A Lost Mind

Where does one go to find a lost mind full of lost time and lost words? Do you lift up the sofa cushions and dig through the loose change, wads of paper and bits of random crap? Is there a cardboard box at the police station or the post office tattooed with black sharpie?

This thought or rather this question rattles around in my empty head echoing and reverberating against the sides of my skull.

With most lost things they (who is they?) tell you to retrace your steps. Where did you last see your mind? Where might you have left it, dear? I trace backwards to my husband being taken from me and banned from the country, my wedding, being hit by a car, panic attacks unable to find my breath, my father's accident, deaths, births, the loss of my best friend, the loss of my self-confidence. All of this is painted with the brush of sleepless nights, of worry, of self-doubt and of deep joy and deep loss, deep depression and paralysis.

Somewhere along the line, the circuitry got fried and the mind escaped to save itself, jumped overboard to try its luck with the sharks and Portuguese man o' wars. The search party was too exhausted to look for long and the mind washed up on some distant shore, but alas, we shall find it and stuff it back. It wasn't too much of a loss as no one seemed to really notice it was gone.

I am working on the last two songs in my Eat My Shorts series. The current one is aptly named Crazy. coming soon.

Full Throttle

I feel energized and pumped full of inspiration and innovation.
After performing on Saturday at the Lori Beechman theater, I just felt some kind of jolt to my system.
On Sunday, I picked up my guitar and played for hours...working on old songs, new songs, changing up the way I
Play some of them. I attacked the strings with controlled agression...well, is it still controlled agression if your fingers bleed?
I probably should have taped my cuticles before finger picking and strumming so vigorously.

All I can say is this. There are some amazing things happening in rehearsal. I feel a rennaisance as if I am playing songs for the first time...songs that had become somewhat routine. Be prepared, because I have entered musical bootcamp.
I will settle for nothing less than knocking your socks off.

My 2 new mottos, which I plan on taping to the wall above my desk

"Never settle for Good" "Exceed all expectations"

Over and out.

Taxi Fried Chicken, Fireworks, Ashes & Dust

Photo by Carrie Thomas

I am at my nature a juggler. I don't know that my form is enjoyable to watch. I don't have a fancy polka dot costume. None the less, I am constantly spinning plates on sticks while throwing fiery batons over my head.

The one thing I consistently drop in this constant juggling act, is adequate sleep. It is the first thing that is sacrificed for the greater good. Perhaps it is the reason for my sloppy form.

On Saturday I decided to fully embrace the world of slumber, sleeping into the early afternoon. Oddly the act of doing nothing makes me extremely hungry, so I decided to call up Mr. Carpentier for a bit of brunch. After brunch we went to the playground to swing on the swingsets of course, but the children were in full command. God forbid the children use the swings and deprive us of one of our few life pleasures. How selfish. We eventually did get to swing.

We were later joined by K and enjoyed a few beers. K had to rush to the city and Mr. C had to rush home to greet his visiting sister. My mind was fixated on fried chicken. They decided to share a cab and convinced me to go along for the ride with promises of friend chicken in my future. We were riding in the cab when we saw the heavenly lights of KFC in distance.

The next thing I know we are in a cab going through the KFC drivethrough. It was such a perfect ridiculous moment fit for my Hello Kitty Scented Diary. In case you have any curiousity, I ordered 6 legs extra Crispy. K was yelling at the crackly speaker. Of course they didn't understand him so they initially handed me wings and then finally gave me legs original recipe. I somehow managed to eat the legs despite the trauma.

K headed into the city and I hung out with Mr. C for a while watching a backlog of television shows he had DVR'd for us. Eventually, I left the warm bossom of Casa Carpentier and headed home.

I had ambitious plans of getting up super early to work on "Lullabye" which was to be recorded in the studio on Sunday. Instead I overslept, shoved free samples of pumpkin soup and crostini down my gullet as I wearily stumbled through an art fair that had set up camp on my block. I grabbed some coffee and trudged through the park. About halfway to the studio something started filling my head, a new song. By the time I got to the studio I had scrapped all plans of working on lullaby and began laying down the tracks for this mystery song that popped into my head. The working title is Ashes and Dust. It has a very spiritual quality to it and really sounds great and much more developed than such new songs generally do. I wasn't planning on giving birth while crossing the gowanus canal, but stranger things have happened.

After the studio, I headed to Mr Carpentier's for some more backlog of DVR'd television shows as I have been a delinquent social caller and he had been in Italy for a spell.

We were later joined by K and ordered Italian food. As soon as marc put down the phone there arose a clatter outside like none I've heard. I was sure that it was happening. The bombs were falling. Retribution had come. Our arrogant American asses were under attack. I started getting frantic until Marc said that it had to be fireworks. K was on my side saying the sound was too close and too loud to be fireworks. We did the smartest thing possible, which is to run outside and run toward the sound. It was indeed fireworks, being shot from a barge east of lower manhattan down by the seaport. The fireworks were amazing. I cannot properly describe them with words. It was the best fireworks show I've ever seen in my life, beautiful gold ripples and streams across the sky. There were blossoming flowers, starfish, willow trees. They were so close that it was like they were coming right at us and reflecting off the buildings of manhattan, the perfect backdrop. Why the hell were they shooting fireworks on October 14th? Is there some new holliday of which I'm unaware?

All I found on Wikipedia were the following, and none seem firework worthy.

* RC Saints - Pope Callistus I, Angadrisma
* Teachers' Day, or National Education Day in Poland
* French Republican Calendar - Navet (Turnip) Day, twenty-third day in the Month of Vendémiaire
* Chişinău's (Republic of Moldova's capital) - national holiday (known as "Hramul Oraşului" by locals).

Sunday=Mamma

photo by and of Carrie Thomas
On Sunday I went into the studio and worked on Mamma Don't Like No Chocolate.
I've posted the lyrics for this song, which is taking me to a very "Rock" place.

Most people categorized Sirens of Brooklyn as folk and although there will still be many elements of folk to this album, it seems to be going somewhere else. I will be back in the studio in a couple days working on some new songs.

I finished Cherry Falls and I'm not sure what to do with it.
A part of me wants to hold onto it and not release it on Sunrise, but there is another part of me that says I would be censoring myself. I find myself torn between raw emotion and palatability. I'm not sure which of these will win.

This brings me to an interesting thing that has been going on=a happier guitar version of This 2 shall pass and a calmer/slower version of Sirens of Brooklyn.
I am considering a project after sunrise that would be a reworking of songs from both Sirens and Sunrise along with some b-sides.

Mamma Don't Like No Chocolate-Lyrics

Photo by Carrie Thomas

Mamma
Sittin' on the porch swing
while the stopsign's a rattlin'
in the bitter breeze

Mamma
waitin' for her baby
wonderin' will he come back to me
oh baby please

Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like it
Mamma don't like no chocolate
cuz it is too sweet

Mamma
Starin' out the window
wonderin' why did he go
go away from me

Mamma's
too young to be dying
too dried up from cryin'
and too old to be free

Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like it
Mamma don't like no chocolate
cuz it hurts her teeth

Mamma
I'm sorry I'm so selfish
I'm sorry I can't help it
I'm to set in my own ways

You think it's the devil in my boudoir
but I must admit that so far
he ain't come out to play

Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like
Mamma don't like it
Mamma don't like no chocolate
cuz it hurts her teeth

Sonic Experimentation

Though it is not a new concept, I have been playing around with recording guitar by playing it through an amplifier and then recording the output from the amp. I'm really liking this sound on the Glitters and Sparkles Demo. I'm not yet finished with the song, but it is moving along. I'm enjoying playing around with this track in my bedroom. I hope to take it in to the studio in the next couple of weeks, assuming it magically finishes writing itself in my sleep. :)

There are some new sounds to this album.
I am being pulled towards rock on a couple of tracks and to some sort of southern dixieland jazz on others.
There is a sort of gospel undertone on a few tracks.
There are lots of body sounds....hand claps, snaps, slapping my stomach as a drum, grunting. Just for you, I am going to the sweatlodge and really working it all out. haha

Some of the tracks I'm focusing on the most right now..

1. Glitters and Sparkles
2. 600 Miles
3. Duct Tape and Superglue
4. Mamma Don't Like No Chocolate
5. Life Was Simple
6. Pretty Decent Guy

There is also "Cherry Falls" which I think I may not put on the album, though I really do want to release it in some form in the next year.

A little bit about Mr. Carpentier

Yesterday, I posted the lyrics to Mr. Carpentier.
Mr. Carpentier is a new song to be released on the unplug single in the fall.


When I released Sirens of Brooklyn, I felt extraordinarily empty. Instead of feeling this great sense of accomplishment or empowerment, I felt defeated and drained. I had been functioning for a year with very little sleep, which continued for a year after that. It is only recently that I have slowed down a little to regain my grounding.

During this period, just after the release of my album, there is one person who was a huge support for me. He is my best friend in this world and an incredible individual full of compassion, love and respect for humanity, art and nature on a level that I have never encountered.

Marc Carpentier has been one of the most selfless people in my life. He has unconditionally loved and supported me. For a while I lived on his sofa. He didn't ask me for anything. He didn't pressure me to leave. He opened his home to me with no conditions, allowing me to pursue my art.

I am not sure that I would be here today, if it were not for this incredible man, and I can't wait to share this song with you all.

Mr. Carpentier-Lyrics

Mr. Carpentier, guru extraordinaire
open your heart to the masses.
You have lived 20 lives.
I could be satisfied
watching the world through your glasses.
Mr. Carpentier, I have so much to learn.
why don't you come here and teach me.
needless to say, I've been slipping away
to a place where nobody can reach me.

Cuz I don't know if I was made for this world.
They point and they stare.
Am I dressed like a 12 year old girl?
You smile like a child and I'm just squirming in my own skin.
You take me through the soccerfield to the swingsets once again.

We go through the motions like fish in the oceans
and paint the town red with the blood of the dead
We're all pretending the world isn't ending
and everything's fine as we shop and we dine
but we're fat and we're free
and we're taking up space
drive our SUV's while we're stuffing our faces.
Our children are spoiled and addicted to oil
and they buy lots of plastic
and they throw it away.

I don't know if I can make it through this day.
The ocean's too high
and the sky is too gray.
It's the weight of the world
and gravity's finally sinking in.
Take me through the soccerfield to the swing-set's once again.

Well, I drink like a fish and I hit like a girl
and I'm scared of myself and I hide from the world
but your heart's like a whale
and you're built like a tank
and you keep me alive
and I'd like to thank you cuz

There were times I couldn't make it through my day
when I lost my shit and they shoulda carted me away
but you're always there
you care
and you believe in what I do

take me through the soccerfield to the swingsets
just me and you

Let's swing high
Let's swing high
so high we touch the sky

(available fall 2007- Unplug(single))

Glitters and Sparkles

There is a new song called Glitters and Sparkles. It is not quite done, but I have been playing with these little demos in my room, making beats, recording guitar and Singing. I am getting used to George. We have only scratched the surface of our conversation. He has things to say, in ways that I hadn't listened.

There is this song called 600 Miles. I'm not sure where it will go, but it wants to take me somewhere. I can tell you that I met two people out on the road who touched my heart and my soul. One is of course the namesake for my guitar, Mister George Lee. He is a savior in times of great loss. There is also Ricky in Minneapolis who has been so kind and gracious. Thank you for the card.

There is of course always Sanford and Son who got me through the Jitters and brought me into the world of being my own Roadie. Oh, You don't know glamour until You've been your own roadie, people. Mmm, my arms sure looked good, but boy wass my spine another story. When you recognize employees of the greyhound terminal at the Port Authority, You know that your star is blazing bright across the sky, ready to light a thousand chinese peace lanterns.

Boy will they glitter and sparkle.

Pretty Decent Guy(excerpt)

Photo By Carrie Thomas

There was a time when I was quite romantic.
Do you still recall the flowers dried and hanging
from a nail you pounded to our wall?

When I see the nail, I smell the flowers
and then every little thing just makes me cry.
If I could close my eyes and turn back all the hours
would I find that I'm a pretty decent guy?

After all is said and done,
the things unsaid are what I fear
regretting letting words get stuck behind my throat where you can't hear.

Duct Tape & Super Glue

I had previously posted that I was working on a song for the new album called, Your Ghost. I am thrilled to announce that I have finished writing the song and its new title is, Duct Tape & Super Glue.

Yay!

Your Ghost

Last night I finished the 2nd verse and second chorus for a new song which has the working title of "Your Ghost." I am really excited to see where this song goes. Right now It reaches into something I've been feeling a lot lately, which is an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

"I know it's time for me to go, but I don't know where to begin.
I'm curled so deep within my soul
When I look for the sky
I just see my skin."

One thing has become apparent in the songs that have been coming out recently. This album is going to be a little darker than the last. I promise to poke little rays of light through the cloud cover. I will soak you with the rain, but I promise you won't drown.

Just row your boat gently down the stream.

P.S. Avacados + Boiled Eggs = Marriage Made in Heaven

F**K is a 4 letter word

Folk is a 4 letter word, often inspiring shivers of pain to ride up the spines of would be music listeners. We all squint in terror waiting for the F bomb to explode. The shrapnel can be devestating and often takes the form of a long haired hippy dippy woman who wants to tell you all about an erotic experience with a birch tree in wyoming during her cross country voyage to the Michigan Women's Festival.

My music is often categorized as folk, not something with which I fully agree.

However, some of the best songwriters I know are self proclaimed or labeled by default as folk merely because they play an acoustic guitar, have intelligent lyrics and don't work with crazy dirty electro beats and that insane vocal filter that removes all human qualities from the voice.

This pigeon does not fit in your hole.

Folk however is A O K with moi.

A crumb to tide you over

My debut album was originally scheduled for release in June, but due to a few circumstances beyond my control
( I blame George Bush because everyone can get behind that)
It has been pushed back for a November release.

I feel bad about saying the cake was going to be ready, to have you sitting there on the sofa waiting with your empty plate, tapping your fork.

So, I've decided to throw some crumbs of sorts without giving so much away that I ruin your appetite.

in the next 24 hours a working version of the title track 'The Sirens of Brooklyn' will be up on myspace for you to preview. This is not the completed version, so think of it as a demo.

I also encourage you, if you wish to purchase the album when it is released to sign up for my e-list on myspace to be notified when the album is available for purchase.

I hope you enjoy this song, which has never been played live, written less than a month ago, about a very true life experience.

To You:
You know who you are, because there is no getting around the fact that this song is written about you. I hold no anger or malice, and I was apprehensive about putting this song on the album because I didn't want you to be mad at me. I promise that I will never reveal your name.

This song will be angry at you forever so that I don't have to be.

I kick children, pass the tums

I was talking on the phone yesterday, walking down the street, and not looking and I kicked a small child by accident. He fell flat on his stomach. His parents were horrified and looked at me like I was the devil. I felt so horrible. I'm now kicking small children down. God help me. Maybe I should stick to phones that are firmly coiled to the wall.

Nothing is ever what it seems when you see it from a distance coming at you. It looks like a bunny rabbit and then you see it up close and it's a hyena. It looks like a toy train and just before it hits you, you realize it's a real train. You think you stepped on a piece of garbage that missed the trash can on the corner, but instead it's a toddler.

This is life. Sometimes someone offers to spraypaint your baby and you think, hmmm is that a good idea? but then you say, hey, why not go ahead and spraypaint my baby. I've never seen my baby with purple skin. This is remixing. That has been the biggest occurrence lately. I've been giving people my baby to take apart,spraypaint and put back together. It's both beautiful and horrifying.

I'm eating fatty foods again because I'm stressed. I am so ridiculous. I'm like a 300 lb black women with her period. I could basically dip fried chicken in mayonnaise right now and feel like I've found nirvana. So, many deadlines and so little time...remixes, artwork, doing gigs on the DL. It's enough to make my head spin off into outerspace... Just a side not. Guacamole flavored tortilla chips taste amazing dipped in processed cheese and topped off with spicy sausage and fried chicken. Can someone please pass the tums?