just home from drive to charlotte. stayed an extra bit, ostensibly to finish the homestudy in a wifi coffee shop of some sort. gps is not working (though the helpful folks at garmin are fixing thru mail for free, those sweeties), so the wifi was a must if i was going to get home (or heaven forbid i could buy a gas station streetmap of charlotte and just do it raw). no coffee shop presented itself directly. was looking for a starbucks (you can always trust a chain to be consistent). found none. it dawned on me that there are ritzy and non-ritzy chain stores, and that i had wandered to that plebian non-starbucks part of town. finally found 'wired coffee espress.' had a thought as i was walking in that, were this an episode of 'the office,' i would find it funny if the character playing me discovered that there was no wifi inside, despite the store's hinting moniker. there would be hilariously irritable banter about the name being pun-ridden but not really pun-ridden at all if the shop didn't make good on the 'wired' part. but turns out they had wifi.
there's nothing i can eat at a coffee shop. i'm not eating gluten and don't drink coffee. i just buy something because i feel bad taking up space otherwise. i got a vanilla italian creme soda, which turns out is full of half & half. i drank one of the halves. instead of finishing the homestudy, i checked email: $10 tickets to anthony hamilton if i buy them today; someone wants to meet me on WAYN.com; update on the new website server migration. battery low. sugar daze. kids assembling for some kind of hip youth group meeting. creme soda to trashcan, back in car. somehow, 3 1/2 hours had passed since i left the family meeting.
the hazy daze fully entered. the 5:30pm, hot, translucent, salivary flux-liquid that oozes over head and faculties and allows no wilful task to be completed, was upon. drove to cramerton, all the way into its 'lovely historic downtown'. under a few bridges. sat in parking lot. changed mind about charming detour. turned round. looked for hwy 321, still routed on googlemaps from when i was wired. squinted to look at street names. swerved. saw signs for I-85 and opted for instead. when there's a sign that says "TO I-85", you can't trust it to mean that I-85 is anywhere within 10 miles of you.
in the maze, found a jack-in-the-box chain . they have sourdough bread (you can always trust a chain to be consistent), and i can eat that (somehow the sourdough enzyme breaks down the gluten... yada yada). plus, breakfast sandwiches served all day. they had the most hilarious banner! "Treat yourself to something special. Not a massage or anything, just what's on the menu." people my age have taken over the advertising business.
made it home. here, i can rely on wifi because i pay dearly for it on a monthly basis. voila: a blog entry.
8.05.2010
Singles
8:17am - up early to drive to Charlotte for a meeting (one of my a-few-hours-a-month jobs; I do homestudies of families applying to adopt children who are in the custody of Dept. of Social Services). Put on big-girl clothes, kind of. I can never decide. Really I just opted out of anything torn.
Dreamt about singer/songwriter Dar Williams and her song "What do you Hear in these Sounds?". I'd like to meet her (I did briefly once last year when Sid played just before her at Bele Chere fest in Asheville, but we didn't get to talk - that's what I'd want to do - just spend an evening, with some wine).
Mixed 3 new singles yesterday w/ Jeff Knorr at Collapseable Studio/A'ville. He's got great ears for a mix; knows where to put all the sounds. I'm designing new website and the dreamy Chad Pry is going to make it function. Then the singles will be downloadable on a pay-what-you-want basis.
Hot in the house. Too hot to really plug in. Looking forward to the van ride, which is air-conditioned and ipod-ready.
Today: focus.
Dreamt about singer/songwriter Dar Williams and her song "What do you Hear in these Sounds?". I'd like to meet her (I did briefly once last year when Sid played just before her at Bele Chere fest in Asheville, but we didn't get to talk - that's what I'd want to do - just spend an evening, with some wine).
Mixed 3 new singles yesterday w/ Jeff Knorr at Collapseable Studio/A'ville. He's got great ears for a mix; knows where to put all the sounds. I'm designing new website and the dreamy Chad Pry is going to make it function. Then the singles will be downloadable on a pay-what-you-want basis.
Hot in the house. Too hot to really plug in. Looking forward to the van ride, which is air-conditioned and ipod-ready.
Today: focus.
2.11.2010
I did not journal today.
I go to a sewing class on Thursday mornings. It's part of a thing I call "Friend College", where I looked up some continuing ed classes thru the local community college and circled the ones I wanted to take, then emailed a bunch of friends who I thought might have the time to see if they wanted to take any of the classes with me. And several did, so I'm seeing my 3-class schedule as a time to hang out with friends I don't always run into while learning some actual skills. So there was a snow delay today (I do think I saw a flake skimmering across the road) and one of my schoolmates called just after I woke up, asking me if I wanted to meet for breakfast before class. I said 'yes' without hesitation. Friend College rocks, even (and certainly because) of the spontaneous ditching opportunities, one of which I knew would happen this morning because there was clearly not enough time to complete a breakfast outing and get to class on time, even with the delay. Only downside: I did not journal this morning. I always do. Like Peter Gabriel says in that sweet sweet song "In Your Eyes," "It keeps me awake and alive." Hanging out with this particular friend tends to do same. But that's a different story. She doesn't perform the mundanely critical tasks of plugging my left brain to my right, serving up a meticulously detailed schedule for the day, or sitting patiently while I write several times in a row "I don't feel like writing today. I don't feel like writing today. I don't feel like writing today." Actually, I suspect that she might. She's a superb friend. But I wouldn't think of treating her to that narcissistic party over breakfast. Long story short, amidst the serendipity I neglected to hold the narcissistic party at all today. So I feel kind of crazy. Not crazy like "waaaaaaah" but crazy like I just don't know what to do with myself any given second... like I have no focus or purpose. I commit to journaling all days.
Upsides: Fabulous breakfast, reminder of fabulous friend. Cook kissed me on the head. Female cook. Sweetie-pie. Will repeat these upsides any day. And journal later.
Upsides: Fabulous breakfast, reminder of fabulous friend. Cook kissed me on the head. Female cook. Sweetie-pie. Will repeat these upsides any day. And journal later.
2.01.2010
Mermaid or Whale? Reposted from my friend Erica Brown
From my friend Erica:
Recently in a large city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said, "This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?" A middle-aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.
To Whom It May Concern,
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans.) They have an active sex life, get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.
Mermaids don't exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them, not to mention how could they have sex? Just look at them ... where is IT? Therefore, they don't have kids either. Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?
The choice is perfectly clear to me: I want to be a whale.
P..S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver, and a piece of chocolate with my friends. With time, we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room, it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren't heavy, we are enormously cultured, educated and happy. Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, good grief, look how smart I am!
Recently in a large city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said, "This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?" A middle-aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.
To Whom It May Concern,
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans.) They have an active sex life, get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.
Mermaids don't exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them, not to mention how could they have sex? Just look at them ... where is IT? Therefore, they don't have kids either. Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?
The choice is perfectly clear to me: I want to be a whale.
P..S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver, and a piece of chocolate with my friends. With time, we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room, it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren't heavy, we are enormously cultured, educated and happy. Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, good grief, look how smart I am!
7.09.2009
Dutch Review: Nieue Geluiden
Dutch:
In de bergstad Asheville is Stephaniesid al enkele jaren een gelauwerde en bevreemdende verschijning. Het lokale publiek loopt warm voor de, uit het duo Chuck Lichtenberger (piano) en Stephanie Morgan (zang) gegroeide, band. Stephaniesid mag dan een wake-up call heten voor de plaatselijke scene waar doorgaans de banjo heerst, wij worden regelmatig getrakteerd op dergelijke indierebellie. Dat wil niet zeggen dat de inmiddels volwassen band de moeite niet waard is. Op dit derde album, Warm People, treffen we zeer creatief songschrijverschap en een geëngageerde performance. Door de rijke bezetting kan de band divers klinken, maar ze weten een consistente stijl vast te houden. Ze halen inspiratie bij een uiteenlopende selectie artiesten, waaronder vast Björk, Lamb en Sara Lov, om vervolgens eigenwijze indiepopliedjes op te nemen die zonder probleem een plek tussen het creatievere singer-songwriter werk opeisen. Het betreft hier echter een band die gewoon het oorspronkelijke duo goed aanvoelt. Ze hebben de plezierige neiging om echt mooie muziek te willen maken. Die ligt weliswaar niet altijd even gemakkelijk in het gehoor, maar weet altijd te intrigeren. Op het album is de liefde voor de mens, momenten van ontmoeting en de naïvité van ontdekkingen zeer uitgesproken. Hun muziek imiteert deze houding door de stijlen die als tegenpolen convulsief pulseren. Stephaniesid is soms best aanstekelijk, maar niet alleen vrolijk. Hier zullen ze geen revolutie teweeg brengen. De collage van spiegelende facetten op Warm People is echter een verrassend goede aanvulling op het bestaande indiepop experiment.
English (translated with Google...note: Google is a probably not the best choice for translating this. for pure entertainment only):
In the mountain city of Asheville is Stephaniesid for several years and winning a strange appearance. The local public will warm to, from the duo Chuck Lichtenberger (piano) and Stephanie Morgan (vocals) has grown, band. Stephaniesid may be a wake-up call named for the local scene which usually is the banjo, we are regularly treated to such indierebellie. That does not mean that the now adult belt is not worth the trouble. On this third album, Hot People, we find very creative song writer and a committed performance. The rich diversity of occupation, the band sound, but they know a consistent style to maintain. They get inspiration from a diverse selection of artists, including established Björk, Lamb and Sara Lov, then its own indiepop songs to take place without a problem between the creative singer-songwriter work claim. It is a band that just the original duo feels good. They have the pleasant tendency to really want to make beautiful music. This is admittedly not always easy to interview, but am always intriguing. The album is the love for man, moments of encounter and the discoveries naïvite of very pronounced. Their music imitates this behavior by the styles as opposites convulsief throb. Stephaniesid is sometimes best catchy, but not happy. Here they will not revolution. The collage of mirror facets on Warm People is a surprisingly good complement to the existing indiepop experiment.
7.07.2009
On July 4, Written by my father
It's certainly enjoyable to go to a 4th of July celebration, which I did. But then I got to thinking (as did the writer of the above linked article) that most folks spend very little time considering what made/makes America different from nearly every country on earth.
All elected officials, appointees and bureaucrats are servants of the people, and not vice-versa. All kinds of taxes and fees charged by the govt must be approved by the people's representatives and those revenues must be used judiciously and accounted for clearly.
It's not the dirt, or the beautiful scenery, that makes America a better place to live. And it's not the mighty military that actually protects it.
Learning and teaching the principles of true independence and democracy are the key.
David M. Morgan
All elected officials, appointees and bureaucrats are servants of the people, and not vice-versa. All kinds of taxes and fees charged by the govt must be approved by the people's representatives and those revenues must be used judiciously and accounted for clearly.
It's not the dirt, or the beautiful scenery, that makes America a better place to live. And it's not the mighty military that actually protects it.
Learning and teaching the principles of true independence and democracy are the key.
David M. Morgan
5.19.2009
the northeast, in 12 easy pieces
we did it. toured the northeast with warm people (though we plan to afterbirth the north drive this weekend, returning to MD and DE for festivals... who can resist a festival?... and, who's kidding who, we'll be back up again, given the hospitality that reigned, and the sid discovery of the delights of the power trio... onstage and in the van).
we packed three of us (chuck, me, evan) into a white chevy astrovan (it has been mistaken for a taxi, i.e. "hailed", more than once, despite its non-yellow exterior, but is allowed graces in some parking situations due to its ambiguous identity as a van belonging to some sort of repairman or pest control service). all the equipment fit this time, with no need for a hefty uhaul trailer or its accompanying pickup-and-return hassle. one could sleep in the back, one in the passenger seat. sleep is key.
dc sweet town where we have yet to find a fanbase. are you out there? marcella, kevin, carolina, areesah, raul came out, in true torchbearing fashion. love them. "surprise! arizona" opened. sweetest guys. we'll be back, dc, like it or not!
nyc show #1: brooklyn, southpaw at 8:30, too early for folks to get there. morale check: lowish. we've driven far, and paid a cover to get into the city. no fair. shining faces that made this show worth it: meredith, keith, joe & brian of st. bernadette, courtney & benjamin of kaiser cartel, maggie & doug. we hear st. bernadette rocked it out later. show #2: lower east manhattan, rockwood music hall. utterly silent room. russian bear was playing upon our entrance... amazing. decided to pare down to just their baby grand piano, me on guitar, evan on a couple of drums. amazing show. loved it. needed it. catharsis. jenn, michelle, simon (!!), jacob's friends, a lawyer named harvey, and xylopholks made that tiny room into a little love alarm for sleepy southerners. evan's birthday status and correct trivia answer won him 4 cupcakes, and xylopholks (in cookie monster, chicken, and skunk costumes) brought the house down with their supreme humor and instrumental prowess.
boston evan spotted asheville friends and performing duo speedsquare just past the toll booth. what are the chances? we texted and made rock-n-roll signs out the windows until hugs and omigosh-what-are-the-chances? ensued at the venue. piano-player billy was sick with paranoia and/or swine flu, which he likely gave to evan at that moment. then, oh good god. electric laser people took the stage and led people in their so-fun singalongs and robot stories. jeez, they are a riot and the greatest folks! we played next. what a show! trumpet-playing speedsquarian c scott sat in, as did the ELP folks. ELP-er grant took a phone camera video of it. will try to post somewhere. liz, sofia, chuck's cousins paul and justin, alli, and a good number of robot scientists were in attendance. evan's birthday continued, and drunkenness ensued. returned home to liz's house and its feline inhabitants, 3 being almost too young to exert any gravitational force on the tiny pillow they were gathered upon. evan had found his sleeping partners. all resolved to make this show a yearly may tradition.
portland, me who knew it would be so much like asheville? speedsquare decided to busk there, given the weather's fine nod, so chuck and i danced to their drum-and-piano street show (which rocks in asheville and portland alike). billy was less sick, retrospectively diagnosing himself with the regular flu. lady lamb the beekeeper opened with the sweetest music, and lent us their korg synth when my alesis blew a power supply. they played with us, as did speedsquare... new friends for sure. james and the folks at one longfellow square are great to work with. shelly, rob & robyn from charisma booking and their friends came out. tina & hubby too. i ate breakfast in a very ashevillian kind of place... local 188... they toasted my special bread for me (spelt or gluten-free... the only way i can do it) and made plain eggs and my journal taste like ambrosia.
nashua, nh there's a little warehouse-art space that's working on getting a series going. it's called studio 99, headed by a whip-smart flutist/actress named elise. the space is in a really really old mill where women worked ages ago picking stones out of cotton for textiles. there is soul there. we were to be their second show ever. and we were, minus an audience outside of the organizers. turns out an unknown band from a zillion miles away shouldn't play nashua on a sunday. but let it be known that these folks are the goods, and the room is inspiring, and that scene will grow and grow. hope they'll see fit to have us return.
northampton, ma where our label (nine mile records) lives, until they move to austin in august. the town is the bomb. hip and collegiate with crunchy granola underpinnings and idyllic scenery. celebrated cinco de mayo at mama iguana's with rick of nine mile and potent margaritas... then headed to the elevens to play with spouse (yes... that song is awesome), michael merenda, and surprise guests... members of the young @ heart chorus (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3uOOhm8Fj8), an elderly group of singers who cover the pixies, bon jovi, the ramones, etc. with a great backing band. these folks were awe-inspiring... i filled up my phone with videos and shed a few tears as arthur sang, "it's my life... it's now or never...". rick and wife rebecca played us their music (he's a drummer and she's a singer) for the first time... had no idea it was so good. croony and raw and very real. the kincaids. daughter lily is bounding with energy and reading like a champ at age 4. smart, fun family. rick made us gluten-free blueberry pancakes wed. am. what did we do to deserve?
pittsfield, ma definitely not the best-attended show. but the mission tapas bar wins another award... best.... food.... ever! we were spoiled. poor evan was still sick (did i mention he was sick?). but we did a little sit-down show and got to meet joe (hey joe!) and his sweet sister as well as the great folks who run the place... we hope to stop over again when we're up.
baltimore, md wow did our old friends/fans turn out! after a simultaneous nap-labyrinth period (evan on the nap; chuck and steph on the brick maze at a nearby episcopal church), and subsequently a tasty meal at matsuri (sushi extraordinaire, formerly managed by friend larry george), where we met up with dc friends marcella, raul, areesah, and carolina, we headed to the 8x10 and crammed our stuff into the stairwell to await our designated play time. the place is trying to get an austin city limits-type thing going, so they had 3 cameras on all the bands and did an interview. i didn't like the way the club wanted us to sell merch downstairs, near the bathrooms. and i told them so. we were a little adversarial for a minute when they ranted about the fire code when i put the vinyl up on the edge of the stage for sale. i thought, "what if i put a guitar amp there? less of a fire hazard?" but logic did not prevail. in any case, dancing and friendship ensued, featuring deb, melanie, mama soray (who gave me the greatest homemade shirt), jim hickey (thanks for your exquisitely supportive grassrootsness), justin and brooke, and so many more. they wanted to hear old school stephaniesid (more aptly: Stephanie's Id) songs. so we played "white guys" and whatnot. we will convert them to warm people soon enough!
easton, md immediately we knew there was money involved. the town has an air of dignitaries and summer-homeness. sure enough, we were told that donald rumsfeld and dick cheney used to have houses next to each other (hmm) and julia roberts has a house there... and apparently lots of wealthier-than-average folks do too. and us in our white van, sans polo shirts, strolled in, greeted by bright yellow floral tablecloths and the sound of a latte machine.... and... some pretty nasty rap music on low volume. soon enough, coffee east / nightcat made its nocturnal persona known, and a couple of sweet singer-songwriters opened (oh blonde-haired man, cannot recall your name at the moment, but your first performance was engaging and your friends are lovely). to mark and the folks at mangold entertainment, we look forward to our return on oct. 10. to tom and friends, a hearty hello.
rehoboth beach, de it was a brew pub. probably the best brew pub, as so many friends coveted that we'd be near it, but in any case that whole "transcendent / majestic" thing was hard to deliver in that sort of room. so instead we forewent the majesty for a sort of comedy hour, given the atmosphere and long set, and we managed to connect with several in the room, and even convince a few to buy turntables and the 12" record. couple more converts. the booker is exceedingly nice and for some reason i felt the constant need to punch him in the arm like a little sister. so i did, and he seemed to be a sport. tom and friends, shucks... thanks for driving out.
drive home=great weather and recent nostalgia for the nice week. thanks to charisma booking for doing what i've never been able to do, and to our old & new fans for loving and loving. for being warm. you know.
still lots more shows to come. let us know if you want us to come to your town. maybe you can help us?
love,
steph
3.23.2009
12" Red Transparent Vinyl
12" Red Transparent Vinyl
we were listening to the just-off-the presses acetate testers for the "warm people" vinyl edition... which arrived today from the netherlands, where a special edition of the album is being pressed for release in asheville (apr. 25).
chloe was outside the screen door with the birds, scurrying her skinny self to her piano lesson downstairs with chuck. we invited her in... she sat with her piano book in her lap, and buried her head under my arm.
the sound made by grooves on vinyl is so warm and integrated and classic. i have such a grin when listening... like i've just taken a sweet afternoon nap and awoken to cherries in a bright blue bowl, delivered by the maytag repairman and his children's brass band.
five songs on each side. forty two minutes of stephaniesĭd. highest grade vinyl, transparent red.
hope to see you at the album release. apr. 25, asheville, the grey eagle. and we'll do a tour up the east coast from there.
love,
steph
2.12.2009
Recording Complete!
o kids... sid just spent 4 whole days at collapseable studio in asheville and got the whole new album recorded! it's gorgeous, y'all. big, beautiful.... lane bryant-style. a really magical experience. engineer jeff knorr was the swiftest and cunningest... players brought the pain... and sorrow... and infinite joy. now it goes to mix (our old pal vic, former sid drummer, co-producer of grus americanus and mix-master man o'war) has this task. then to mastering. then manufacturing. and probably more m's we haven't anticipated. this all culminates in a spring release (no exact date yet... we'll keep posting).
very special thanks to larry read of charlotte, who kindly provided support for the recording process :)
cd release at the grey eagle on apr. 25 in asheville, and on tour shortly after :)
love,
sid
very special thanks to larry read of charlotte, who kindly provided support for the recording process :)
cd release at the grey eagle on apr. 25 in asheville, and on tour shortly after :)
love,
sid
8.14.2008
women's prison
last nite i had a dream about being arrested because my dog bit too many people. it was a loooooooooong and detailed dream; this one occurred in real time. even boring in places.
in handcuffs, i was taken to the jail. it was a gray and silver place that teemed with jail-clad women with bleach-blonde hair and dark roots. the women, having been there, or in and out of there, for a long time, seemed to know the drill, and be friends, or at least allies. they seemed friendly enough at first, and i to them, as i had less anxiety than curiosity and mild amusement about the whole experience; i thought the law that put me there (and its enforcement) was ludicrous, and that i was simply acting out my required 2-week stint in the slammer and as a bonus would take in an interesting social study.
i ate in the cafeteria with the rest. i remember the food being an amalgam of orange, amorphous stuff. don't remember how it tasted. on day 3 or 4, i began a series of required exams, including one with the jail dentist, which i considered a bonus because it was free, and it would only cost me 2 weeks of jail time. they repaired a cavity and gave me some sort of flouride treatment, which i didn't really agree with, but again, part of the social study, and not to be messed with. i continued to keep to myself mostly, observing, writing from time to time, and generally not associating with the other inmates except to be politely and minimally supportive.
many of the inmates had lesbian tendencies. i surmised that only a few were actual practicing lesbians outside the jailhouse, and the rest were experimenting due to the culture and general boredom. i didn't imbibe (that i recall), but maintained a mystery such that most women couldn't tell what my persuasion was. i probably thought it was best that way; pander to everybody, don't get hurt, write a good book after release.
as two weeks neared completion, i began talking to some of the staff about my crime, and about the strange and little-known law that could land a person in prison for their dog's misbehavior. i spoke flippantly, assuming their sympathy and general agreement about the circuslike nature of the situation ("and me, of all people... you know?"). the topic also came up in a prison group therapy session, where all the women began trying to figure out what made me tick, and why i was there in the first place. the leaders among them were incredulous. the therapy focus was upon owning one's issues and taking responsibility. i began to realize that the general sentiment was not in my favor: staff and inmates alike thought that i thought that i was too good for the place.
it was on.
asking staff members for access to the phone was met with increasingly less success. my easy relationship with even the cafeteria ladies turned cold and sour. i was taunted. pushed around. i fought back physically, and was surprisingly successful, but my naivete was overwhelming. upon the day of my supposed release, no one came to unlock the bars and no one applauded my inevitable return to "real life." instead, on my way to lunch with the other prisoners, i asked a guard to whom i should speak about my impending release, and she said, "i'll check your file," and when i tracked her down later, she said, "oh, i talked to the boss, and he won't be back until saturday, and he'll talk to you then." and on saturday, after i again pursued the guard, she said, "since you were peeking at the other women in the showers, your sentence is extended." she had the slightest grin of victory.
picky and/or ungrounded reasons were found to continue extending my stay. i began getting real with people. mad. i began looking for allies. none save one weak girl who couldn't save me in a fight. but she was somebody. she and i sat on some sort of stoop one day in the main office, waiting for the jail chaplain that i had manipulated into coming to talk to us. i had assumed correctly that most of the guards were of a protestant religious background and that god talk would be their weak spot. i ranted in an authoritative voice that i had rights and lawyers and that my relationship with jesus was suffering because i could not have fellowship in my congregation; that i could find my way if only i could speak with a man of the cloth. i assumed incorrectly that this man of the cloth would be unbiased regarding the jailhouse, the law, and my dog (i thought silently, "god/dog is my copilot"), and thus strongly sympathetic to my situation. he was tall, thin, wore glasses, looked the part of a philosophical, forward-thinking, pious man. but he said,
"well, stayfanie. i don't see the chraaast in ewe. i thank he's up and left you."
there was always an open door when we cleaned a certain area of the jailyard. a guard was pretty nonchalant about her duties there. i had never thought to walk out of it before, as i didn't want to suffer the consequences, and had initially more or less welcomed the jailtime (martyrdom has social benefits). but this time i just up and walked out. then started running. i heard yells and alarms behind me.
i can never run in dreams. i'm always very slow. i can speed up somewhat if i take to using my hands as well, like an animal. i try to gallop like a horse or dog, to get more traction on the ground. the chaser never seems to catch up, but it's an agonizing part of any dream for me. this chase went on for hours. the chaser kept changing shape, from a namibian athlete-looking person to a fat guard to a small child to a dog to a vehicle. i jumped over fences, climbed and leaped over buildings, scaled ivy, all in super slo-mo. nothing ever hurt, but i bled. it should have hurt. i tried to find a crowd to get lost in, but there seemed to be no one out. it was getting dark, and i considered stopping into a friend's house for a beer (i don't drink beer in real life). then i thought that would just make that old friend an accomplice, and i was already a bad friend for being lame about correspondence, so i kept "running", and came to an old apartment building with lots of brush and vines, and steep, white painted wooden external stairs. i was jumpy and terrified. the chaser and me did a hide-and-seek dance many times around those stairs. by this time, s/he was a small african child, turning into a small african baby in a blanket.
at the very top of those steep stairs, i threw that baby away from me. s/he landed on a sharp post, fell to the ground, and did not come to.
in handcuffs, i was taken to the jail. it was a gray and silver place that teemed with jail-clad women with bleach-blonde hair and dark roots. the women, having been there, or in and out of there, for a long time, seemed to know the drill, and be friends, or at least allies. they seemed friendly enough at first, and i to them, as i had less anxiety than curiosity and mild amusement about the whole experience; i thought the law that put me there (and its enforcement) was ludicrous, and that i was simply acting out my required 2-week stint in the slammer and as a bonus would take in an interesting social study.
i ate in the cafeteria with the rest. i remember the food being an amalgam of orange, amorphous stuff. don't remember how it tasted. on day 3 or 4, i began a series of required exams, including one with the jail dentist, which i considered a bonus because it was free, and it would only cost me 2 weeks of jail time. they repaired a cavity and gave me some sort of flouride treatment, which i didn't really agree with, but again, part of the social study, and not to be messed with. i continued to keep to myself mostly, observing, writing from time to time, and generally not associating with the other inmates except to be politely and minimally supportive.
many of the inmates had lesbian tendencies. i surmised that only a few were actual practicing lesbians outside the jailhouse, and the rest were experimenting due to the culture and general boredom. i didn't imbibe (that i recall), but maintained a mystery such that most women couldn't tell what my persuasion was. i probably thought it was best that way; pander to everybody, don't get hurt, write a good book after release.
as two weeks neared completion, i began talking to some of the staff about my crime, and about the strange and little-known law that could land a person in prison for their dog's misbehavior. i spoke flippantly, assuming their sympathy and general agreement about the circuslike nature of the situation ("and me, of all people... you know?"). the topic also came up in a prison group therapy session, where all the women began trying to figure out what made me tick, and why i was there in the first place. the leaders among them were incredulous. the therapy focus was upon owning one's issues and taking responsibility. i began to realize that the general sentiment was not in my favor: staff and inmates alike thought that i thought that i was too good for the place.
it was on.
asking staff members for access to the phone was met with increasingly less success. my easy relationship with even the cafeteria ladies turned cold and sour. i was taunted. pushed around. i fought back physically, and was surprisingly successful, but my naivete was overwhelming. upon the day of my supposed release, no one came to unlock the bars and no one applauded my inevitable return to "real life." instead, on my way to lunch with the other prisoners, i asked a guard to whom i should speak about my impending release, and she said, "i'll check your file," and when i tracked her down later, she said, "oh, i talked to the boss, and he won't be back until saturday, and he'll talk to you then." and on saturday, after i again pursued the guard, she said, "since you were peeking at the other women in the showers, your sentence is extended." she had the slightest grin of victory.
picky and/or ungrounded reasons were found to continue extending my stay. i began getting real with people. mad. i began looking for allies. none save one weak girl who couldn't save me in a fight. but she was somebody. she and i sat on some sort of stoop one day in the main office, waiting for the jail chaplain that i had manipulated into coming to talk to us. i had assumed correctly that most of the guards were of a protestant religious background and that god talk would be their weak spot. i ranted in an authoritative voice that i had rights and lawyers and that my relationship with jesus was suffering because i could not have fellowship in my congregation; that i could find my way if only i could speak with a man of the cloth. i assumed incorrectly that this man of the cloth would be unbiased regarding the jailhouse, the law, and my dog (i thought silently, "god/dog is my copilot"), and thus strongly sympathetic to my situation. he was tall, thin, wore glasses, looked the part of a philosophical, forward-thinking, pious man. but he said,
"well, stayfanie. i don't see the chraaast in ewe. i thank he's up and left you."
there was always an open door when we cleaned a certain area of the jailyard. a guard was pretty nonchalant about her duties there. i had never thought to walk out of it before, as i didn't want to suffer the consequences, and had initially more or less welcomed the jailtime (martyrdom has social benefits). but this time i just up and walked out. then started running. i heard yells and alarms behind me.
i can never run in dreams. i'm always very slow. i can speed up somewhat if i take to using my hands as well, like an animal. i try to gallop like a horse or dog, to get more traction on the ground. the chaser never seems to catch up, but it's an agonizing part of any dream for me. this chase went on for hours. the chaser kept changing shape, from a namibian athlete-looking person to a fat guard to a small child to a dog to a vehicle. i jumped over fences, climbed and leaped over buildings, scaled ivy, all in super slo-mo. nothing ever hurt, but i bled. it should have hurt. i tried to find a crowd to get lost in, but there seemed to be no one out. it was getting dark, and i considered stopping into a friend's house for a beer (i don't drink beer in real life). then i thought that would just make that old friend an accomplice, and i was already a bad friend for being lame about correspondence, so i kept "running", and came to an old apartment building with lots of brush and vines, and steep, white painted wooden external stairs. i was jumpy and terrified. the chaser and me did a hide-and-seek dance many times around those stairs. by this time, s/he was a small african child, turning into a small african baby in a blanket.
at the very top of those steep stairs, i threw that baby away from me. s/he landed on a sharp post, fell to the ground, and did not come to.
7.23.2008
i suspect he is soaring
Paul Clark, Asheville Citizen-Times, published July 18, 2008 12:15 am
ASHEVILLE – Local artist John Payne, a pioneer of the River Arts District, died Thursday morning at Mission Hospitals after suffering a massive stroke earlier this week. He was 58. Payne died about 11:30 a.m. after his family took him off life support, family friend Lisa Sturz said from the hospital. “It was one of the most profoundly beautiful things I’ve experienced,” she said of the parting his family and friends gave him by his bed. Payne underwent heart surgery earlier this summer and had suffered a stroke earlier this year. The owner of the Wedge building on Roberts Street, Payne was as warmly regarded for his personality as he was held in high esteem for his sculptures. He built steel skeletons of birds and dinosaurs that move in lifelike ways via pulleys and computer controls. He had leased several of his pieces to museums in the United States. Payne’s partner, Gwenn Roberts, a professional vocal soloist, said Payne went into the hospital Tuesday after suffering a massive stroke. Roberts had been taking care of him at her home in Weaverville following his quadruple bypass heart surgery. Payne’s purchase and renovation of the Wedge building, a large white building visible from the Smoky Park Bridge, helped establish the River Arts District as Asheville’s second major arts area, after downtown. Payne has leased several studios to artists in his building, which also now houses the Wedge Brewing Co. “John was a white knight to the River District artists and the River Arts District,” said Eileen and Marty Black, who work in the Cotton Mill Studios on the river. “John’s mission was to save the River Arts District from gentrification that would drive the artists elsewhere. He helped many struggling artists by providing studios with reasonable rent. Our many discussions with John assured us that he would not sell out to developers.” With his big smile and shock of white hair, Payne was often spotted at Clingman Avenue Coffee and Catering Co., where he and other artists often started their day with coffee and conversation. Payne was successful in establishing the Wedge as part of the River Arts District, Roberts said, “because he was passionate about giving artists and the arts a place to be part of our community and culture. The Wedge was his absolute dream. To the very end, he was talking about how that has to continue.” When the doctors detached the respirator Thursday, “We were all in our own way helping him move on,” Roberts said. “And he just flew with it. … He went very quickly and very peacefully.” Roberts said there would be a memorial celebration at the Wedge in the next few weeks. Payne’s work can be seen at www.paynestudios.com/home.php. “John Payne was an icon,” said Karen Cragnolin, executive director of RiverLink, an Asheville organization devoted to revitalizing the French Broad River. The river cuts right through the River Arts District. Last year, RiverLink gave Payne its RiverBusiness Award, presented each year to businesses on the river that make the river a better place to live, work and play. “I suspect he is soaring with his wonderful dinosaurs and birds right now,” Cragnolin said.
Champion of the River Arts District
6.26.2008
Blogaroo
t minus-one. 6:30 wednesday.
stephaniesid (comprised of the core: chuck, steph, michael, krum; and members who complete dream squad: matthew, jon) attempt to leave home base. michael brings bag of wet laundry to be dried by someone who owns a dryer, along the road. ascertains that person will be ginny (booker, tripmate from knoxville, host for night). steph has brought delectable cookies. arrive outside krum's apartment. steph and matthew shoot breeze outside van with attached previously sid-owned trailer on loan specifically for trip. one of them notices unacceptable separation in wee right side tire. yikes. brainstorming in van. barbecue in knoxville is goal for dinner. steph, chuck, matthew dial free 411 for numbers to appropriate service stations that could possibly be open. free 411 automated system proves inefficient as ever (411: "residence or business?" matthew: "business." 411: "say the name." matthew: "wal-mart." 411: "that's dr. jim macalpine's orthodontic practice, right?" matthew: "uh..... no." 411: "sorry, i didn't get that..... please say just the name of the business...."). jon spots serendipitous unattached trailer tire on side of road. knock on doors around to see about purchasing. no luck. ponder taking tire and leaving envelope of cash. realize wheel has wrong number of lugnut holes. back to 411. find wal-mart's number at last. store has only tire, not wheel. band must summon skills to take tire off wheel, replace, refill with air. advised by store personnel to use dawn dish soap and crowbar. dream squad progresses to nearby citgo with built-in pizza hut and air machine. matthew is de facto expert. band's cunning creativity eventually pries old tire from wheel, new tire onto wheel. tire fails to create seal, however. its insides was a open place where no air could find purchase. band determined. now 9:30pm. word from knoxville: no dinner left at barbecue. hopes shattered. jon orders pineapple-mushroom pizza (steph has persuaded more than one of the squad to covet this combination). he knows people there. steph hears that one pizza-hutter is married to icelandic woman. must talk. figure appears from the dark mist near the highway. "y'all got a tar problem?" "yeah, won't seal." "i g'n fixit. just need startin' fluid's all." matthew and steph skeptical. involves lighting tire on fire. chuck runs inside convenience store to purchase said miracle fluid. mist man picks up tire and finds secluded spot behind dumpster. pours starting fluid inside. lights tire on fire, kicks several times. audible popping noise. seal achieved. pizza arrives. heavens smile. "y'uns thought i's crazy prolly, huh?" bearded mist man asks rhetorically. band is in awe. mist man disappears again. moment is later nominated for best moment on whole bonnaroo trip. arrive knoxville late. meet up with steph's bff marcella, in from dc for trip. ginny and (musician beau) jason's house has new paint job and furniture, same uber-cute persian cats. looks lovely. watch some youtube. sleep.
day one. thursday
crew of 9 up early. out to gather bamboo for campsite. proves pretty easy. hit the road for manchester with secret directions. manchester is town with small population and lots of farmland. obvious that townspeople are mostly enthusiastic regarding the annual intrusion of 90,000 music fans. some sell water along road. some give out religious pamphlets. manchester is hot. at fork in road, dream squad sees long line of cars which turn out to be fest attendees waiting to get into fest. line goes on for miles. many near-nude youngsters in cowboy hats outside cars, "woo"-ing, scoping, putting on sunscreen. sid flies past in opposite direction, as band registration is elsewhere. registration: band giddy with new shiny lanyard badges. drive to campsite. ginny and jason are pros, stake out area with marcella and abundance of tarps; three are left to make camp while sid is golf-carted to radiobonnaroo studio for first recording session of fest. recording camper is air-conditioned. yowza. sid meets very friendly and pro engineers, and folks from asheville-based music allies, who host the radio thing. radiobonnaroo commandeers a local radio station and broadcasts within 20-mile radius of the fest for duration of fest; is available to an impressive smattering of independent / college radio stations (incl. band's beloved wncw) across
the country for airplay. new respect for music allies. company knows their shizz. the operation is killer. sid records "drinking at a party," "warm people," and "bullet train." sounds amazing. (see pics.... "drinking at a party" can be heard at sid's reverbnation site.) band very excited about first show at bonnaroo. michael and steph do short interview. due in to same studio over weekend is jack white, rilo kiley, lots of others. awwwwwwesome. (thanks incredibly to zac, josh, molly, sean, and the engineers and interviewer from radiobonnaroo). sid is golf-carted over to solar stage to drop off equipment. golf-carting is the way to go. back at ranch, home is looking divine. covered, staked, tented, scattered and smothered. complete with outdoor living room. thank you ginny, jason, marcella. at this point story begins to be even more incomplete without input from all members of dream squad and crew. steph's account will have to do for now. campsite is situated just behind "which" stage, convenient to cinema tent (air-conditioned, yo), comedy tent (likewise), and really everything, including artists' hangout area, which could possibly be more rockstar if each artist were given feather boas and sparkly sunglasses to wear. but not otherwise! becomes band and crew's oasis for weekend. team sid splits up and surveys larger festival scene. good food, tons of vendors, energetic fans checking their schedules, very friendly vibe. obviously well put-together. festival is a wonderland for musically-minded people. each attendee has paid around 250 dollars to camp out, not shower, and walk in at least a mile in the hot sun each day. to see bands performing live and in person. these are true music fans. musician utopia. ginny and steph run into aaron fenner, soundman extraordinaire, from knoxville. aaron offers to run sound for sid show later. steph drops to ground in "we're not worthy" stance. aaron is kind, talented, thanked. band takes to solar stage after dark. band is playing at freaking bonnaroo! MGMT (electro-pop) has just finished across the way; playing now are battles (math rock), the sword (metal), the felice brothers (soul), K'NAAN (hip-hop), comedian Zach Galifianakis, and stephaniesid. show begins. people begin to gather. krum has t-shirt on head tied as turban of sorts; falls into face during frenetic drumming spell; k throws it off without missing beat. jon jumps around, sings with passionate fury, sweats, plays trombone, trumpet, melodica. chuck performs characteristic lean-forward-lean-back-with-mouth-agape motion; drives ladies wild. matthew tames angels on vibraphone... michael plays with relaxed fervor and happy wince. steph spins in hawaiian dress, alternates between vocals-keys and vocals-only. glow-things begin to twirl in audience. maybe 400 dancers, listeners, revelers. bonna-freeeeeeking-roo!!!! nine mile records' new interns jeremy and nick capture some of show on video (one day to be posted). show ends with "the weakling"; marcella ("merchella") is swarmed at the cd table. sound system for whole show ran on day's sunshine, gathered in solar panels. sweet. band packs up and heads to see other bands (lez zeppelin ("all girls. all zeppelin." great musicians. most of dream squad agrees that vocals didn't work too well, as robert plant's charm was always about having to reach for them high notes. plus, why is a cover band playing on our stage??), extra golden (great Kenyan Benga / American rock music), and vampire weekend (prepsters playing afro-beat... none in our party resonates with them, truth be told... though methinks that to admit that aloud at this fest would be tantamount to declaration of hipster war). many times throughout nite dream squadsters retreated to artist oasis. drank beer and stiff purple drinks served by flirtatious bartenders. retire to tents. michael ("i don't like nature") sleeps on seat in van. everyone else in tent or in living room. day one. check.
stay tuned for more.... :) s
stephaniesid (comprised of the core: chuck, steph, michael, krum; and members who complete dream squad: matthew, jon) attempt to leave home base. michael brings bag of wet laundry to be dried by someone who owns a dryer, along the road. ascertains that person will be ginny (booker, tripmate from knoxville, host for night). steph has brought delectable cookies. arrive outside krum's apartment. steph and matthew shoot breeze outside van with attached previously sid-owned trailer on loan specifically for trip. one of them notices unacceptable separation in wee right side tire. yikes. brainstorming in van. barbecue in knoxville is goal for dinner. steph, chuck, matthew dial free 411 for numbers to appropriate service stations that could possibly be open. free 411 automated system proves inefficient as ever (411: "residence or business?" matthew: "business." 411: "say the name." matthew: "wal-mart." 411: "that's dr. jim macalpine's orthodontic practice, right?" matthew: "uh..... no." 411: "sorry, i didn't get that..... please say just the name of the business...."). jon spots serendipitous unattached trailer tire on side of road. knock on doors around to see about purchasing. no luck. ponder taking tire and leaving envelope of cash. realize wheel has wrong number of lugnut holes. back to 411. find wal-mart's number at last. store has only tire, not wheel. band must summon skills to take tire off wheel, replace, refill with air. advised by store personnel to use dawn dish soap and crowbar. dream squad progresses to nearby citgo with built-in pizza hut and air machine. matthew is de facto expert. band's cunning creativity eventually pries old tire from wheel, new tire onto wheel. tire fails to create seal, however. its insides was a open place where no air could find purchase. band determined. now 9:30pm. word from knoxville: no dinner left at barbecue. hopes shattered. jon orders pineapple-mushroom pizza (steph has persuaded more than one of the squad to covet this combination). he knows people there. steph hears that one pizza-hutter is married to icelandic woman. must talk. figure appears from the dark mist near the highway. "y'all got a tar problem?" "yeah, won't seal." "i g'n fixit. just need startin' fluid's all." matthew and steph skeptical. involves lighting tire on fire. chuck runs inside convenience store to purchase said miracle fluid. mist man picks up tire and finds secluded spot behind dumpster. pours starting fluid inside. lights tire on fire, kicks several times. audible popping noise. seal achieved. pizza arrives. heavens smile. "y'uns thought i's crazy prolly, huh?" bearded mist man asks rhetorically. band is in awe. mist man disappears again. moment is later nominated for best moment on whole bonnaroo trip. arrive knoxville late. meet up with steph's bff marcella, in from dc for trip. ginny and (musician beau) jason's house has new paint job and furniture, same uber-cute persian cats. looks lovely. watch some youtube. sleep.
day one. thursdaycrew of 9 up early. out to gather bamboo for campsite. proves pretty easy. hit the road for manchester with secret directions. manchester is town with small population and lots of farmland. obvious that townspeople are mostly enthusiastic regarding the annual intrusion of 90,000 music fans. some sell water along road. some give out religious pamphlets. manchester is hot. at fork in road, dream squad sees long line of cars which turn out to be fest attendees waiting to get into fest. line goes on for miles. many near-nude youngsters in cowboy hats outside cars, "woo"-ing, scoping, putting on sunscreen. sid flies past in opposite direction, as band registration is elsewhere. registration: band giddy with new shiny lanyard badges. drive to campsite. ginny and jason are pros, stake out area with marcella and abundance of tarps; three are left to make camp while sid is golf-carted to radiobonnaroo studio for first recording session of fest. recording camper is air-conditioned. yowza. sid meets very friendly and pro engineers, and folks from asheville-based music allies, who host the radio thing. radiobonnaroo commandeers a local radio station and broadcasts within 20-mile radius of the fest for duration of fest; is available to an impressive smattering of independent / college radio stations (incl. band's beloved wncw) across
the country for airplay. new respect for music allies. company knows their shizz. the operation is killer. sid records "drinking at a party," "warm people," and "bullet train." sounds amazing. (see pics.... "drinking at a party" can be heard at sid's reverbnation site.) band very excited about first show at bonnaroo. michael and steph do short interview. due in to same studio over weekend is jack white, rilo kiley, lots of others. awwwwwwesome. (thanks incredibly to zac, josh, molly, sean, and the engineers and interviewer from radiobonnaroo). sid is golf-carted over to solar stage to drop off equipment. golf-carting is the way to go. back at ranch, home is looking divine. covered, staked, tented, scattered and smothered. complete with outdoor living room. thank you ginny, jason, marcella. at this point story begins to be even more incomplete without input from all members of dream squad and crew. steph's account will have to do for now. campsite is situated just behind "which" stage, convenient to cinema tent (air-conditioned, yo), comedy tent (likewise), and really everything, including artists' hangout area, which could possibly be more rockstar if each artist were given feather boas and sparkly sunglasses to wear. but not otherwise! becomes band and crew's oasis for weekend. team sid splits up and surveys larger festival scene. good food, tons of vendors, energetic fans checking their schedules, very friendly vibe. obviously well put-together. festival is a wonderland for musically-minded people. each attendee has paid around 250 dollars to camp out, not shower, and walk in at least a mile in the hot sun each day. to see bands performing live and in person. these are true music fans. musician utopia. ginny and steph run into aaron fenner, soundman extraordinaire, from knoxville. aaron offers to run sound for sid show later. steph drops to ground in "we're not worthy" stance. aaron is kind, talented, thanked. band takes to solar stage after dark. band is playing at freaking bonnaroo! MGMT (electro-pop) has just finished across the way; playing now are battles (math rock), the sword (metal), the felice brothers (soul), K'NAAN (hip-hop), comedian Zach Galifianakis, and stephaniesid. show begins. people begin to gather. krum has t-shirt on head tied as turban of sorts; falls into face during frenetic drumming spell; k throws it off without missing beat. jon jumps around, sings with passionate fury, sweats, plays trombone, trumpet, melodica. chuck performs characteristic lean-forward-lean-back-with-mouth-agape motion; drives ladies wild. matthew tames angels on vibraphone... michael plays with relaxed fervor and happy wince. steph spins in hawaiian dress, alternates between vocals-keys and vocals-only. glow-things begin to twirl in audience. maybe 400 dancers, listeners, revelers. bonna-freeeeeeking-roo!!!! nine mile records' new interns jeremy and nick capture some of show on video (one day to be posted). show ends with "the weakling"; marcella ("merchella") is swarmed at the cd table. sound system for whole show ran on day's sunshine, gathered in solar panels. sweet. band packs up and heads to see other bands (lez zeppelin ("all girls. all zeppelin." great musicians. most of dream squad agrees that vocals didn't work too well, as robert plant's charm was always about having to reach for them high notes. plus, why is a cover band playing on our stage??), extra golden (great Kenyan Benga / American rock music), and vampire weekend (prepsters playing afro-beat... none in our party resonates with them, truth be told... though methinks that to admit that aloud at this fest would be tantamount to declaration of hipster war). many times throughout nite dream squadsters retreated to artist oasis. drank beer and stiff purple drinks served by flirtatious bartenders. retire to tents. michael ("i don't like nature") sleeps on seat in van. everyone else in tent or in living room. day one. check.stay tuned for more.... :) s
6.22.2008
greenville and mountain sports festival
(this is a repost to get us started....)
9 june 2008
drive down to greenville. only a little over an hour away. road-savvy van thinks this trip is cake. see ray & the crew; ed has hung posters for us; erica from spartanburg brings her very sweet peeps. spies among us opens (chuck and matthew's classical project). piano and vibraphone. very beautiful and original. music to fall asleep and dream by. matthew sticks around to play with sid. michael has another gig and cannot join; krum plays pared-down version of kit. marianne (krum's lady) is in town. the heat has lifted steph's verbal filter and she says a few things she ought not, from the stage, into the microphone. one references marianne. marianne is a champ. she fires back. says "steph goes to the tanning bed." touche. marianne is a champ.
the show is very sweet. sid loves use of silence in the musical palette. though every sid show is different, small intimate listening room provides most extreme ability to tell secrets. audience is loving and generous. thank you, ray.
10 june 2008
what to wear for mountain sports festival? no mountain sports clothes and steph feels playful. chuck has procured basketball uniforms for the boys. buys sweatbands for heads and wrists.
steph decides on roller skating! chuck rents skates from tarwheels rink. business even lets him rent for free w/ deposit because of nature of performance. steph dons shimmery blue tights and skating dress. predicts at least one fall.
stephaniesid has new intern! stephanie day of charlotte comes to town to learn some ropes. proves to be fast learner. comes to mountain sports fest for show and merchandise-selling.
mountain sports fest is inside west asheville racetrack in quaint village with food, spirits, vendors, lots of life. very well done. seepeoples playing when the stephs arrive. initially band's costumes are not revealed.... steph in jeans sings with seepeoples on radiohead's "national anthem" and seepeoples' "the way the world will fall." sid boys on their way in van. officials stop festival race while van drives over quarter of racetrack circle to back of stage for load-in.
big stage. still light out, but stage lights overhead for later. soundcheck is good. bonnaroo lineup is in effect! sid is six: chuck, steph, michael, krum, jon of jar-e, matthew of spies among us and eroteme, formerly of stephaniesid.
steph puts on skates. tan leather with orange wheels and stoppers. boys bring flair with differing shorts (jon floral, chuck and matthew athletic, krum multi-purpose, michael slinky sweatpants). show begins! new songs and big sound come out of speakers. steph spins on skates. chips tooth slightly on microphone. matthew summons angels. krum brings pain. michael kicks out groove and soul. chuck sculpts scrumptious key chords. jon croons harmonies and kills-me-softly with trombone. crowd dances. this is a band.
first set ends. eric usher of crispy cat, clad in coordinating basketball uniform, hands out band's favorite organic rockstar candy bar to crowd. is almost mauled. runs out of delectable treats more quickly than expected. mob is momentarily dejected. band plays "aeroplanes" as sky gets dark, stage lights flicker on. crowd dancing, or on blankets, spread out over festival village, looking for stars. music turns oceanic. band feels at home and buoyant. steph skates.
"the weakling" is second-to-last song. steph (battling allergies) asks chuck & jon to help sing high parts. all voices hold out. continues to feel damaged tooth with tongue, between verses. should be ok. need to google.
"bounce" is last song. magical. sweaty band sways in night breeze. crowd looks at stars, dances. gorgeous night.
packing up. marianne hoola-hoops. she's really really good. steph d gives report on cd sales. quite good. steph d also reports advances from male fest attendees. could be future problem. nice food vendor brings pad thai and a few forks. michael shuns germy forks (his m.o.) and leaves feast to ravenous remainder of band. steph skates victory lap. boys give rebel yell. krum, marianne, & steph d return home. rest of band to chuck and stephs for spirited game of cranium. team matthew/chuck wins.
9 june 2008
drive down to greenville. only a little over an hour away. road-savvy van thinks this trip is cake. see ray & the crew; ed has hung posters for us; erica from spartanburg brings her very sweet peeps. spies among us opens (chuck and matthew's classical project). piano and vibraphone. very beautiful and original. music to fall asleep and dream by. matthew sticks around to play with sid. michael has another gig and cannot join; krum plays pared-down version of kit. marianne (krum's lady) is in town. the heat has lifted steph's verbal filter and she says a few things she ought not, from the stage, into the microphone. one references marianne. marianne is a champ. she fires back. says "steph goes to the tanning bed." touche. marianne is a champ.
the show is very sweet. sid loves use of silence in the musical palette. though every sid show is different, small intimate listening room provides most extreme ability to tell secrets. audience is loving and generous. thank you, ray.
10 june 2008
what to wear for mountain sports festival? no mountain sports clothes and steph feels playful. chuck has procured basketball uniforms for the boys. buys sweatbands for heads and wrists.
steph decides on roller skating! chuck rents skates from tarwheels rink. business even lets him rent for free w/ deposit because of nature of performance. steph dons shimmery blue tights and skating dress. predicts at least one fall.
stephaniesid has new intern! stephanie day of charlotte comes to town to learn some ropes. proves to be fast learner. comes to mountain sports fest for show and merchandise-selling.
mountain sports fest is inside west asheville racetrack in quaint village with food, spirits, vendors, lots of life. very well done. seepeoples playing when the stephs arrive. initially band's costumes are not revealed.... steph in jeans sings with seepeoples on radiohead's "national anthem" and seepeoples' "the way the world will fall." sid boys on their way in van. officials stop festival race while van drives over quarter of racetrack circle to back of stage for load-in.
big stage. still light out, but stage lights overhead for later. soundcheck is good. bonnaroo lineup is in effect! sid is six: chuck, steph, michael, krum, jon of jar-e, matthew of spies among us and eroteme, formerly of stephaniesid.
steph puts on skates. tan leather with orange wheels and stoppers. boys bring flair with differing shorts (jon floral, chuck and matthew athletic, krum multi-purpose, michael slinky sweatpants). show begins! new songs and big sound come out of speakers. steph spins on skates. chips tooth slightly on microphone. matthew summons angels. krum brings pain. michael kicks out groove and soul. chuck sculpts scrumptious key chords. jon croons harmonies and kills-me-softly with trombone. crowd dances. this is a band.
first set ends. eric usher of crispy cat, clad in coordinating basketball uniform, hands out band's favorite organic rockstar candy bar to crowd. is almost mauled. runs out of delectable treats more quickly than expected. mob is momentarily dejected. band plays "aeroplanes" as sky gets dark, stage lights flicker on. crowd dancing, or on blankets, spread out over festival village, looking for stars. music turns oceanic. band feels at home and buoyant. steph skates.
"the weakling" is second-to-last song. steph (battling allergies) asks chuck & jon to help sing high parts. all voices hold out. continues to feel damaged tooth with tongue, between verses. should be ok. need to google.
"bounce" is last song. magical. sweaty band sways in night breeze. crowd looks at stars, dances. gorgeous night.
packing up. marianne hoola-hoops. she's really really good. steph d gives report on cd sales. quite good. steph d also reports advances from male fest attendees. could be future problem. nice food vendor brings pad thai and a few forks. michael shuns germy forks (his m.o.) and leaves feast to ravenous remainder of band. steph skates victory lap. boys give rebel yell. krum, marianne, & steph d return home. rest of band to chuck and stephs for spirited game of cranium. team matthew/chuck wins.
blog is moving here
the stephaniesid blog is moving here, so that everyone can read it (not just people with a myspace account).
love,
stephanie
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