anyway. He won't mind, seeing as precious few people ever wander through my blog anyway.
:)

Bridges and Balloons: Joanna Newsom
The Raven That Refused to Sing and other stories: Steven Wilson
Deloused in the Comatorium: The Mars Volta
In Dreams: Topanga
Anesthetize: Porcupine Tree

Getting Back in Shape (ugh)

Since I moved back to MA I have been visiting many places I hadn't had a chance to see on  previous vacations home. By "places" I mean mostly restaurants, and by "hadn't had a chance to see on previous vacations home" I mean restaurants I hadn't visited over and over and over again..with maybe a few new eateries thrown in for good measure here and there. I have been eating with no regard for anything but sheer deliciousness, and boy oh boy is it catching up with me. I'd like to blame it on New England food being so much better than South Florida food (which it is) but I know that the delectable cuisine here is only partly to blame. I have thrown caution to the wind and really have been on a bit of a binge since moving back! My bad.

While perusing some old pictures of me that I recently found, I  came to the realization that, GOOD LORD, I need to get back in shape ASAP. So, effective a couple weeks ago I began my healthy eating and exercise routine that literally dominated my life for years in my mid to late twenties. It was hard work then. It is even harder work now. I find that my metabolism- which was never kind to me to begin with, really has some kind of evil grudge against me in my 30's. That bitch. So, results are not quite as fast as they once were. But I am now determined. I have to gradually build up my exercise routines to be what they once were, as I get tired much sooner than when I was at my peak physical fitness. It is frustrating trying to remember that point, when certain moves or segments that were once so easy are so taxing for me now. But I find I can do more and more little by little every day. Hopefully, it won't be too long until I am resembling something like this again:

I tried to pick a picture that wasn't too risque from the collection I stumbled upon. I was about 26/27 when this was taken. I wasn't too thin, and I wasn't too heavy- just right. I figure that a bathing suit picture is much more revealing, so this would be a "modest" choice in comparison, right? So, the fitness journey continues.....

Review of The Raven That Refused To Sing (and other stories)

The Raven That Refused To Sing (and other stories) is my favorite Steven Wilson solo album yet. The collaboration between Steven Wilson and his amazing band this time around is really what pushed this album over the top, musician-ship and composition wise. The concept of this album is so well done at every angle - through the music, the pictures, the stories, and the powerfully emotional video for the title track. Everything is seamlessly interwoven so that you almost can't imagine one aspect without the others- the artwork fits the music so perfectly. And, it almost doesn't even need to be said, but the sound on this album is outstanding.

Starting with the opening track of Luminol, we are thrust into the power of all these top notch musicians combining. I feel this song really showcases their creativity and energy. This song may just be one of my favorite songs ever. It starts off with so much kick and vigor you can't help but simply rock out with it. It seems to soar and float from one segment to another until you reach the middle, which gently transitions you into a beautifully quiet and dreamy stretch of sonic landscape and story telling. The harmonies are exquisite, which they most always are with Steven Wilson behind them. Finally, the song builds and builds until it reaches a spectacular finish that ties everything all in again...how could a song like that end any other way, really?

Drive Home is gorgeous. Some parts of it remind me of renaissance times...actually, there a few moments that remind me of renaissance times throughout the album, but I digress. There seems to always be one catchy, pretty little song like this in SW's work...but the ingeniously done solo at the end is really what sets it apart. I know comparisons can be annoying, but I have to say it: certain pieces Guthrie Govan's solos and guitar work/phrasing remind me very much of the late, great, Dimebag Darrel. A guitarist that I feel nobody would mind being compared to!*Edit - uhhhh....after seeing Guthrie live and educating  myself on his work I have to say he is beyond comparison. Yes, Dimebag was a very versatile guitar player as well...but not like Guthrie! My face was melted off by him.

The Holy Drinker is a very dark and heavy song, it starts off very ominously but then has what I wold call a funk rhythm beating underneath somewhere when it gets into the first lyrical part of the song. The song just plain rocks out, but also takes you on a roller coaster journey of highs and lows...speeding up and slowing down..becoming very quiet and brooding, before blasting a downright nasty guitar riff out to end the song. The story is of a self righteous religious man who has his own evil vice in the form of a drinking problem. As the story goes on, this man challenges the devil to a drinking match. Of course he loses the challenge and is dragged into hell.

The Pin Drop. It is one of my favorite songs on the album. Steven must have been working on his vibrato, or maybe he has been waiting to break it out for just such a song as this, because his vocals in this song are very different, unique and refreshing to listen to. It almost doesn't sound like him as he belts out the beginning lyrics. Just as you are settling into the verse the song bursts forth into a lovely and almost frantic chorus that you may not quite expect. And just when you think you have a handle on the whole song...it ends. It's perfect.

The Watchmaker. I know how overused this word is, but..what an epic song. Another favorite. It is a complex song with many different segments, but they all need each other to tell this story. It is a massive, sweeping song that builds to a dark crescendo of a ghostly message repeating over and over again: "I'm still inside you." The story in this song is particularly defined to me, and really gets its point across from beginning to end - not to say the other songs don't, but this one just seems more thorough to me.

The Raven That Refused To Sing. Oh! What a powerful, emotional journey this song takes me on. Paired with that truly creative and impactful video- the feeling that song evokes from me is almost too much to take. The story for this song is particularly heartwrenching and really draws you into the characters and their sorrows. I personally feel like this is the most touching, beautiful, and delicate song Steven Wilson has yet written. Once again, when you add in the art work and/or video, the emotions are really enhanced. I love when music can make you feel such strong emotions and really touch you to your core as Raven does...it is a rare and elusive feeling that I'm glad I discovered through SW's work.

So, though in my eyes Steven Wilson can do no wrong, this album is beyond expectations. I happened to be lucky enough to procure the deluxe limited edition 128 page edition of this album- which was worth every penny. The illustrations, the stories, and of course the music was so carefully and thoughtfully put together it spoils you for any other artist's work.

The Northern Lights are Waving to Me

Photo courtesy of earthsky.org - captured by Antti Pietikainen in the autumn of 2011




I always have the itch to travel. If I had my druthers I would travel the world all year round, exploring every tiny village and large metropolis, taking millions of pictures and amassing an impressive collection of souvenirs along the way. Of course I would occasionally be checking in at home base...I guess.

Unfortunately, I am not in the position to be able to travel all year, so I have reconciled myself to the idea of taking one interesting trip every year or so. This year, I am planning on Iceland! At the top of my list of things to see is the Northern Lights. I ache to see them. I feel like there is a void in my soul until I see them. It is just something that has been pulling at me lately with a strong gravitational pull. I don't think I can rest until I see the Aurora Borealis!

I understand that I am not guaranteed to see them. Which I admit is a rather daunting thought. But Iceland is such an interesting and beautiful place, all will not be lost if I don't see those elusive and magical lights. In fact it would just give me reason to keep traveling to find them!
I am doing my research on Iceland and biding my time waiting for the right deal to come along. Though I may not have any concrete plans yet...I am excited at the very thought of standing under the Icelandic sky, marveling at the wonder that is the Northern Lights.

Sing To Me, Raven....

Getting reacquainted with New England is taking just a little time. These bothersome blizzards and weekend snow storms aren't helping me acclimate any easier either, I'll tell you that much. There are some small annoyances that I wish would be remedied - for instance: The highways and roads in and around the Boston area are dreadful. OK, most of my gripes seem to be about the roads and/or driving around here..other than that, with the purchase of one very warm pair of fleece Garfield pajama pants, it seems I am prepared to be a New Englander once more.

Being in MA has its perks, too. Quite a few of them. At the top of the list, however, would be the music scene. To be more particular, Steven Wilson. Last year his "Grace For Drowning" tour came to Orlando. That was about 3 hours away from me. Worse than that, it was in the middle of the week. I couldn't go. I still regret it. Once again, his 2013 tour will come nowhere near South Florida. Lucky for me, I am now living near Boston, and I am counting down the days to his show. I got some AMAZING seats and feel like I did in my formative years, when I was filled with so much excitement and so anxious to see a show it seemed the day would never come!

Now, to the good stuff. Steven Wilson's new album - "The Raven That Refused To Sing (and other stories)." This, Steven Wilson's third solo work of art, is inspired by ghost stories of yore. Stories inspired by the likes of Edgar Allan Poe and early 20th century English writers like M.R. James, Algernon Blackwood, and Arthur Machen. All of whom (save Poe) Steven has said he had been reading around the time of the album. These are not the cheesy gore or shock value type stories that riddle today's movie theaters and book stores...but the brooding, uneasy, macabre, slow sense of dread and doom and damnation type of stories that seem to only belong to that bygone era. Stories more about regret and loss, using ghosts both as a metaphor and as an actual entity. The album doesn't actually come out until February 25th. But there are a couple tracks that have so graciously  been released early for our listening pleasure: "Luminol," which may just be one of my favorite songs EVER. And, the song the album was named after: "The Raven That Refused To Sing." That song. THAT. SONG. That song, is so powerful and moving and emotional and beautiful I almost can't take it. It was released with a video to go along with it that is just as powerful and beautiful and touching...it is just beyond words. The story seems to be about an old man, nearing death, and longing for his sister whom he loved so dearly but lost at a young age. The old man encounters a raven that he feels could be a sign from his sister...or perhaps it actually is his sister. He just wants so badly for there to be some kind of connection to her..to beyond..to know he isn't alone, won't be alone, - that he will be with her again. That she watches over him. That he won't miss her anymore. If the raven will only sing for him - he will know it is her. He will know it is a sign. He will know that she waits for him on the other side. He can have hope. But, the raven refuses to sing.

This song really resonates with me. Though the characters are different, the feeling is the same. My mother died when I was seven. Having death touch your life at such a tender age definitely changes you, it estranges you from your peers. You are forced to deal with the fact that things end. That there is a finality to all this. You can't help but ponder your own mortality, while other children are pondering Mickey Mouse.

 Though I have an unusually large amount of memories of my mother and I, naturally there are a lot of things I wonder about, lament about, question, "what if?"...and many, many times, I still find myself missing her terribly. Though I'm not the least bit religious, I do look for signs from her, I guess I do want that reassurance, that feeling that she has been with me and will be with me until I can see her again. I think the search for these signs is only human. A human need to find solace. To find comfort in knowing our loved ones aren't ever really gone. That we really don't end. That we are never alone. I guess I'm always waiting for my own raven to sing.

"Sing to me raven, I miss her so much."

That's where I am so far. Touched to the core from the title track of Steven Wilson's new album. I would never expect anything less than amazingness from him, and he has yet to let me down. Such a brilliant man. And so, I am extra happy to be back in New England. Not only am I close to my family and best friends again...I am guaranteed to see Steven Wilson on any given U.S. tour! With that, I am off to work on my own music. Who knows, maybe someday my music will touch others the same way SW's music has touched me. I think that is what every real artist wants their work to do...

P.S. I just watched the video again for, oh....the billionth time. And I was just put through that powerful emotional journey again. That pairing of that amazing video and song...the story telling is just overwhelmingly gorgeous. It also brought back a memory. Watching the old man fearing death..the hands, the unknown monster coming to take him, and then seeing what/who he thinks is his sister protecting him...brought me back to a particularly dark memory of my Grandfather, in his late 80's. He had never quite gotten over my mother's death. On this particular afternoon as we were sitting in his living room talking about her he just broke down. He seemed to become delirious for a moment - and he was scared, bewildered. Then he exclaimed that he saw my mother before him - protecting him. He kept calling her name. When he finally came out of it he just cried gently. It was a side of him I had never seen, and it was unnerving. A moment I apparently chose to hide in the recesses of my mind until now. That's the power of song and film....