did it break enough this time?

Sometimes I wonder why adults don't take the time to physically process how they feel. As infants, without the luxury of language, we use crying to communicate our needs or when something is wrong. We grow up and crying becomes less socially acceptable. We don't usually do it in public, or find it embarrassing when it does happen, hastily wiping tears away with the back of a hand. Expressions of grief or sadness or just being upset aren't released by adults. They hover near the surface until we can push them back down, compartmentalize them, and move on. Even genuinely happy people could use some emotional purging every now and again.

I hadn't had a good cry in a while. You know... the loud ugly cry. With the sniffling and the sobs and the little gaspy breaths in-between. It was quite cathartic; something I had forgotten. Maybe I've been going around with my emotions to close to the surface. Maybe that causes me to say or do things that I wouldn't normally. Or maybe people pick up on the lingering feelings over what my actual actions are and read them the wrong way. Like some kind of extra sense that pervades how I interact with others. I wish I knew what people wanted, or that there was some consistency to it. Barring mind-reading, the best I can do is just be a good person and hope that effort is recognized, not questioned. And, I guess, cry.

the casuality of a two show weekend

After a shit week, what else is there for a girl to do but dust her shoulders off and climb back on that rockNroll horse? In spite of the sublime Obama victory on Tuesday, I managed to remain mostly miserable with professional and personal rejections abounding. Cue my savior- an indie rock weekend here in the Lou.

Two shows on back-to-back nights. Starting with a freebie (mad props to my gay consigliere for the ticket hook-up) at the Gargoyle. Wolf Parade was lovely under the red and blue lights illuminating the basement of Wash U's former student center. Good college rock vibe. The Canadians called us "dudes" without a sense of irony and were generally pleased with the crowd. This being their second StL show, the last at the now defunct Rocket Bar, where they played after a Green Day cover band for about 4 people. Needless to say they were ecstatic for the turnout of StL hipsters en force. Call it a ritual, call it whatever you will...

Show 2 was at one of my fave venues, Blueberry Hill's Duck Room. Calexico packed them into the sold out U City basement and I was lucky enough to have scored an unclaimed ticket off a friend of a friend. The music was stellar, as always, and Joey Burns was looking especially dapper in a vest-tie-jeans combo. Accordion, trumpet, guitar, lap steel, whistling... it was lovely.

And while I enjoyed both of these shows in shoulder-to-shoulder crowds with friends, in the end both were more for the music itself than for the company. Ms. Nola always comments on my overly social nature and worries that I don't take enough time for myself. I can't help it, I crave people. But for some reason going to a show is not about that for me. This is the one time that I would almost rather be alone. With the music, with my thoughts. Calexico closed the set with their cover of Love's "Alone Again Or" to much raucousness from the crowd.

"You know that I could be in love with almost everyone and I think people are the greatest fun."
And I will be alone again tonight, my dear...

Sometimes, you have to cut your losses and realize a little solitude, no matter where you find it, goes a long way.

(political) words...

Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.